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After dinner, as was our custom, we sat on the cabin front porch and watched the clouds, the distant hills, discussed the weather, observed the shifting light, followed the movements of noisy Magpies as they flew from perch to perch, the Snowshoe Hares as they darted in and out of nearby shrubs, and the pesky squirrels who lived under the deck. After awhile I realized that the squirrel activity had changed dramatically, instead of feeding they were hauling huge loads of dried grass into the holes under the wooden stoop. They ran back and forth with amazing speed, never letting up, and each time before ducking under the aging planks they stopped for a brief second, stood upright and looked directly in our direction. Then, in a split second they dropped down on all four feet and began stashing the grassy stacks into the cache. Back and forth they ran, tirelessly, and were still working when we retired for the night. What did they know? What caused the change? Survival instinct is inbred in the wilderness and something that we seem to have lost the more civilized we become.

Gail Niebrugge, Denali Artist-in-Residence

After the round trip bus ride to Wonder Lake and back we settled into life around the cabin for the rest of the day. I explored the fresh water creek to the south again looking deeper into the water, noting reflections, shapes of stones, the beautiful singular Grass of Parnassus flowers sprinkled like white pearls along the shore, and ended up in my favorite place on my log bench by the East Fork River. Out of nowhere appeared a nice bull caribou with a furry rack of antlers still in velvet. He stood forever, like a statue, perhaps chewing cud, and made not one motion. I watched him for a long, long time then strolled back to the cabin to summons Bob, on our return the caribou was gone, vanishing quietly into the wild. Later I followed his tracks right past my log bench continuing along the gravel bar close to shore, then disappearing into fast moving water near the bridge. These animals are silent and move without effort over all kinds of terrain. It was a privilege to share the same space on the East Fork River with this beautiful creature.

Gail Niebrugge, Denali Artist-in-Residence

Waking to the sound of rain dashed my spirit, the 5th day of my artist residency in Denali and my search for good light on the landscape was again thwarted. Low clouds covered Polychrome pass, the world was white on grey with black silhouettes. We reasoned that the weather might be better 60 miles to the west, so packed to ride the bus to Wonder Lake and back.

Soaked, we took seats inside the sludge coated green rattletrap smelling of wet dogs, muddy windows made it dark, I leaned into the isle to peer down the tunnel between seats where front windshield wipers provided a glimpse outside. Not much to see, the driver made idle chatter but soon grew silent, the only sound was the whine of engine changing gears up and down grades. At mandatory stops Toklat and Eielson we caught the next bus out shortening the time to Wonder Lake. The driver used a squeegee and dirty water to clean windows, streaks of mud with spots of clear glass improved visibility. The rain finally stopped and the wind began to howl.

A bull moose greeted us standing in a pond as if placed by the Chamber of Commerce at the entrance to the Wonder Lake Campground road. Cameras and flashes appeared like the paparizze chasing a celebrity, passengers crowded on top of each other to one side of the bus lenses jutting from windows. Pandemonium. “Sssshhhhh,” the driver commanded in a whisper, “quiet, please don’t habituate the animals to the sound of voices.” “Ssssshhhhhh.” The silence was broken only by the clicking of shutters. I wondered to myself, wouldn’t the rumbling of the diesel engine drown out most sounds? But, who was I to question, we were at the mercy of the driver.

The lake was choppy and wind blown, no real photo ops with flat light at mid-day, we hiked up the campground road and caught the next bus east. The wind brought the smoke again and the air was hazy, the landscape abysmal from an artists point of view. I began to grow anxious, patience is not my strong suit. A single caribou was the only sighting on the return ride. What on earth should I paint from this experience I asked myself. I felt that I had become too immersed in the every day minutiae to be able to see objectively.

