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laughed aloud when he dropped it, wishing all the same that he had not. Eagles dropping fish is not all that unsual. A recent article in the local newspaper reported a near catastrophe when an eagle dropped a salmon on the windshield of a low flying plane. As a respite from hiking, my sister and I took a boat trip up the Tracy Arm Fjord. One hundred and fifty miles round trip, one hundred and fifty thousand impressions and sensations. One tries to capture it on film and finds that it is as elusive as the fish dropped by the eagle. There are glaciers, there are whales. There are seals lounging on icebergs, mothers and their calves, and bears browsing for something along the shoreline. There are mountain goats lazily grazing on the sheerest of mountain surfaces. If you are lucky, the tour boat is owned and operated by native Americans, Tlingits, who chant and tell stories of tribal customs and who somehow know where the next pod of orcas will appear. The next day we hiked again, ten miles through grizzly bear country, to view the Herbert Glacier. You walk, with some trepidation, through a rain forest, aware of every noise coming from beyond or behind, wondering. The locals joke about it: If you climb up a tree and the bear climbs up to eat you, it's a black bear. If it knocks you out of the tree to eat you, it's a grizzly bear. If there are no trees and it's eating other bears, it's a polar bear and you are dessert. Near the head of the trail is a rusty relic of Juneau's past, an abandoned automobile, vinatage 1930's. On Memorial Day we hiked through snow on Mt. Roberts and there was an avalanche on a nearby mountain. You hear it before you see it, a low rumble that ends in a crashing crescendo. Snow and rock tumble over each other, leaving a dirty smear. On other days we visited Eagle Beach, St. Theresa's Shrine, the Bread Line Bluff, the Red Dog Saloon, a museum. I bought t-shirts and helped my sister create a rock garden with rocks collected during our hikes, painstakingly selected for shape and size and color, and carried, sometimes for miles, in a backpack. And so it went. In quieter moments I perused the Juneau Empire , which is dropped off daily by the paper boy. The first five pages are about Juneau. The next seven or so are about Alaska. Whatever room is left over is about the rest of the world. If the stories about Juneau and Alaska are exceptionally lengthy on any given day, there is no rest of the world. Sunshine Cove. Видання C оюзу Українок A мерики - перевидано в електронному форматі в 2012 році . A рхів C У A - Ню Йорк , Н . Й . C Ш A.
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