Ode to Lyttelton

Shackleton sailed out of Lyttelton harbour on the Nimrod expedition to the South Pole, and I sailed in on the number 27 bus from Christchurch, perhaps my mode was a touch less romantic and I doubt if Frank Wild and Ernest Joyce had two enthusiastically gossipping women wedged close behind them on deck. Despite being hemmed in by bulging woolworths bags, I was greatly enjoying listening to the Lyttelton ladies chatter, it has been years since I had been in New Zealand and I had missed the accent, its wonderful quirks always make me smile and often set me off giggling inappropriately in the midst of a conversation.

This short trip on the edge of Autumn was to see my sister and her beautiful family, it would be the first time that i would meet my gorgeous wee niece, she was already 18 months old and so far probably only thought I existed inside a skype screen, so this trip was long overdue.

Lyttelton is the most lovely little place, you pop out of the tunnel from Christchurch and enter a snug enclosure, surrounding hills on three sides and ocean on the other, it feels quite distinct from the city and has its own unique character, artistic, musical, vibrant, quirky and with more of the atmosphere of a real active community than any place I have travelled through since leaving Abriachan. Of course I may have the rose tinted glasses of a holiday visitor and a smitten auntie, but that's fine with me.

Everywhere seems to be uphill, and as we strode up and down from my sisters home we passed many other mums pushing their mountain buggy's up a gradient that must help create thighs of steel.

Skagway out of Season

Bleary eyed we boarded the ferry in Haines and before we knew it we were hopping off again in Skagway, it is only 20 speedy miles by water, but a whole lot longer if you go by road. Now we are never in any real rush and the landscape along the roads is untouchable, but when finances get tight, sacrifices get made, sigh....... jeeez I have such a tough life, shall we sail by ferry through glaciers and majestic fjords, or shall we drive though the firey autumn mountains with moose and bear peeping out behind waterfalls, choices choices..

Skagway was not exactly buzzing, everything was closed for the season or in the process of closing. We had been surfing the 'end of season' wave all the way round Alaska, but it seems that luck had run out and there would be no more lovely quiet galleries and crazy money-off sales, now we were faced with empty window displays and silent solid doors.

Despite this , and the clear fact that this was a seriously touristy town, it has a nice atmosphere and a drenching of gold rush history. There was an old saloon, set up with well dressed maniquins lounging at the bar and shelves of old bottles and foods from the gold rush era. On the walls were stories of some of the most notible characters that lived and blagged and sold and stole and mined and died within and around Skagway. My favourite tale was of a man who would arrange for travellers to be robbed on the road and then when they staggered into town with nothing, befriend them and help them get back to their homes -generous fellow.

Leaving town after a good nosy around everything that was till open, we passed through some more gorgeous landscape, by now we dont expect anything less.

 

Eagles, Eagles Everywhere

We travelled from Alaska to Alaska via Canada and drove down into Haines on high Eagle alert. We had been told amazing tales of how many of these majestic salmon gulping predators there were to be found on this stretch of river and although we were a few weeks too early for the yearly surge, we still hoped to spot a few.
We had been into many lovely art galleries around Alaska and in each there were beautiful framed photographs showing hundreds of eagles standing shoulder to shoulder on the river banks or perched layer upon layer in the high branches of boreal forest.
I had all my fingers and toes crossed that we might witness something similar.

Before we saw any eagles, we saw several rafts full of other eager eagle spotters who did not seem to be having much luck getting off the bank, never mind down the river, we had thought about doing a rafting tour ourselves, but after watching several small rafts full of large Americans going nowhere fast, we decided against it and continued our self guided tour into Haines.

This wee town is one of the stop off points for the numerous cruise boats that plough up and down the coast of Alaska, passing alongside the stunning glacial landscape and offloading thousands of eager tourists into the coastal towns which are well set up to take as much of their money as possible in a as short a time as possible. Gift shops, galleries and 'authentic' Alaskan crafts abound, and whilst yes, there are some undoubtedly tacky items on sale, I found that on the whole there were some really lovely items to be had, though nearly always too expensive or weighty for me to buy.

The Tlingit native art often depicts animal spirits such as eagles, killer whale, ravens and bears all with their different abilities and forms of intelligence.
There were many that were incredible, intricate and spiritual, yet still beautifully simplistic and abstract.

