The area around Denali National Part and Preserve is elemental, in its most physical sense.  The two principal elements are rock and sky. They envelop visitors.

Rock is underfoot, barely covered with shallow soil and sub-arctic foliage. It implacably rises to meet the sky in improbably tangible thrusts and structures. Even distant rock in raw mountain ramparts seems immediate, substantial, massive, monolithic. Slide fields of rock shattered by countless freeze-thaw cycles offer both their own presence and the promise of bedrock not far below the surface. 

The sky overhead is vast, a great dome anchored to the rock that forms the horizon.  Sometimes blue, sometimes not. 

An observer who steps out of a car and stands on that rock beneath that sky and who scans an arc of 90- or even 180-degrees is acutely aware that there is probably no one else out there for the next 20 or 75 miles. 

Granite masses rise up.

This dramatic outcrop is probably about 50 feet thick, the remains of a ridge that intersects the Savage River.

These three B&W conversions emphasize the omniscience of rock just under the surface of thin soil and scrub vegetation.

Distant peaks and ridges may recede visually, but their presence confirms the incredible volume of "solid" rock visible throughout the park.

Overhead is the sky, an active participant and companion. Sometimes, as here, benign and welcoming in early August. Other times, much less so.