The climb was incredibly exciting and we held our breath as we ascended each ridge. We were visited by a curious caribou along our route who snuffed and pranced as we continued to climb. When we reached the top and were overjoyed at the sight of a completely visible Denali. The majestic peaks in the distance, humbling us. Through binoculars, huge cracks and climbs echoed a song of dread in our hearts. "The Mountain" is truly god-like in being and we were blessed by its presence. Our return trip down the mount was safe and we reached the road with a sigh of relief having never encountered, too closely, one of Denali's blonde grizzlies.

As we waited for a shuttle bus to arrive on the desolate dirt road spanning either side of us, she noticed a figure breaching the hill to the east. "What is that?" She asked with a slight quiver. Through my binoculars I could make out, very clearly, a timber wolf. My answer was unsettling to her in the least. The wolf was walking straight for us now, just on the opposite side of the bridge where we sat. We began to swiftly walk away from it, but our route was mirrored in the wolf's movements.

A shuttle bus was slowly making its way toward us from the opposite direction. It was a race against time to reach the bus before the wolf reached us. Luckily, the bus caught up to us before the beast. We hopped on board and the doors shut just as it passed. The animal's yellow eyes studied the ground as it strolled past the bus and up the hill. I asked the driver if she thought we were in any real danger and she no, but better to be safe than sorry. The wolf was beautiful and my heart pounded with pure excitement at what we had just encountered.