We searched all over town for somewhere to stay that was vaguely within our budget, yet everywhere was crazy money, so despite the low temperatures and the fact that I was dropping fast into some nasty Alaskan flu, we set up camp again, and I was so glad we did.
A friendly local ranger at the Chilkoot Lake Campsite told us that we were setting up our tent on a well known Grizzly Bear trail through the woods down to the water, and if this news was not thrilling enough, he also directed us to the spot down the road where he almost guaranteed we would see bears at dusk.
A hurried setting up of the tent later and we dashed down the road with a banana and a camera so find.... we were not the only ones.
Sadly other tourists had been given the same tip-off we had and also parked in readiness for any bear action. For almost an hour, we played a fidgety parking game trying to snag the best viewing spots.
After dusk fell - we got wonderfully lucky, out of the gloom came the most lovely wee family of bears. Seeing them in the wild, it just makes your heart stop.

Santa's world of Christmas Kitch

The lovely guy at the B&B in Fairbanks didn't feel much like making breakfast so instead he gave us a sizeable slab of smoked Alaskan Salmon and a bag of fresh blueberries - which made us very happy bunnies, I do love random wee things like that. It was extremely delicious, we splashed out on a tub of cream cheese and a box of crackers and then ate ourselves silly on Salmon, so nice to have a night without noodles.

Heading south from Fairbanks we were running in line with the famous alaskan oil pipeline, we stopped and gawped at it for a while at a point where it is accessable from the road and where there was a security guard sitting in his car monitering the comings and goings. I wonder if this is a cushy full time job or simply necessary at present due to the various attacks on the pipeline throughout the last year, although if I planned an assualt on the pipeline, going to the most public possible spot would seem a tad stupid.
We pulled into North Pole where it is christmas all year round. The lamp posts are shaped and painted to look like candy canes, the street names all have christmas themed names like snowman lane and mistletoe road, it is all very obviously tourist orientated and to me felt a little desperate. This did not stop us happily contributing to the local economy by stopping at the mecca of all things christmas kitch - 'Santa Claus House'. We spent over an hour wandering in this vast store which sells all conceivable items relating to a cosy consumer christmas. Most entertaining were the letters which papered the walls, written to Santa from all over the world and sent to 'The North Pole', they all end up here and the lovely local people have taken it upon themselves to reply to each one. The letters were hilarious, ranging from demanding shopping lists, to repentant children apologising for missdeeds and begging to still be included in santas list. There were letters from young sceptics who apologised for saying they did not believe in him and hoped that they would be forgiven and one that amused me greatly where a wee boy was dobbing in his brother who had said Santa was not real and was therefore not deserving of a visit - the ultimate sibling retribution.

Also making me giggle, a string of christmas lights in empty cartridge shells - only in America!

Destination Denali

Denali is referred to as the jewel in the crown of Alaska's national parks. Not only does it have the tallest; and most beautiful; mountain in North America, but it also holds thousands of the many amazing animals that make Alaska so famous. Grizzly Bears, Moose, Wolves, Carabou, Mountain Goats, Pika, Marmots, Beaver, Lynx, Fox, Dall Sheep and a multitude of smaller more scurrying and scampering creatures.

We navigated the tourist information and set up our tiny wee WalMart tent once again in the campsite near the entrance, setting the alarm for some silly hour the next morning when we would catch the camp bus that runs deep into the park. Another rather too chilly night later, we plunged into the park.

Our first wildlife sighting was not especially impressive, Dall Sheep climbing high up on a cliff several kilometres from the road, which I could barely see even with the aid of squinting, but Brad assured me that those tiny blotchy white rocks had faces, so I ticked of Dall Sheep from my mental 'To See in Alaska' list, though it felt like cheating.

From then on we seemed to be stopping ever few minutes for some new sighting - A big male Moose, A herd of Carabou and then two beautiful chocolate coloured grizzlies grazing happily on grass and berries. We were hoping to see Mt Mckinley (Also know as 'Denali' or 'Bloody Hell Thats Big') in all its towering glory, but we knew that the odds were not good, only upon 20% of the year do the clouds part long enough for the mountain to be visible and today was definately not going to be one of those days, the clouds were hanging so low over the plains that we could hardly tell where the mountains were hiding.

That night we bedded down at the furthest campsite in the park, in which they had a shed set up for you to store your food so the bears did not get attracted to the scent of Chef Boyardee floating out from under the canvas.

