I just spent three days in Alaska's Denali National Park without seeing a single grizzly bear or moose. But I'm not bitter.

In fact, I was quite fortunate to be able to observe some of the most fascinating creatures the park had to offer. You can, too. Swarming the park entrance, you will find Plump Faced Tourists. They pour from buses and RVs, converging on scenic viewpoints like crows to a Dumpster, admonishing each other to "take my picture." Family photos with scenic beauty in the background are of utmost importance to them, as I am sure they have enough snapshots of themselves resting on couches.

Whether you run into them at the gift shop or the snack bar, treat them with respect. These glacier-paced, belly-rubbing Jabba the Hutts drive our national park system's economy!

Going farther into the park requires interaction with another strange animal: Park Employees. There are several subspecies.

One is the Seasonal Worker — young, chipper and perhaps a bit stoned. The males have scruffy beards. The females have braids and toothy smiles, and they say "wow!" and "that's amazing!" a lot.

They're prone to hysterical laughter when the males exhibit their frequent, clownish mating behavior. I witnessed this ritual personally, while trying to watch an educational video on how to avoid being eaten by bears in the backcountry.

All the while, in an adjacent room, a young female seasonal worker responded to a suitor I couldn't see. "Stop! STOP!! Oh my God, you're crazy! What are you DOING!!!" she shrieked, and erupted into a cackling fit while the video's narrator instructed me to curl into a ball and protect my neck and face.

Conservationists are another variety of park employee. They are often found driving the buses that take visitors deep into the park wilderness. They know the name of every delicate wildflower we pass, such as Smoker's Paintbrush and Alpine Absinthe ... or something like that.

These Conservationists love to talk about how the mountains were created 3.5 billion years ago. Some of them look like they may have actually witnessed it.

You can learn a lot from these folks. For example, I never knew there was such a thing as "color pollution," as in, "those tents there on the ridgeline are a real source of color pollution."

Possibly the hardiest species in the park is not the mosquito, but the Masochistic Backpacker. These park denizens scan guidebooks for hiking areas with descriptions like "50 square miles of prime grizzly habitat." They leave the bus, solo, in the pouring rain, to beat their way through thick stands of alder teeming with hidden grizzlies as the bus pulls away into the endless landscape of rock and brush.

I highly recommend a trip to Denali National Park. It's the broadest expanse of nothing you will ever encounter. So vast, in fact, you can hide thousands of caribou, moose and bears in it.

You can spend three days there and wildlife will be little more than myth. Thus, at Denali National Park, it is important to look closely, and use your imagination. Those flecks of dandruff on a distant mountaintop? Sheep! That brownish boulder a quarter mile up river? The mighty grizzly!

The trip was not in vain, however. On my first night I caught the sweetest sight of all — a gorgeous showing of the elusive Mount McKinley, or Denali, as the locals call it.

While setting up my tent at Wonder Lake, the rain stopped, the clouds broke and the mountain's snowy face shone pink in the midnight glow of an arctic summer's twilight.

Wow!

Amazing!

Patrick Schultz lives in Seattle.