Last updated: December 11, 2021
Article
Lake Clark National Park and Preserve Wilderness Character Narrative
The legacy of unseen footprints of the Dena’ina people has sustained the place now called Lake Clark National Park and Preserve for centuries. The Dena’ina people of the Lake Clark area believe that everything has a spirit and should be treated with respect. In consultation with the Dena’ina people, the Park recognizes that from the Dena’ina perspective:
We call this ‘K’etniyi’ meaning ‘it is saying something.’ This is referring to the living natural world, which is always speaking to us, through our experience, our senses, the deep feelings that bring us closer to home inside. This is the power of nature’s voice – an ancient connection to the spirit of the Dena’ina people. Wilderness is not separate from us. Our ancestors’ beliefs and practices for caring for the land have been simple – respecting all living things, not taking more than you need, giving something back when you take – this can be a prayer, deep thoughtful respect or a small material item such as a piece of dry fish or safety pin.
The culture evolved from this relationship with the land, cultivating the Dena’ina language, spirituality, identity, values and practices that guided a life compatible with this environment. The Dena’ina and Park perspectives share values for management and caring for wilderness, which enables a high level of preservation.
Lake Clark is Kijik (Qizhjeh Vena), a place where people gather. First the mountains were gathered, brought north by the Pacific Plate and scraped off on the brim of the North American Plate. The colliding plates tore faults through the mountains and left weak spots where rising magma has formed a string of volcanoes. Storms gather over the mountains, brought to the region by North Pacific low-pressure systems, cooled by Arctic highs. The mountains serve as a fulcrum for the air masses that move across the park. Cirques and valleys are lined with glaciers. At least four major glacial advances have carved a cradle of lakes that form the headwaters of three major drainage systems which are the nursery for rearing the largest wild salmon run in the world.
Melting snow and rains gather to form a network of rivers flowing from the Alaska Range into three different seas. These rivers are the bloodstream of the landscape, flowing from the first drop gathered on a leaf in the alpine, over waterfalls, braiding through wide valleys, traversing large lakes and into arctic oceans. In return, salmon pulse upstream every summer, having gathered nutrients from the ocean that in turn nourish the landscape, the bears and ravens, the people and the next generations of salmon. The Dena’ina gathered and spread throughout this region as well, forming an enduring connection to what we now call wilderness.
Wilderness is essentially unhindered by human actions that control or manipulate the community of life.
For the Dena’ina, the relationship with the land is filled with gratitude and respect, believing, “we are nothing without the blessings of the land in which we were raised.” This is reflected in the way the Park approaches wilderness stewardship in Lake Clark: there is a legacy of minimizing management actions in order to maintain the untrammeled quality of wilderness character. The Park’s attitude in protecting magnificent landscapes from development reflects a culture of restraint and humility. It is one of the few areas in the world where ecological systems are not intentionally modified by the actions of our modern management, yet maintain a strong history and current tradition of human use and occupation.
This legacy extends to local residents and commercial operators who share a sense of responsibility for the wilderness as a land that is wild and free. This has an inspirational value to people in the larger public arena including those who may never visit but who take solace in knowing such protected places exist. It has inspired travelers who come in without publicizing their arrival, float rivers, pick berries and quietly leave without much remaining to mark their passing.
There is little wildlife manipulation in Lake Clark, and wildlife habitat in the wilderness varies naturally based on complex interactions between physical and biological factors. Wildlife is free to move through the landscape and populations such as caribou that currently range outside the park are free to return, populate the area, and contribute to cultural connections. Water flows unhindered through intact ecosystems connecting mountain glaciers with tidally influenced streams. Lake Clark protects critical habitat at the headwaters of the Bristol Bay salmon fishery, the world’s most productive red salmon fishery, which anchors the economy, ecology, culture, and history of southwest Alaska. Dynamic ecological processes continue as they have for millennia, unimpeded by Park management.
Forces largely beyond the control of Park managers threaten to erode the untrammeled quality, however. Intensive management of predator populations outside the park boundary could artificially alter natural predator/prey systems. Mining districts around the border of the park have a high likelihood of introducing pollution to the water, air, fish, wildlife and people. Climate change has already created higher incidences of fire, which could pressure the management of this key ecological process in order to protect private property or other Park resources. The Park’s limited authority over navigable waterways threatens the ability to preserve these ecosystem functions.
For the Dena’ina, the relationship with the land is filled with gratitude and respect, believing, “we are nothing without the blessings of the land in which we were raised.” This is reflected in the way the Park approaches wilderness stewardship in Lake Clark: there is a legacy of minimizing management actions in order to maintain the untrammeled quality of wilderness character. The Park’s attitude in protecting magnificent landscapes from development reflects a culture of restraint and humility. It is one of the few areas in the world where ecological systems are not intentionally modified by the actions of our modern management, yet maintain a strong history and current tradition of human use and occupation.
