Very grateful to be back here after six weeks! The fire is warming the cabin nicely, the sky is bright overcast outside, the flowers and bushes surprisingly dry considering the almost constant, and often torrential, rainfall over the last week in Juneau. Ezra and I spent five days in the Yukon camping two weeks ago, then I spent two full work weeks in town before heading up the Taku today. I'd originally intended to go to Snettisham first, then turn around quickly and come up here, but when that plan was delayed for a small craft advisory and 3-4' seas on Wednesday, I decided I'd better come here first lest the tides run out before I could make it. But I made good use of the unexpected time in town! With a little vacation behind me, I plunged into town and cabin prep chores. Last week I bought a new blade for my skilsaw and used it to shore up the roof on the porcupine feeder, add diagonal braces for Cailey's car shelf that I built to expand her bed in the back seat for the camping trip, cut a new outhouse floor for Snettisham, and cut and put together five "no hunting" sign stands and braces. I also spent an hour Saturday morning at the boat securing two of the latches that hold up the center of the front console which had become so loose that I was constantly having to relatch them in any kind of seas. One was still riveted and I removed the rivets and replaced them with screws, backed with a bit of 1x2 and shims, replaced the screws on another one, and one on a third. It immediately felt more sturdy. Over the weekend I also scrubbed the floor and shower in the downstairs bathroom and the tub upstairs and, during the week, scrubbed the entire carpet (excepting the stairs), all long-awaited projects. Thus, I did not waste my town time!

But it was good to finally get underway this morning. We left a little late as Ezra had to jump my car for me (11:13), but we arrived half an hour ahead of the tide. The weather was pretty good and the water in the river (not surprisingly) high, overflowing the bank along the meadow. I couldn't stay in a deep channel crossing from Scow Cove, but once I left the first Taku Point point and headed for Norris River, turning upriver before I got there, then following the shore fairly close, I was never in less than about 10 feet of water. I also stayed in a more or less deep channel along the meadow following the route I'd used last year--straight from the end of the avalanche to the scar downstream of the slough avalanche, turning shoreward a bit at the first waterfall, then in at the second waterfall. Someone has put a marker back up there. I found the landing flooded almost to the first step. To my delight and surprise, there were live sedge poking above the surface along with a live sweet gale! I can't wait to see what it looks like when the water drops. One sand bag was broken, but the water was well below the sandbag wall. I tied the bow to a tree at the top of the stairs and unloaded everything which barely fit in the cart. Anchoring went smoothly and I was soon at the cabin opening up. In about an hour from arrival I was unpacked, the pilots were lit, and I was making a quesadilla. The fridge was a little stubborn with no hint at lighting, so I went back and blew on the burner, just using my mouth (no tube). I heard what sounded like scattering bits, but couldn't see what it was. But after that it started on the first spark!

I sat outside with Cailey to eat my quesadilla, chased by a cup of cafe francais since I was feeling drowsiness setting in. The bugs were pretty good, only really making a show of it when I was loading the cart, and a mosquito coil was all I needed. At 3:00, we took off on the back trail with clippers and I soon found myself combatting hordes of salmonberries overhanging the boardwalk. I did the minimum necessary to walk without pushing through, then and left the rest for later. The loop was very wet, but did not need any clipping until I got to the meadow which was, as expected, overgrown with ferns. To Cailey's consternation, I grabbed handfuls and ripped them up in an attempt to create a walkable path and probably made it through about half of them. I did this on and off on the rest of the path out, then enjoyed the easy walking through the series of meadows, only stopping here and there to deal with the ferns. When I walk it again with no clippers, I'll keep working at it. The trail back to the river was a dream. I clip clipped here and there, but only a little and most wasn't needed. What a pleasure!!

It started raining when we reached Spruce Alley, so I quickened my pace but there wasn't much to do at that point. We arrived back at the cabin around 4:00, just an hour out and back, and not much more trail maintenance is needed. I fed Cailey, then continued clipping the trail down to the boat where I turned around and brought the "no hunting" sign stakes to the cabin. Having noticed a few things I missed, I clipped my way back down, then raked the trail between the boat and the alders and carried the signs, rake, and clippers back to the cabin. Then I mowed to the cabin and the point and planted some tiny Tlingit potatoes we've been forgetting to eat in the spot I'd left for potatoes that never got used as my mom hasn't been up yet, and split one big buttercrunch lettuce bunch into four and transplanted those. There are only maybe a dozen lettuce/chard plants, but they are about four inches high (great for being seeds six weeks ago!) and looking good. And...oh, but how nice it was to see flowering pansies and marigolds when I walked up! The several pansy starts I'd planted are blooming wildly and are so gorgeous. I'd hoped my mom would be tickled to see them when she arrived, but I am the one who got the joy this time.

