112 ... Gabriel Morrissilence that, I imagine, can be experienced in few places around the
world. There were no trees in most of the park, including that area,
so the only sound was the gentle dribble of a nearby stream—and
the two of us hiking with our backpacks through the thick carpet of
tundra down a wide, clear valley.
What is most impressive about Denali National Park is not so
much what is there, but rather what is not there. The stillness and
emptiness seem at times almost unreal, as if such peace is abnor-
mal, something that can’t continue for much longer. Soon, you think,
something will have to break the silence. But what that something
might be is as intangible as the silence itself, since even the occasion-
al mountain goat, fox, ptarmigan, or grizzly bear off in the distance
usually go about their business with little to say. Similar to the desert,
the intensity of the Alaskan tundra becomes a mirror, reflecting one’s
inner self. Just being there can have a tendency to induce a medita-
tive, or at the least contemplative, state of mind.
We filled the quiet with small talk for a little while as we hiked
down the valley. Soon we surrendered to the ever-present still-
ness and continued along down the small stream, lost in our own
thoughts, sorting out our lives to some degree (or at least I did).
There are no trails in the park, due to the limited amount of people
allowed in at a time, as well as the lack of forests. As long as one
has a basic sense of direction and a topographic map just in case, it’s
difficult to get lost. We continued hiking down the valley for a few
hours, until it opened into an awesome scene of three huge valleys
all coming together.
We set up Chris’s tent at a flat spot on the side of a hill and laid
out our sleeping bags to nap. Because it was summer, it literally never
got dark—just a little dimmer at night—so it was easy to lose track
of the time, especially with the overcast skies we were having. We
ended up sleeping through the evening and all through the faint light
of night. We crawled out of our sleeping bags late the next morning,
groggy but fully rested—to find that, almost eerily, nothing much
had changed. No glorious sun was there to greet us and welcome the