This legacy extends to local residents and commercial operators who share a sense of responsibility for the wilderness as a land that is wild and free. This has an inspirational value to people in the larger public arena including those who may never visit but who take solace in knowing such protected places exist. It has inspired travelers who come in without publicizing their arrival, float rivers, pick berries and quietly leave without much remaining to mark their passing.
There is little wildlife manipulation in Lake Clark, and wildlife habitat in the wilderness varies naturally based on complex interactions between physical and biological factors. Wildlife is free to move through the landscape and populations such as caribou that currently range outside the park are free to return, populate the area, and contribute to cultural connections. Water flows unhindered through intact ecosystems connecting mountain glaciers with tidally influenced streams. Lake Clark protects critical habitat at the headwaters of the Bristol Bay salmon fishery, the world’s most productive red salmon fishery, which anchors the economy, ecology, culture, and history of southwest Alaska. Dynamic ecological processes continue as they have for millennia, unimpeded by Park management.
Forces largely beyond the control of Park managers threaten to erode the untrammeled quality, however. Intensive management of predator populations outside the park boundary could artificially alter natural predator/prey systems. Mining districts around the border of the park have a high likelihood of introducing pollution to the water, air, fish, wildlife and people. Climate change has already created higher incidences of fire, which could pressure the management of this key ecological process in order to protect private property or other Park resources. The Park’s limited authority over navigable waterways threatens the ability to preserve these ecosystem functions.
Wilderness maintains intact ecological systems.
The Dena’ina continue to maintain:
The land provides for us, and we are taught to be respectful. This respect is not questioned and we are conscious that when we interact with nature, we practice a respectful relationship; this includes a prayer of thanks. We harvest our food from the land with respect and gratitude, we put up salmon every summer, we hunt for meat, and we pick berries. As we stoke the fire in the smokehouse full of drying salmon, this is prayer. As we pressure cook the meat from the black bear for canning, being careful not to waste, this is prayer. As we pick berries, this is done with prayer. We recognize and feel the connection to weather and understand the importance of paying attention. Look to the tops of spruce trees; if there are a lot of spruce cones this means there will be a lot of snow. If there are a lot of white Hudson Bay tea blossoms, this tells us that there will be a lot of salmon this summer. One fall before freeze up, a heavy fog came over the lakes – hovering over Sixmile Lake and up through Lake Clark. A Dena’ina elder watching through the window said, “A long time ago they used to say that when the fog came in over the lakes, this means that the fog is spreading the word over the lakes – the fog is sending the message that the lakes will be freezing soon.”
This is a dynamic landscape where the seasons bring constant change, where the forces of nature continue unfettered and whole ecosystems function in response. The park contains an abundance of ecoregions, from the high montane spine to alpine tundra communities to boreal forest, and out through freshwater lakes and streams to tidal flats and rugged coastline. This rich diversity supports local communities in the absence of exotic species. The Park holds two active volcanoes, Redoubt and Iliamna, which are both National Natural Landmarks. There are vast ice field and glacier systems, and coastal salt marshes where brown bears gather to forage and breed. Complex riverine systems carry nutrients up- and downstream. Ground water allows late freeze up of sloughs and facilitates salmon spawning into early winter. Bears patrol the rivers as ice closes in, taking the last few salmon before heading up into the mountains to hibernate. Three rivers, the Mulchatna, Tlikakila, and Chilikadrotna, are designated as wild rivers due to their free-flowing nature and unpolluted waters.
Throughout the Park, complex predator and prey interactions shape population distributions. Caribou herds experience cyclic growth and declines. Moose and sheep populations colonize new territory, and retreat with weather and predator pressures. Shorebirds and waterfowl arrive with breakup, breed, nest and return to wintering grounds. Bald eagles catch salmon and other fish while peregrine falcons dive at dizzying speeds through the air. And over it all the storms sweep among the peaks, the lakes freeze and break up, berries ripen, and for thousands of years, people have gathered to harvest the returning salmon.
