Drift Off at Denali

The sun is beginning to set behind the Alaska Range, here at Denali National Park. Visitors flock to this national park to experience the expanse of untouched landscapes and pristine natural beauty. But tonight, there's an other-worldly sense of peace and quiet at your backcountry campsite. In the distance, you can hear the last bush plane of sightseers leaving the park for the evening. At times, the silence is briefly interrupted by the distant calls of a willow ptarmigan and the rustling of a herd of caribou grazing on lichen and sedges. This frigid lands can be quite unforgiving and the hearty creatures that call it home have adapted to live in perfect harmony with the changing seasons. So, as we settle in for tonight's journey, let's begin our evening with a short wind down exercise. Tonight's exercise is a really simple breathing exercise. So, when you're ready, let's begin. So, first, get yourself comfortable. Now, just bringing the attention to the breath, just noticing where you feel it in the nose, the throat, the chest, the diaphragm. You're nice and relaxed. We're going to be taking a deep breath in for four, holding it for four, and then breathing out for six. So, are you ready? Let's begin. In for four, two, three, four. Hold it for four, two, three, four. Now, breathe out for six, two, three, four, five, six. In for four, two, three, four. Holding for four, two, three, four. Out for six, two, three, four, five, six. In for four, two, three, four. Holding for four, two, three, four. Out for six, two, three, four, five, six. In for four, two, three, four. Holding for four, two, three, four. Out for six, two, three, four, five, six. Great. Now, returning the breath to normal. The country is immaculately white, broken only by the exposed rock on the mountains. The rolling foothills blend into the icy mountain and continue skyward into the crisp zenith. High above any patch of flowers or thicket of trees rise the stoic slopes in biting cold that lead to the summit of Denali, or, the High One, as the native Alaskan Athabaskans call it. Truly, it towers at over 20,000 feet and is often obscured by sea of clouds. As the warmer winds from the south lap against the mountain, the clouds curl against the slopes like diaphanous waves. They rise and flow between the mountain peaks and flow downward, tracing the slopes and settling on any level pass. The only living, breathing thing at the apex are those who have made the arduous trek to mount it. They arrive by way of the careful cutting of a path on the ridge line in a single file, the footsteps of those who had already passed through, carving a well that is waist high at points. The softness and the freshness of the snow are as light as air, and as pristine as anything that could be imagined. A bracing quiet envelops...