Today Aki and I climb the old mining road to the head of Ebner Falls, passing  beauty and ghosts. We also pass cascades. Most are made of water but one of is of red flowering Columbines that together mimic the steep streams tumbling down Mt. Juneau’s avalanche chutes. With patience and time we could see Anna Hummingbirds feed on the flowers now spread wide open. There is only time for a dash to Ebner Falls and then back to Chicken Ridge where I will catch a  ride to Tee Harbor and then, with luck, catch a King Salmon.

We pass the steep slope where a young runner fell to his death on November ice. From here you can see Ebner Falls roar into Gold Creek. The falls blast through a narrow portal in glacial rock to fall over 100 feet into the creek. The government once kept a bench near the top of the falls but removed it after too many died falling in. I can see how it happens. At the top of the falls, Gold Creek is just a refreshing stream broken by large rocks as it flows through flat ground.  After a hot hike from town people venture into the stream, fall against a rock and then go over a precipice into the vortex. Last summer Search and Rescue saved one young berry picker who slipped into danger. The year before a young girl fell and was never found.

With prayers for the departed we return home and I go fishing for salmon. My friend and I try for King Salmon but settle for silver bright chums (dogs). Their red flesh makes great kipper treats we will enjoy next winter.

We listen to old blues or rock music when the baseball games aren’t on the boat radio. My fishing partner was dancing on the boat’s rear deck to a B.B. King song when the second salmon bit.  I saw it all, the fisherman, with arms slightly out twisting with Mr. King’s music and then pointing at his fishing pole. The pole bending over from the pressure of the strike. He playing the fish while I brought in the other line and readied the net. Our friends cruising by in their boat, looks of dismay or perhaps respect on their faces.

King Salmon reach Juneau first followed by chums, and pinks. Finally, in he fall the tasty and plentiful Silver Salmon arrive to fill our freezers. The kings, with fat red flesh can run 40 pounds. One can feed us most of the winter.  They have moved on toward their spawning streams, pushed out by by the more numerous chums.

While we fish a humpback whale hammers herring at the harbor mouth before following us up the Breadline troll run. We both follow the herring, he for food, and we in hopes that they will attract the King Salmon. The water runs deep here and the whale cruises  close against the shore, 100 meters behind us. I worry that we block his passage but he skirts around our boat, raises flukes to the sky and sounds.  We don’t see the whale again until reentering the harbor, where we watch the humpback throws himself into the air in a breach and crash with flukes flapping into the sea.