Fish camp continues to be an important tradition of the Dena’ina people. The comparison used, when asked what fish camp is:
It is like Christmas, only better. We are not paying a price for gifts or experiencing a fleeting moment of joy and celebration. We are preparing all year long for our few months of celebration. We are coming together as family and community and sharing the gratitude of putting up fish – fulfilling our spirits, minds, emotions and bodies from the same source and practices our ancestors did. It is hard to put into words the feeling – the connection that ignites the spirit when it comes time for fish camp. It is an ingrained, unconscious movement that is felt when spring turns into summer. Fish camp is a communion with every aspect of putting up fish. It is a relationship that has been created from the time of birth, sensing when summer comes, it is time to go back to fish camp, it is the smell, the slime, it is nature – connecting back to the water, bringing relatives home, it’s knowing you have fish for winter not only for your family but to share at potlucks and with relatives and friends. It is a spiritual igniter that restores this underlying excitement after a long winter. It is a part of life that is not questioned, whether we go to fish camp or not. It is done every summer. It is the contented labor of splitting fish, of stoking the smoke house fire, and of taking care and pride in putting up fish the right way. This deep-rooted way of life cannot be measured, cannot be priced, and it can be easily overlooked by an outsider, because it is beyond the visual and the spoken.
This is an example of how local residents continue to pursue a subsistence lifestyle dependent on resources provided by the vibrant ecosystem of Lake Clark. There are few remaining places in the US where subsistence lifestyles are an active part of the ecological integrity of wilderness.
Reflecting on the idea of wilderness, local resident Michelle Ravenmoon noted, “I have learned to appreciate even the smallest interactions between animal and land. As a child, I would watch the spiders spin webs; they put unwearied effort into their webs. I learned a respect for the work put into a web and I took great care not to destroy webs just because they were in my path. I also learned to pay attention to when spiders spin webs because spiders seem to have an ability to predict when the wind would not blow and that was web-making time. By paying attention to the spiders, I learned a technique to predict the weather.”
The weather is becoming more unpredictable. Lake Clark’s ecosystems are among the most dynamic in the world, shaped by tectonics, glaciers, volcanoes, and other forms of natural disturbance. Wildlife and fish populations, and the human activities dependent on them, rely on these intact ecosystems. Dynamic landscapes, by their very nature, are resilient to change while maintaining their fundamental functionality. However, climate change is already having an impact, with changing temperature and precipitation regimes in the region resulting in longer growing seasons, shorter or no ice seasons, glacial retreat, warmer lake temperatures, shrub and tree encroachment into tundra displacing berries and lichens, more frequent lightning, and oceans that are warmer and more acidic. Natural resource extraction projects could significantly damage these ecosystems, particularly the Bristol Bay salmon fishery which supports both the ecosystem as a whole and local communities specifically. Associated development could degrade air quality, water quality, and traditional use patterns. Intensive management of predator populations outside the park could influence the natural predator/prey systems that are a hallmark of the area and essential for healthy ecosystems and subsistence activities. The Park’s limited authority over navigable waterways threatens the integrity of freshwater ecosystems, and the people who rely on the resources they provide.
The Dena’ina continue to maintain:
The land provides for us, and we are taught to be respectful. This respect is not questioned and we are conscious that when we interact with nature, we practice a respectful relationship; this includes a prayer of thanks. We harvest our food from the land with respect and gratitude, we put up salmon every summer, we hunt for meat, and we pick berries. As we stoke the fire in the smokehouse full of drying salmon, this is prayer. As we pressure cook the meat from the black bear for canning, being careful not to waste, this is prayer. As we pick berries, this is done with prayer. We recognize and feel the connection to weather and understand the importance of paying attention. Look to the tops of spruce trees; if there are a lot of spruce cones this means there will be a lot of snow. If there are a lot of white Hudson Bay tea blossoms, this tells us that there will be a lot of salmon this summer. One fall before freeze up, a heavy fog came over the lakes – hovering over Sixmile Lake and up through Lake Clark. A Dena’ina elder watching through the window said, “A long time ago they used to say that when the fog came in over the lakes, this means that the fog is spreading the word over the lakes – the fog is sending the message that the lakes will be freezing soon.”
This is a dynamic landscape where the seasons bring constant change, where the forces of nature continue unfettered and whole ecosystems function in response. The park contains an abundance of ecoregions, from the high montane spine to alpine tundra communities to boreal forest, and out through freshwater lakes and streams to tidal flats and rugged coastline. This rich diversity supports local communities in the absence of exotic species. The Park holds two active volcanoes, Redoubt and Iliamna, which are both National Natural Landmarks. There are vast ice field and glacier systems, and coastal salt marshes where brown bears gather to forage and breed. Complex riverine systems carry nutrients up- and downstream. Ground water allows late freeze up of sloughs and facilitates salmon spawning into early winter. Bears patrol the rivers as ice closes in, taking the last few salmon before heading up into the mountains to hibernate. Three rivers, the Mulchatna, Tlikakila, and Chilikadrotna, are designated as wild rivers due to their free-flowing nature and unpolluted waters.
