Best Laid Plans

A couple of weeks ago I planned an overnight outing at the east end of the Park. I was getting "off island" for at least 24 hours for a much-needed haircut, to retrieve my car and the warmer clothes it held (it's been a wet, cold summer here), and a scenery change. Visitor Transport System (VTS) bus ticket in my pocket, clean socks in my backpack, bag of scones as a friendly bribe for the driver, and my car was waiting for me at the east end in the Visitor Center parking lot. The excitement of anticipation buoyed my mood. I was ready!

Hah. When we plan, the universe laughs. It laughs a deep belly-laugh.

The bus pulled up to the bus stop...and it was FULL. No space available. The bag of freshly baked scones dangled from my hand, useless. Now what?! My entire mini-vacation crumbled in pieces at my feet. My mood threatened to crash to the ground beside it. After conference with a passing staff member, I dashed to North Face Lodge, got permission to hitch a ride to Eielson Visitor Center with one of the Lodge hiking groups (I could catch a VTS bus there), and settled in to wait for the group to leave. I'd have to cancel that hair appointment, but I could still get the change of scenery.

And I could drive the car back into Camp the following day. Some of the plan was salvaged.

Then I noticed that Kantishna Air Taxi (KAT) was parked in the lot to pick up guests for a flight-see around Mt. McKinley. Hmmm. They had a morning flight going out to the east entrance, and Matt was pretty sure, like 95% sure, that he could get me on that flight. Now, those of you who know me understand the trepidation with which I climbed into the van. I fly a lot--on commercial airliners--but I don't fly in little airplanes. Certainly not in a six-seat Cessna, and most definitely not around Mt. McKinley. But there was that haircut waiting for me, and those warm clothes....

Shoot, when the universe calls, you gotta answer!!

The 95% sure thing became a 100% certainty, and in the company of two couples from Manchester, England, I scooted my butt into the far back seat of the Cessna. We took off through low thin clouds, and were immediately above the ground showers. The view from the plane is like looking at a real-time map. There was Moose Creek winding along past the road, nestled on the ridge over there was Camp Denali--miniscule from the air, and Wonder Lake, the tundra. And dead ahead, 37 miles away, the top of the continent: Denali. Mt. McKinley.

Weather on the south side of the peak prevented a fly-around, but we did climb over the 6,000 foot foothills to fly through a pass on Pioneer Ridge. Then the bottom dropped out and we were over the Muldrow Glacier. All summer long I've wanted to stand on McKinley River Bar to get my feet in the water that started out eons ago at the top of The Mountain. But here I was, 11,000 feet in the air, looking (OK, tentatively) at the Great Icefall from the Harper Glacier to the Muldrow! A 180-degree turn made me close my eyes briefly, but as we flew past Mt. Brooks, I snapped a picture of the peak. The picture is singularly unimpressive until you remember that the point slightly above eye level is 11,940 feet above sea level.

Talk about being transported!

The plane turned east and descended to a level from which we could easily see the Park road as it winds across broad expanses of tundra and cuts across the Eielson and Polychrome bluffs. Seeing it from the air gave me courage--I'd be driving that road east-to-west the next day. The road looked more secure from the air than it does from the window of a bus. Perhaps secure isn't the word; maybe just less scary.

As we descended at the east end of the park and circled around to land to the south, I realized that this flight was the most exciting one I'd ever taken. Yes, that 777 had carried me to a landing at Gatwick, and countless 737's carted me back and forth between Milwaukee and Atlanta, but this little, bitty Cessna had taken me UP the Muldrow Glacier for the ride of my life. As I poured myself out of the plane, I told the pilot (is is possible to fall in love with a voice?), "That was absolutely WOW!" Funny how words desert you in the face of enthusiasm.

The next day, I drove the 90 miles back into the Park. I crept along the road at Polychrome and Eielson, watched a wolf catch and eat a ground squirrel, saw caribou, eagles, Dall sheep. The next week I drove the car (those warm clothes now in my cabin) back to the east end. A golden eagle coasted in front of the car, guiding me around the first of the outward cliff-edge turns at Eielson. Another signature moment from the air. And I knew I'd be fine for the rest of the drive.

So my wonderful days-off list of things to do, those carefully crafted schedules, reminded me once again that I can plan, but I can't plan outcomes. Opportunity doesn't knock--it's just there, and it's up to us to trip over it, recognize it and respond. And all I can say at the end of it, maybe even at the end of the summer, when people ask, "What was your summer like?"--I'll only be able to say, "It was absolutely WOW!"