Aki and I head out the road. That’ local lingo for driving forty-miles to the north end of the Juneau road system. The little dog is getting frustrated because I stop often to take pictures of the spruce-green Lynn Canal islands back-dropped by the white frosted Chilkat Mountains. She starts squealing when I stop to photograph Canada geese near Eagle River. Because of the birds, Aki has to stay in the car.
When we finally reach the Camping Cove trailhead, the poodle-mix flies out of the car. I follow her down a newly graveled trail that winds to the beach through a mature alder grove. It’s the perfect day for this walk, which takes us along beaches and over the headlands that connect them. Perfect because last night’s cold temperatures have firmed up the boggy portions of the trail. Excellent because full sun floods the beaches with light, making the surf line burn with a silver light.
It’s not all sweetness and light. The little dog disappears and then returns with a “he will never know” look on her face. In the car I smell the evidence. She rolled in something long dead. I see bath time in her near future.
The little dog alerts when a Stellar sea lion splashes just below us. We hear barking. Instead of dogs it’s six more sea lions swimming up the little bay toward our lookout. They swim back and forth beneath our roost. Aki eases to the steep edge of the point and barks a couple of times. The sea lion gang members all head in our direction and stop long enough to life the top quarter of their bodies out of the water. My little dog gives out one more bark and quietly returns to my side. In another minute they are all gone, all but the merganser and the handful of gulls.
Ice holds all the moraine’s beauty today—the turquoise-blue glacier and the crystal-clear ice formed around fallen blades of grass and river rocks. An insistent-green clump of grass forces it way through a shrinking ice lens. Skunk cabbages will blossom soon.
Walking with Aki 