Alaska 2023 — The End of the Road, Reflections

In 1975, John Denver produced a TV documentary about Alaska, including filming in McCarthy and Kennecott. He wrote several songs about Alaska, including the one that inspired me to want to see the Wrangell Mountains. The publicity he generated, along with the general 1970’s trend toward environmentalism and natural preservation, probably contributed to the 1980 designation of Wrangell-St. Elias as a National Park and Preserve. McCarthy was incorporated into the park as a private inholding, allowing those who had settled there to continue living the frontier life that first drew them. However, with the improved access of the McCarthy Road, others have joined them, swelling the population from 28 in 2010 to 107 in 2020. Limited access and land availability, along with the harsh winters provide a moderating damper on further population growth but National Park tourism has now left its mark on the town, at least in summer. The tension between wanting to explore the end of the road and get away from it all, alongside the need to protect and preserve wild places was palpable in McCarthy and Kennecott. In many ways it mirrors our experience in Colorado.

The Wrangell Mountains at the End of the Road

The first time I remember hearing John Denver’s music I was eight years old, on a family vacation in 1973, sitting around a campfire in southwestern Colorado, while my dad and a neighbor played guitars. In those days John Denver was all over the radio and TV, singing about the “Colorado rocky mountain high.” My family would take another Colorado vacation from our home in Texas in 1975, and again in 1977, and virtually every year after that. John Denver is at least partially responsible for my lifelong fascination with Colorado, where I met my wife and where we eventually returned to live, only a few miles from where she grew up. Alas, we live in a suburban neighborhood and not the cabin in the mountains that I once dreamed about, but from our bedroom window we can just see the mountains, and we can be on a mountain trail within 30-45 minutes when we have a free Saturday. That is, unless we get caught in traffic with thousands of other residents and tourists who have the same idea.

My Dad on one of our vacations in Colorado

Despite his environmentalist ethic and efforts to preserve nature and animals, John Denver represented a paradox: he was born in New Mexico, not Colorado, but by trading Deutschendorf for Denver as his last name, making Aspen his home, and singing about his “sweet rocky mountain paradise,” he fundamentally changed Colorado. From 1972 to 2021, the state’s population more than doubled, especially along the Front Range and the I-70 mountain corridor. Maybe it would have happened anyway, but many of those moving to Colorado–like me–were seeking an outdoor mountain lifestyle popularized in John Denver’s music. Even as he extolled the virtues of mountain living, his Rocky Mountain High lyrics include the lines:

“Now his life is full of wonder, but his heart still knows some fear,

of a simple thing he cannot understand,

why they try to tear the mountains down to bring in a couple more,

more people, more scars upon the land.”

Since at least the 1970’s, many in Colorado have had a strong anti-growth sentiment similar to that of McCarthy, although certainly not “off the grid.” The antipathy toward growth expressed in Denver’s lyrics led to the state declining to host the 1976 Winter Olympics. Although Colorado is somewhat economically dependent on tourism, many residents bemoan the “flatlanders” on the trails and slopes. The “no vacancy” attitude of residents is reflected in the bumper stickers proclaiming “NATIVE,” modeled after the state green and white mountain license plates. When we moved to Colorado I felt compelled to explain that my wife was born here, as if to give me some kind of native-by-marriage status. Never mind that the only true Colorado natives are from the Apache, Arapaho, Comanche, Pueblo, or Ute tribes, just as the true Alaskans are Aleut, Inupiat, Yuit, Athabascan, or Tlingit.

Mining left its mark on Kennecott and McCarthy in the 20th Century, just as it did in Colorado in the 19th. Tourism and those wanting to live in the mountains have changed Colorado from the state John Denver first came to “in his twenty-seventh year,” and they are changing Alaska, albeit much more slowly. Four national parks were established in Colorado early in the 20th Century; Alaska now has eight. Rocky Mountain National Park is among the top five most-visited parks in the U.S., with a reservation-system in place to enter the park during summer. We’ve been among those making Rocky Mountain one of the most visited and we have now been among the lucky few to drive the McCarthy Road. Wrangell-St. Elias has nowhere near the visitation of Rocky Mountain, or even Glacier Bay or Denali, and probably never will, due to the difficulty in getting there. But our visit to McCarthy and Kennecott was surely different than the one John Denver made in 1975, and it raises the question: what will it be like in 2075? National Park status certainly helps protect and preserve our national treasures, but like John Denver’s music, it can also create awareness and attract people like us who want to see these national treasures.

