A view from one of the panoramic railcars aboard the McKinley Explorer Train en route to Denali National Park.
The next morning I wake to bright blue clearing skies
and drive the few remaining miles to the end of the road. Here is a permanently parked school bus, and a day park- ing lot run by a friendly woman who lives here all summer with her family. After chatting and paying a few dollars, I cross on a foot bridge over the boulder-choked Kennicott River. A meandering lane leads from the river into McCarthy, which resembles a stage set for a Western you think you surely saw, but can’t recollect the name. False fronts line the historic structures on either side of a dirt main street lined with horses, ATV’s, mountain bikes, dogs and backpacks awaiting their owners’ return. As I amble from building to building, looking in win-
dows, hearing the history of an old inn with a checkered past, I’m enticed to come closer to the peaks that ripple the skyline north of town, so I buy a roundtrip van tick- et for 10 bucks to the “ghost” town of Kennicott. Here a fortune in copper was wrested from the side
of a mountain, overlooking a great glacier complex, far away from a world that needed the red metal. From 1911 to 1938 men mined, raised families, drank, died and when the copper was gone, they left behind massive wooden works to weather thru epic winters, monuments to man’s desire for electricity and the life it made pos- sible. The NPS is slowly, painstakingly rebuilding and preserving these striking structures. Just beyond Kennicott is a trail to the Root Glacier. In
late morning I meet with Liz, a gifted mountain climber and acerbic guide who is leading me and one other client on a fi ve-hour exploration of the Root Glacier. A couple of easy miles brings us to the glacier’s margin. Here we strap crampons onto our boots, learn to walk without tripping, and set off up the ice.
I came to see the shocking blue of the meltwater
pools, resembling deepest Brazilian aquamarines set in the white platinum of centuries-old ice. Everywhere we glimpse these glacial gems, existing in their ephemeral grandeur. Channels riddle the glacier, mini canyons appearing full of runoff, and while some we can hop over, others we must backtrack from, and fi nd another route. Eventually we’ve gone as far as time will allow, and linger over a nearly 180-degree view of toothy peaks, sinuous glaciers, and 16,390-foot Mt. Blackburn. Other peaks without name recede into a distance and scale I cannot fathom, so I shoot a few more frames, rub my eyes, and begin to dream of another trip, another jour- ney north, to an Alaska yet unseen.
Kerrick James earned his Bachelor of Fine Arts in Photography from Arizona State University in 1982. He has photographed the lands and cities of the American West, Mexico, and the Pacifi c Rim for more than 25 years, shooting both adventure and desti- nation travel features. His work has appeared on more than 200 book and maga-
zine covers and in major features for Arizona Highways, Alaska Airlines Magazine, National Geographic Adventure, Voyageur, Conde Nast Traveler, Outdoor Photographer, Sky, Sunset, and Virtuoso Life.
EnCompass January/February 2011 29
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