Misty Morning Solitude

Day three in Ninilchik began with an early morning walk along a mist-enshrouded shoreline. It had looked chilly from inside my RV, but only warm, moist air met my face as we ventured out for Ronni’s morning ablutions.

Our morning had started earlier than I had hoped, not due to rowdy RVers this time, but raucous crows (or maybe really small ravens? 🐦‍⬛ I’m not sure) landing, cawing and tap-dancing on our roof for the second day in a row at 6:30 am.

The crows had obviously picked up some tasty breakfast morsels on the beach and our roof was handier than a picnic table for squabbling over it. Yikes.

The mountains remained hidden all day, and a couple of mild afternoon storm fronts blew through. The light patter of rain lulled me into an afternoon nap.

It was an excellent day to alternate knitting, reading and napping, with the background swoosh, swoosh of waves coming to shore. All was peaceful in my little world.

Towards evening, Ronni’s and I walked down towards the boat launch area to watch the fishing boats returning to shore, being towed from the surf one by one by tractors, while eagles patrolled the shoreline.

The next day started out foggy as well, but by noon, it was obvious the sun was fighting to break through. The forecast for the weekend was good, with ever-increasingly sunny skies and warm weather.

By early evening, the view over Cook Inlet began to transform.

Like a vast curtain opening horizontally, the fog over the water lowered as clouds overhead lifted. Mountains began to appear in the middle, as if suspended mid-air.

As the sun slowly set over the Inlet, the full, magnificent width of the mountain range across the water was revealed, with hints of what would come in following days.