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Licks and kisses, Tillie

CAMPING!

You know the Beggin Strips commercial? Where the yellow lab says, "BACON! BACON BACON...", etc? Well, exchange the word "Bacon" for "Camping", and that might explain a little about my excitement for our 10 day backpacking trip into the Emigrant Wilderness.

CAMPING!!! CAMPING CAMPING CAMPING!!!!!!! I can't think of a better way to spend the rest of my doggie days. Living off the land, keeping the racing squirrels out of my food and mom and dad's backpacks. Licking the trout clean after Joey helps dad catch them. Keeping intruders out of our site! Helping to keep mom, dad, and Joey warm in the tent at night. Keeping my eyes, ears, and nose at the ready when the pawrents are laying on the granite looking at stars. (They don't see so good in the dark, and their ears and smellers are downright TERRIBLE!) I am a necessary and vital accessory to my pawrents' backpacking experience...a job that I thoroughly enjoy and think I should do on a full time basis, and not just one week or so per year.

It started out Wednesday, August 25. Mom got off work, and Dad already has Joey and I and all the stuff loaded up in the truck. Mom got home, and after some last minute stops for bug repellant and dinner, we were on our way!

Spent the night in a friend's cabin. I love that cabin! Nice place, no electricity, but warm blankeys and windows so I can see out in case someone is coming. Also close to the stream, so I can get a REAL drink, not some tap water like at home.

The next morning, we drove down to the trailhead. We stopped and picked up our permits at the Forest Service station, and then we were really on our way. CAMPING!!!! CAMPING!!!!

Mom, ever since I've known her, has wanted to see a place called Camp Yellowhammer. She says it's been even longer than that...since 1980 when Granpa went. It's a place about 16 miles into the wilderness that some old cowboy built in 1922, and if you don't know where it is, you aren't likely to find it. It consists of a cabin, a barn, a cookshack, a shower (a shower in the wilderness in 1922??!), a screened building to hang deer carcasses, and a corral for horses...all built out in the middle of nowhere in the Emigrant Wilderness in 1922, and visited by few over the years.

So we went. I couldn't be happier to get to a "wild" place; the smells, sounds, and sights of the wilderness bring great joy and happiness to make a great huntress like myself! We left Crabtree trailhead parking lot, loaded up and ready to go. Of course, I carried the vital Dog Food...but what need do I have of Dog Food in the wilderness?? Live off the land, I say! And I turned my nose away at that lowly bowl of Dog Food that first night in at Grouse Lake. YECCCKKKHHH!!! Dog Food. It's almost an insult. Joey ate his, and then mine. Mom and Dad had spaghetti. I held out for something better.

The next day, breakfast! Dog Food. Yuck. Joey ate his and mine again. Mom and Dad had oatmeal. I ate an ant that crawled on my foot. Can't wait to go do some hunting.

Day two, we are walking again. This time we started ascending up a steep granite pass. Mom put Joey's boots on to protect his feet. I don't have to wear boots, my paws are TOUGH! (I love it that a GUY has sensitive tootsies and has to wear boots, but ME, a GIRL...I could go all day without so much as a scratch on the old pads!) Up through that pass, and on through Groundhog Meadow...which really shouldn't be called a meadow at all...lots of dried up bushes if you ask me...and no grass. Up and up and up...and then down down down into Louse Canyon where we met up with Cherry Creek...which wasn't really much of a creek but a few ponds here and there. Joey and I got drinks here, and then we followed the canyon down a ways. And then the REAL climb started. Steep, steeper than I've ever done! Switchbacks back and forth, a 500 foot climb in about half a mile. Mom got out our dog water, put an electrolyte tablet in it, and Joey and I drank, and drank, and drank. We stopped a lot on this ascent. And then we were at the top! A short hike later, we were at the banks of pretty Rosasco Lake.

Someone had been there the night before, I could smell them. Mom noted that the ashes in the small fire ring where we camped were still warm. The pawrents decided after that near vertical climb, we would stop for the day (and night).

I kept growling at something. Joey was too tired to help me patrol the area, so I did my work alone. Mom and Dad can't hear or smell worth a gopher kidney, so it was up to me to see that the perimeter was secure. Something was out there, but my growling and alerts kept it at bay.

