Category Archives: Dan Branch

A Little Obsessed

Leave a reply

The snow on each side of the path is too soft for even Aki to use. The little dog must master an icy chute of a trail if we are going to drop down to the road. I’d like to appreciate the sugar sparkle of the snow and the shapes formed by the bare cottonwood trees against the indigo sky. But Aki has all my attention. 

The little poodle-mix tries a quick trot then slides and freezes into a cringe. When sure that she won’t slip out of control she reaches out with her front left paw to tip toe forward and drops into another cringe. Thanks to my cleats, I can move with confidence toward her. She arches her back after I arrive like she does when asking to be picked up at home. I do and carry her to the relative safety of the road. Soon she is trotting along in a snowy channel packed firm by the tire of a passing truck. 

Better in Black and White

Leave a reply

The sun exited today, leaving behind a place better suited for black and white photography than color. I pull Aki’s most colorful sweater over her muzzle and settle it over her back and shoulders. Then we head out to Gastineau Meadows. 

            A week of cold temperatures has kept the meadow snow too soft for walking without snowshoes. I didn’t bring a pair. Aki is a shade better off.  A thin crust mainly supports her. But the little poodle-mix breaks through every four or five steps. We’d be forced to turn around if three others with snowshoes had not set a trail for us. 

            Aki loves to chase her Frisbee over snowy meadows, especially this one. Today she growls after the toy when it lands in the broken trail. When it lands elsewhere, she minces toward it, sometimes chest deep in loose snow.  

The Ice Cave

Leave a reply

Aki is leading some out-of-town guests and me across Mendenhall Lake to the glacial ice cave. Mount McGinnis and the Mendenhall Towers form a jagged skyline against the indigo sky. It’s easy walking. Previous ice cave pilgrims have pounded our path smooth. 

            We got a late start. It’s still only 23 degrees F but the temperature is rising. Even now snow melt is seeping onto the moraine trail, making it too slipper to use without poodle paws or ice cleats. We have both. I ask hikers returning from the glacier if they made it to the cave. None managed it. Undeterred, Aki presses on, leading us across the mile-wide lake and onto the moraine. 

            To avoid sliding into a crevasse or rocks, we climb up hillsides rather than risk ice-covered sections of the trail. Translucent slabs of ancient ice line the trail, encouraging us to press on to the cave. 

            A jumble of clear, blue-tinted ice forms the only access to the cave. Aki refuses to enter. But her humans pretzel their way into the aquamarine-colored chamber. It has the same scalloped roof of the other ice caves we have visited. The roof and walls of those caves imprisoned round, foot-sized rocks. None decorate this cave. 

            Drawn by a patch of bright, white light striking the floor on the opposite side of the cave, I cross a still-frozen stream and enter a vertical tube of scalloped ice. Above a series of ice lens offer circular views of blue sky and clouds. I can’t think of another view like it. 

Nugget Falls

Leave a reply

Our sunny streak continues today. Aki some friends and I take advantage by hiking out to Nugget Falls. Previous hikers stomped out a narrow trail through deep snow. Frost feathers on top of the snow sparkle enough to hurt my eyes. Aki doesn’t seem to mind. Maybe that’s because she is so busy herding two other humans and I. 

            Since she can’t see over the snow banks on either side of the trail, it is hard for her to carry out her duties. We humans try to stay close to each other to ease her load. 

            The falls are roaring when we arrive even though the snow along the trail is still frozen. But it looks like the spring melt is on in the Nugget Creek Valley.  

Chasing a View

Leave a reply

Aki and I are working across a tidal meadow to the Peterson Creek salt chuck. Without snowshoes I’d be post holing a trail in the deep snow. A crust on the snow allows the little dog to fly anywhere she wants. But when area an area shaded by trees, she finds her self crashing, chest deep, into the cold cover. After dropping through the crust several times Aki takes up station behind me. 

There is nothing to distract me during the walk across the meadow or along the edge of the salt chuck. I am still excited, knowing what awaits us when we reach the salt chuck’s outlet stream.

Shade from spruce trees darkens the stream rocks. But shafts of sunlight     manage to reach snow on top of the rocks. Nothing blocks the sun from lighting up Lynn Canal and the Chilkat Mountains beyond.              

Better Choices

Leave a reply

Aki and I head up Fish Creek. It’s the wrong choice for at least two reasons. The old growth spruce forest shades the trail. Ninety percent of Juneau’s other trails are sun flushed today. They also offer easier walking on packed paths. The little dog can trot over the top of the crusty snow that borders the path. Since I’d break through the crust, I must use my ice cleats to stay upright on the trail. 

