The night we arrived outside Denali, I said up a prayer, one learned from the Aboriginal peoples. I asked 'The High One' (that is what Denali translates to) if S/He would be so kind to show itself to us, so that we may honor it's glory. When we arrived the next day in the park, amongst cloudy, drizzling clouds, I knew it was not meant to be for us to bear witness to the The High One. I was okay with that. I learned that the chance of seeing The High One was about 33%. Who were we to be in that small percentage? We are not so special. Instead, I was humbly thankful to spend several hours amongst the grandeur of the remote, sacred land and the four legged and winged ones we were most fortunate to see.
When we left the following day, to head the two hundred plus miles back towards Anchorage, the sun was shining, the weather warm and the clouds were few. As we trodded further on down the road we were greeted with the most majestic snow capped peaks; Rugged peaks that dominated over the landscape with it's power and glory and took my breath away. We were greeted by The High One.
We pulled over at numerous spots, to get out and take in the rare gift of seeing The High One. A young couple was picnicing in the cab of their truck at one of those stops, relishing their food with the view of one of the most spectacular mountains in front of them. We all knew what a precious gift we had been given; a crisp, clear view of the highest peak in North America.
I was not sure if the girls would appreciate the gift they had been given but when I heard words like 'pretty' and 'beautiful' and 'wow' come out between silent moments when they started into the landscape in front of them, I had the feeling this would be something they would not forget.
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