Another way our experience in McCarthy differed was that we stayed outside the park at the Copper River Princess Wilderness Lodge. The lodge was closed in 2022 due to difficulties in staffing following the pandemic. When we arrived it was fully booked, mostly by cruise-ship passengers on land excursions. Even though we wanted to explore the wild side of Alaska, I have to admit that we enjoyed staying in an upscale hotel at bargain rates rather than the high-priced rustic accommodations in McCarthy. One morning while waiting on our fancy coffee prepared by a barista, we struck up a conversation with one of the cruise-line passengers. In response to our question about her plans for the day, she said, “I don’t know, we’re going somewhere; I just know I have to be ready to get on the bus at 10:00.” The offhand comment struck us as sad, as if anywhere in Alaska is just another somewhere, just another travel box to check off. Our sense when we are there is a sense of awe and appreciation; it’s puzzling when others don’t share that same response.

We’ve been surprised to encounter the same lukewarm response on Colorado’s 14,000 foot mountains, which some approach simply to “bag the summit” and check off on their list; others blare music from their phones, oblivious to the symphony of sounds nature provides; some leave their trash behind and trample on the tundra; and others attempt a challenging climb completely unprepared and under-equipped as if they were going for a walk in the park. More recently, some seem only interested in the other kind of “rocky mountain high” as Colorado has unfortunately been branded. Although Alaska followed Colorado’s lead in legalizing marijuana, it doesn’t seem to have taken hold in the same way.

Aside from the cruise ship industry, Alaska doesn’t lend itself to simply checking travel boxes–it’s much too large with so much to see. Cell phone coverage is spotty at best; I haven’t seen trash on the trails like I have elsewhere; and most people venturing beyond the roads seem to be prepared to do so. In Alaska you can still get away from it all and see something very few people get to see. That’s what has made our visits there so special. Yes, we’ve seen a glacier from a crowded tour boat in Kenai Fjords, but we’ve also been up close to one in a kayak and walked on another one far from any crowds. Our sighting of a mama grizzly and cubs came not on an expensive flight to Katmai National Park, but on a fishing access trail in the Kenai peninsula. Despite our visit to Denali National Park, we still haven’t seen Denali up close–only a hazy view from Anchorage–but we have marveled at countless other mountains seemingly everywhere we looked in Alaska. Our favorite towns have been out-of-the-way places like Homer and Talkeetna and Valdez and McCarthy.

McCarthy and Kennecott were first established because of corporate greed to exploit the resources of the land. When profits declined the corporation looked elsewhere, leaving behind buildings, houses, equipment, and “scars upon the land.” Others moved in to experience an Alaska life off the grid and built a unique community in harmony with the land, but some moved in exploiting the isolation of the land for selfish purposes. It seems to me that many tourists approach iconic destinations in the same way, selfishly exploiting what the land has to offer and leaving it behind for other destinations, sometimes worse for the wear.

So what to do with the tension between seeing the wild places and keeping them wild? I submit that the attitude with which we approach them makes a difference. Are we there to check a box or to see something sublime? Do we understand the significance and value of what we are seeing? Are we bringing a “leave no trace” ethic to the wild places or are we treating them like our own backyards to do with whatever we wish? Are we prepared to encounter the wild places on their own terms, or are we overly-concerned with bringing the comforts of civilization with us? (OK, we appreciate a comfortable hotel and fancy cup of coffee as much as anyone). Are we respecting both nature and people as we visit or are we placing our own selfish desires above both? It’s a fine line, and none of us may walk it perfectly, but other lyrics from Rocky Mountain High still inspire us to try:

“Now he walks in quiet solitude the forests and the streams
Seeking grace in every step he takes
His sight has turned inside himself to try and understand
The serenity of a clear blue mountain lake“

Kennecott Mines National Historic Landmark

The mission of the National Park Service is to preserve “…unimpaired the natural and cultural resources and values of the National Park System for the enjoyment, education, and inspiration of this and future generations.” (nps.gov/aboutus). It seems that this would be a suitable aim for individual travelers as well–to enjoy, be educated, be inspired, and value the natural and cultural resources ourselves, and to help preserve them unimpaired for future generations. As much as we might like to, we can’t go back and undo the exploitations of the past. But we can approach the wild places with a different attitude of appreciation and respect, and pass on those values to the ones who come after us.

“The heavens are the LORD’s heavens, but the earth he has given to the children of man.” — Psalm 115:16