All our favorite trails end at a beach. They usually begin at the edge of an old growth forest. Today’s starts with a crossing of this grassy marsh. It would be a great place to be late this afternoon if the sun breaks through the marine layer to bring shadow and light to this expanse of grass, now more yellow than green.

After crossing the marsh we take a path bordering it and a spruce forest.  Large alders line both sides of the trail. The sun breaks through to throw a haphazard pattern of light on their grey and white trunks before we turn into the forest and start to climb a long low hill. Autumn is well advanced here. The now rot brown leaves of large skunk cabbage plants lay splayed out in circles around their centers where small young shoots makes foolish attempts to grow.

The sun finally breaks free of clouds as we crest the hill, Here a young spruce grows despite a large scar made by porcupine teeth. It will die unless the tormentor moves on. I can’t find  teeth marks on any of the surrounding trees so I wonder if it has been chosen for sacrifice or simply tastes especially good to the spiny rodent. Aki leaves the trail often now on secret missions while I try to capture with the camera the translucent of willows and devil’s club leaves being backlit by the low morning sun.

I’m the first to reach the rocky beach I set for our goal. While waiting for Aki to catch up I inspect the remains of a river otter’s meal—a sea urchin shell picked clean of meat and an equally denuded mussel shell. They are such tidy eaters.  When Aki arrives I plot down on a flat toped rock offering views of a short promontory jutting into Lynn Canal and a pocket beach now exposed by low tide. Aki takes station behind me where she can watch the forest. She leans against my back, a pleasant weight, and we settle down to see what there is to see. I spot something first—two things actually—a pair of seals moving cautiously around the rocky point. I manage to snap a picture of them before they disappear.

We come to expect solitude on Juneau’s trails, especially in October. No one has bothered to count the number of pocket beaches like the one in front of us. If inclined, Aki could be the the first after last nights high tide to spot its sand with paw prints. Today there is a bonus. No boat transits past us on Lynn Canal, no floatplane or helicopter competes with the sound of small waves washing over mussel encrusted rocks. The seals never return but we watch a double kayak move slowly up channel toward the Eagle River bar. I run my hand over Aki’s soft grey fur and we move back into the woods for home.