Throughout the Park, complex predator and prey interactions shape population distributions. Caribou herds experience cyclic growth and declines. Moose and sheep populations colonize new territory, and retreat with weather and predator pressures. Shorebirds and waterfowl arrive with breakup, breed, nest and return to wintering grounds. Bald eagles catch salmon and other fish while peregrine falcons dive at dizzying speeds through the air. And over it all the storms sweep among the peaks, the lakes freeze and break up, berries ripen, and for thousands of years, people have gathered to harvest the returning salmon.
Fish camp continues to be an important tradition of the Dena’ina people. The comparison used, when asked what fish camp is:
It is like Christmas, only better. We are not paying a price for gifts or experiencing a fleeting moment of joy and celebration. We are preparing all year long for our few months of celebration. We are coming together as family and community and sharing the gratitude of putting up fish – fulfilling our spirits, minds, emotions and bodies from the same source and practices our ancestors did. It is hard to put into words the feeling – the connection that ignites the spirit when it comes time for fish camp. It is an ingrained, unconscious movement that is felt when spring turns into summer. Fish camp is a communion with every aspect of putting up fish. It is a relationship that has been created from the time of birth, sensing when summer comes, it is time to go back to fish camp, it is the smell, the slime, it is nature – connecting back to the water, bringing relatives home, it’s knowing you have fish for winter not only for your family but to share at potlucks and with relatives and friends. It is a spiritual igniter that restores this underlying excitement after a long winter. It is a part of life that is not questioned, whether we go to fish camp or not. It is done every summer. It is the contented labor of splitting fish, of stoking the smoke house fire, and of taking care and pride in putting up fish the right way. This deep-rooted way of life cannot be measured, cannot be priced, and it can be easily overlooked by an outsider, because it is beyond the visual and the spoken.
This is an example of how local residents continue to pursue a subsistence lifestyle dependent on resources provided by the vibrant ecosystem of Lake Clark. There are few remaining places in the US where subsistence lifestyles are an active part of the ecological integrity of wilderness.
Reflecting on the idea of wilderness, local resident Michelle Ravenmoon noted, “I have learned to appreciate even the smallest interactions between animal and land. As a child, I would watch the spiders spin webs; they put unwearied effort into their webs. I learned a respect for the work put into a web and I took great care not to destroy webs just because they were in my path. I also learned to pay attention to when spiders spin webs because spiders seem to have an ability to predict when the wind would not blow and that was web-making time. By paying attention to the spiders, I learned a technique to predict the weather.”
The weather is becoming more unpredictable. Lake Clark’s ecosystems are among the most dynamic in the world, shaped by tectonics, glaciers, volcanoes, and other forms of natural disturbance. Wildlife and fish populations, and the human activities dependent on them, rely on these intact ecosystems. Dynamic landscapes, by their very nature, are resilient to change while maintaining their fundamental functionality. However, climate change is already having an impact, with changing temperature and precipitation regimes in the region resulting in longer growing seasons, shorter or no ice seasons, glacial retreat, warmer lake temperatures, shrub and tree encroachment into tundra displacing berries and lichens, more frequent lightning, and oceans that are warmer and more acidic. Natural resource extraction projects could significantly damage these ecosystems, particularly the Bristol Bay salmon fishery which supports both the ecosystem as a whole and local communities specifically. Associated development could degrade air quality, water quality, and traditional use patterns. Intensive management of predator populations outside the park could influence the natural predator/prey systems that are a hallmark of the area and essential for healthy ecosystems and subsistence activities. The Park’s limited authority over navigable waterways threatens the integrity of freshwater ecosystems, and the people who rely on the resources they provide.
Wilderness retains its primeval character and influence, and is primarily without permanent improvements.
Thousands of years of human use and occupation has left little behind for lasting developments. There are cabins and ruins throughout the park, but the methods and materials of construction leave them at the mercy of the elements. A local resident, Clarence Delkettie, noted that the structures at a relative’s camp deteriorated after just several decades: “He had a smokehouse, a cache, and all of that was standing there but it all fell down and now you look there and you couldn’t even tell anything was there.” These structures tend to blend with the landscape, and many have significant historical and cultural value that contribute to wilderness character.
There are very few administrative developments or installations, preserving a large, intact ecosystem with only a light touch of human management on the land. The Park actively preserves the undeveloped quality by administering its commercial services program in a manner that allows people with an existing connection to the place to continue to operate without adding structures or facilities. In general, developments that occur are barely noticeable across the landscape and do not include large structures such as prominent buildings or roads. It is unlikely that travelers will find any indication of incompatible human activities such as mechanized equipment, directional signs, unnatural noise (aside from airplane noise,) light pollution, and other unnecessary installations. As of this writing, Lake Clark has the darkest documented night skies in the National Park system, reflecting the undeveloped nature of both the park and the surrounding areas. A mental and emotional freedom emerges from such settings where anyone can experience nature essentially free from incongruous development, and can feel part of this vast landscape.
