Aki and I head out the road. That’ local lingo for driving forty-miles to the north end of the Juneau road system. The little dog is getting frustrated because I stop often to take pictures of the spruce-green Lynn Canal islands back-dropped by the white frosted Chilkat Mountains. She starts squealing when I stop to photograph Canada geese near Eagle River. Because of the birds, Aki has to stay in the car.
When we finally reach the Camping Cove trailhead, the poodle-mix flies out of the car. I follow her down a newly graveled trail that winds to the beach through a mature alder grove. It’s the perfect day for this walk, which takes us along beaches and over the headlands that connect them. Perfect because last night’s cold temperatures have firmed up the boggy portions of the trail. Excellent because full sun floods the beaches with light, making the surf line burn with a silver light.
It’s not all sweetness and light. The little dog disappears and then returns with a “he will never know” look on her face. In the car I smell the evidence. She rolled in something long dead. I see bath time in her near future.