I finished up around 5:00, cleaned up, wrote in the cabin log, and sat down to go over trail camera videos. Now I'd had dinner, Cailey is crashed out next to me, and I am very excited for the rest of the trip.

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And now, the next evening, I am just relieved that the big chores are done, the chores I thought were going to be executed here and there as little add-ons to my other expeditions but which turned out to be a whole day's exhausting labor. It rained on and off all night and I slept extremely well, never getting up.

At 9:05, after checking the boat and having some breakfast, I headed up the trail intending in some dim way to bird watch at Devastation Alley and, while there, do a little work on the no hunting signs, two of which I was carrying along with a backpack full of tools and stakes. The sky was clearing and the rain had stopped, but I was wearing rainpants for the wet grass I was expecting to wade through, so was soon hot and sweaty and stripped down to a t-shirt on top. This of course invited the mosquitoes which were grim wherever I stopped. My first detour was to follow Boundary Slough to the end of the 4-wheeler trail and put up a skookum sign that might survive the winter. It didn't go well. Wherever I tried to put it, I could not for the life of me pound the main stakes (a pair of 2x2s) in more than a couple of inches, not enough even for it to stand on its own. Thinking it was from matting vegetation near the slough, I finally moved it to the strawberry area; there was a slight improvement there, but the four diagonal stakes will have to do their job to keep it upright. It was a poor start and my mood was quite low. So, covered in deet, sweating, grumpy, and uncomfortable, I headed back through what I thought might be a shortcut to the meadow. Instead, I wound up pushing through about 20 feet of dense willow growing over a wet depression, winding up at the edge of the beaver slough. It didn't help that that fence post and no hunting sign I'd replaced (which I took with me) snagged on every willow branch I passed.

The riverside no hunting sign along the slough had weathered the winter well with its three stakes, so I headed down Strawberry Trail to the next one which had fallen over and fallen apart at the top with one long stake pulled free from the sign. One of the screws that had pulled out was a phillips and I didn't have a phillips driver, so I just pounded it down and replaced it with new screws and re-secured the sign to the whole thing. Thankfully pounding this one down in its old holes was easy and I added four stakes for support. While there, I changed the sign on the new sign I'd brought along so it was a "within" property boundary version (instead of implying it was at the boundary), managing to install the wrong sign the first time as I'd brought two in the same protective cover and assumed they were the same. So, another push through dense ferns and bluejoint and I made my way into the nearby meadow. I couldn't find the fence post sign I'd righted in June at first, and tried a few places, having similar problems with pounding the new one in. I eventually did find the old sign and started there, but heard wild squeaking from the ground. There was no movement, but it repeated twice, and I started scanning and sweeping the ground for a nest. It was a very unlikely place, wet for one thing, and covered in layer after layer of fallen grass, but there was a little mound there. I poked around a little and glimpsed some tiny, pink bodies before closing it up and hastily retreating.

I had no better luck at the next spot I tried. It didn't help that I'd brought the six-foot-tall sign so it would stay above the bluejoint and just didn't have much leverage that high. It was not a great experience. I eventually used the last two stakes I'd brought in my backpack to support it, took my rainpants off, and left. On the way I stopped by the Strawberry Trail cam, added an SD card, and tried to shift it sideways to lessen the influence of some spruce boughs but found it impossible to move. The bark was beginning to grow around the strap even though I think I only moved it there last year! I had to cut the strap by the camera and yank to get it off. Glad I figured that out before it girded the tree.

Starting to feel slightly better, and at least less encumbered, I returned to Devastation Alley. A hermit thrush had been singing in the distance earlier and I'd heard a yellowthroat and Lincoln's sparrow by the last sign, but it was all quiet at that point and all motivation to birdwatch had passed. But I did manage to climb the spruce tree with the fox sparrow nest and retrieve it. I think it was using the branches around it for support, for the twigs and grass foundation was loose in my hands. I wrapped it in my fleece for the return trip.

