Aki and I move south along the shore of Mendenhall Lake. At first I stick to the beach, slipping and sliding on pebbles and old snow that has been compacted into ice. More often than not I walk in sunlight. Aki follows a nearby forest path, which offers shade, soft mossy footing, and more interesting smells. Since I left home without a hat I soon have to join her in the woods. 

            White, fragile ice still covers the lake. We head toward the place where the Mendenhall River leaves the lake for its short journey to the sea. On a warm spring day like this, the river current should be keeping at least part of the lake ice-free. We’ve seen ducks and even geese take advantage of the open water. 

            While we head toward the river, two boys ride their bikes past Skater’s Cabin and onto the beach. They assemble a pile of palm-sized rocks at their feet and begin tossing they onto the ice. On landing each rock makes a satisfying “thunk” sound.

            It has always bothered me to see scatterings of rocks on lake ice. They seem to represent a person’s desire to destroy, to shatter. After today, when I see random rocks on lake ice I will be tempted to add to the pile just to hear the thunk. 

Aki is suffering for a series of my bad choices. We are deep in the moraine. Twelve hours of rain have already softened the trail snow. The little dog and I have been slogging through it for an hour. Now she must mince onto a flooded portion of the trail. 

My first mistake was to pick this trail. I left my snowshoes in the car, which was my second screw up. The third was not to turn around before we had to cross this section of trail covered with four inches of near-freezing water. I reach down and pick up the little poodle-mix and carry her over the flood. The ice beneath the water holds our weight. She is shivering when I drop her onto a patch of firmer snow. I make my good decision of the day and lead Aki back to the car. 

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.