Heavy Lifting

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“This is the worst snow storm I’ve seen here in forty years.” That’s what my neighbor told me while resting on his snow shovel. Several of us were working to clear our little roadway.             

During last night’ snow storm, the temperature rose above freezing for a few hours. This melted the snow. Before the moisture could drip to the ground, the temperature plummeted, turning tit into a thick, transparent coating on our lilac branches and leaves. Six inches of new snow already covered our yards. The quick change in temperature transformed it into a rock-hard mess. We could walk on the surface without sinking in. We had to work very hard to shovel it away. 

Heavy Wind

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Snow has started falling. It was only raining when Aki and I finished the Outer Point Trail. But the weather folks warn hikers to expect colder temperatures and a trail accumulation of snow before midnight. 

            The trail’s forest protected us from wind on our way the beach. But there, nothing blocked the heavy gusts. Thirty knot winds had turned the bay’s normally placid waters into lines of hungry surf. The local mallard ducks were huddled on the beach when we broke out of the woods. Our presence forced them into the ocean. Usually the ducks would automatically move into the deeper water of the little bay. Today, the wind and waves forced them to swim close along the beach

Storm Bound, Warm and Dry

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This morning Aki is outside peeing in the rain when I start preparing for our walk. After doing her business she comes back inside the house. I should dry her off and let her find a comfortable place to sleep through the storm. But that would mean skipping our usual little stroll. 

            After giving her a quick rub down, I secure her in rain gear. Together we walk out the backyard and onto the street that will take us to Downtown Juneau. Thirty seconds later Aki throws on her breaks. She refuses to move until I turn back for home. Then she pulls me up to our house’s front door. I can hear the sound of a strong wind blowing rain against our windows as I follow my little dog into the house. 

Our Annual Little Dance

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Every time we come to the False Outer Point beach for sea weed, we enjoy a little dance with the resident raft of golden eye ducks. As I carry two empty buckets down the steep path to the beach, the ducks, who are feet from the gravel, swim away in tight formation.

By the time we reach the beach itself, the golden eye contingent moves first toward the tip of False Outer Point and then paddles together into Fritz Cove. While Aki sniffs and pees, I search for piles of loose seaweed along the waterline. Most of the time I have to walk to the end of the beach before finding what I am looking for. After filing the buckets, I start up the beach for the car. Just before starting up the hill, I pass the golden eye pod, as they return to their beachside feeding grounds.

Teasing Ravens

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Aki and I are using the whale boardwalk to cross wetlands in front of Downtown Juneau. Eagles used to roost on the barren spruce trees installed to serve as bird perches. In no time the ravens and crows chased the eagles off.

Now, the crows still fly off when my little dog and I approach. But the ravens, they act like we had been sent there to entertain them. They fly low in front of us and then, in twos or threes, land in one of to the barren trees. One might even drop on the boardwalk in front of to seduce Aki to chase it. My dog no longer takes the bait.

            Today rain has kept most of the people off the boardwalk so the ravens pay us special attention. After one tries to induce Aki to chase her off the boardwalk, it joins two other ravens on a nearby barren tree to preen.

Strike One

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It was late winter when Aki and I first found the Mendenhall River swans. A family of four were feeding in the mouth of the River. After that we usually spotted the foursome while cross country skiing down the river. As the winter progressed we also saw true transient swans. They were jumpy compared to the resident foursome.

            Last May, another Juneau hiker told me that the foursome spent the entire winter surviving in the winter river drainage In hopes of spotting them now, I lead Aki down the river, careful not to slip on melting beach ice. But we see no swans. We see no birds, no deer, only melting snow and falling rain. 

The Rain Returns

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Juneau hasn’t seen sunshine today. It won’t for at least the next week, The lovely and usual stretch of rich sunshine days ended yesterday afternoon. We’re back in the grey that is so common this time of year. There is a light snow falling but each flake dies before reaching the beach we are crossing. 

            Aki doesn’t object to the change of weather. She is happy even though no sunshine warms her. Aki is always drawn to the seduction smells on the beach. She does ignore a long strip of cable that was recently exposed by a storm tide. After 100 years of submersion under the beach sand, it is newly exposed. Soon the local dogs will mark it with pee. Aki will probably spray her own urine on the cable during our next visit to the beach. 

A Little Too Late

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Our sunny stretch of weather will end tomorrow. The air is still frozen but that won’t last long. Soon the frost making trail grass sparkle will melt away. That’s why Aki and I came here now when can have the crisp place to ourselves. 

            We leave the trail and cross a grassy plain to the river. A very high tide last night flattened much of the grass, making it easy for the short-legged Aki to cross with me.  I expect to spot geese or ducks gathered in the river water but find no birds. 

            While returning to the trail, the little dog and I hear the sounds of shotgun blasts coming from downriver. Some hunters are driving off the birds. I may have to avoid visiting these wetlands until after the waterfowl season ends on the first day of next year. 

Alders Caught By Sudden Winter

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Why are the tree lines so crisp, the dead grass glowing in the early morning sun? The images jump out at Aki and I as we climb the trail leading to Gastineau Meadows. We won’t be able to ask for an answer from other hikers. Strong, pulsating winds seem to be keeping them off the trail.

            I find the answer by looking at the trailside alders. This late on a normal October morning, not one leaf should still be clinging to the alders. This morning trailside alders seem weighed down with leaves that have curled up tight. Are they hoping for a return of warmer weather? Or are they stalling long enough for the leaves to send their nutrients down to the tree roots? 

Out of Bounds

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Aki and I are having a beautiful, if strange visit to the Fish Creek Delta. Unblocked sun pounds down on wetlands exposed by a low tide. Three men wearing masks cast lures into a tiny section of the lake not covered with ice. If there were still fish there, they show no interest in what the men have to offer. 

            On a beach along Fritz Cove, two guys wearing high end hunting gear sit in nice folding chairs.   A small scattering of duck decoys floats just offshore. The resident mallard ducks are too far away to be shot by these guys. With their retrievers, they wait for something shootable to fly close enough to kill.

            I am wondering whether this is a closed hunting area when a small collection of Canada geese appears just north of us. After spotting Aki and I, they fly in a wide arch around us before heading toward the waters of Fritz Cove. Their route takes them close to target range for the two human hunters. One fires three shots at the geese, who manage to fly away to safety.