No matter how much I enjoyed the skiing during the Sierra Club outing "Cross-country Skiing in the Shadow of Denali" (see last week's post), the trip would never have been the success it was if the Denali View Chalet hadn't been so accommodating and the participants so compatible.
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| photo by Diana Coogle Denali View Chalet |
There were ten of us plus two leaders, and I could hardly have found a friendlier, more harmonious group of people to hang out with for a week. There were five women from Washingtron State: Louise and Susan, Piera and Sonia, and Sonia's sister, Melinda, all terrifically good skiers; the assistant leader, Natalie, from Bend, Oregon, and her co-worker at the Sierra Club, Rachel, from San Francisco; two men— Howard, who was the trip leader, and John, two years younger than I, also a terrific skier; and the two women I roomed with, Carol, who is an ophthalmologist, and Patti, who has made some amazing and impressive solo backpacking excursions.
Patti and Carol were excellent roommates in a small room with two single beds and a bunk bed. We all kept our belongings neat, respected differing sleep patterns, didn't complain about night sounds, and enjoyed chatting and exchanging stories from our lives. Everyone in the group was respectful, cheerful, and both interested and interesting. Though none of us ever talked politics (why would we?), when Natalie fulfilled one of her tasks as assistant trip leader by informing us of an important environmental issue in Alaska (Conoco's Willow Project), no one hesitated to write BLM in protest, using the cards Natalie thoughtfully provided. Every person I skied with was a great ski partner.
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| photo by Louise Suhr Front to back: Piera, Carol, me, Patti, Rachel |
This coterie was filled out by our cook, Phil, and the owners of the Denali View Chalet, Eric and Frédérique. You can imagine all there is to do to run a lodge in the Alaska wilderness, inaccessible by road. The shoveling of snow off the front entrance. Small electric lights by solar energy (in Alaska?!); a huge wood-burning stove that heated the entire chalet. No bathroom, just an outhouse—guests and residents alike walk through a deep snow-cave to get to it.
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| photo by Diana Coogle The outhouse. Note the steps down through the snow. |
There was a sauna down by the lake. Every afternoon Eric started a fire in its stove so it would be hot when everyone was back from the day's ski. There was also a shower next to the sauna, but instead of jumping in the shower, I preferred rolling in the snow after working up a good sweat.
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| photo by Patricia Carlson I'm skiing on the frozen lake. The sauna is directly in front of me. The long trail to its right leads to the chalet, at the top of the bluff. |
No chore seemed too demanding for Eric. No task exhausted him. He did everything with ease and pleasure.
Phil, the cook, was equally pleasant. He kept the kitchen immaculate. He had snacks on the table for us for each day's excursions and hors d'oeuvres before dinner. The food was excellent—chicken marinara, real strawberries in the fresh-spinach salad, slices of cantaloupe (in Alaska! How times have changed!), always something for dessert.
I had thought maybe I would lose weight during that week due to all the exercise I would be getting, but I hadn't factored in the counter-balance of such good food—and of the worked-up appetite!
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Meals were served at two tables. I liked it best when Eric or Phil joined the table where I was sitting so I could hear their stories and ask questions about the chalet and Alaska.
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| photo by Patricia Carlson I am in front. L-R, clockwise from me: Sonia, Carol, Louise, John. Phil is at the head of the other table. From him, L-R, clockwise: Susan, Piera, Howard, Rachel, Natalie, Melinda, Eric (chalet owner). |
Built in the 1970s by Sepp Weber, who is in his nineties now and still skis in occasionally, the chalet is a model of precision and craftsmanship.
It was easy to understand how things worked. When you came back from a ski trip, you stuck your skis in the snow at the chalet entrance.
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| photo by Patricia Carlson The ladder to the upstairs bedrooms with a carved moose behind it |
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| photo by Patricia Carlson |
You took off your boots in the mud room and hung your coat on the coat rack inside the chalet. On the other side of the coat rack was a small alcove with a basin at one end and an on-demand water heater—for washing faces and brushing teeth. Immediately in front of you was a ladder to three small upstairs bedrooms. (Phil has a tiny room off the mud room—Sepp's room, for Sepp when he is there. Eric and Frédérique sleep in a tiny room behind the ladder. There were also two cabins close to the chalet.) In the main room was a sitting and lounging area, two large dining tables, and a kitchen alcove. Above the wood-burning stove was a circular device with clips for hanging wet gloves, gaiters, and hats. A large pot of water stayed on the stove for hot water for doing dishes. Every detail had been considered.
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| photo by Patricia Carlson Frédérique facing the camera. Phil with back to camera. Kitchen to Phil's right. |
Chickadees and woodpeckers flew constantly around the bird feeder near one of the windows. Someone was also keeping the feeders full of seed.
Everything ran so smoothly it was easy to forget how far from "civilization" you were except there was all that snow out the window and, on a small side table, books about Alaska.
True to its name, Denali View Chalet is perched on a bluff overlooking now-frozen Koto Lake. To the right and above the lake, visible from my bedroom window, rose Denali, absolutely stunning.
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| photo by Diana Coogle |
Denali is the highest mountain in North America, but if mountains were measured from base to summit, instead of from sea level to summit, Denali would be the highest mountain in the world. I felt the deep privilege of being in her presence for a week, likewise of being at the chalet for a week and of being with such a great group of people.
Next week: Cross-country Skiing in Alaska, Part 3: Story-telling
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