Somewhere someone is playing football (soccer) or American baseball. The sun is shining there, encouraging the locals to leave their winter coats hanging up in the front closet. No sun shines on Southeast Alaska today. Large chunks of snow fall from the ski only to melt when striking our roads or trails. That’s how it’s been for much of the winter. None of this discourages our poodle-mix, Aki, who squirms and even screams while standing at our front door.

            We head out to North Douglas Island to use a very icy trail that leads through an old growth spruce forest to a crisp beach. Aki would love to fly down the trail but decides, instead, to wait for me to as I take photos or search for noisy birds. She wants to set a quick trot down the beach but stops to let me appreciate the sudden appearance of our nearby glacial mountains. Yesterday she refused to go on a proper walk. Maybe, today, she is trying to make amends. 

Aki and I are having a nice little morning. We should be being hammered by falling rain as we walk into the ocean woods. Instead, it is dry. Aki is a few meters back on the trail, sniffing a place recently decorated by a urinating dog. I’m trying to study the remains of a porcupine that have been scattered over the snowy trail. A porky’s quills covers most of the trail. A collection its skin and more quills lay a meter away.

            It looks like the assailant stripped away quills to reach the porky’s flesh. To avoid harvesting from the corpse, I convince Aki to follow me onto the beach just as weak shafts of sun light power through the southern clouds. Even though the sunshine hits clouds more than five miles away, I am draw to it each time I raise the camera. 

Aki is dragging her feet this morning. We are on a trail that leads to the Mendenhall River and then on to Fritz Cove. We’ve been avoiding the trail for months because it is used by bird hunters all fall.  Maybe the little pooch, who cringes at even distant gun shots, thinks the hunters are still around.

            I coax her to the beach in time to watch four bald eagles soar above the beach in tight circles. Two of them hover over the little dog and me, then move further up river. They are riding the strong winds that blows over our heads, sometimes in tight circles. One of the eagles almost taps another as they circle above us. Maybe they are starting their yearly courting. 

It’s a grey day. Snow flakes that looks like spaghetti floats out of a flat-lit sky. But Aki and are still having a great morning moving through an old growth forest. Yesterday, big crowds of Valentine’ Day lovers stomped through the forest trail, crushing flat the nice ski trail that we used last week. Still, today, we have the place to ourselves.

            I stop often and try to photograph the large ice crystals that weigh down the trail-side alder. If the sun burned through the clouds, it might make the crystals sparkle like diamonds in a Los Vegas wedding parlor. But this morning they look faint and grey. I can’t find any of that would catch the eye of most passing walkers. On one of the meadows, I finally find a large formation of obvious snow crystals that have formed the bloated body of a goose with an huge, exposed rear end. It’s that kind of day.

The sun rose in a clear sky and then disappeared into a bank of clouds. I want to tell Aki that the trees and mountains are still beautiful, but they are not. No wind shakes our neighbor’s    spruce trees. For the first time this week, we have gray, not blue skies over Juneau. It’s calm and a little boring after the days of sun and wind. 

            We still go out, driving out North Douglas Island while a slight wind blows. There are few birds, let alone eagles. A few sea lions swim far offshore, to far away to really see. Shafts of light are fading away for a mountain rang across the channel. Patches of brighter light makes the glacier and its mountains sparkle, and fade away.

Wind ripped through Downtown Juneau while Aki and got ready to drive out to Dredge Lakes. The beautiful and enriching sunlight we have been enjoying for days might end tonight. Tomorrow we could return to wet snow days. 

            After we park near the Mendenhall River, Aki and I head toward Moose Lake, soaking in a beautiful view of the glacier. From here it looks like the river of ice is only a quarter mile away. The intense lighting of the snow covered land is almost overwhelming. Everywhere is stunning, everything looks almost rich enough to eat.

Sunshine this winter is rare. So, when blue sky replaced the normal gray, we headed off to the glacier. Most of Juneau is still unthawed. But a very thin layer of ice coveres the glacier lake, turning the beach flakey. 

            Even though there is no wind, the thin of lake ice prevents the glacier and its mountains from reflecting anything. There are small spots on the lake free of ice. I lead Aki across a narrow stream and follow her to a small space where currents opened up slivers of calm, clear water.

            I loved the photos I took of the reflected mountain sides. But, I will never forget the beauty of a different photo—a shot of mountains rising above the ice covered lake.

It’s a miserable day for a beach walk. Strong, fast winds make snowflakes tumble and turn. They catch on my parka but not on Aki, who walks just under the snow flake zone.

            We keep to an old growth trail, passing several saddened fallen spruce and hemlock trees. A 19 foot high today covers the beach but leaves us a narrow lane across a small peninsula that leads to a tiny island. I came here to watch sea lions feeding or lots of waterfowl. But only a single bald eagle shows it self until I reach the very tip of the island, where several rafts of golden eye ducks swim, tucked together just off the beach.

During these short winter days, when sunlight can never reach the upper reaches of Perseverance Trail, I always appreciate Gold Creek’s bare cottonwood trees.  I lead Aki off the trail and onto the creek shire. Next spring, the new leaves of the surrounding cottonwoods will hide the mountains. But today, the naked frame of my favorite cottonwoods stands black and barren, too thin to block any view of the steep, snow-white walls of our mountains climbing out of the Gold Creek Canyon.  

The parking lot for every trailhead is full this morning. It makes me wonder if most of hikers in Juneau are linked via their phones to a fancy app. A flat, gray sky hangs over the oceans, and cuts off views of the mountain sides. Today’s high tide chokes off the trailside beaches. We do pass a small gang of sea lions but no one is stopping to watch them.

            We drive to the end of the North Douglas Highway and are happily surprised to find the parking lot for the Peterson Creek trail empty. Knowing what to expect, I slipped grippers onto the souls of my hiker boots. They made it possible to walk down a narrow, ice covered plank trail without slipping. 

            Sunshine broke through the clouds just before we reached a small beach. It lacked the power to clear the skies. But enough holes in the sky appears to deliver drama. On the way back to the car, I found a single, red-ripe cranberry still clinging to its evergreen mom. Since nobody was around to talk me out if it, I picked the little berry and swallowed it. My last Christmas present?