Category Archives: alders

Walking Before the Next Storm

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Winter came early to this capital town. Snow covered our yard weeks ago and hasn’t been washed away by rain. The weather service predicts five new inches of new snow this afternoon. Aki and I try to sneak in a cruise of Downtown before the storm hits. We work our way up Gastineau Avenue. It’s already snowing now. White flakes collect on the top edges of gray alder limbs, making them look bright against the storm-grey clouds. 

            Ravens are waiting for us after we leave Gastineau and work our way over to the cruise ship docks. By now the new snow has formed big lumps on my boots. It makes me walk like a raven, rocking from side to side and I try to move forward without falling over. 

One of the ravens flies over so Aki will chase it. Aki growls but won’t chase, even after the raven takes flight. It lands a few away and looks a little put out. A half dozen other ravens sulk while we pass. One, who might not have seen us approach, flutters its feathers, making snowflakes fly.       

Winter Victim

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For the past few weeks, Aki and I have spotted a pair of Sitka blacktail deer does walking near a road that leads to Sheep Creek. We drove out there this morning to walk around a delta exposed by the low tide. We didn’t see any deer along the road or even any  had eagles.

            It had snowed while the tide retreated early this morning. Today’s incoming tide will melt the fallen snow. But now, with the tide at its lowest, a thin blanket of white still coveres the exposed beach. The snow enriches the view by emphasizing the curves and dips of the tidal ridges. I can’t remember seeing this before.

            We walked out to the edge of the now exposed wetlands and then to the beach’s end, where amateur gold miners have parked their makeshift dredges. One was made from the body of a tired looking pickup truck.            

A collection of eagles and ravens had gathered along the road side. We drive past them on our way back to town. I stop the car and head toward the collection of hungry bird. They let me get within twenty feet before flying to roosts across the road. Then I spotted one of our Sitka black tailed deers lying dead on roadside snow now tramped by the thorny feet of the hungry birds.  

Thanks for the Sun

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Even though wet snow was falling and Aki was cuddled up under her owner’s bed, I wanted to go with her on a walk. In a few minutes, we’d be getting into a friend’s car for a drive out to a beach trail. Aki eventually crawled out from under the bed and let me dress her in outdoor gear. But when we walked out the front door she looked board and even tried to circle back into the house. Then our friend drove up.

            Aki, who thinks him her best friend, dashed to his car. She was already set up on his front seat by the time I sat in one of his second row passenger seats. Aki was the only one not wearing a covid mask.

            Sunshine broke through the clouds by the time we reached the beach trail. It lit up the storm fragments formed over Stephens Passage. A streak of thick sunshine hit the ocean water and lit a thick line across the bay and onto the snow-covered beach. Then clouds returned, eating up the sunlight in the process. But we had seen and enjoyed the sunny moments provided by the shifting clouds. 

Too Icy

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Because no ice or snow covered our street, I didn’t bother putting on my ice cleats when Aki and I left the house. Two blocks later, we ran into two friends. The first thing they asked was whether I was wearing my cleats. When I admitted to walking without them, they told to be very careful. I could hear their ice cleats scrap the sidewalk as they walked back home.           

 I was fine for another block but began struggling when we passed the last house and started into the Gold Creek Valley. Aki, whose claws help her move over ice, still waited patiently for me to creeped my way across the old wooden bridge then worked my way toward the cross of Gold Creek. Halfway we met two woman walkers who warned that their cleats slipped on some of the trail ice. Rather than push my luck, I turned back and recrossed the bridges. The slick trail required me to move slowly, which gave me more than enough time to study the growing ice formations that lined the road. 

Grumpy Eagle

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I didn’t expect much when we left the house this morning. Recent weather changes made the snow-covered trails slick. I solve that problem by wearing metal cleats on my boots. Thy will make the walk to Sandy Beach safe for me. Aki won’t need them. Her nails bite nicely into the slick trail.