Before heading back to the cabin, though, I walked the trail to Boundary Meadow and scoped out a tree that I might be able to nail a no hunting sign to so I don't have to add another sign post, but it'll be a bit of a job to get up to the bare area. And, finally, I used the fence post I'd retrieved to put up a trail camera.

I made it back to the cabin just before noon and had a quesadilla and beer with Cailey on the porch. She is, as far as I can tell, loving Hank's bed that I brought up both inside in front of the fire in the evening and outside on the porch, just like at Snettisham. It wasn't long before I was underway again, heading toward the mountain this time, with two more signs, more stakes, etc.

First we went to the downriver no hunting sign area closer to the slough and wandered around for quite a while before I found the one that had fallen there (also finding one on a fencepost while I was at it). Unfortunately, its diagonal stakes were all still attached and with screws for which I did not have a bit, having failed to learn that lesson this morning, making it impossible to pound back in. I left in disgust, dropped the other sign at the canoe with some stakes, and headed to the no hunting sign by the Glen. I found the broken one and used its holes to pound in the new one and added its stakes, which went in pretty well. Then we headed back home, setting up the camera on the new spur trail on the way. Back at the cabin I did some mowing before resting for a bit on the swing. I was frustrating again by not being able to finish my chores, hating the feeling of having that hanging over me, which seems like the constant companion of this no hunting sign endeavor. The new posts were supposed to do away with that, but not yet! So, ever eager to finish things, I was underway again at 2:15 and had the collapsed sign up and sturdy at 2:45. I had more stakes to deliver to the canoe and, while there, decided I may as well take a ride and see what other sign work I could accomplish this afternoon. The idea of going on a canoe ride in the future with Cailey only for joy and to check on the beaver camera without all the stops and work was appealing. Plus, the afternoon was gorgeous, blue sky, hot and quiet. There was a light breeze from the river which sped me toward the boundary where I entered a small but deep slough on the mountain side and stepped out. The floodplain was flooded, but I made it across to the old bank and high ground without gettting my feet wet. Above was a beautiful meadow with clumps of willows and the occasional spruce, clusters of bright pink fireweed and vast meadows of cottongrass in seed on either side of the boundary. I wasn't sure which side of the strip of willow down the middle to put the sign, but decided on the mountain side of it since the other was closer to the slough and the existing sign. I placed it at the edge of the cottongrass field on higher ground and in sight of the boundary rock. It was the most pleasant sign posting I've done all day!

Back on the other side of the slough I found the sign there sturdy but with only one stake and that not attached to the sign. Since it was too flooded to work on, I grabbed the stake and took it and another to the meadow sign inside the willow fringe (the one with the baby rodents nearby) to add two more stakes. I found it tilted to one side and, even if I'd left it that way, it was so wobbly I took the whole thing apart. This time I used a stake to pound holes for it, the better leverage of pounding from three feet up rather than six feet meaning that I could penetrate the veg mat and reach softer soil. I replaced the sign posts and they went down rather nicely and soon it was ship shape and sturdy.

Then I had a nice paddle on the flooded slough. I'd heard Lincoln's sparrows sing and a song sparrow and had seen a few of the former flush from the grass and land in trees. Merlin also thought it heard cedar waxwings when I heard an unfamiliar call, but from a distance. The wind caused me to work a little harder, but it did enable me to mostly paddle from one side of the canoe which was nice, and the breeze was pleaseant in the heavy air of a muggy July day.
 
On the way back, I paddled around the no hunting sign on the island to check its status. It's fairly secure, but leaning upslough a little, and one of its three stakes looks like it's been gnawed on, with a couple pieces floating around it. It didn't look exactly like beaver, but may have been. I had the canoe secured around 4:35 and was back at the cabin ten minutes later, surprised that the expedition had taken two and a half hours. I was beat. I crashed on the porch with a cold diet root beer and some chips before rallying the energy to take a thorough spit bath and make some mac and cheese with boiled pea pods for dinner. I had overheated on the porch in the direct sunlight earlier, but after dinner enjoyed some reading with the sun behind the spruces. After that, I filled out the cabin log and then crashed with an X-files, having no energy to do anything else. I barely had the energy and only just enough willpower to do write this! Now it's 8:30 and I'll go check on the boat on this beautiful summer evening.

