Poor Aki. This is the second adventure taken without the little dog. Yesterday she stayed home while my daughter and I paddled the double kayak around Sphun Island. The morning fog burned off by the time we launched from Fritz Cove Road and paddled up a channel reduced by the ebbing tide. Aki would have whined when we rounded a point and met a long line of swells that rocked the boat like a mother rocks her cradle.
Bright sun simplified the colors of sea and land and sky. A child could have captured them with crayons. You’d need a few more crayons to reproduce the view this morning from the side of Mt. Roberts. We can see part of the route we kayaked yesterday, reduced by distances to a tiny part of our view shed. My daughter, Aki’s other human and I pick low bush blue berries, stopping to watch a mountain goat move along the side of Bear Valley or the ravens’ acrobatic show high above Gastineau Channel. We also watched cruise ship tourists struggling up the steep trail in their ship wear. They seem shocked to be surrounded by berries—the kind they eat in their cereal at home. Some sample them, like they might a piece of smoked salmon at Taku Smokeries. One guy in Boston Red Sox regalia tells his wife, “Well they are blueberries, not Massachusetts berries mind you, but they are berries.” At least he tried them.