Near Island Afternoon Jaunt

Yesterday, a day forecast to be blustery and cruel to the outdoor enthusiast, was at first dark and somber. Eschewing footworn paths, I joined a friend at a birthday party for a 2 year old, held at the local brewery. Sip on all that incongruity with the same lingering contemplation you would accord a delicious, dark porter. Pints were quaffed as minions ran helter-skelter, faces smeared in birthday cake, little impressionistic canvases made manically mobile.

North off the Near Island Bridge

The celebrations ran to a close around 5:00 pm, in sync with the crashing of sugar highs, and the deterioration of little persons' social skills. I caught a ride home, bid my friend farewell and realized  - the sun was still out! The sky had cleared! Grabbing a jacket and flashlight, I spun my own wheels over the five minutes of distance to Near Island. With a brief pause on the vacant bridge for a snapshot of the northern perspective, I was soon in the parking lot and scrambling into the darkening woods.

Noting one vehicle in the parking lot, I soon encountered its three occupants - Richy, met previously on Harbor Lights Night as a bunch of us crowded into Tom's boat drinking hot-buttered rum's while his speakers pummeled our eardrums; and his two dogs, out for an afternoon exercise in nature.

The opening between Holiday and Crooked Islands

Now the woods were solely mine! I cackled and ran up hill, hands shoved deep within pockets, tipping forward in a wobbly full-speed tilt. Around the base, and then down to the shoreline, slip-skipping over shaggy granite, graveled boulders, and sharpened upright stands of rock, all exposed by the descended tide. 

St. Herman's Harbor

Pillar Mountain

Heitman Mountain rose to a snowy peak across Chiniak Bay. I slip-toed around the southern end of Near Island for a view of the six windmills perched atop Pillar Mountain; danced down the breakwall to peer into St. Herman harbor, filled to overflowing with fishing boats; and then ran back through the evening's gloaming into the woods, away from the departed sun's western journeying. Overjoyed at this mini-adventure, I whooped and hollered while running helter-skelter through the woods. Moments later a companion appeared: one man and two wary dogs only 30 feet from me, them treading the trail I had no notion of knowing. Soon, I ran up onto the road, down it's length to my car, and returned home. A fine end to this day in the glorious nature of Kodiak.