Oh Carl, what would you make of this Juneau Fog? The stuff obscuring Gastineau Channel didn’t come on cat feet. It manifested itself like a ghost. From Chicken Ridge, I could see the morning sun light up Douglas Island as I loaded the Black and Decker coffee maker. Fog blocked the view before I could take my first sip. Some days it outlasts the sun but today’s channel fog disappeared in an hour.

Aki and I find a slip of fog still haunting the mouth of Nine Mile Creek. It forms a line of parallel scimitars and heads toward a grove of still yellow cottonwood trees until dispersed by a puff of wind. More formidable fog patches recline like toga wearing drunks over ridges of the Chilkat Mountains. One tries to hide the glacier from view. It could hold there all night if the wind doesn’t rise.