A couple of paradoxes exist within the undeveloped quality. ANILCA allows for the use of airplanes, motorboats, ATVs, and snowmachines in Alaska wilderness for various purposes beyond what is allowed by the Wilderness Act. Airplanes are used frequently for administrative and commercial transportation due to the remote nature of Lake Clark, and helicopters are used less often (and with more scrutiny) for other administrative needs. While motorized transportation generally degrades the undeveloped quality, the utilization of these tools for subsistence and traditional purposes is essential for local people to adapt to a changing world, and for local cultures to remain resilient.
The few administrative installations in wilderness include equipment used for communication, aviation safety, and monitoring the Park’s volcanoes, climate, wildlife, and geologic dynamics. Scientific installations can provide important information for adaptive park management, but also degrade the undeveloped quality. Certain cultural resources such as historic mining equipment can be a jarring reminder of incompatible uses if the added asset of context or information is not available to appreciate the significance. Increased visitor use at certain locations in the wilderness could pressure the park to develop administrative facilities. The expansion of Port Alsworth is bringing more airplane traffic over wilderness, and the noise of more generators and other development could permeate the wilderness boundary. The same risks are true for development of inholdings, with the additional potential for access requests involving road or trail construction through wilderness. The Park’s limited authority over navigable waterways threatens to open up many avenues for motorized and mechanized transport that were previously reserved only for local access.
Thousands of years of human use and occupation has left little behind for lasting developments. There are cabins and ruins throughout the park, but the methods and materials of construction leave them at the mercy of the elements. A local resident, Clarence Delkettie, noted that the structures at a relative’s camp deteriorated after just several decades: “He had a smokehouse, a cache, and all of that was standing there but it all fell down and now you look there and you couldn’t even tell anything was there.” These structures tend to blend with the landscape, and many have significant historical and cultural value that contribute to wilderness character.
There are very few administrative developments or installations, preserving a large, intact ecosystem with only a light touch of human management on the land. The Park actively preserves the undeveloped quality by administering its commercial services program in a manner that allows people with an existing connection to the place to continue to operate without adding structures or facilities. In general, developments that occur are barely noticeable across the landscape and do not include large structures such as prominent buildings or roads. It is unlikely that travelers will find any indication of incompatible human activities such as mechanized equipment, directional signs, unnatural noise (aside from airplane noise,) light pollution, and other unnecessary installations. As of this writing, Lake Clark has the darkest documented night skies in the National Park system, reflecting the undeveloped nature of both the park and the surrounding areas. A mental and emotional freedom emerges from such settings where anyone can experience nature essentially free from incongruous development, and can feel part of this vast landscape.
A couple of paradoxes exist within the undeveloped quality. ANILCA allows for the use of airplanes, motorboats, ATVs, and snowmachines in Alaska wilderness for various purposes beyond what is allowed by the Wilderness Act. Airplanes are used frequently for administrative and commercial transportation due to the remote nature of Lake Clark, and helicopters are used less often (and with more scrutiny) for other administrative needs. While motorized transportation generally degrades the undeveloped quality, the utilization of these tools for subsistence and traditional purposes is essential for local people to adapt to a changing world, and for local cultures to remain resilient.
The few administrative installations in wilderness include equipment used for communication, aviation safety, and monitoring the Park’s volcanoes, climate, wildlife, and geologic dynamics. Scientific installations can provide important information for adaptive park management, but also degrade the undeveloped quality. Certain cultural resources such as historic mining equipment can be a jarring reminder of incompatible uses if the added asset of context or information is not available to appreciate the significance. Increased visitor use at certain locations in the wilderness could pressure the park to develop administrative facilities. The expansion of Port Alsworth is bringing more airplane traffic over wilderness, and the noise of more generators and other development could permeate the wilderness boundary. The same risks are true for development of inholdings, with the additional potential for access requests involving road or trail construction through wilderness. The Park’s limited authority over navigable waterways threatens to open up many avenues for motorized and mechanized transport that were previously reserved only for local access.
Wilderness provides outstanding opportunities for solitude or traditional and unconfined experiences.
To some people, the word “wilderness” conjures thoughts that we are separate from nature, that the woods are unknown, untouched, perhaps mysterious, or even dangerous. This may create feelings of fear, excitement, adventure, longing for connection to nature, but when all thoughts of the individual components dissolve and we let go of the attachment or judgments we have given them, all we see is the beauty of the natural surroundings. The Dena’ina are at home:
We want to care for and not take from the land, and we realize that we are not separate from nature but part of it. The wilderness and all that it encompasses is not a mystery. It is us and it is home. It is as familiar as looking in the mirror.
