I choose this hike through the Treadwell ruins for convenience. We usually save the trail for days when the large cottonwoods and old mining buildings are needed to protect us from wind-driven rain or snow. This morning, sunshine reaches through the winter-sparse canopy to light up the electric green tree moss and enflame the ends of the little dog’s fine hair to make visible her aura.
The beach is empty when we reach it. Two ravens burst from their roosts across the glory hole and fly over our heads. Must be a slow day for corvids. I look without success for the seal that usually swims off the beach but find only a scoter and one Barrow golden eye. Because the flooded glory hole looks tropical on a sunny day like this, I lead Aki up a trail leading to a cliff edge that will offer us the perfect view of its water. Far down below the cliff edge, the seal surfaces out of the green of the hole and looks at the beach where we were buzzed by the ravens. I am surprised at how long the seal stays on the surface until it turns and looks directly at us and slips back into the hole. Can a seal see a poodle and her human a quarter-mile away? The answer must be “yes.” It’s the only explanation for the seal’s behavior.
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.
My soul gaze with the water ouzel didn’t break the rhythm of its bobbing in and out of the pond water. I doubt if I had known of the stare down if not for the evidence provided by the camera while it recharged for the next photograph. While Aki, who showed no interest in the ouzel, sniffs for sign of yesterday’s dog traffic, I wonder how much more I might see if I wasn’t distracted by my camera. Minutes later the camera battery dies, allowing me to answer the question.
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 