Fogged Out

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Aki is bored. She doddles along behind me on this mountain meadow trail. There’s not a dog in sight. When we first arrived, only the ghosts of Douglas pines could be discerned in the fog. Within minutes the fog started to lift. In minutes all the drama was gone. Okay, little dog, let’s try a rain forest trail.


We drop down to sea level and park in a trailhead parking lot. Fog still penetrated the rain forest and hung low over the beaver pond. It robbed us of any view of the Chilkat Mountains. I could just make out a section of Shaman Island and little of the coastline.

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We heard an eagle call out to its mate when we walked onto the beach. After that it has been quiet. There are no gulls or scoters to break the silence. Thanks to the fog, no airplanes can drone overhead.

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Without the competition of sight and sounds, my nose takes center stage. I breathe in the soft, salty smell of the sea and the sharp iodine tang of severed wrack. But I am still just a burgers and fries guy compared to the little nasal gourmet searching the trail for scents of her dog friends.

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