Monthly Archives: February 2019

Aki’s Day Off

Leave a reply

Yesterday hid in her kennel as I gathered gear for our daily walk. I managed to coax her out but she was back in the kennel by the time I opened the front door.  It had been snowing for hours by that time. Six inches of fluff covered the hiking trails. I didn’t push the matter. But this morning I am wondering whether she will balk again.

            The snowstorm ended an hour before. But it was still storm gray out. Aki didn’t seem to mind. She waited at the front door for me to secure my boots. She leaped from the car as soon after I stopped the car at the trailhead.  We had to climb an two-meter high snow berm to reach the trail. That didn’t slow her. But a half-mile down the trail I discovered that I was alone. Backtracking, I found the little poodle-mix chest deep in new snow. Golf-ball sized snow clumps covered all four of her legs. 

  Looking like a guilty child, Aki slowly turned and headed back toward the car.  I knew we would soon be on a snow-free beach so I picked her up. While I carried her up the trail, I pulled snowballs from her fur. Most were gone by time we reach a spot where she could smell salt water. She wriggled as I lowered her onto the trail. 

  In ten minutes were on a beach swept clear of snow by the ebbing tide. Aki, her legs again loaded down with snowballs, stood by my side. Together we watched a sea lion, just fifteen meters away, raise its doggie head out of the water to check us out. Aki gave out a low growl. The sea lion immediately disappeared into the water.  After that, the little dog had no problem leading me back to the car. 

          

          

Ice

Leave a reply

Three college-aged folk just stepped onto the lake ice. They shuffle their feet to test for cracks. When reassured by silence, they start the 1.2-mile walk the face of Mendenhall Glacier. I am tempted to follow them. Our recent stint of cold weather set up the ice nicely for walking. Then there’s the patch of dark blue ice that might be the opening to a crevasse.  But we still swing away from lake and take the trail to Nugget Falls. 

            While our spell of cold weather opened up the lake to walking, it made the falls trail treacherous. My cleats provide sufficient purchase on the icy trail for progress. Aki finds better going on the crusty snow that lines the trail. I’d punch through if I tried that trick. 

The little dog waits for me at stream crossings where a thin sheet of water covers the ice. She knows not to let her feet get wet in freezing weather. I lift her with one hand and ferry her to the other side of each creek. She trots ahead scouting out possible dangers. She wants me forewarned. 

The falls have been quieted by cold. Water flows over and under an ice fantasy that will continue to grow until true cold weather silences the creek. The ice shell makes it possible for us to walk right up to a spot normally swept by thick snakes of water. I turn to see whether Aki appreciates this rare chance. Rather than nosing the wonder with the tip of her muzzle, the poodle-mix is ten feet away, huddling in a nest of glacial granite. 

A Sled Dog’s Sense of Ice

Leave a reply

We have been here before. Me, wandering onto questionable ice; Aki waiting at the ice edge waiting for me to come to my senses. Her lack of trust once would have bothered me. But after seeing a new crack in the pond I smile and turn back to join her. The little poodle-mix has a sled dog’s distrust of ice. She also has a lead dog’s loyalty. She would have followed me across the beaver pond ice if I had continued. 

After our retreat, we head down an ice covered trail to the Outer Point Beach. Thanks to my industrial grade ice cleats, I can walk without slipping. Aki must take more care. But she has a sled dog’s skill at changing gait and speed to keep from falling. 

            Two harbor seals watch us walk onto the beach. An eagle flies across the mouth of Peterson Creek. After I raise my camera the big predator makes a course correction and returns to its roosting tree. The seals disappear. I can almost hear a nearby raft of golden eye ducks breathe a collective sigh of relief.  

First Light

Leave a reply

Because there is no wind and the temperature has stayed above zero, I brought Aki back to the Fish Creek Delta. Ice still covers the trail so the little dog and I slip and slip on the trail to the pond. The ice layer on the pond is healing after the last thaw.  A layer so thin it is transparent already covers all recently opened water.

            My right index finger burns when I depress the camera shutter button. I wish the sun could hurry its climb up the backside of the ridge that blocks it light. The little dog and I could use a source of heat.

              We will eventually walk in sunlight but it won’t provide much warmth. We will hear several bald eagles but only see one as it flies between a gap in the trees. I will wonder at having the luck to look up at that moment in time to see the eagle. Then I will question whether I wasted my luck on such a far away view of the predator.   

Out The Road

Leave a reply

Aki and I are out the road to get away from the strong winds hammering Downtown Juneau. Usually it is colder out here. But today it is a toasty 15 above F.

            No clouds block the sun. It lights up the snow-covered Chilkat Mountains and brightens the surface of Lynn Canal. Aki squints into the resulting glare as we approach the Peterson Lake outfall stream. Inches of thick ice coat the rocks on either side of the stream. The ice would glow as if lit from within if the sunlight could reach it. Without the sun’s help the ice is reduced to a low-contrast rock coating that make passage impossible, even for the sure-footed little poodle.   

How Bad Do They Smell?

Leave a reply

Aki rarely gets that look on her face—big eyes, pulled back ears and lips—the one I get after smelling something just dead. We had been cruising down the Basin Road trestle bridge. She had just finished a game of tag with two Labradors. I was excited after watching mountain goats foraging on the lower slopes of Mt. Juneau. We were both pleased to have snuck in a hike up the Perseverance Trail before an expected windstorm.  It will bring 75 mile-an-hour gusts, turning the Gold Creek valley into a place where exposed flesh will freeze in thirty minutes. 

After throwing on the brakes and looking horrified, Aki dropped onto the surface of the trestle bridge and moved backwards, one paw at a time. Then she stood normally, except for her eyes. They continued to stare at the horrifying spot. When she finally agreed to move, she walked as far away from the spot as she could without rubbing the bridge railing.            

 I remembered the time Aki and I had stumbled on a crowd of mountain goats under this very portion of the trestle. It was sunrise. We were trying to get in a walk before the wind rose with the sun. A sixty-mile-an-hour slammed us when we were only fifty feet from the house. We had to retreat to a more protected trail that ran along the bottom of the Gold Creek Valley. Just before we crossed the creek, Aki barked. Above us, a dozen mountain goats huddled together beneath the trestle.         

A Calm Pocket

1 Reply

When Aki and I started up the Gastineau Meadows trail, we had every right to expect a pleasant walk. The sun was making its low arc across a blue sky. Aki could feel it warm her fur. Someone had scraped the accumulated ice off the access road. Then a wind twisted over the Douglas Island Ridge to raise whitecaps on the channel. On its way, it nudged Aki in the rear. Another air stream pushed long plumes of snow off Mr. Roberts.

            Aki ignored the rude breeze. I watched a raven ride a thirty-knot gust up and then barrel roll into a dive. Its silhouette sliced across the face of the sun. 

            Since the wind didn’t discourage the little dog, I refused to turn back to the car. Together we climbed the icy track to the meadow proper. I expected to be hammered by gusts when we lost the protection of the forest. But the meadow air was as calm as a tightrope walker practicing a few feet above the ground.  The lack of expected drama disappointed at first. Then I spotted Aki flying across the still firm meadow snow.