As I was driving into work this morning the sky, at least that early, held promise for a partially sunny day.
By the time I arrived in the Valley though, and continuing as I got closer to downtown, the sky became dark and then darker.
The weather (half heartedly and for just a short while) tried to clear after days of heavy pouring rain and high winds. It tried unsuccessfully to clear for this Thursday.
But there was something very calm, and quiet and soothing about the weather we had today.
It did not really rain.
It was not really even that cold.
But the fog banks that dominated downtown Juneau today weaved themselves slowly and methodically in and around both the mountains and the downtown office buildings.
After a downtown meeting I slowly walked back to my car.
I looked at the mountains in back of Juneau. And then over at the mountains on Douglas Island.
I walked across to Marine Park and then walked along the sidewalks that followed the water back to the parking lot, watching the fog the entire time.
The fog today seemed to take on a life of its own - to have an underlying energy to it - as it appeared to follow me while I walked.
Such is Juneau when the sky is grey and the fog lies low.
I have seen days when the sky was perfectly blue, and the fog lay in a thick layer only along the entire length of the channel.
I have seen days where the fog lay so low and thick, that it appeared that mountain tops were floating in the air.
I have seen days where Douglas Island completely and absolutely disappeared.
And I have seen fog, not in bands, but in thousands of small pieces, floating through the mountains so thickly that it appeared that the mountains were filled with smoke.
I wonder if Juneau ever HAS had a forest fire before?
Somehow I doubt it..........
One day late last Spring I rode my bike from downtown Juneau to just beyond the boat ramp over on Douglas N.
It was only about 10 miles.
Downtown Juneau that early in spring was a beautiful and clear and very cool day, but I was dressed for the weather.
Or at least I thought I was.
By the time I had ridden only a few miles I began to hit fog, and the temperature started to drop.
By the time I arrived at the boat ramp I was completely and absolutely enveloped in fog.
Fog that was so thick that it actually became claustrophobic.
The fog was so thick that it felt to me like a solid wall of grey that was closing in on me.
I biked a little further once I got to the boat ramp.
Partly because when I looked out on what I knew was a beautiful channel and island view in normal weather, all I saw was a wall of grey on that cold biking day.
I could see nothing at all beyond a few feet from shore.
And partly I biked further because I was freezing, needed to move, and continued to hope that I would be able to ride out of the fog and back into the sunshine.
That did not happen.
I was freezing cold, even when I put on all the extra clothes I was carrying in my pack.
My outer fleece (one of three layers I was wearing on top) was covered in a thin layer of ice.
After much too long being outside and on a bike in those kinds of conditions I decided to head back to Juneau.
It seemed like a very very very cold and miserable ride back to town, but when I crossed over the Juneau-Douglas Bridge I again hit sunshine.
Weather in this town can be strange, unpredictable and incredibly localized.............
THE fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on