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I had another good night of sleep (two ibuprofen and stretching before bed probably helped). I was intending to have a more leisurely morning (and it was a tea day) but I was blessed with a second blue sky day and didn't want to waste it, so I had some breakfast, walked to the boat, and then headed out to birdwatch and left Cailey inside. I clipped a bit more of the trail behind the cabin, then entered Warbler Meadow and started a very quiet survey. Most of the birds I saw and heard were in the first few minutes and I eventually gave up on the "I'll leave after I see another new bird" and then "I'll leave when I see any bird" after maybe ten minutes of nothing. Fascinating. I did have a Wilson's and yellow warbler (and another yellow singing in the distance), a singing junco, a fledgling Lincoln's sparrow, and a western flycatcher calling.

From there I walked to Glen and set up a camera, on a larger tree, looking down the peninsula toward the entrances. Exiting the trees, I walked by the no hunting sign on the river side and saw that the posts were twisted and the horizontal brace behind the sign had fallen off. It looked like something had harassed it? I then hopped up into what I've now dubbed "Burnet Meadow" for the abundance of sweet-smelling Sitka burnet blooming in the dry meadow along with countless yellow paintbrushes. Here the birding was even scarcer, with one exception: the eagle's nest! I saw it quite by accident and was surprised I hadn't seen it before, maybe half way up a spruce on the mountain side of the meadow, behind the immediate fringe. There was an adult and a near-fledging nestling inside and, later, both adults were in the nest. It is visible from several angles in the larger meadow complex and looks to be easily approachable from beneath. I was reminded of the eagle perched at the top of a nearby spruce during my first survey.

I lit mosquito coils and slowly made my way to the chipping sparrow corner, making a quick and futile look for a nest in the spruces. If there was one, I wasn't inclined to brave the thorns looking. I followed a reasonable path to the wallow copse, then followed an even more reasonable path back to the original meadow, in front of the eagle tree. It had only been a couple of hours, but I headed back to the cabin and had a cup of tea on the porch with Cailey. That is, I drank tea while Cailey buried the huge braided bully bone that Hank left her. After tea I read a bit on the porch and then had a quesadilla for lunch, after which Cailey and I headed to the canoe for an afternoon adventure. We left at 12:15 and were on the water probably 15 minutes later. I took my fishing pole along for the fun of it and cast a few times into the slough before we left, but decided the timing wasn't right with Cailey waiting for a ride and the water too high for me to get to the edge of the flood plain.

We set out with a following breeze and possibly a rising tide pushing us quickly along. What a pleasant paddle it was, quiet, easy to steer, calm, and beautiful in the sunshine and high water. Right around Big Bend we passed what appears to be a beaver lodge in the works with a small mud mound nearby which I suspect is a scent mound. This time there was a pair of goldeneyes and what I think was a hooded merganser. It took us about half an hour of blissful paddling to make it to the beaver lodge. 

On the way back, we pulled in at Big Bend and walked up to the top of the hill, all awash in paintbrush, monkshood, and fireweed, everywhere a beautiful scene. We walked down toward the meadow around the nearest spruces, but wound up heading north into the bog and checking out a few oases instead, first a clump of fireweed which turned out to be growing among a copse of Stephen's spirea (which I know from only a few individuals elsewhere on the river), then a few erratics, still looking for possible camera options. Then we walked through the spruces and checked on the berries, enjoying the beauty of that meadow before strolling through the cottonwood-birch copse where we had some relief from the heady heat of the meadow. And then back to the hill and down to the canoe, enjoying another serene and thoroughly pleasant paddle back to the landing. I finally had a good look at a yellowthroat in the Big Bend area (after hearing his "stonechat" call) and another greeted us, none too happily I expect, at the landing. We were back at the cabin at 3:15 and I enjoyed a cold beer on the porch while Cailey chewed on a stick, dug up her bully twist, then reburied the latter under the blueberries.