For some, the lack of English names for geographic features can be intimidating, confusing, liberating, or invoke feelings of discovery, adventure, and challenge. For others, the proliferation of Dena’ina place names reminds us that people have been here before, and connect us to the rich cultural fabric and shared experiences of ancestors. Many places in Lake Clark have Dena’ina place names developed over time through stories, events and experiences. It was not common to name a place after a person; natural places were left with a name that came from the experience and gifts it offered: ‘Dilah Vena’ – fish swim in lake; ‘K’dalghek’tnu’ – scraping noise (of antlers) stream; and ‘Ch’kentałqeyitnu’ – someone throws spear stream. Over two thousand place names like this are spread across the region and many of these places have invaluable information that relate to the history and environmental changes over time, key events and resource areas, and ancestral knowledge which in return teaches the Dena’ina of today about themselves. It is important that Lake Clark encompasses this important knowledge base along with the current studies of today and that we continue to honor the footprints of culture as integral to our contemporary idea of wilderness.
While we all bring different perspectives with us, the wilderness brings us together in that it fosters self-reflection, self-discovery, self-reliance, and self-fulfillment. Lake Clark combines remoteness with harsh weather, lack of infrastructure, and rugged geography including an extensive network of crevassed glaciers, steep mountainsides carpeted in thick vegetation, and swift, cold rivers. Without much recreational infrastructure, travelers must rely on themselves. There are real consequences for mistakes. The physical and mental challenge is a positive aspect that forces people to live in the moment, pay attention, and participate in their present reality regardless of their purpose or mode of transport. People tend to experience the wilderness on the land’s terms. As Michelle Ravenmoon noted, “I think many people look at wilderness and think that they need to see a bear or a moose for a true experience with nature, but it is through patience and mindfulness that the true experience takes place.”
Unforgettably beautiful and unforgivingly rugged, Lake Clark provides a setting where people can seek solitude, challenge, discovery, and renewal. This is a place where it is possible to detach from modern life and become steeped in the timelessness of the landscape and cultural connections. Such a place gives one’s soul a chance to experience the unencumbered freedom that often corresponds with seeing wild country expand to the horizon. The vast landscape and thriving ecosystems preserve outstanding opportunities for local communities to continue participating in subsistence and traditional activities unencumbered. Hunting, fishing, and gathering practices continue across the wilderness, and traditional travel corridors such as the Telaquana Trail are still remembered and used.
The sense of immersion in the landscape that one feels at Lake Clark is enhanced by the physical separation of the wilderness from urban centers. Inside the wilderness, the feeling of remoteness is heightened by knowing it is a great distance to assistance should a person need it. Most forms of communication are not reliable and weather can prevent aircraft from rescue. The sense of isolation enhances the feeling of being on one’s own, and while it may feel disconcerting, part of the appeal is knowing that Lake Clark is a place where true challenge exists.
A paradox exists with aircraft, which can be heard frequently in many parts of the wilderness. The ability to use aircraft to transport people into a remote setting is an integral part of the Alaska wilderness experience. In fact, the way people access wilderness can be part of the experience itself: the quick feeling of isolation when a plane takes off and leaves you there can enhance the feeling of intimidation and excitement of being truly alone in a vast landscape. However, this form of transportation still encroaches on the undeveloped quality, as mentioned in the previous section.
There are a number of threats on the horizon that could degrade these opportunities. There is an inherent management challenge in balancing opportunities for solitude while maintaining unconfined experiences – sometimes one must be diminished to improve the other. Increased visitation to certain areas of the wilderness are bringing up those questions of use restrictions or recreational developments. There is a tradeoff between preserving solitude and self-reliance and the construction of recreational facilities such as trails, outhouses, and shelters that facilitate access and use of the wilderness, or could help protect Park resources. Increased availability and use of technology, from satellite phones to web cams to personal tracking devices, also diminish solitude and self-reliance. Climate change may have significant impacts on traditional experiences, as wildlife migration patterns change, vegetation communities are altered, and winter conditions such as poor ice formation hamper or eliminate travel opportunities. Resource extraction projects outside the park boundary could degrade the feeling of remoteness and further alter traditional use patterns and opportunities. The Park’s limited authority over navigable waterways raises the risk of motorized and mechanized incursions into previously protected areas, and threatens to increase competition with subsistence users.
