Aki, you little brat! The little poodle-mix had just trotted up to the campground ski trail, threw me a quick look, and took off.  As I wait for her return, I fume. This was not in the plan. My plan would have me skiing along the lake edge to take advantage of the conditions. If we had stuck to my plan, my skis would be swishing through the three centimeters of powder covering well-packed snow. I could enjoy seeing sun on the glacier before the clouds returned. 

            After steaming for a few minutes, I take off after Aki. Another skier tells me that she is a half a klick up the trail, playing with an Australian Shepard. That’s where I find her. That’s where I place her on a leash. Holding it in one hand and both of my poles in the other, I ski the packed trail to a place where it almost touches the river. 

            After stepping out of my skis, I take Aki off lead. She shakes, stretches, and yawns. If she learned any lessons from her time on lead, she is not going to admit it. We head up the river to the lake. Clouds now block the sun and hide the Mendenhall Towers. The flat light makes it hard to see details in the snow. But the conditions allow me to ski in any direction. We are the first to track the lake snow since yesterday’s storm. When Aki peers through a mask of snow that has collected on her face, I can help but smile.  

At the end of yesterday’s ski, Aki was weighed down with snow balls. They clung to her curly leg fur. Wanting to protect her from a similar debacle, I chose a well-trodden trail for today’s walk. The trail crosses the Mendenhall River wetlands. On clear days you can see a glacier and the mountains that it sculpted. Today snow clouds have reduced the view to the near wetlands. 

            A few minutes into the walk. Aki starts wandering through deep snow along the trail. She plunges her face and again in the white stuff. Snow covers her face and clings to her legs when she returns to the trail. Why do I bother little dog?  

Yesterday’s indulgence of sun ended as we completed our walk. Rain came next, followed in the evening by showers of wet snowflakes. This morning the rain has returned. We head out to the glacial moraine to see it when it is completely inundated by fresh snow. 

            As I dig my ice spikes out of the car Aki dashes around the trailhead parking lot. She’d already be on the trail if a meter-high berm pushed us by a snowplow didn’t cover the access point.  We both have to post hole up and over the berm before starting our walk through the stunted forest covering the moraine. The ice spikes dangle from my gloveless hand while I try to decide if they will be needed. By the time we reach the viewpoint of Mt. McGinnis, the spikes are in my pocket where they will stay the rest of the morning. 

            The boots of earlier hikers have firmed up the trail, making for an easy walk for man and little dog. A kilometer in, the boot prints disappear. There should be prints to prove that the persons turned around but there are none. I start to ask Aki if this is evidence of an alien abduction.  Something in the look she gives me makes me reconsider. 

            We turn back to a trail fork. Turning left would mean a quick trip back to the car. Remembering my Robert Frost, I take the less trodden path, hoping that my choice will make all the difference. Only the footprints made by a person with legs longer and feet smaller than I dimple the deep snow. As long as I plant my feet in the other’s footprints, I can stay on top of the snow load. When I don’t my boot sinks into soft, wet stuff. 

            Aki, of course, just trots on top of the crust while I adapt my stride to match that of the one who went before. I find myself leaning back and shooting my right foot forward like Art Crumb’s Mr. Natural. While this walking style seemed to bring joy to the cartoon character, it eats up my energy. Aki looks back often to make sure that I am doing Okay. We are both relieved when we make it back to the car, which is now covered with new snow.  

Last night’s snow stopped a few hours ago. Down channel, the sun climbs the shoulder of Mt. Roberts, painting a scattered of snow clouds with yellows. Aki has to squint when the car turns us briefly into the sun. We are heading out to the glacier trail system. I picked that for a destination because it has one of the few trailhead parking lots already cleared of snow. It is also one of Aki’s favorite places to explore. Hopefully memories of our morning adventure will help her get through this afternoon’s visit to her dog doctor. She is due for her rabies shot. 

            The normally crowded parking lot is half-empty when we arrive. Deep snow covers everything, even the path to the trash bin. I post hole over several meters of it to deposit Aki’s poop bag.  Last night’s snow has turned the stairs down to the lake into a ramp. I could see Mt. McGinnis and the glacier while I parked the car. But a rising snow storm soon hides it from view. We pass two ravens having a companionable chat in a cottonwood tree. They are the only wild things we see on the walk.

            Snow collects in Aki’s red sweater and clumps onto the fur covering her legs, This does not lessen her excitement. The little dog has always loved new snow. The storm thickens as we approach Nugget Falls. We can hear but not see it. A man passes us on cross country skis and disappears into the white. 

I might be scared of getting lost in the storm if the people who walked the trail before us hadn’t pounded out a trench-like path into the snow. It is easy going the little dog and I as long as we stay in the trench. This doesn’t stop her from porpoising through the deep stuff to read her pee mail.