Monthly Archives: October 2020

Brief, But Strong Storm Light

1 Reply

This is a confused day. We have to walk through ten feet of rain to reach the car. In a minute, the skies turn dry. A wall of sun-bright clouds illuminates Gastineau Channel, then returns to gray. 

We drive out to Auke Bay and walk through a light rain squall to the beach. Aki gets excited each time we pass another dog. They dance around each other and then move off in different directions. But she is excited as I am to walk across the beach to the sea.

I should focus my camera on a covet of newly-arrived golden eye ducks feeding along the beach edge. But I only have eyes for gulls flying beneath a line of summer-bright storm clouds. 

Shark Case

Leave a reply

We are on our way to a barren point. I can see the sea through a screen of spruce trees. Just before working through it to reach the beach, I almost stepped on a shark egg case. Shaped like a small, plump pillow, it is still soaking wet. 

            Not long ago, a shark fought out of the case and swam into the bay. Something pulled the then empty case out of the water and carried to this isolated spot high above the water. Aki and I must have scared it away before it could enjoy a little feast. 

Heavy Rain

Leave a reply

Okay. The trail is flooded. Every leaf is weighed down by rain. Aki doesn’t mind. She dashes up and down one of the few still-open trails, filling her memory with fading scents. She doesn’t notice that the surface of every little pond is shattered by rain drops.

            I wasn’t expecting anyone else on the trail. Then an old man and his young husky dog appear. As soon as I spot them, I move twenty feet off the trail. The hiker leads his husky twenty-five feet in the opposite direction. Aki dashes it to meet and greet the big dog. In response, the husky pup’ owner shouts out that he parked his bicycle a quarter-mile up the trail.

            Later, after finding our common trails flooded out, I tell Aki that we will head home. The hiker, now riding his bike, suddenly moves past us. In a few seconds he and his big dog reach the flooded trail. After chanting his desire for a floatation device, he dismounts and pushes his bike into the flooded trail. Aki and I use one of the few remaining paths to return to the car.

Standing its Ground

Leave a reply

Yesterday a nasty storm prevented me from giving Aki for a proper walk. Her other human followed her around our neighborhood. They were back in the house, soaking wet after ten minutes.Today, the rain held off for a few hours, enough time for a return to the woods.

            Rain forests, like the one we entered this morning, seem to dry out just minutes after a storm ends. But drops of water will still cling to red or yellow leaves. Each drop sparkles as it shrinks. In a few hours, the forest loses its beauty unless the rain storm returns. 

            The beach is still dry when we reach it. Battens of clouds cover Fredrick Sound or hang over the mountain sides. No clouds cover Shaman Island but I can make out two bald eagles perched on the top of island spruce. Suddenly, a murder of crows heads toward the eagles, driving off one across the channel. The other eagle refuses to let the crows flush it away.

A Few Hours of Sun Before Weeks More of Rain

Leave a reply

Careful government experts, men and woman who reveal information about sun and rain, expected me to wait until three in the afternoon before going for a walk. After three in the afternoon, the sky would clear. I’d walk with Aki along the Sheep Creep delta. The skies might cloud back up for in a few hours. Then the rain would return for another week. 

            But today, the skies lacked patience. At nine in the morning, the clouds melted away. Crisp sun flooded Gastineau channel. The beach trails were soon bare. We expect clouds but found sections of the beach still covered with scatterings of fish bones. 

            We took a long, circular route around the delta, coming near to gulls nests, and ducks. Twice, a hundred gulls exploded into the air, flew in a circle around us, and returned to the delta. For a few seconds, over whelming light transformed the gulls into transformed gods.

Better Sky Views

Leave a reply

It’s almost too late in the season for harvesting wild berries. Already the leaves of blue berries and high bush cranberries have turned red, yellow, or orange. We can’t expect to find berries on any of these plants. In the past years, on ground drained by Fish Creek, we have discovered ripen low bush cranberries this time of year. This morning, as Aki catalogues meadow scents, her other owner and I hunt the creek muskeg for bitter-sweet cranberries.

It should be pouring down rain on the muskeg. But the weather is dry. There is a pale, high layer of marine clouds above the mountain ranges. This would usually wipe out the detail of clouds and sky. Today, we can enjoy a subtle grey patchwork in the sky.

We hunt the muskeg but can only find a dozen cranberries on the meadow’s surface scattered like forgotten waste.