I read for a bit, then headed out alone at 4:00 upriver to repost the no hunting sign that I'd left in such poor shape yesterday. On the way I climbed the tree with the bare trunk at Boundary Meadow, about 12 feet up, and nailed in a "within boundary" sign facing the river. I had worried it would be difficult, but I stuck the hammer between some branches (it fell off once) above me, and lurched my way up the small branches quickly enough, easily nailing in the sign through the holes I'd punched in it on the ground. The other sign was not so easy. After pushing my way through the brush to get there, I was already hot, and the mosquitoes were horrible. The work went well enough, removing one stake to pound in two holes for the main posts as I'd done on the other yesterday, shifting the sign to the edge of the brush and closer to the border. Pounding the support stakes in and screwing them back in place went well enough too, except for the very motivated mosquitoes and the oppressive heat, working at the very edge of the trees. I was eaten up and sweaty when it was finished, but can't really complain about the process. This time I found a decent route to the meadows and followed the rest of the loop home. As I neared the latter, an animal erupted in the brush to my right, loudly crashing away downriver, and I caught a glimpse of a large brown body in a break between the trees. Given how large it was, it must have been a moose. My third encounter in two days! I was quite cautious about entering the trail in the woods and talked/sung loudly, but the moose must have been far away by then.

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I had a somewhat fitful night of sleep as the pain in my left shoulder and left thigh kept me from sleeping on that side, not to mention the inexplicable pain in my left big toe! I wound up sleeping in and didn't check the time until after 8:30. Feeling groggy and surprised to find another non-rainy (mostly overcast) day, I decided to take it easy despite the lingering "cabin anxiety" (think sunshine anxiety). But first, a walk outside and down to the boat. On the way back, I walked behind Alder to the outhouse and then stopped by the garden box and decided to transplant one of the buttercrunch lettuces so it would have more room to grow. Just as I leaned over toward it, ptarmigan erupted from the other side of the box! Mama Ptarmigan flew up to perch on an open branch of a spruce and the rest scattered and disappeared. Cailey was right beside them but seemed oblivious. I hastily put her inside and returned, watching the mother linger a few moments, then flutter almost straight down to the ground out of sight, immediately starting to call. I saw a glimpse of a chick heading downriver and waited, continuing to hear ptarmigan calls. A few minutes later, Mama crossed the trail at the junction to Alder heading toward the river and continued calling; Papa Ptarmigan soon followed with three chicks close behind. They'd had enough flight feathers to gain a little lift when startled, but it looked they still had downy yellow heads! The willow ptarmigan family came back after all, what joy.

After that I lingered inside and read on the couch with Cailey snuggled up against my feet until I finally managed to get myself out the door for a little walk. After all, I keep telling myself, all the work I do on the trails is for the purpose of using them casually! So I headed upriver and spontaneously turned off the trail just past the horizontal cottonwood into very open woodland. It was easy walking between the spruces and I was soon at the riverbank, just a few feet high there with long-established shelves. It reminded me of the riverbank near the eagle nest at the lodge where I once saw an otter emerge. Among the trees there I found a pin for the plastic floats--far from the landing! It was chewed around the top and around the very bottom, but is probably still functional and I brought it back. From there I wound my way through the spruces near the river for a while, reconnecting with the trail right at the junction. It might be fun to make a formal trail there, which wouldn't require much more than trimming the dead branches off spruces, pulling up dead alders, and clipping a devil's club or cranberry here or there.

I went to D-Alley from there and did a bird survey despite the fact that the bird life remains largely out of sight or sound. It seemed a little silly, but I remembered that one of the point of surveys is to index bird life, not to only take surveys when the most birds possible can the counted. What is D-Alley like in early June vs. late July? Very different! I only logged one resident bird, a juvenile Lincoln's sparrow, along with two barn swallows who flew overhead (saw them over the slough yesterday), the singing hermit thrush in the distance, a robin chuckling upriver, and a distant alder flycatcher singing. But the scene was breathtakingly beautiful and I had a short sit on the erratic, thinking it would make a fine sit spot. That is, if there were any birds!