We went on a wee hike up a nearby hill and munched on the bear berries that had managed to survive the poor growing conditions, and then, as we walked back into camp with stained fingers, miracle of miracles the clouds parted and there towering in front of us, so much higher than we were expecting - The Big Kahuna..... Mt McKinley.

Zooming north from Denali, the signs of end of season were everywhere, 70% off sales in the tacky tourist shops, 'Closed for season signs' springing up outside Motels and the colours of the trees becoming if possible, an even more vibrant yellow, glowing in the sunlight and enhancing the rugged beauty of the mountains. Every kilometre, we fell more in love with Alaska.

In the northern city of Fairbanks we were upon the 64 degrees latitude, only 2 degrees from the Arctic Circle, tantilisingly close, yet still several hundered dollars of fuel away and sadly it was not money we had to spare. So at 64.82N 147.87W we turned back south - who knows how long before I am so far North again, I am hoping for soon.

Free-Falling Over Volcanos

At least twice a week I dream of having wings. So when I threw myself out of a plane at ten thousand feet, the sensation already seemed rather familiar. Having someone strapped to my back was never part of the plan, but apparently the rules are rather inflexible when it comes to letting untrained Scottish lassies go solo on their first jump.

We were jumping with Alaska Skysports over Wasilla, a wee town in southern Alaska, recently made more widely well-known through the presence of Alaska’s most famous Governor – Sarah Palin.
Having just headed north from the gorgeous Kenai Peninsula and our adventures with bears, I had wanted to organize our jump to coincide with Brad’s birthday, but time and unsuitable flying weather worked against us. We ended up spending an extra day in Seward where we joined a lovely French couple at Millers Landing and kayaked a few hours down the coast watching Bald Eagles perched high in the boreal forest, dying salmon waiting for their imminent end in the slow inlet streams, and the cute hardy sea otters, floating on their backs and observing us with big curious eyes. The scenery was as always – fantastic. Glaciers, mountains, low atmospheric clouds and rather incongruously a maximum security jail on the far shore, about which our kayak guide regaled us with amusing bungled escape stories.

We spent Brad’s birthday itself in Anchorage, which I had always wrongly presumed to be the capital of Alaska. It was a lovely relief to be in a warm room with a hot shower and a laundry where we could wash the huge pile of muddy hiking/camping clothes which had already been worn more times than was really sanitary and included a number of socks that probably contained enough flora and fauna to start their own wee ecosystem.
That morning we had climbed the beautiful Exit Glacier trail in less than pleasant conditions, however, half way up during a break in the rain we found a black bear browsing his way across the scree slope and from a respectful vantage point we watched him, photographed him and fell a little more in love with bears. It was over a day later when we took to the skies over some lightly steaming volcanoes, but my thigh muscles were still complaining about the rapid decent down the side of the glacier, I am always a bit like a cart horse, solid plodding on the outward journey and then a mad homeward rush when I think I can smell the stables.

The plane circled round, gaining greater altitude on each loop until the critical height when I was maneuvered into the correct stance, clipped firmly onto my tandem master, signaled to step rather awkwardly out of the plane onto the ledge and then jump. I really like the falling part, the rushing wind, your flapping cheeks, the rapidly approaching ground, the bizarre reality of what you are doing – all very cool! The sudden deceleration with multiple straps digging into your crotch and stomach as the parachute flowers above you – not quite so comfortable. Then the final gentle descent, controlling the chute and spinning in tight smiling circles above the now clearly distinguishable trees and fields and the bright yellow spot of Brad in his jumpsuit filming my fall from far below. Then soon, too soon we were back on the ground.

A Bevy of Bears

The first company we called had no space left on their tour, so they transferred us to some of their friends who ran another company, although we didn’t know it at the time, this was the most wonderful stroke of luck and led to a day that was magical in every way.
To see grizzly bears was a huge part of our trip to Alaska, and though the $600 price tag was a world away from what we would normally consider spending on anything, to see wild brown bears in their natural surroundings, willing to approach and spend time with us seemed to be worth any amount.

Chris and Ken at Emerald Air are kind, hugely knowledgeable and deeply passionate about the bears - we were all on the same wavelength of respect and protection for these outstanding creatures and throughout the day they emphasized how misrepresented brown bears have become and how with respect on both sides they could happily live in harmony with humans.