Gail Niebrugge, Denali Artist-in-Residence

Every day two Golden Eagles worked the updrafts between Polychrome Pass and the hill to the south of the Murie cabin. Mesmerized by their aeronautics, I could sit and watch them forever. I often thought how amazing it would be to soar with the precision of these majestic birds, riding up and down on the currents of the wind, skimming the ground within inches, silently climbing higher in the sky only to turn on a dime and dive straight down at speeds up to 150 miles per hour. What incredible eyesight they must have. This pair worked the area like a fine tuned team, sometimes putting on an air show worthy of the Blue Angels. I’d like to find a way to incorporate this bird of prey into the composition of a future painting.

Gail Niebrugge, Denali Artist-in-Residence

With the peak Snowshoe Hare population natural predators such as the medium sized wild cat Lynx, are on the increase. We knew from the condition of the bark stripped willow and alder around the Murie cabin and observing 10-15 Snowshoe Hare take cover every time we appeared, the possibility of seeing a Lynx was excellent. After three bus loads of tourists departed their picnic below our cabin, I walked back down to my log bench on the bank of the East Fork River to sketch, and observe the landscape.

Rounding the bend I caught sight of a small grey animal trotting up the hill toward the park road. Hastily zipping open the camera bag strapped to my waist I was relieved to see the telephoto was attached, clumsily I removed the lens cover and switched the button to “on” located on the back of the camera. By the time I focused the lens the Lynx was nearly out of sight. This terrible shot is my first photo of a Lynx! I ran toward the curve in the road where the cat disappeared, camera banging against my chest, bag flopping open around my waist, panting and awkward, feeling my age and thinking I looked like an idiot. Weird things run through your mind in a panic, I remember being thankful that the bus loads of tourists were gone. Rounding the bend I saw nothing but empty road, and visually searching the bare brush showed nothing. Truth is, this well camouflaged feline could have been standing right next to me motionless in the bushes and I wouldn’t have seen him.

Later I surveyed the picnic area and found all sorts of scraps of food on the ground, not only was hunting good for the Lynx with the abundance of Snowshoe Hare, but free crumbs were available after every tour bus lunch stop. I found this to be an interesting dichotomy. All green bus riders (including us) are carefully instructed in “leave no trace” handling of food and disposing of liquids. Nothing on the ground.

Gail Niebrugge, Denali Artist-in-Residence

Bob and I hiked east climbing Sable Pass in Denali National Park pausing now and then to shoot a landscape photo when a beam of sunlight found its way through a hole in the clouds spotlighting a mountain or patch of fireweed. It was August 7 and the brilliant fuschia colored fireweed blossoms topped their stems signifying six weeks until winter according to local legends. We reached the summit and headed down Igloo grade stripping off jackets sweaty and too warm from sun. Stopping to rest near the north end of Castle Mountain we boarded a bus and headed back to the Murie cabin.

When we returned we were surprised to see three buses and people scattered all over the creek and woods below, some curiously approaching the cabin others sitting on the hand hewed log benches along the banks of East Fork River. Tables and food were set out near the buses and we realized that everyone was carrying plates and eating. One of the private lodges at the west end of the park uses this spot as a rest stop on the 90 mile drive through the park. I vaguely remember being briefed about this, but it was such a shock to see. Here we were dirty, scruffy, without showers for days, living in a very rustic situation only to be greeted by 80 eager tourists with clean shiny coiffed hair, designer clothes, spotless shoes, sporting lightweight day packs stuffed with camera, book, sunglasses and necessities. These travelers were a whole different breed of cat than those of us who rode the green buses.

Standing there, mouths agape, muddy shoes, rain gear tied around our waists, greasy hair, dirt under our fingernails, heavy backpacks a can of bear pepper spray attached, the smiling host invited us to share dinner with the guests. And we did. The sun shown on this picnic as if it were an every day occurrence, and I winced inwardly for missing this precious time with the light, instead I socialized with strangers. We were part of the park attractions, I later learned that the guide books listed the Murie cabin as a place for VIP’s and the Artist-in-Residence. Anonymity was not a part of the deal.

