Fifty Shades of Grey Alaska Style

I'm standing in the pouring rain cooking water for breakfast. It's been raining for three days and it shows no sign of stopping. I'd be contemplating my navel but it's safely ensconced under three layers of clothing. By this point my raincoat is more akin to a wetsuit, my wool socks are wishing they'd never left mother sheep, and the water is taking its sweet time coming to a boil.

Oatmeal, preferably hot, is our morning staple as is a hot mug of tea. My lovely wife Sophie, who is several iterations beyond having a bad hair day, is sitting in her camp chair getting an Alaskan facial by blowing in her mug and enjoying the hot steam wafting on her face.  Such are the joys of camping in Alaska. It's the 4th of July weekend and we're at the Byers Lake Alaska State Campground. We have it almost to ourselves as most of the other residents - campers, RV'ers,  out of state tourists and even the Alaskans - have conceded to the rain and headed elsewhere to drier and warmer pastures.

Sitting under our campers awning we ask each other deep philosophical questions such as "What do you want to do today?" And then burst out laughing. The best joke we've heard up here is "What do you call a sunny day in Alaska? Arizona." I can picture my former boss Barbara looking at me with a quizzical expression and asking "So this is why you retired?" And I'd say "Absolutely, positively yes!"

We're trying to wait out the weather in hopes of biking in Denali National  Park in the next year or so rain permitting. From the Visitor Center we'll catch the camper shuttle and take the 3 hour trip 80 miles in to Kantishna at the end of the Park Road. From there they'll drop us off, wish us bon voyage, and allow us the pleasure of cycling back out. Hopefully on a day dry enough to observe  more than just the rain drops dripping from our noses.

Alaska is many things but we have found it, much like on our first trip, nothing so much as a test of patience. Last week we did have several

unexpected clear days and were able to ooh  and aah as Denali made itself visible. Sixteen years ago, during that first trip we had ridden the camper bus back to the Wonder Lake Campground where we stayed for three days with the hope of catching a glance of the mountain. She had graced us with about 15 minutes of clear viewing. Anyone who loves the mountains would consider that a fair bargain as only about 30% of visitors ever see Denali. On the plus side they get some absolutely fantastic (and close up!) pictures of clouds - grey ones, dark grey ones, light grey ones. There must be millions of these photos hanging on walls around the world proudly proclaiming "I was there! See the cloud!"

Mt, McKinley was changed back to its native name of Denali to respect native sensibilities. Naming Mountains is a frivolous effort at best reflecting only man's desire to lay claim to everything on the planet but in Denali they got it right - the "Great One" towers over its neighbors and commands attention and respect even when not seen. It's said that at over 20,000 feet in elevation she makes her own weather so I guess I have her to thank for making me feel like a salmon swimming upstream as I write this in the pouring rain waiting for a window of opportunity that may, or may not, come.