To some people, the word “wilderness” conjures thoughts that we are separate from nature, that the woods are unknown, untouched, perhaps mysterious, or even dangerous. This may create feelings of fear, excitement, adventure, longing for connection to nature, but when all thoughts of the individual components dissolve and we let go of the attachment or judgments we have given them, all we see is the beauty of the natural surroundings. The Dena’ina are at home:
We want to care for and not take from the land, and we realize that we are not separate from nature but part of it. The wilderness and all that it encompasses is not a mystery. It is us and it is home. It is as familiar as looking in the mirror.
For some, the lack of English names for geographic features can be intimidating, confusing, liberating, or invoke feelings of discovery, adventure, and challenge. For others, the proliferation of Dena’ina place names reminds us that people have been here before, and connect us to the rich cultural fabric and shared experiences of ancestors. Many places in Lake Clark have Dena’ina place names developed over time through stories, events and experiences. It was not common to name a place after a person; natural places were left with a name that came from the experience and gifts it offered: ‘Dilah Vena’ – fish swim in lake; ‘K’dalghek’tnu’ – scraping noise (of antlers) stream; and ‘Ch’kentałqeyitnu’ – someone throws spear stream. Over two thousand place names like this are spread across the region and many of these places have invaluable information that relate to the history and environmental changes over time, key events and resource areas, and ancestral knowledge which in return teaches the Dena’ina of today about themselves. It is important that Lake Clark encompasses this important knowledge base along with the current studies of today and that we continue to honor the footprints of culture as integral to our contemporary idea of wilderness.
While we all bring different perspectives with us, the wilderness brings us together in that it fosters self-reflection, self-discovery, self-reliance, and self-fulfillment. Lake Clark combines remoteness with harsh weather, lack of infrastructure, and rugged geography including an extensive network of crevassed glaciers, steep mountainsides carpeted in thick vegetation, and swift, cold rivers. Without much recreational infrastructure, travelers must rely on themselves. There are real consequences for mistakes. The physical and mental challenge is a positive aspect that forces people to live in the moment, pay attention, and participate in their present reality regardless of their purpose or mode of transport. People tend to experience the wilderness on the land’s terms. As Michelle Ravenmoon noted, “I think many people look at wilderness and think that they need to see a bear or a moose for a true experience with nature, but it is through patience and mindfulness that the true experience takes place.”
Unforgettably beautiful and unforgivingly rugged, Lake Clark provides a setting where people can seek solitude, challenge, discovery, and renewal. This is a place where it is possible to detach from modern life and become steeped in the timelessness of the landscape and cultural connections. Such a place gives one’s soul a chance to experience the unencumbered freedom that often corresponds with seeing wild country expand to the horizon. The vast landscape and thriving ecosystems preserve outstanding opportunities for local communities to continue participating in subsistence and traditional activities unencumbered. Hunting, fishing, and gathering practices continue across the wilderness, and traditional travel corridors such as the Telaquana Trail are still remembered and used.
The sense of immersion in the landscape that one feels at Lake Clark is enhanced by the physical separation of the wilderness from urban centers. Inside the wilderness, the feeling of remoteness is heightened by knowing it is a great distance to assistance should a person need it. Most forms of communication are not reliable and weather can prevent aircraft from rescue. The sense of isolation enhances the feeling of being on one’s own, and while it may feel disconcerting, part of the appeal is knowing that Lake Clark is a place where true challenge exists.
A paradox exists with aircraft, which can be heard frequently in many parts of the wilderness. The ability to use aircraft to transport people into a remote setting is an integral part of the Alaska wilderness experience. In fact, the way people access wilderness can be part of the experience itself: the quick feeling of isolation when a plane takes off and leaves you there can enhance the feeling of intimidation and excitement of being truly alone in a vast landscape. However, this form of transportation still encroaches on the undeveloped quality, as mentioned in the previous section.
There are a number of threats on the horizon that could degrade these opportunities. There is an inherent management challenge in balancing opportunities for solitude while maintaining unconfined experiences – sometimes one must be diminished to improve the other. Increased visitation to certain areas of the wilderness are bringing up those questions of use restrictions or recreational developments. There is a tradeoff between preserving solitude and self-reliance and the construction of recreational facilities such as trails, outhouses, and shelters that facilitate access and use of the wilderness, or could help protect Park resources. Increased availability and use of technology, from satellite phones to web cams to personal tracking devices, also diminish solitude and self-reliance. Climate change may have significant impacts on traditional experiences, as wildlife migration patterns change, vegetation communities are altered, and winter conditions such as poor ice formation hamper or eliminate travel opportunities. Resource extraction projects outside the park boundary could degrade the feeling of remoteness and further alter traditional use patterns and opportunities. The Park’s limited authority over navigable waterways raises the risk of motorized and mechanized incursions into previously protected areas, and threatens to increase competition with subsistence users.
