What are these water bugs doing in this muskeg pond and why haven’t I ever noticed them before. There must be too much grandeur in this high mountain meadow; too many stars to draw away attention. Aki still ignores them.

Watching now, I wonder how they disturb the pond surface by scurrying off without destroying the water tension that keeps them afloat. They don’t move far, just a few feet toward pond center as if they know their limits?

I’ve thought of many things as this trail lead me from meadow to meadow to forest and this pond: the battle between grass and muskeg made possible by man’s disturbing presence; how the thick loads of maturing spruce cones have assumed the color of dead needles; whether this abundance is produced by heathy trees or dying ones throwing their last strength into one last toss of the evolutionary dice; how beautiful the blue berries look when flooded in morning light. It’s easier to deal with the water bugs, the apparent masters of their three square meters of universe.

Later in the day I fish for salmon in Favorite Passage. We troll for two hours and catch one cod fish but no salmon. Then a pod of Dall Porpoise surround our boat, each black and white muscular bullet half flying out of the water. They don’t break the surface, merely rise and don a inch thick coat of water before submerging to continue the hunt. While they surround us a silver takes the Captian’s herring and we land a fine male silver salmon. The porpoise lasts long enough for us to boat another silver before returning to the dock.

Gasteneau Channel is almost flooded by tide on our way home. Only a long slip strip of one island remains, covered with several thousand perfectly white gulls shinning in late afternoon sun. In seconds the birds forms a quick moving cloud as their sanctuary disappears.