Perins Hike Polychrome

There was only one way into Denali National Park, and the same way out. Once we passed the rangers that allowed only authorized bus shuttles into the park, it was as if we passed through a curtain separating civilization from the wild. Denali unveiled itself to us in its raw, untouched landscape. The speaker on the bus pointed out the peak of Mount Denali, "The Tall One", as we were lucky enough to catch a break in the hovering clouds. Along the way we stopped to watch a family of willow ptarmigans flutter along the edge of the road, and sat still as a mother and two bear cubs walked within the small hedges not far from the road itself. They sat and shifted, stood and stomped. Their fur was even fuzzier than I expected them to be, and their eyes deeper and movements sturdier, surer. I fell in love with them instantly, and was no longer afraid of the back country we were about to hike through. Which is more the luckier that I did not encounter a bear, because I would've wanted to hug it.

A couple hours into Denali we jumped off the bus and watched it roll away. Soon the sound of its wheels grew distant and the dust settled. We were alone in back country Alaska, and it was beautiful. Not a soul in sight, but instead the personalities of the mountainous peaks began to entertain us. Polychrome Mountains, was what they were known for, and their colorful display proved a playground for us four. We began hiking on the tundra, and each step sank into its spongy layer. There were no paths to follow, just bushes and spiney trees to avoid. I was so thankful to know that there are no snakes in Alaska, as each step plunged into the undergrowth. Finally we reached a mountain to climb, and the sight twirled around us in a breathtaking 360 spin. We overlooked glaciers and the ponds they left behind. We sat and ate lunch as mice scurried around the rocks. We snapped pictures, dancing around in a frenzy of freedom. 

As we reached the road, we were pleasantly surprised to see that no bus was waiting for us, but instead, a caribou occupied the road. We sat above the road on a slight incline, and the caribou jostled towards us in an uncoordinated way. Its hooves clicked in the gravel, and it snorted as its head bobbed down. The noise we made made it stop and stare at us. And we starred back. After a short while it continued to walk past us, its massive antlers swaying to the rhythm of its gait. Polychrome was the most beautiful place we had ever hiked. It was our world, and our peace.