There is a place on earth, where the forms and rhythms of nature,
reveal a world beyond the reach of normal senses.
Alaskan wilderness so raw and alive, it can touch the human soul.
The place is in Eden, called Denali.
Mount Denali, the tallest peak in North America.
Piercing clouds nearly four miles high, it crowns the vast Alaska range.
Yet all is not ice and rock here, for this is a land of transformation.
A journey over this ground has the power to change you.
Come here and the world will never seem quite the same.
Past the reach of ordinary seeing, there is something grand reflected here,
in events both small and large.
For this is a place where elements ally not to destroy life,
but to shape it and make it strong.
Where beneath the deepest silence, the pulse of life beats loud,
in the heart of the Denali wilderness.
Winter, temperatures plummet and darkness is 20 hours long.
Yet even the starry vacuum above Denali is alive with the northern lights.
Solar winds colliding with the atmosphere, or perhaps a glimpse of nature dreaming.
The wolf sense something more, something beyond our knowing.
The haunting song of the wolf pack fills the empty Arctic night,
but this frigid world is not dead, only sleeping.
In the depths of winter, temperatures plunge 60 degrees below zero.
It's hard to imagine a place less hospitable,
but a measure of shelter can be found underground, where the Arctic ground squirrel hibernates.
His body is nearly frozen.
By walking a tightrope between coma and death,
the squirrel survives winter without any food or water.
But the squirrel must labor back to consciousness every few weeks, or the burrow will become his grave.
Convulsions generate heat, and for a few hours the groggy squirrel awakens.
Protected by the snow that blankets the ground above, the squirrel will endure the long and bitter winter.
The grizzly bear also winters underground, but unlike the squirrel,
her body temperature barely dips below normal, even during the coldest weather.
Days of unbroken sleep are interrupted only by the needs of her infant cubs.
The mother may lose a hundred pounds during a winter fast lasting half a year.
She nurses three cubs born a month ago.
With cubs snuggled in mother's warm embrace,
the family will doze away the winter months inside an earthen womb, secure beneath the cover of darkness and snow.
The cold penetrates deep.
Even underground there is no wood frog, frozen as solid as a cube of ice.
Its body would shatter like glass could it be moved by the life within.
For some months the winter sun remains powerless in a land where every living thing is driven to the edge of endurance.
Deep snow slows a moose and her calf, not yet a year old.
Vulnerable to wolves, they are alert to passing caribou searching for food exposed by the wind.
Each icy day is another step toward the end of winter.
For some it is a death march.
But the caribou's misfortune is also a windfall for the long-tailed weasel.
The carcass will provide both food and shelter.
In this natural deep freeze the meat will last for weeks.
The weasel, a bold hunter of much smaller prey, will make this trophy his home.
Here he will dine and live in comfort through the final days of winter.
Days are now as long as nights, and though the air is still freezing cold, the landscape beneath Mount Denali bathes itself in light.
By the end of March, the arctic ground squirrel leaves hibernation behind.
After seven months in darkness, he moves toward the light and an unfamiliar sound.
The arctic ground squirrel leaves hibernation behind.
During the winter months, the sled pulled by dogs that enjoy rough travel is the only practical means of entering.
The only practical means of entering the Denali wilderness.
Biologist Carol McIntyre wouldn't have it any other way.
One of the few people willing to brave this season, Carol brings a lifelong passion for Denali to her work.
In meeting wilderness on its own terms, she feels an intimate connection with this land and the golden eagles she has studied here for years.
She marks the return of birds from as far south as Mexico.
The eagle, with wings spanning six and a half feet, will soon reunite with its faithful mate to nest here in the shadow of Denali.
Storms born in arctic seas are sculpted here by peaks and ridges rising 20,000 feet to the summit of Mount Denali.
A mountain so large, it creates its own weather.
By the end of May, winter is finally in full retreat. Caribou graze in foothills still frosted with snow.
Females form small herds in high, open country.
Some will give birth within days. Others shepherd newborn calves beneath a sun that now shines 16 hours a day.
Springtime has finally arrived. A wilderness awakes.
Magic transformation is also felt beneath the ground, in the melting tomb of the frozen wood frog.
Music
Miraculously, an icy death grip yields to life resurrected.
Warmed by the mild days of early June, the wood frog emerges to a world reborn.
Beavers created this pond using tons of branches and mud to craft ingenious dams.
Deep water behind the dam allows them to winter here beneath the frozen surface, surviving on food stored underwater.
Beavers shape the landscape for their own needs, and in the process provide a place that feeds and shelters a yearling moose.
By this time of year, its mother should have driven the yearling away. It is old enough now to survive on its own.
But the mother has more immediate concerns.
This is the first time I've seen a moose in my entire life.
It's been a long time since I've seen a moose in my entire life.
This is the second time I've been near a moose.
For the next few weeks, the calf is at great risk.
To survive, it must grow up quickly.
Ten minutes old, it struggles to stand.
From shaky beginnings, great things sometimes arise.
Yet here, survival is never assured.
New life faces uncertain fortune in the wilderness beneath Denali.
Within a day, the calf is able to follow its mother short distances.
Now the mother must confront a problem that refuses to go away.
Last year's calf still lingers nearby, reluctant to live on its own.
