If you’re riding the Alaska Railroad, and it’s 65F and sunny, and you’re on a barely-occupied winter train with a great conductor that’ll let you go wherever you want, just walk yourself straight back to the luggage car, ask the conductor to open both side doors, and never leave. The sound of the train, crystal-clear views of Denali, the sun warming your skin, the wind whipping your beard, the great conversations, peering over the edge of a thousand-foot bridge, loading coolers for people who’ve hiked from their cabin in the middle of the bush to buy groceries, seeing and hearing an unbelievable amount of ice jam and crack and flow—you miss these things and more if you stay inside. I met some great people on the ride. Tyler just spent a week in Honolulu and is geared up to hike and backpack all summer. He’ll be working at a gift shop in Glitter Gulch1 and is interesting, adventurous. Carlos was staying at my hotel, and we split a cab. He’s from Miami and taking an Alaskan vacation. He’s inquisitive and easy to talk to. “I don’t visit any place more than once. It’s never as spectacular the second time.” Anne and I share a weird coincidence: we’ve both worked at Black Canyon/Curecanti. In fact, her name sounded familiar because she’d applied for and almost accepted an interpretive position for this summer; I’d heard about her and her qualifications during the application process. But she got offered a job in Denali, and even though it meant a demotion from G-5 Interpretive Ranger to G-4 Visitor Use Assistant, “it’s Alaska!” Like I told Tyler just before meeting Anne: Alaska is a filter that brings together certain brands of eccentricity from across the country and world. Don’t be surprised if you meet people with whom you share strange similarities or have met before. The strip of hotels and tourist shops on the banks of the Nenana just outside the park entrance. ↩

If you’re riding the Alaska Railroad, and it’s 65F and sunny, and you’re on a barely-occupied winter train with a great conductor that’ll let you go wherever you want, just walk yourself straight back to the luggage car, ask the conductor to open both side doors, and never leave. The sound of the train, crystal-clear views of Denali, the sun warming your skin, the wind whipping your beard, the great conversations, peering over the edge of a thousand-foot bridge, loading coolers for people who’ve hiked from their cabin in the middle of the bush to buy groceries, seeing and hearing an unbelievable amount of ice jam and crack and flow—you miss these things and more if you stay inside.

I met some great people on the ride.

  • Tyler just spent a week in Honolulu and is geared up to hike and backpack all summer. He’ll be working at a gift shop in Glitter Gulch1 and is interesting, adventurous.
  • Carlos was staying at my hotel, and we split a cab. He’s from Miami and taking an Alaskan vacation. He’s inquisitive and easy to talk to. “I don’t visit any place more than once. It’s never as spectacular the second time.”
  • Anne and I share a weird coincidence: we’ve both worked at Black Canyon/Curecanti. In fact, her name sounded familiar because she’d applied for and almost accepted an interpretive position for this summer; I’d heard about her and her qualifications during the application process. But she got offered a job in Denali, and even though it meant a demotion from G-5 Interpretive Ranger to G-4 Visitor Use Assistant, “it’s Alaska!”

Like I told Tyler just before meeting Anne: Alaska is a filter that brings together certain brands of eccentricity from across the country and world. Don’t be surprised if you meet people with whom you share strange similarities or have met before.

  1. The strip of hotels and tourist shops on the banks of the Nenana just outside the park entrance. ↩

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