Denali National Park. Elevation 1746 feet at the Visitor Center. Thursday July 18, 2024-High 50s/Partly Cloudy Sunrise: 4:40 am/Sunset: 11:43 pm. 19 hours and 4 minutes of daylight.
On this trip to Alaska just like the one in 2000, we started our trip in Anchorage and took the Alaska Railroad to Denali National Park and then on to Fairbanks. We spent one night in Denali and had had several hours before our train the next day. That gave us time for a short hike and ranger talk near the visitor center and then a bus trip over to the sled dog facility to see the Denali Park dogs and a demo.
It reminded me of the dog we had when I was a kid. Her name was Punkin, Punk for short. She was black with pumpkin-colored eyebrows and chest markings. Dad told me that Mom picked her out at the pound at Fort Richardson in Anchorage where they were stationed. Dad and I recently found Punk’s first rabies certificate, signed by the Army veterinarian, in his old wooden footlocker.
Punk was still a puppy when I showed up and she wasn’t happy that all of the attention shifted to the new baby. She took to pulling my diapers off the clothesline. Eventually we would become buddies, but she was always a backyard dog, and I’m afraid we never paid enough attention to her.
The dogs at Denali are freight dogs, bred to pull heavy loads–they haul everything from supplies for trail building projects to equipment for scientific experiments. Built for work, they have long legs, big compact paws (to minimize ice balls), and thick coats. Although the AKC doesn’t formally recognize the Alaskan Husky, they are a distinct breed.
The Denali dogs welcomed us with wagging tails. Many of them came close enough to be petted by the day’s second wave of visitors (there would be total of three demos that day). Once they heard the wheeled cart being readied for the demo their attention shifted, and the howls started. They all wanted to participate in the short run, but only four of the twenty or so dogs would be chosen.
Punk died when I was fifteen, our last tie to those brief years in Alaska. I saw a dog at Denali yesterday with the same eyebrows and remembered our sweet old family dog.
We left Alaska before my first birthday. It was a long car trip; Punk and I rode together in the backseat of the blue ’56 Ford all the way to Kansas.