Gail Niebrugge, Denali Artist-in-Residence

The morning of our fourth day dawned grey and wet, low clouds and poor visibility. We decided to gear up again in rain jackets and waterproof over pants and hike the road from the cabin to the east. This region known as Sable Pass has been closed to off road hiking since the formation of the national park. A vast wilderness area where no man has set foot for decades is home to a host of grizzly bears, caribou, and moose. Wildlife sightings are almost certain in this area, although that was not what interested me on this occasion. On the first day when driving to the cabin I noticed an abundance of fireweed bordering both sides of the road at Sable and the hills were lush and green, not damaged by the bark stripping actions of the Snowshoe hare. In a word, the landscape was gorgeous and with nothing more than a hope and prayer I set out waiting for the light.

Part way up the grade it began to rain, we caught a green bus for shelter and used it as a way to help scout out the landscape. In less than a quarter mile the bus stopped to observe a grizzly sow and two spring cubs feeding along the hillside. Suddenly two additional adult grizzlies emerged from the brush very near the cubs and seeing them the sow went wild. She charged the older bears with stunning speed, lunging and clawing, occasionally standing erect on hind legs. The intruders cowered backing away and soon were on the run to escape this fiercely protective mother. The sow kept her vigil until all evidence indicated the strangers were gone. Then she rejoined the cubs romping and feeding again as if nothing had happened. It was a mesmerizing event, unforgettable. The power and blinding speed of a mature grizzly bear is awesome. There is no way on earth a human could escape if targeted by this animal, and suddenly the tiny can of bear pepper spray strapped to my pack seemed like nothing more than a toy.

The sun began to show itself through breaks in the clouds creating tiny spotlight beams shining down and moving over the landscape. A safe distance away from the bears we departed the bus to resume our hike feeling optimistic about the chance to take some good landscape photos. Finally there was some light, a tiny bit, but it was light.

Gail Niebrugge, Denali Artist-in-Residence

During our hike down the west side of Polychrome Pass rain began again in earnest, waterproof gear kept us sort of dry but the wind driven horizontal spray found ways to creep inside, wet eyeglasses limited vision and shooting photographs became unrealistic. We waved down a green bus and sloppily found a seat dripping water on passengers in isle seats.

Once again back at Murie cabin sitting in the shelter of the porch roof we watched the daily activity of local residents. Several ground squirrels created an extensive network of holes and tunnels leading directly under the wooden porch. Scurrying back and forth in perpetual motion they were working to build a winter nest. Magpies inhabited the porch eaves, sounds of their scratching and pecking on the cabin roof continued through the day into the night. An occasional small rat or vole would dart across the path and Snowshoe Hares hopped in and out of the leafless brush without an obvious purpose quickly fleeing to hide when we approached. The place was alive with life and we sat quietly and watched while the rains continued.

Later in the evening reading the cabin journals and stash of dusty books in the dim glow of a propane mantle the noises of rain, Magpies, squirrels, and other creatures that inhabited the yard all blended together into the soothing sound of life. The living, breathing heart and spirit of this historic place. I went to sleep thinking of tomorrow and the possibility of finding subject matter for paintings, knowing that it all depended on the light. The elusive, fleeting light diffused so far by smoke and rain. Maybe tomorrow will bring sunlight…….

Gail Niebrugge, Denali Artist-in-Residence

Alone at the top of Polychrome pass we resumed our hike down the west side toward the Toklat River. Walking quietly I spotted a movement on the ground at the top of a knoll about 100 yards ahead. We stopped and glassed with binoculars. Soon two red fox appeared romping and playing on the spongy green moss covered mound. As we stood trying to decide whether or not to move closer, the tiny canines scrambled onto the road and silently walked toward us. The only sound was the click of my camera lens as I shot photos with my 200mm zoom lens. Their images grew larger and soon only one animal would fit in the viewfinder, I backed the zoom all the way off and was still unable to focus. Lowering my camera both fox were passing right at our feet! An experience we will never forget, and a lasting impression, one to question how to paint? I don’t know how paint silence, or show isolation in wide open spaces, or how to show the interaction of something wild and free with a human. This is an experience, not a painting. Again, I am left to ponder…….

