Photo Ops at Denali Natonal Park, May 26, 2011

Day 2 at Denali, May 26, 2011. I told you about the town of Chicken in an earlier post. When we passed through, there were three businesses and the town enjoys a population of seven according to the 2010 census records. What I didn't tell you was that the early settlers wanted to name the town Ptarmigan, but none among them could spell it. There were ptarmigan aplenty in the area, so many in fact that the settlers called them "chickens." Since ptarmigan was unspellable to the locals, the town that would be Ptarmigan became the town of Chicken. I tell you that now, because you will hear more about ptarmigan later.

Everywhere we turned today, there was another scene which begged to be photographed. It was the majesty of Denali herself, caribou lounging in the sun, Dahl sheep grazing on the hillside, a fractious ptarmigan jealously defending his territory and protecting his lady friend, a momma moose and her mooselette wandering aimlessly through the campground and within twenty feet of Harvey. If you can't find a picture to take in Denali, you should give your snappy to the Salvation Army. There are so many opportunities for pictures, you simply can't miss taking one or two good ones.

We drove on the Park Road as far as private vehicles are permitted this morning. The turn around is at Savage River Viewpoint. Along the way we could see "The Great One" standing as a silent sentinel over her kingdom. In the first photo you see her from a distance of fifty miles or more, shrouded in white, looking like a cloud, ghostlike against a pale blue sky. Denali peaks at over 20,300 feet above sea level. Long's peak is 14,256 for comparison. Denali is nearly half again as tall. "The Great One" is what the early Athabascan called her over 10,000 years ago after crossing from Asia on the Bering Land Bridge or seasonal ice bridges.

Here, Denali is Queen. All below are her subjects; the wildlife, the flora, the fauna, the glaciers, the streams, the forest and, yes, man. In the Rockies we say that the mountain just doesn't care. That is true, too, with Denali. She stands alone, aloof and majestic, caring little what happens below her summit. She has been tested by time and the elements. Animals, forest and man have come and gone. Still, she reigns over all that fall under her shadow.

We stopped for a while at Savage River. We walked a short distance up the trial, then sat, silently and listened to the quiet. The river gurgled in the distance and gulls soared along its length. We looked for Dahl sheep on the distant hillside and were rewarded by sighting seven. You will see, if you look hard enough, three in one of the photos above. One is in the lower left and two more are laying in the upper right portion of the picture. They appear as tiny white specks in the photo, but they were easily discernible through our spanking new 15x Bushnell binoculars recently purchased as part of our parking fees for the Walmart parking lot.

For a while, the news of the day involved a peevish ptarmigan, Tommy. I have seen many ptarmigan while hiking in the Colorado Rockies. They have been cautious, fearful creatures, running when approached by hikers. Tommy, however, announced himself from atop a pine tree. He clucked, cooed, chuckled and hummed. Instead of displaying timidity, common to his species, he thrust out his chest and challenged all comers. Odd, I thought.

Later, as we returned to the parking lot, Tommy was perched atop the trash container. I squeezed off a couple of pictures from a distance, expecting those would be the only pictures I would get. Wrong. Tommy held his ground as we approached. He became more boisterous and belligerent. I kept taking pictures from 100 feet to three feet. Tommy gave no ground and seemed ready to defend himself and his territory. Then I discovered why Tommy was so single-minded and determined. A small brown ptarmigan hen trotted across the parking lot to some tangled bushes near the river. I followed to try to photograph her, too. Tommy also followed. The closer I got to Gertie, the more bold Tommy became. Finally, Annie insisted that I withdraw. "That chicken will whip you," she said - not a great expression of confidence in my self defense skills.

So, we left Tommy and Gertie to nature's yearnings and wished them well. "Tommy, I hope fortune smiles and you have a dozen children," I said as we drove away. And, I do. The park is all the more beautiful because of the Tommys and the Gerties. I hope they go forth and multiply.

That was going to be the big news story of this day until we returned to the campground. We were sitting in Harvey before dinner when I looked out the window and saw a man in our campsite. That is a breach of camping etiquette, not that I would have made an issue of it. Then, I noticed another man on the other side of Harvey. I looked in the direction they were looking and there was a mother moose with her baby moose walking through our campsite. I grabbed the camera, but by the time I got outside and in position, all I could see was the two of them walking into the woods. What you see above is what I got. I wish I could have done better for you.

We move on to Anchorage tomorrow. Anchorage contains about 40 percent of the entire population of Alaska. Sounds crowded to me. We originally planned to spend two nights there. Now, I find myself longing for more of the quiet and space. Anchorage may get us for one night, or maybe none.