Talkeetna resident Robin Song describes a long-awaited hike
in Denali State Park.
All photos by Robin Song
Several years ago my dogs and I hiked the Little Coal Creek trail up to Kesugi Ridge. While a bit strenuous, I remembered the view was spectacular, and I learned the names of alpine wildflowers and songbirds not found in our Talkeetna area, that day. I had vowed to hike the Ermine Hill Trail someday, knowing the view would also be glorious from there, as well.
It took many years for my last duck to get in the row so I could go, but on June 14th of this year I finally got the chance. I invited a woman I had recently met along for the day hike. Amy Luna was new to Talkeetna, up from California and working a summer job. She wanted to get out and explore the wilderness. With my dogs Lyra and Darby loaded in the car, I picked Amy Luna up and we drove to mile 157 of the Parks highway and secured the car at the trailhead. While clouds had been toying with the summit when we pulled off at the South Denali Overlook en route, I had hopes that they would clear off later. I’d had a painting idea in my head for a few years, and to take the reference photos for it, I needed Denali’s summit to be clear of clouds.
The first part of the trail wound through a beautiful forest dotted with grand old cottonwood trees. Deep purple violets peered from the grass beside the trail and the morning sunlight warmed my back as I knelt to take their portraits. By the time we reached the creek and took a short break, I was ready to remove a layer of clothing to cool off. The dogs happily waded in the cold water.
Soon we were climbing, …and climbing. Much higher up we came to the waterfall that fed that creek. A wooden bridge crossed the falls and I stopped to take time exposure photos of the water cascading over boulders. I was delighted to hear the buzzy call of a dipper as I stood to the resume the hike.
We spotted a small sign on a post and examined a crude sign denoting switchbacks ahead. Wow- that sign was an understatement! These were the steepest, sharpest switchbacks I’d been on in recent memory. They took us ever-higher, and Denali slowly came into view. Stopping at the top to catch my breath, I listened to the song of a Hermit Thrush being sent out over the hillside we had just climbed. True to its name, the bird remained hidden from view, but there was no mistaking that lovely song.
Switchbacks behind us, the trail now lead above treeline. I stopped to take a photo of the view of Denali and its surrounding peaks, noting the blooming Mountain Ash along the line of forest I was leaving behind. The trail was a steady, steep climb, and up ahead I could see a cliff looming to the southeast. Along its ridge were oddly shaped boulders.
I had heard that there were some strangely-shaped granite boulders and rocks at the summit of Ermine Hill Trail, and I wondered if this cliff was it. As we climbed farther, a sizable lake to the north came into view. I had emptied one water bottle and my second was getting low. I figured I could make a side hike to the lake to refill, if needed. We passed through a narrow forest of willows and alders here, and found a stream crossing, where the dogs laid down in the water to cool off. We took a break after leaving the trees behind. Far ahead I could see a snowfield, and above that a boulder field near the summit. We decided to go on up there-I knew the dogs would love to get in the snow, and I wanted a closer look at those boulders.
Sure enough-when the dogs spotted the snow, they took off and jumped in, rolling and rolling in the cool white stuff. I could see that it was old snow- compacted and melting in the sun. Clear water ran from its south edge and I filled both my bottles with the cold water. I poured some in my cap and let it soak in, then placed it back on my head. The coolness was at once refreshing.
Now we were in amongst the alpine flowers and I was in photographer’s heaven. I am always amazed and charmed by alpine flowers-how tiny they are, the variety, the colors, and how they can possibly survive in such a harsh environment. When we came out of the tundra greenery and stepped onto the field of granite pebbles, I was even more amazed to see the variety of wildflowers growing in amongst those pebbles, somehow finding the strength to the withstand the never-ending wind,which seemed to come from all directions. Brilliant yellow Frigid Arnica poked up from the black and white gravel, all their daisy-like faces turned towards the sun. Clumps of Alp Lilies grew in oval clusters barely an inch tall, their tiny brilliant-red flowers so close to the ground that the wind whipped over them and they hardly moved.
The granite boulders were just plain weird. They stood scattered over the pebble field, each shaped uniquely, carved by eons of ice, snow and wind. How they came to be here, in this one place, would take a discussion with a geologist. The stories I’d heard from other hikers proved to be understatements of just how strange it was here. You truly have to go there to experience its full effect.
We went on up to the ridge below the true summit and picked a spot out of the full force of the wind where we had a view of the deep valley on the east side. Even way up there an astonishing variety of alpine wildflowers grew. I watched a tiny bumblebee working the bloom of a Prickly Saxifrage, and wondered how that bee could manage the fierce wind. Across the valley more mountains climbed to the east, stretching north and south out of sight. On the valley floor a creek wound through green marsh grass. I glassed a pair of white dots-one in the water of a pond, one in the center of an island in the pond. I soon realized it was a pair of swans. What a perfect wilderness paradise for them.
After an hour for lunch while soaking in the ambiance of the place, during which time Lyra and Darby dozed- sprawled in the shade of the boulders, we got up, stretched tired muscles, and started back. Several years older than Amy Luna, my body was letting me know it. Going back down the steep trail, using different muscles than the climb up, my back and legs complained the whole way. Well, I was sure going to sleep well that night!
I did get my photos of Denali for my future painting. While it will be a challenge to put that spectacular scenery onto the confines of a canvas, it will also bring back the memory of a dynamic day spent hiking in the Alaskan wilderness. It was a seven-mile trek, and we climbed to 2,500 feet. I didn’t find that out until after we got back and I looked at a map later. If I’d known that heading out, I might have declined to go for the entire hike. I turn sixty this fall, and convincing my body to do such epic hikes is getting more challenging. But as long as I take it slow, and give myself lots of time to recover, I’m still able to go. My dogs-my true heart’s companions- are ever-ready to go, and are my inspiration. The Alaskan wilderness calls to me, and as long as I am capable, I will answer.
Writer’s Voice-Ermine Hill Hike
071915