But the mother, now with a newborn calf, cannot tolerate her yearling.
She must drive it away.
The yearling is finally persuaded.
On higher terrain, the Arctic ground squirrel reaps the harvest of late spring, wary of the grizzly bear family also out of their den.
The cubs, two sisters and a brother who lags behind, are now five months old.
Their new world is full of surprises.
The little male seems endowed with a special flair for adventure, which is lost on his mother and sisters.
Too busy searching for tasty roots.
The mother will care for the cubs over the next two years.
Now they mimic her every move, except for the playful cub, who has yet to learn the cost of ignoring his mother's example.
At this tender age, the cubs should stay close to their mother.
Today it's just two out of three. The little male has stayed behind.
The golden eagle has no interest in bears. She is headed to the nest with food for her own young.
Ground squirrels are the eagle's main prey. She and her mate will bring dozens to the chick before it leaves the nest in late summer.
The hillside below seems a frightening place for a cub now lost and alone.
Help is there and waiting, if only the cub had a clue where to look.
The misadventure comes to an end with a grizzly bear family reunion.
Springtime here is late and short, but now throughout Denali, life is in full bloom.
Swallowtail butterflies entwine to conceive the next generation.
For grizzly bears, courtship is a more lively affair.
Powerful killers, capable of mayhem, they now have only romance on their minds.
The early days of June are a time of great abundance, but for the mother moose and her weak old calf, these are also days of danger.
Even while eating, the mother is alert.
Aware that she and her calf may not be alone.
The mother moose and her calf may not be alone.
Survival is a bargain that nature strikes between predator and prey.
Just downstream, these waters braid through flood plains of gravel, riverbed crossroads of life.
Water carries sediment down from melting glaciers, creating a grand calligraphy.
Brush strokes of nature ever changing on the canvas of Denali.
Water carries sediment down from melting glaciers, creating a grand calligraphy.
Water carries sediment down from melting glaciers.
A few days older, the moose calf has grown more confident.
But at this time of year, danger can appear on any hillside.
With a bear so close, the mother has only one choice.
The clumsy calf would not stand a chance in an open break.
In desperation, the mother leaves the calf hidden behind. Her departure draws the bear's attention.
A noisy misstep betrays the calf.
As witness to the struggles of life and death, Denali stands impassive.
Midsummer, yet in the mountains of Denali, winter never ends.
Its peaks form the heart of a range that arcs 600 miles across south central Alaska.
Cliffs, thousands of feet tall, are carved by grinding rivers of ice, and unbearable weights of snow succumb to the power of gravity.
July in the Denali Lowlands, and the days are filled with 20 hours of sunshine,
ample time to rest and play.
Young ground squirrels, born in spring, see this warm and bountiful season for the very first time.
With bears nearby, mothers stands careful watch while the youngsters eat and play.
There's good reason for caution. Prayed upon by so many larger creatures, only one in five ground squirrels will survive until the winter.
The end of the grizzlies' nap means it's time to sound the alarm.
Grizzlies have huge appetites, and though their diet is largely vegetarian, a single bear can devour over 200 ground squirrels in a summer.
A grizzly is a powerful digger, and the squirrel's burrow provides only the narrowest margin of safety.
It takes a few moreREK�Koops later and long trunks of meat.
Only inches from her prize, the hunger of her cubs distracts the mother bear.
The youngsters clamor to be fed, but now at least the mother knows where to look for
her next meal.
Come on!
During the height of Denali's brief summer, there's plenty to eat for all.
Top-bottom plants are a succulent meal for a bull moose.
But there is also something brewing here beneath the water's surface.
Mosquito larvae, by the billion, thrive in the warm shallows.
Breathing tubes atop their heads lend the appearance of devils, and they will soon live
up to their looks.
One by one, they shed their larval skin and emerge as winged adults.
The diabolic swarm makes life for some a misery.
But they don't die, and the
The sting of blood-sucking mosquitoes can drive the movement of entire herds of caribou.
A few bulls seek relief high on a patch of snow, but to no avail.
The insect plague will end only as summer wanes.
The days grow shorter and showers wash the land.
Light paints the sky and an autumn chill is in the air.
With the change of season, the bull moose is transformed. Antlers have grown since
spring beneath velvet skin now hanging in tatters.
Migratory birds sense the turning season and begin their journey south.
Animals now in prime condition roam a wilderness growing ever colder and more still.
Warmth, noise and light are being drawn from the land as if they were the breath of a beast
inhaling before a mighty roar.
The season lasts merely two weeks. A brief explosion of color as the balance of power tips toward the advancing winter.
The male and female moose now congregate for breeding.
It is also time for a final feast before the winter sets in.
Three days remain for the bear cubs to forage before they return to the den with their mother.
Preparations for the coming winter are made by each in their own way.
Their mother is made to feed them with裰.
At the peak of breeding season, the giant bull has no patience for young rivals.
His overwhelming size ensures there will be no contest.
Day by shortening day, the sun abandons this world.
The darkness and cold of winter regain their grip.
A wild land now prepares to sleep and to dream.
Perhaps the essence of this wilderness lies beyond our seeing.
Perhaps it is a place inside every beating heart that can be found only by searching in an Eden like Denali.
THE END