Gail Niebrugge, Denali Artist-in-Residence

All night rain soaked the dry earth turning the dust to a slimy mud, fed the thirsty trees and plants, and raised the volume and size of the East Fork River that raged louder just west of the Murie cabin where we were staying. Morning brought a lighter shade of darkness with a pause in the rain, the landscape was reduced to black, white and grey, and I pondered how to spend the day to take advantage of the privilege of serving as Artist-in-Residence.

We decided to hike from the cabin up Polychrome pass and down the other side toward the Toklat River, and hail a green bus when needed. We hoped to spot wildlife during the hike and that the clouds would lift revealing a clean, fresh, well watered land and clear air. To be safe we wore rain gear, strapped loaded packs onto our backs and headed up the hill to the road with lunch, cameras, binoculars, sketch material, bear spray, water bottles, with schedule and bus passes. It felt good to walk, my muscles warmed up and legs soon fell into a rhythm moving at a comfortable speed. Partway up Polychrome pass an unfamiliar fatigue set in, we were not used to hiking with heavy packs and climbing the grade slowed us down. It didn’t matter, the views were wonderful looking down on the East Fork River, and our slower pace gave us more time to watch for wildlife. Near the top cliff rock changed to colorful yellows, rusts, and browns. Quite spectacular. We carefully picked our way along the slick mud, and stepped aside as far as possible to avoid the murky chocolate colored spray from passing buses.

At the top we rested eating lunch and felt privileged to have this pristine place to ourselves. As we reveled in the quiet three tan diesels arrived and 90 people emerged chattering, exclaiming, brilliant camera light flashes bounced around like fireflies, while others searched for toilets looking horrified to fine none. They all appeared the same, emerging from identical buses with tennis shoes, grey hair, cameras around their necks, different colored windbreakers the only identifying feature. I’ve been a member of tours during travel, but I don’t think we stood out so blatantly or looked as misplaced as these folks did on this windy wilderness mountain, with nothing around for miles except nature, and their obvious need for toilets. Soon the noisy throng headed down the grade, engines whining, air brakes squealing and once again we were alone in the wilderness. A sacred time to savor, to soak in the memory of silence, of wind on our faces, and as far as we could see, there was no one else. I asked myself, how on earth can I paint this?

Gail Niebrugge, Artist-in-Residence

One of the perks for the Denali Artist-in-Residence is a bus pass. Using the bus schedule we could ride the road from Savage check point to Wonder Lake, get off anyplace and hail down the next bus when we were ready to ride again. It sounded great and in theory it was, but the practical aspects took some thought and experience.

With smoke filled skies hampering landscape research we decided to tour the park by bus to see the changes since our last visit, and figure out the system. Donning our loaned backpacks we hiked up hill a quarter mile from the cabin to the park road and waited for the bus. They are scheduled to the west about every 30 minutes and almost immediately a sleek tan colored diesel approached belching a trail of dust that choked my throat. We waved, the driver waved and passed on by. Puzzled, we were relieved when minutes later its twin appeared, we waved for it to stop, the smiling driver waved back and drove on leaving us covered in a fine, silty dust. We were confused, we could see empty seats so why did they not stop to pick us up? Soon an older green painted vehicle that looked like a school bus approached, we began waving frantically and the clunker slowed to a stop while the wind blew the trailing dust forward to cover us as we climbed aboard. “Tickets please?” the driver asked as we fumbled through our pockets and packs to find the passes. Two lessons learned, one; keep the bus pass in a handy pocket in front accessible even with pack straps and gear, and two; our passes are good only for the green buses!

So many changes in the park since my last visit in 2000, the rest stop at the top of Polychrome Pass was gone, all that remained are the stairs and a gravel path along the knoll. All the buses pause for a rest stop at the Toklat River where a brown colored tent serves as a gift/book store and a row of pit toilets wait for the tourists. Shown in the above photo are the tan tour buses and our little singular green bus with the gift tent in the background. I have to say that this “improvement” looked rather tacky in this previously remote, wilderness, but the services were very needed for so many guests. I wish the park could have planned the facility to be less obvious and intrusive.