We were briefed at the jetty in how to act around the bears, what to do in an unlikely confrontation situation and how to make sure that everything we did was not going to alter the regular behaviour of the bears who at this time of the season were feasting on the remaining salmon and the carcasses of those who had already spawned and died. Then we all donned a sexy thigh high set of boots, grabbed our backpacks and were stowed on board the float plane.
We were taking off from Homer at the base of the Kenai peninsula, and flying 123 miles to an area of the Katmai National Park, very close to the famous McNeil River, about which we had heard amazing bear viewing stories. In many respects the area into which we were going was even better, as recent heavy rains had pushed many of the salmon and therefore the bears, into the lower reaches of the river systems, exactly where we planned to be.


The flight there was quite breathtaking, passing though the Ring of Fire - a series of five volcanoes that range down the kenai peninsula. It was a calm day and a plume of steam was rising from the top of the towering Redoubt Volcano. We passed over the volcanic island of Augustine, which erupted as recently as 2006 and which is responsible for the many Tsunami procedure signs that are found on the long Homer Spit which stretches out into the ocean and which seemed to me so marginally elevated above the waves that even a small storm might carry it away..
As we started our descent to a small sparkling lake I caught a glimpse of my first bear, running through the water after a salmon, that split second view from a few hundred feet up made my heart jump into my mouth with excitement. We waded ashore from the plane and made our way as a tight group up to the banks of the river. We were shown a ptarmigan, an arctic ground squirrel and an assortment of hardy vegetation that battles the tundra winds; and although this was all fascinating you could feel the tension in the group as we all listened politely but rather distractedly, thinking about the 800lb bears just over the rise.
And there they were, at our first glimpse of the water, A mother and her yearling cub, walking slowly down the gravel island, scanning the water for the flame red salmon and not even sparing a glance for the nine humans bunched up together on the slope, aiming a paraphernalia of camera equipment at them, from my wee point and shoot to James Hager's enormous lens and tripod (He was recently voted one of America’s top ten wildlife photographers and just happened to be with us on this tour) We sat down on the tundra and watched speechless as another mother and cub sauntered round the bend of the river, and then not fifteen feet from us, the bushes shook vigorously and a huge splash burst from the river - a large male had been biding his time in the undergrowth, waiting for the perfect salmon and we had not seen a thing - just awesome.


There would not be enough adjectives and clichés to get through the whole day of emotions, needless to say, it was everything and so much more than I could have imagined, we saw at least 20 bears, all colours and sizes, some at a distance, some walking by us close enough to see the fish gills on their lips.
For me, the highlight was a mother with three spring cubs who we watched learning how to catch their own fish and being extremely proud when they did so. The fish they brought exultantly to the surface were probably already dead, but they would beat them around a little anyway, just to show who was boss. Two of the cubs were larger and spent most of their time in the water, while the third was a wee dark one who seemed to actively dislike the water and did all she could to avoid getting wet. This was possibly the reason that she wasn’t as well fed, as Chris told us that the Mum will not just hand over fish to her cubs, but will make them take it from her, so they learn the necessary aggression and commitment they will need when they are left to fend for themselves.
Also with us on the trip was Tom Griffin a ranger from The McNeil Reserve, he spend around 100 days a year with the bears, but this was his first spring cub viewing of the year, so we were remarkably lucky to see them - and on a perfect sunny, wind free day (Brad still has a rather amusing sunburn line across his forehead from the very un-wintry weather)


We were comparing notes on bears from our experiences in Churchill and Tom and Chris helped put paid to the information that had been told to us as solid fact, relating to the reason that large males sometimes eat young cubs in order to put the mother back into heat. As they pointed out, this theory holds very little water as the estrogen period is in itself very short and a mother who lost her cub would take up to ten days to stop lactating and then another similar period before she came back into estrogen, by which point the cycle would almost be over, and the male bear responsible for the infanticide would be long gone and would have no chance to mate even if she was able. It highlighted how much of what we believe to be true is often just guesswork being laid out at truth or rumour passed on as fact - wikipedia syndrome to give it its official title.


With food in abundance, the normal rules of bear on bear engagement are all suspended. In much the same way as we ignore all those around us on the high street, the bears walked on by each other at a respectful distance with no aggressive or defensive behaviour coming into play. However, the hierarchy amongst those we saw was still evident when two young bears, perhaps three years old came around a corner and almost bumped into the mother with three cubs. We watched with amusement as the first young bear bolted back in a panic and then climbed the bank to sit with his friend peering timidly over the edge until the mother had passed on by.