            We walk through the Treadwell Ditch woods where much ice still clings to the trees. Chunks of clear chunks lay where they fell from tree branches during a recent thaw. But much of the transparent ice still clings to alder branches and even to the tops of brown leaves.

            It’s low tide when we drop into Sandy Beach. One bald eagle is sleeping on the top of the old mine ventilation shaft. He doesn’t wake up until a minute while I wait near the foot of the shaft. Then he turns toward Aki and I, looking as bored as a student during a biology class in high school taught by a teacher with no sense of humor.

A Little Too Late

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Our sunny stretch of weather will end tomorrow. The air is still frozen but that won’t last long. Soon the frost making trail grass sparkle will melt away. That’s why Aki and I came here now when can have the crisp place to ourselves. 

            We leave the trail and cross a grassy plain to the river. A very high tide last night flattened much of the grass, making it easy for the short-legged Aki to cross with me.  I expect to spot geese or ducks gathered in the river water but find no birds. 

            While returning to the trail, the little dog and I hear the sounds of shotgun blasts coming from downriver. Some hunters are driving off the birds. I may have to avoid visiting these wetlands until after the waterfowl season ends on the first day of next year. 

Alders Caught By Sudden Winter

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Why are the tree lines so crisp, the dead grass glowing in the early morning sun? The images jump out at Aki and I as we climb the trail leading to Gastineau Meadows. We won’t be able to ask for an answer from other hikers. Strong, pulsating winds seem to be keeping them off the trail.

            I find the answer by looking at the trailside alders. This late on a normal October morning, not one leaf should still be clinging to the alders. This morning trailside alders seem weighed down with leaves that have curled up tight. Are they hoping for a return of warmer weather? Or are they stalling long enough for the leaves to send their nutrients down to the tree roots? 

The Cold is Worth It

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When we started up Basin Road, I re-examined my decision to bring Aki on this adventure. The first sun of the day had already reached the mountain ridges, driving a cold breeze down on the trail. The breeze will strengthen into an unpleasant wind as the sun climbs. It was a cold choice.

Trails a few miles away were still calm. We could stand on one in a sunny spot on and let the rising sun warm our faces.  But there is one great reason for transiting into Juneau’s old gold country this morning. From the shaded trail we can watch the morning sunshine push darkness down the exposed flank of Mt Juneau. The resulting explosion of light makes the cold trek worth it. 

No Time For Fall Color

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We’ve walked through predawn grey skies to reach Crystal Lake. Alder trees still loaded with green leaves lined the path. We are too near the glacier for the sun to reach it before 9:30 AM. As if she understands, Aki slows both of us down by stopping often to smell and mark spots with urine. Then at 9:30 she makes a dash down the trail when sunlight starts to flood over the outskirts of the lake. 

            On this rare sunny October day, the first rays to reach the lake should create a lovely orange and yellow pattern at the top end of the lake. But for odd, even unpredictable reasons, neither the cottonwoods nor the alders have bothered to turn their green leaves yellow or orange. 

            The cottonwoods now stand naked above piles of fading green. Most of the lakeside alders still display green leaves. After sun arrived, the alders begin to release their greenery, letting  so each leaf flutters down to the ground. 

Worth the Drive

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The weatherman promised clear skies and sunshine this morning. But grey clouds filled the skies over town as we headed for the car. I could just make out a streak of blue in the skies further up the channel. Aki didn’t complain when we headed north towards that clear horizon.

            After driving 15 miles, we broke out of the clouds to where we could see sunshining on a mountain ridge on the western side of Lynn Canal. Snow from a recent storm now covers the top third of the ridge. A layer of clouds obscures the rest. In a few minutes we reach Amalga Harbor from where we can hike to the mouth of Peterson Creek. 

            This summer dog and silver salmon had to fight their way up a line of rapids in the creek to reach Peterson Lake. After crossing the lake, they moved into the upper creek to spawn. Today, I could find no sign of salmon or even trout.  But a grey heron flew across the lake to check on us before flying over to the dock at Amalga Harbor. It left behind a pair of white swans to feed at the mouth of the tiny stream.