We rode all the way to the new Eielson Visitor Information Center and were very impressed with the first class building and exhibits. The mountain was hidden by clouds and smoke, but the displays inside the building were very descriptive and helped replace the view of what we could not see out the windows. During the trip the bus driver made us aware of how tinder dry the land was and that a good rain was needed not only for the plants, but to quench the wild fires. Blinking back dust and smoke from our eyes, we already knew. Yes, rain was needed, clouds were forming and wind began to blow. We were thankful to be back inside the shelter of the tiny cabin on the East Fork River, snug and secure as the sky darkened, low clouds covered the surrounding mountains and later in the night we listened to the sound of rain on the roof.

Gail Niebrugge, Denali Artist-in-Residence

Exploring around the Murie cabin I found a small fresh water stream to the south, below the bluff, that flowed over unusual rocks creating an interesting pattern as it twisted and braided pooling crystal clear here and there revealing wet cobblestones in various colors, some striped others flecked. I found many of these larger stones with smaller ones embedded and wondered if they became glued together from a hot molten mass or if it was once a sticky glob that picked up smaller pebbles like a lint roller as it tumbled down the drainage until it came to rest and dried hard. Mentally I made a note to study the geology of this region. But, for now I broke down what I saw into shapes, light and shadow, assigned values, and looked at it through the eyes of an artist.

Gail Niebrugge, Denali Artist-in-Residence

We woke to smoke, miserable thick lung biting air that stung eyes. I was determined to find something to use for painting subject matter and adjusted my expectations, forced my focus downward to smaller things. A hike around the cabin revealed some hand carved logs placed as benches with views of the East Fork River. This place became my daily refuge, a quiet spot with soothing sounds of glacier river coursing over gravel and rocks. Throughout the week I saw animals cross the distant bars and tributaries to graze and disappear, a grizzly sow with two spring cubs, a cow moose with twin calves, a single bull caribou crowned by antlers in full velvet, overhead two Golden Eagles worked the draw between steep ridges of Polychrome pass to the hill south of the cabin. Circling, swooping down, riding the updrafts they were magnificent!

I found a dusty journal tucked away on a high shelf over the cabin window and immersed myself in the writings and observations of those who shared this place before me. Tales of adventure and encounters with weather and wildlife gave me a better perspective of the shelter provided by these ancient timbers. Adolph Murie’s book “Wolves of Denali” became my daily companion and the connection to his early work in the park and his cabin where I’m staying, built in 1928, moved my thoughts and mind back to a different time where men walked 20-30 miles a day and lived without creature comforts. I became ashamed at being such a prima-donna who whines about smoke in the air, when others are fighting uncontrolled flames to save their homes. I felt myself slowly decompress from the hectic habits of email, blogs, facebook, talking heads hyping the latest newsworthy catastrophe, and cell phones that ring like door bells or concerts. Out here nature dominates, pure unadulterated nature and the wildlife within.

My bench with a view to the world of nature, my haven, a place to rest my soul and contemplate God’s work. And it was good.

Gail Niebrugge, Denali Artist-in-Residence

My first day as Artist-in-Residence at Denali National Park, August 4th, was a time of discovery. It had been several years since I’ve visited the park and many changes have taken place during my absence. Gone is the old Visitor Information Center at the entrance, that building is now where travelers obtain back country permits and board the regularly scheduled buses to ride the single 90 mile long road into the park. New is an amazing Visitor Information Center, food court, bookstore, and the Murie Science and Learning Center, all impressive, convenient and well designed! What a marvelous improvement and first impression for travelers.