It was a perfect day - the weather, the location, the autumn colours, the people we were with, the vegemite sandwiches and of course the glorious, beautiful, breathtaking, majestic bears. I hope when you go, you get such a day.

Off On An Alaskan Adventure

As the season finished at Lazy Bear in Churchill, we packed up all our well worn clothes and assorted compulsary selection of Beluga memorabilia and jumped into our trusty Plymouth Voyager and hit the open road once more.

We have both always been drawn by the allure of Alaska, the wide open skys, towering glaciers and prolific wildlife is displayed tantalisingly on documentaries every year. It seemed a perfect time to see it for ourselves, I mean being so close and all - only 5 provinces and at least 4000km to the border. We needed to get there fast as well, the salmon spawn in the rivers throughout August and begin to slow down substantially at the start of September. The grizzly bears that the slamon attract will also start to leave the rivers where they can be most easily viewed catching and eating the fish. We desperately want to see the beautiful wild grizzilies in their natural habitat so Brad put the pedal to the metal and we scorched off across Manitoba.

I love watching the landscape changing around us, the huge golden plains of the prairies giving way to rolling hills and farms in Saskatoon and Alberta, more and more trees springing up through BC until we were whizzing through atmospheric miles and miles of Boreal forest. Ordinarily we would have been travelling slowly jumping out at every opportunity to climb hills and track down moose, meander through museums and soak up the culture, but we were on a time schedule, so we stayed strapped in and went on by each tempting detour. Apart from the odd crazy giant beaver or giant easter egg.

Breaking through into the Yukon was fabulous, having grown up on Robert Services poetry and the gritty unforgiving country and people his rhythms envoked. I had always been absorbed by the tales of the goldrush, the things men were willing to do to get hold of coloured dust - how fast they then spent the money they had risked their lives to obtain. A crazy world of money, women, gambling and hardship.

From Whitehorse this world came to life - seeing the S.S Klondike, the steam ship that ferried the thousands of gold hungry prospectors up the river to Dawson City, along with the supplies to sustain them and the making of the boom town that sprang up around them. They have renovated the paddle-steamer and it now sits high and dry next to the river with a flow of tourists rather than miners walking the gangplank.

Dawson City itself is a quirky little place - I liked it a lot, it has retained enough of the genuine buildings, leaning over from the pushy effects of the permafrost to compensate for the slightly less genuine 'Olde Writing' and simulated fronted buildings. The season was tailing off so we were lucky to be there without what I imagine are usually hoards of happy tourists , soaking up the atmosphere, panning for gold and generally having a grande olde time. We merrily joined in and went along to what is billed as the yukon's number one attratction - 'Diamond Toothed Gerties Casino', where you are encouraged to part with all your money as you watch some remarkbly limber dancers shake their ruffled skirts and flash their garters - all rather jolly fun. We left only $3 short from the sneeky money eating machines, but when $3 is a big chunk of our daily food budget, I still resented it, I really am very Scottish.

Another money saving ploy was to camp our way North, only resorting to a cheap motel when we began to smell really bad. This plan had relied; rather optimistically I admit; on the nights being above zero, so we did not become sleeping bag popsicles. The Yukon was not playing fair and our hours of sleep were decreasing every night as we shook and shivered under our three blankets, sleeping bags and new zealand polypros. Ahh well, no one said that budget travel was going to be easy.

Trains, Planes and Underwater Cameras

We have just left fabulous Churchill for the second time, though this time by the speedy flight in a cosy wee Calm Air plane to Winnipeg instead of the previous epic two day train treck, which chugs peacefully along what is reputed to be Canada's worst stretch of railway. Via Rail seems to be on a mission to make people mad this year and we were caught in the anger crossfire on several occasions through beluga season.
In July the via union went on strike and all the passengers who were due to leave and arrive in Churchill that week were held in frustrating limbo. It could not have been a worse week to choose, we were completely fogged in, no flights were going in or out, and worse we could not run any tours as it was too dangerous to go out on the water in such bad visabliity and too dangerous to go out on land as there were so many polar bears who could not be located in the fog. The lodge was full of impatient, agitated guests, some of whom seemed to blame us for natures unpredictability and who would ask us at ten minute intervals when we were planning to get the fog to lift, Layne and I set an unshakable smile on our faces, handed out more hot chocolate and cinnamon buns, and encouraged everyone to play scrabble, relax and go with the quirky Churchill flow. Eventually the fog broke, the strike broke and we all breathed a huge sigh of relief as the guests evacuated the lodge out into the world of whales and bears.
A week later when things were more or less back to normal we got the first call of what was to become a steady increasingly panicked flow, without letting any northern Manitoban businesses know, or sending out an advance warning of schedule changes, Via have decided not to continue there Churchill - Winnipeg route. Now you can imagine how far in advance people book for Bear season, how co-ordinated arrivals, accomodation and tours need to be. And now panic panic panic, no trains, changes in arrival days, schedules turned on their heads, Churchill business's more than a little hopping mad - A time when I was glad not to work reception and I could hide out in housekeeping until the inevitable salvage operation began - I cant imagine how much flack the via rep. in Churchill must have got over those few weeks, poor lady. But if you are planning on coming to Churchill this fall (And you really must) dont worry - things are right on track, you now have to take a bus / drive yourself to Thompson and then jump on the train to Churchill - its worth the effort, you'll love it.