We could avoid the slick conditions and have a chance to walk in the sunshine if we dropped onto the frozen creek. But only tracks of the water-happy river otters dimple its surface. The forest deer stay off the creek. As I slog along, I wonder whether the sound of water running under ice intimidated the deer. It certainly discourages me from following the otter tracks. 

Few dogs use the trail so nothing distracts Aki from her primary task—to keep me from doing something stupid. She does not follow me onto the creek ice to check out some eagle tracks. She gives me her “Are you kidding me” look when I glance back at her. She shifts into her “you finally figured it out” glare when I rejoin her on the trail. Chastened, I follow her back to the car. 

Morning Light on Fresh Snow

Leave a reply

Sometime during the night a powerful high tide scattered 8-inch-thick pans of ice on the trail. The wet snowstorm that plagued us for several days moved on. Fresh morning light shines on the fresh snow covering Fish Creek Pond. As an added bonus, the snow provides good footing. When it melts in a hour or so, the ice-covered trail will be too slick to walk on without ice cleats. 

At first the place is silent. No eagle cries as we round the pond and walk out onto the spit that separates Fish Creek from Fritz Cove. No mallard cackles. Then we hear a bald eagle complaint. On the grassy bank of the creek, the noisy eagle is spreading its wings to dry them.  It has the white head and tail of a mature bird but the mottled wings of a young one. It looks wet and disheveled. 

We won’t see any other birds on the way to the creek mouth. A man with his Labrador retriever will flushed them first by walking around on the wetlands. He will wear the camo clothing of a hunter but there is nothing for him to hunt. 

I will debate whether it is any of my business where the man walks. I will argue that it is his responsibility not to intimidate the wild residents off the wetlands when so much of the food-rich ground is exposed by a very low tide.  I will follow Aki’s example and concentrate on the fresh light on fresh snow. 

The Best of Three

Leave a reply

The wolves around Juneau are usually black, not white or grey. As Aki and I approach the Eagle River, I see what looks like a black wolf scampering up and over a snow bank. It disappears before I can turn on the camera. Following in its tracks, we reach the edge of a meadow. Thinking that I saw a dog, I expect to see the big canine trotting down the river along with its owner. But only pans of broken river ice dot the grass. Later I will find an isolated line of tracks crossing into the woods. 

            A harbor seal swims past in the river current. It stares at the little dog and then disappears under the water. Then a raven flies over our heads and lands on a snow bank. It takes what I can only describe as a snow bath: digging out chunks of snow with its beak and tossing them onto its back, then rolling over and over on the snow. It then tumbles down the snow bank like a child rolling down a grassy slope. 

            I feel an urge to rate our interactions with the three citizens of nature. Wolf sighting are valuable because they are rare, so rare that I can’t believe that I saw one today. The deep sadness of the seal’s stare haunts me. But the goofy antics of the raven made my day. 

Just in Time

1 Reply

Aki and I just left Sheep Creek. It is one of the little dog’s favorite walks because it is the favorite walk of many other Juneau dogs.  Aki had to squint into the sun, which made the sides of flying gulls almost painfully white. 

            We skirted the little inlet always haunted by a small raft of mallards. This morning a gadwall joined them. Even though their numbers make them seem as common as dirt, I love the metallic green heads and blue wing patches of the showy males. This morning two of the male mallards gave us hard looks as a hen plunged her head under the water for food. 

            Even though she would rather scout the sand dune for scents, Aki followed me to edge of Gastineau Channel. From there I could see Sheep Mountain emerging from a wall of fog. Recent storms have weighed down it and all the local mountains with snow. Thanks to yesterday’s thaw a slick crust covers the snow load. We should have avalanches if we receive the seven inches of new snow promised to fall tonight. 

            The road from the trailhead to town runs along the bottom of a series of avalanche chutes. In winter it is illegal to stop in this zone. Just before the no-stop section a sign warns us that the road will be closed at noon for avalanche abatement activities. It is now 11:40 A.M. In twenty minutes a helicopter will lower a daisy bell percussion device over areas with too much of a snow load. Sound waves from the daisy bell will set out little avalanches. Some could reach the road. 

            Until recently the state controlled avalanches by firing shells from a recoilless rifle into the upper sections of the zone. The boom of each shot would echo down the channel. After accurate shots the boom would be followed by the crack and crash of  a cascade of snow.