I met my sponsors at the Murie Science and Learning Center, the Artist-in-Resident program is jointly operated by National Geographic Association and the National Park an undertaking that takes a lot of coordination and planning. My briefing included a driving pass and “Rules of the Road”, quite a privilege since most visitors are limited to riding in buses, we were also given bus passes, loaned back packs and hiking poles, handed a huge stack of reference books, along with a box of linens for the bed, towels and dish cloths. All our needs were met, we felt like VIP’s! My one allowed guest was husband Bob, and we were asked not to leave the park for the whole ten days. My food planning and supplies took this into consideration. The one flaw in my preparation was extra gas, I had three 2 1/2 gallon cans of gas that did not come close to covering the needs of my camper-laden Ford F350 gas hog.

There is so much to tell you about the historic Murie cabin where we stayed that I will cover that in another post. The cabin is located at mile 43 along the East Fork of the Toklat River, and my first impression when we arrived was the terrible condition of the willows and alders that looked dead, stripped of most of their leaves. This was the work of a peak population of Snowshoe Hares feeding on the bark during winter, so many of them lived in the immediate area that the surrounding landscape was void of greenery. The photo at the top shows the East Fork river looking south through the denuded bushes, and shows the acrid smoke-filled air that shrouded the landscape. My second impression was disappointment, a haze filled sky was the result of forest fires raging throughout Alaska and the winds filled the park with smoke! My anticipation was crushed the first day, hazy air and dead looking under brush was not the gorgeous landscape I planned to paint and photograph. We were tired from the long trip and fell into bed hoping the weather would be better in the morning.

Gail Niebrugge, Denali Artist-in-Residence

Wow, just got back to civilization and have yet to shower, woo woo! I get back to the studio tomorrow, August 14 and will begin the job of updating my Blog and tell about the whole Artist-in-Residence. What a fantastic experience!

Gail Niebrugge, Artist of Denali National Park

The trusty old truck and camper are packed and ready to roll for my Artist-in-Residence at Denali National Park. I packed for 10 days; food, water and extra gas in 5 gallon cans. We are bringing our bicycles to provide another mode of transportation from the Murie cabin where we will be based. I’m not sure if I will be able to connect to the internet during my stay, I’ve packed the laptop and hope I can publish a blog or two and check email at the Toklat Ranger Station where we have access to showers.

The residency includes use of the historic John Murie cabin outfitted for wilderness comfort with a propane refrigerator and stove, but has no electricity or running water. This should be a great adventure. I’m planning to do a lots of photography, miles of hiking and biking, and will keep the sketch book handy at all times. My daily journal is important for notes and observations. Included in my supplies are tools for pen and ink sketching, I’m planning to produce drawings in ink directly on location, weather permitting. Painting on location is not something I normally practice, but I may try some quick studies using my tiny back packer watercolor set.

We are expecting frequent encounters with wildlife as this location is known for grizzly bear, caribou, sheep, fox, wolves, and other small critters. Binoculars are a must.

If I am unable to obtain internet connections I will save my blog posts and publish them when we return.

Gail Niebrugge, Denali artist-in-residence

For some reason this Morden Fireglow rose bush thrives in my perennial flower bed. All other varieties other than the hardy Hansa Rugosa have died. Some didn’t made it through a winter and others grow for several years before dried thorny branches simply won’t yield a single green leaf. I had to part with two Purple Pavers this year, replacing them with dependable Hansa. Four years old, this gorgeous fireglow is flowering and producing new shoots daily. I won’t question why, I simply rejoice it in it’s beauty and enjoy the fact that it is still alive and happy.

Gail Niebrugge, painter of flowers

My garden is host to ten Brussels Sprouts plants, each are sporting rows of miniature sprouts climbing the thick, stout stalks. This vegetable will continue to grow and mature well after the first frosts of September, and will actually become sweeter and more tender as a result of the cold weather. I will cull the sprouts from their stalks sometime during mid September, blanching, vacuum sealing and freezing them for use during winter. Time for tending my garden is growing to an end for several weeks, my Artist-in-Residence at Denali National Park is nearly here and I need to get packed and ready.

Gail Niebrugge, Landscape painter