In our final days in Churchill, Layne and I grabbed some time off and jumped in some kayaks to go out again to play with the whales. It was an amazing day, the water was calm, the bugs were not to crazy and the whales were just incredible. They were in a bullying, cheeky mood, ganging up on us to lift the kayaks up almost out of the water, cruising with us in front and behind, bobbing up right next to us and being almost agressively interested in every move we made. I had my great wee underwater camera with me and got footage that made me bubble with excitement it was so great, a young beluga even came up and bumped the lens in curiousity when i was holding the camera under the surface. We smiled till our cheeks hurt and I filmed and filmed and filmed. I handed the camera to Layne to take a few shots of me and the whales, before the battery finally died. As she strapped the camera to her wrist and then grabbed her paddle to turn herself around I heard a gasp and a silence that stopped my heart. She turned to me with huge devestated eyes and held up her arm to stow me a folorn strap dangling loosly with a broken clip and no camera to be seen.
The first moment was rather gutting, I hoped she was joking, but another look at her face and I could see she wasn't and then the camera and its contents did not matter in the slightest. Nothing is ever worth a great friend looking that upset, I couldnt bear that she looked like she might cry - it was an accident that could have happened to me at any point - as it was quite possibly the worst camera strap ever designed by an total idiot. Still - I couldn't help staring at the waves, as if the bright green rectangle, might just float up to the surface or rice up on the back of a whale - but sadly no, the water looked right back, mocking me with its depth and lack of clarity. So if you happen to be in the Churchill River and happen to find a wee green camera washed up at low tide, with some killer photos on the memory stick, please drop me a line, I'll happily send out a reward. And Layne, it okay really :o)

Being hustled in a kayak

We went out in the sea kayaks today onto a calm river and within minutes they found us, a whole pod of rolling, snorting, gliding, spraying, bubbling belugas, mostly older and pure white, but riding high of the back of some mothers were dark, glistening babies.
As they come closer to us they slide under the waves and all you see is the white shadow moving closer as your heart rises into your mouth and suddenly one will burst up right next to the kayak, spray you with water from their blowhole and dive in a swirl of foam.
They are so amazingly curious , following in your wake, bumping the rudder, and blowing out flurries of bubbles quite deliberately right under your kayak. They seemed to love playing with us and three started to work in unison bashing into the bottom of my kayak, lifting one side so high that I thought I was going to tip out, but managed to right myself, giggling and squealing with delight.
We had working out that if you placed your paddle into the water and gentle rotated it from side to side they would come right up to investigate and gentle open their mouths around it, exploring with their mouth. Then slowly you raise up your paddle and their head would rise out of the water with the paddle until there they are right there, inches from the boat, tipping their head and looking at you with their deep mellow eyes. Each time I would reach out my hand and try to caress their heads, and each time they were just out of reach, so I improved my paddle fishing technique until one rose touching the boat and stayed up, I stroked her soft squashy head and she didn't seem to mind at all, actually bobbing down a little, then back up to bump my hand. Then to my delight she opened her mouth wide and moved forward to touch my hand with her tongue. I almost retracted my hand through instinct, putting your fingers into the mouth of a wild animal doesn't seem very wise, but I couldn't bear to move and break the spell and so my fingers touched against her wet grainy tongue. It was a long time before I remembered to breath, and a lot longer before the insane smile faded.
You must come here and do this, you just have to!!

I'm going to calm down and stop waxing lyrical now before I annoy myself, and go and eat some noodles X