In the summer of 2023, my wife and I traveled to Alaska, and Denali National Park quickly became one of the highlights of our trip. If I close my eyes, I can still picture that endless bus ride — nearly six hours through rugged wilderness — each mile a reminder that we were entering one of the last truly wild places on earth.
The ride itself was an experience. The bus would stop at intervals so we could step out and take in the sights: wide tundra valleys, mountains capped with snow, horizons that seemed to stretch into forever. And then there were the moments that made us catch our breath — several times, we were lucky enough to spot grizzly bears roaming the open land. To see such massive creatures in their own habitat, unconfined and untamed, was humbling. They were both powerful and oddly vulnerable, reminders of how life clings to balance in even the harshest environments.
We also left the bus for a short hike, and that memory stays with me as well. The trail wound past hardy plants and wildflowers unlike anything I’d seen elsewhere. They were small, resilient things, clinging to the soil and thriving in a climate that allows no excess. It felt like a window into a different kind of beauty — one born not of abundance, but of endurance.
What struck me throughout the day was not only the scale of Denali but its fragility. Standing there, I felt both awe and responsibility. This was a place too beautiful to be taken for granted, too rare to be ignored. In an age when environmental protections often come under fire, I couldn’t help but think about how easily ecosystems like this could vanish. Denali deserves reverence, not exploitation.
The park is more than a destination; it is a reminder. A reminder that nature is not something to be conquered or consumed, but something to be preserved. It is a place that makes you feel small in the best way possible — not insignificant, but connected, a single part of something vast and interdependent.
I left Denali with more than photographs. I left with gratitude, a sense of wonder, and a renewed belief that places like this matter. They matter because they show us what the world looks like when left to breathe freely, without interference. They matter because they reveal, in all their beauty and danger, what is at stake if we fail to protect them.
— Written by William Edward Villano
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