I came back to the cabin under a mostly sunny sky and sat on the porch with a snack and then lunch and a book as Cailey laid on the path with a hoof she dug up from last time and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself. In the shade, I had to put on my fleece and wrap the afghan over my legs for warmth, but out in the sun it was quite hot and I eventually laid down on the trail myself to enjoy it for a few minutes while I let the inreach check for messages to give me the weather report. Sitting on the swing, I began to notice that Cailey kept digging holes for her hoof but never actually burying it. Eventually she came back to her bed on the porch and I finally realized that the hoof was stuck in her mouth. She was annoyed by it and occasionally pawed at it, but thankfully it didn't seem to be hurting her too much. But it was stubborn and she kept pacing and disappearing under the trees, obviously in some distress. I donned gloves and made an attempt to grab it, but she slunk away quickly and, on my second attempt, fled when I put the gloves on. Still, she kept coming back to me and it was clear she wanted help. When she yawned widely once I could see that the hoof was impaled on her right lower canine, so her downward pawing wasn't going to dislodge it. As I sat in the sunshine on the steps to warm up, I began thinking that I might have to leave early, even possibly today, and take her to the vet for anesthesia. It was not a happy thought, and with the afternoon well underway by then, would have resulted in a less-than-thorough closure of the cabin. It didn't help my already less than stellar mood! I offered her a treat at one point, but she immediately dropped it and fled. Finally I invited her inside and, without gloves, gave one more effort to remove it, and it popped right out. She quickly ducked to retrieve it and I stopped her sternly and threw it away. I'm not sure more hooves are in her future!

I gave her lots of pats and then celebrated by continuing to rake around the property, starting on the upriver side of the cabin, raking the path upriver to the trees, then behind the cabin to the junction with the new trail, then to the outhouse, then up to the cabin, then to the back of Alder before I took pity on Cailey, who kept coming to check on me with a grin, and put her inside. I stayed with her and read for a bit while she crashed, then left her to sleep while I finished raking around Alder and down to where I'd stopped on the trail to the landing. Then I grabbed clippers and headed downriver from Alder to try to find a good route to the Glen. It occurred to me that a route directly from here to Glen would make quite a shortcut to Burnet Meadow that would cross almost no wet ground (except the crossing to Glen itself). The trail is clear for 50 yards or so, then peters out and I made the turn toward the mountain much too quickly, finding myself crossing tangles of vegetation between stands of spruces trying to find the right one. Getting hot and tired, I finally gave up near Fox Hole and retreated, thinking I need to start from the other side. I had wanted my mom to route this trail, but I think at this point it may make more sense for me to give it a go since she isn't spending much time here and might just appreciate having it rather than making it. I doubt we'd have much difference of opinion on where to go.

It was so hot and sunny when I got back that I couldn't sit in my usual place on the couch for the sun streaming in the window and left the door open, having secured the loose botom of the screen with a large-headed nail. Cailey let herself out and I soon heard the sound of her chewing her big braided bully stick; I found her chewing one of the strands which she'd pulled loose. I invited her in for dinner and she obliged, but not until after she reburied is somewhere. She does so delight in these buried treats, I never get tired of watching her search them out, enjoy them, and rebury them, especially in the sunshine on the cut grass of the little path outside the cabin.

Soon I was hungry myself and made some Indian food boiled with the rest of my peas on top and toast for dinner. It's 6:44 and I'm thinking of taking a casual walk around the smaller loop trail soon.

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I did head out for that walk, grabbing handfuls of lady ferns as I went to make the human trail more obvious. When I emerged onto the little tributary slough through the young spruces, I saw an obvious route straight across and into the woods where I'd followed the Tennessee warbler in June. I had thought about exploring that more thoroughly, so took that route and found the forest just as open and easy to navigate as I remembered and soon found myself at Crossroads, just a hop, skip, and a jump away.

It was already after 8:00 when I returned, so I read, stretched, and went to bed. The rain started in earnest and fell all night, which must have contributed to my very good night of sleep. I woke up around 7:15 and used the bathroom, then decided I really felt like curling up back in bed, despite the respectable hour. And I fell soundly back to sleep, sleeping and dozing sweetly much later than I have in years and the start of a perfectly relaxing day. The forecast Ezra sent yesterday was the same (1-2' SE seas today, light and variable tomorrow) and, though that was reasonable and the valley at the time didn't have a breath of wind, I decided to stay another night rather than come back simply because I want to head to Snettisham soon after a couple days in Juneau and because I didn't have any immediate chores to do here or adventure plans. What I needed was a real vacation day, and I was going to have more luck doing that here than in town! So I had breakfast, a cup of cafe francais, and read the morning away with Cailey on the couch as the rain continued to stream off the roof to touch the leaves of the fireweed blooming outside the window.

