Aki is uneasy this morning. She throws on her brakes just before stepping onto the old Basin Road trestle bridge. Another dog passes us on to way to Perseverance Trail and my little dog trots after her. Aki halts after we cross the bridge. Hoping that she will change her mind again, I ignore her and search the slopes of Mt. Juneau for mountain goats. If there, they should be easy to spot in the strong sunlight illuminating the mountainside. I can’t find them. The snow that fell on the ridges last night must have driven them down toward the creek. Maybe they found some fresh greens in a place hidden from our view.
The little dog starts up the road after a few minutes but shows little interest in my plan to climb to the Perseverance overlook. She must smell scents left by a passing bear. In a normally year, I’d attribute her shyness to something else but since I can spot other signs of spring, it would not be surprising to find a bear emerging from winter hibernation. Already the alder limbs are bent down with blossoms and fuzzy catkins decorate the willows.
On our return trip down Basin Road we pass under two eagles in loose formation. I wonder if they are the pair that I watched mate yesterday from our upstairs’ window. Unlike the loose, play-like flight of today, they flew like predator and prey. One pursued the other who repeatedly escaped pursuit with abrupt turns. Finally they hooked up—literally. With talons locked, they formed a spinning sphere that that tumbled toward the state capitol building. In seconds they broke apart and climbed back into the sky. Seconds later they resumed the hunt.
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.
Walking with Aki 