Just got back last night from a weekend excursion up to Denali. I think it's the farthest north I've ever been. We spent one night on the Big Su River in Talkeetna, setting up camp next to a bunch of boys who were drinking away the money they'd made playing banjo and fiddle on the little tourist strip in town. We posted up next to their fire until the rain drove us into the tent with the dog.
The next morning we drove into Denali to meet up with our friend, and camped on Dragonfly Creek, precariously stumbling down to the river with a liter of whiskey poured into three cups. In the morning we got up and hiked Mt. Healy, a good five-hour hike, legs burning, and the farther up we got, the more mountains we could see. We went up so far that I made snowballs! I only fell once during the descent, and then we bumbled into the lodge where our friend had gotten us a room, and took much-needed showers before heading into town with a gorgeous 19-year-old boy and having crab legs and such at The Perch. At this point, stuffed and full of wine and beer and booze, I was ready to pass out. Instead we went to the bar, swallowed a bunch of ecstasy, and boozed until the bar closed at 4 a.m. Yes, the sun was still shining at this time. It is insane here! But that makes camping so much easier: you don't need to bring a flashlight.
It's been wild meeting all these kids who just come up to Denali to work for the summer, many of whom work the ski resorts in the winter time. This is not something that I have ever done, or had ever even thought of doing, but it makes so much sense. You meet a lot of people from all over, make some money, and get out of town. And everyone is so chill, I love it. Almost makes me want to move up here, only there's this period of nine months known as winter.
Oh, Alaska. What peace, what space, what a life. Being up here in all these adventures really makes me miss my Ex. This is my first time camping without him. He would love it up here.