In the early afternoon, I suited up and headed down the new loop trail again with clippers and swede saw, first clearing the growth creeping into the forest and then clearing the "new" trail to Crossroads. First I clipped passage through a willow, then removed most of the rotten alders crisscrossing the fringe of the woods, then worked my way through the woods, carefully picking the route as I went and clipping the few alders, cranberries, and spruce boughs along the way and picking up the many dead, fallen alder logs rotting on the forest floor. Once I reached the main Crossroads trail, I retreated and used the swede saw to cut half a dozen dead alders reaching into the trail, laying the longer pieces on the sides of the trail to define it as it winds between the trees. I was rather chuffed with the result. I was also pretty sweaty working in rubber raingear, and bugs had bitten up my neck when I unzipped my jacket, so I was pleased to head home. Before I went inside, I filled the two blue and one white water jugs so we now have a full supply of water again and whatever I took from it today will probably be replenished soon if this rain keeps up!

I ate a late lunch then and read the rest of the afternoon with a little fire warning the cabin. Cailey didn't seem at all to mind. Yesterday morning I'd shut off the fridge when I remembered that the can of beer I'd had the day before was partially frozen, thankfully before the root beer burst, but just barely. I haven't turned it back on since as I have only cheese and beans and a little cream to chill, so put those out on the porch where it's a little cooler--in the front so I can monitor bear traffic! 

At around 5:15 I decided we should both go for a walk, so I suited up in my dry raingear and headed out with Cailey back to the meadow. It was actually super pleasant to be out, the day still calm as can be, the meadow beautiful in its glistening wetness. With my old rainpants on, my legs did get wet, but poor Cailey was basically swimming in the rain! We wandered over the Glen and from there across the edge of the marsh and onto the nice trail in the adjacent woods. I followed the trail easily up to a clearing, around which was a wall of devil's club. I veered to the left toward some trees, then headed for the river, surprised at how long it took to intersect a trail through the dense devil's club. It'll take longer to clear that trail than I initially thought. When we came out on a trail I was surprised to find that we were at the intersection of the trails at the landing on the upriver side. Given the density of the devil's club there, I think it probably makes more sense to connect that future trail to Alder than the landing, even if it's slightly longer, which it may not be.

When we got back, I dried Cailey off and changed pants myself, then packed my clothes bag a little, did some rearranging in my room so I could put the "homesteaders" photos of my dad and Ben Bullard on a small end table, dusted the table and dresser in the other room, and put away all the clean towels I'd used during the toilet debacle last time. Now it's after 7:00 and I should probably have some dinner and continue to enjoy this cozy, restful day. I must remember more often that I do not have to spend most of the day tromping around the trails and meadow and doing work here...I can also just be here.

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The rain died during the night, revealing a bright overcast morning. I was up at 7:00, something of a relief after the late mornings here, perhaps the result of actually getting some reserves back. It was such a lovely morning that I took Cailey for a walk upriver after breakfast, clipping some of the branches brought low by the rain on the way, then concentrating on the end of the upriver trail to Boundary Meadow, up to that point ignored this year as a low priority. But I do use that trail and have become weary of pushing through brush. From there we walked the rest of the loop trail, me trying to get as much rain off the grasses for Cailey's sake as I could (I don't want her to be chilled or wet for the boat ride home) and for the same reason we took the new cut from Crossroads back home. She was very eager to get there having been perhaps less than enthusiastic about the walk to begin with. She crashed afterwards on the couch while I cleaned and packed, including making some improvements to my room. I took out the AC splitter in the wall sockeye so I could push the end table against the wall and placed the Maas/Bullard sign there, then hung the angel picture on the wall to free up the windowsill on which I placed the engraved pictures of bear, moose, and sheep from my childhood (from the gift shop). I also put a nail in the wall which props up Paddle's antler. In all, it looks quite nice and I look forward to lighting it better in the evenings (as I did last night with a kerosene light in the hanging bracket) so I can appreciate its coziness.

I read for a while on the porch, then inside with licorice tea when I got chilled, then raked the rest of the trails upriver and behind, walking the mini loop backwards in the process. Since then I've eaten lunch and cleaned and now I'm looking at an hour from departure which will be an hour and a half before the tide. The water rose overnight again from the rain, so I'm optimistic I can make it easily, and the tide is a high one. Unfortunately, it just starting raining rather aggressively, so it may be a wet ride home!

 Cailey!