We’re visiting the Treadwell ruins, which today, at low tide, offers Aki a chance to run full out on wet sand and porpoise over paths covered with deep snow. After doing her business and checking the pee mail, the little dog links together a series of leaps that propel her far down the trail. When the rubber band connecting us that she imagines stretches to breaking point, Aki returns, otter-like, to my side.
While we crossed the Douglas Island Bridge to get here, sunlight broke through the storm clouds to illuminate Gastineau Channel with silver light. But all that is gone by the time we reach the first place that offers a beach view. A new storm pulse has backfilled holes in the marine layer and flattened the light. I mourn the lost opportunity, while my little dog motors flat out across a beach made of pounded gold ore. As if commenting on her happiness, irrational in the midst of the storm, two eagles and a raven scream and croak.