Wilderness may also contain ecological, geological, archaeological, and historic features of scientific, educational, scenic, historic and cultural value.
Many specific features that are of exceptional cultural, historic, and scientific value are preserved because of their location within Lake Clark. Ancestral sites and cultural artifacts lend a sense of timelessness to the wilderness, and represent past human and ecological interaction on ancient landscapes and relict lakeshores. These sites contain fish and animal bones representing species hunted or gathered since the close of the last Ice Age, and document the arrival of humans in this region. In rare cases, such as high elevation ice patches, organic artifacts have been preserved, providing direct radiocarbon dates and a point in time for extraordinary bone and wood artifacts. More recent cultural resources include pictograph sites and prehistoric villages, attesting to the presence here of numerous cultural groups in the past. Jurassic fossils and petrified forests preserved within the Park are among the most important paleontological resources in Alaska.
Although they are mostly invisible, we know that many footsteps crisscross our wilderness. Along with the Dena’ina people, various settlers came through this country over the years. Prospectors, trappers, and entrepreneurs followed Russian explorers and missionaries. Following them and fleeing the trauma and subsequent development following World War II, many people sought to return to their roots, to the wilderness, where they could be free from developments and amenities. The common thread among most is the intrepid, pioneering spirit, creativity, and courage to follow the pull of one’s own inner compass. People homesteaded and lived a subsistence lifestyle, leaving only small cabins or caches as evidence of their settling. These small signs can connect us to a movement of ethics and values that led to the creation of the Wilderness Act of 1964, which in turn protects this vast landscape.
There are significant threats to cultural and historic resources, however. The loss of traditional knowledge, place names, stories, and traditional practices that occur on the landscape can damage the connection we have to our past and imperil our resilience into the future. Increased recreational use at certain sites threaten to damage the attractions that are the object of the visitation. Climate change threatens cultural resources through the melting of protective ice patches allowing preserved artifacts to deteriorate, erosion of coastal sites, and thawing permafrost that allows degradation of buried archeological materials. The Park’s limited authority over navigable waterways threatens to increase competition for resources and opportunities for subsistence use and traditional activities. This could further disconnect current generations with the lifeways of their ancestors.
Many specific features that are of exceptional cultural, historic, and scientific value are preserved because of their location within Lake Clark. Ancestral sites and cultural artifacts lend a sense of timelessness to the wilderness, and represent past human and ecological interaction on ancient landscapes and relict lakeshores. These sites contain fish and animal bones representing species hunted or gathered since the close of the last Ice Age, and document the arrival of humans in this region. In rare cases, such as high elevation ice patches, organic artifacts have been preserved, providing direct radiocarbon dates and a point in time for extraordinary bone and wood artifacts. More recent cultural resources include pictograph sites and prehistoric villages, attesting to the presence here of numerous cultural groups in the past. Jurassic fossils and petrified forests preserved within the Park are among the most important paleontological resources in Alaska.
Although they are mostly invisible, we know that many footsteps crisscross our wilderness. Along with the Dena’ina people, various settlers came through this country over the years. Prospectors, trappers, and entrepreneurs followed Russian explorers and missionaries. Following them and fleeing the trauma and subsequent development following World War II, many people sought to return to their roots, to the wilderness, where they could be free from developments and amenities. The common thread among most is the intrepid, pioneering spirit, creativity, and courage to follow the pull of one’s own inner compass. People homesteaded and lived a subsistence lifestyle, leaving only small cabins or caches as evidence of their settling. These small signs can connect us to a movement of ethics and values that led to the creation of the Wilderness Act of 1964, which in turn protects this vast landscape.
There are significant threats to cultural and historic resources, however. The loss of traditional knowledge, place names, stories, and traditional practices that occur on the landscape can damage the connection we have to our past and imperil our resilience into the future. Increased recreational use at certain sites threaten to damage the attractions that are the object of the visitation. Climate change threatens cultural resources through the melting of protective ice patches allowing preserved artifacts to deteriorate, erosion of coastal sites, and thawing permafrost that allows degradation of buried archeological materials. The Park’s limited authority over navigable waterways threatens to increase competition for resources and opportunities for subsistence use and traditional activities. This could further disconnect current generations with the lifeways of their ancestors.
The wilderness of Lake Clark protects a broad array of intangible qualities that are essential to the Dena’ina, local residents, travelers, and others who may never set foot in this area. While harder to see and quantify, these aspects are critical to wilderness character and must be preserved as fastidiously as an artifact we can hold in our hands. Care is needed to ensure that this ecosystem and the cultures that depend on it can persist and not only subsist, but also thrive in perpetuity.