After watching the morning sun burn off the channel fog,  I grab Aki and her accouterments and head for the alpine. It will be cold there now. Even on Chicken Ridge the sun provides little relief from the fall chill.

I pick the trail for it’s sunny aspect and the opportunity to enjoy a different kind of fall color.  The high odds that we will not see a bear also factored in because of yesterday’s foolishly brave display by Aki. The earth’s western roll is just releasing the sun when we reach the trail head. Its rays are quickly melting last night’s frost on the muskeg and sparkling bags of frost water hang from grass and berry brush. Last night’s hard freeze stiffened the moist muskeg but it quickly gives way to my booted steps.  We find flowers in full bloom here. One white daisy, undeterred by last night’s rough treatment, arcs toward the rising sun.

The trail winds across ski bowls, flattens a bit then climbs steadily to the mountain ridge that offers views of Stephens Passage and Admiralty Island.  Early birds, we have the place to ourselves until two returning deer hunters pass us on the saddle. Their face reflects the peace that comes to those who hunt deer on foot—forced to move slowly— watch carefully—recognize what is out of place. I miss that feeling.

Halfway up the mountain we stop to watch the ground drop onto the other side of the island. In a hundred places thin strips of spider silk stretched between stunted trees sparkle in the early morning light.  On the horizon, where the old growth spruce forest starts, I see what appears to be a flock of tiny white birds then realize they are only the highlights of sun on spider silk moving in a gentle breeze. Leaving the trail we head off across the tundra like muskeg to appreciate the tiny world of low growing berries and miniature grasses now glowing with fall color.

In low pockets frost still dulls the garish reds of berry leaves. They lose their beauty after the sun melts its away. A simple bunch grass, only six inches tall is the true star this morning. Still a deep living green at its base, each stalk of this grass changes to a startling yellow then gold then dead brown at the tip.  Nicely spaced on a slope the clumps provide little sheltered spaces for neighboring berries and moss.