Dinner? Dog Food. Ugh. Mom is getting pretty angry with me by this time, I think mostly because she is carrying some of the food and would really like to lighten her 50 pound backpack. She caved. This time, my Dog Food was served on her camp plate with a few people food remnants left. I cleaned "my" plate.

Next morning...oatmeal again for the pawrents, and this time that meant a little leftover oatmeal for me too! Mixed with (sigh), *delicious* dog food. The things I gotta do for a descent meal. Somebody let me catch a racing squirrel or a venison, willya??

Backpacks on, and we're on our way to Big Lake. After the pawrents stumbled around for awhile in the granite, fiddling with their silly GPS device trying to find the route, I put my nose to the ground and picked my way through the rocks to the trail. Mom and dad started following me, and we found our way to Pingree Lake.

Pingree Lake was a little busy. Horses highlined along the edge of the granite wall behind the lake. Several camps filled with empty backpacks and tents. No people; maybe they are all off hunting? No dogs either. We took a break here and then continued.

Climbing out of Pingree Lake, we met up with three men and a dog on foot coming the other way. They wore cowboy hats, (well, except their dog, who was a nice black labbie type), and mom found out they were with the horses highlined at Pingree. They said, "One hundred and fifty feet to a really great view!". So we continued on...and sure enough, the path opened up to the widest expanse of granite a dog ever laid eyes on! It looked like a HUGE bathtub, with some pine trees and a lake at the bottom. BIG LAKE. Only it didn't look so big from up there. It looked like a small pool of water at the bottom of a bathtub to me. We started to pick our way down the granite, with me leading the way...nose in the air this time. I was smelling rodents...specifically, RACING SQUIRRELS! About a half hour later, we were at the bottom of the bathtub...and that lake was now BIG.

Mom and Dad scouted out a good camping spot, and they found one in the trees. There was a nice sandy beach into the water, and lots and lots of trees. I couldn't hear the racing squirrels, but I knew they were there, studying me. I approved of the proposed spot, and the pawrents got busy unpacking and setting up the tent. They even considered hanging the food up in the tree! Silly pawrents! They think the bears are gonna come take it, but I can scare any old bear away. It's the squirrels ya gotta worry about...and if the food's in the tree, I can't protect it!

First night, food in the tree. After that, we left it near the tent. I could tell there hadn't been any bears in the area in a long time, and another hiker clued mom and dad into that little tidbit of info. So, no more food in the tree. Dad broke the rope anyway, so maybe that had something to do with that decision.

A couple of days later, and we took a day hike to Yellowhammer. Mom's longed for destination. More hiking up and over a granite saddle to the Northeast, dropping down into another granite bowl that houses Yellowhammer Lake and some trees and a meadow. No sign of any sort of "camp", but we followed the trail down the granite and into the trees...and then there was the hint of a gate. Logs and downed trees made a sort of gate. Mom stopped and took a picture. She was really happy now. A little further in, and the trees opened up a little...just enough to see a roof or two through the branches. Then the trail widened, the trees disappeared, and there it was, CAMP YELLOWHAMMER! Lots of great smells here, some faint, some fresh. Plus some creatures inhabit some of the buildings. There was a big cabin, this one had a lock on it. Next to that was the cook shack. A huge wood burning stove was in there. The heavy metal doors still swung freely, and if we wanted to, we could have used that big stove to make a HUGE meal. If we had brought anything to cook that is. On the other side of that building is a storage building with the Yellowhammer sign on it. Took a pic in front of that too, although a squirrel had run into this building and all I wanted to do was find it. I did NOT smile for the photo. Mom, let me HUNT!!

Then the shower. Still usable. Not my cup of tea. But the thing still worked, including the place on top to put water enclosed in tin let the sun heat the water. A barn in the middle of the corral looked like someone had been working on it. Faint horsey smells here, and some fresher ones when we head out to the meadow.

200 feet out into the meadow, and you can no longer see any hint of a camp. How would anyone ever find this place? Mom and Dad hiked down the little creek toward Yellowhammer Lake. Joey and I jumped over the creek a few times. The wind started blowing pretty good, and mom's Tilley hat (named after me of course) blew off her head and right into the water! She wouldn't get it...didn't want to get wet I guess...so guess who was instructed to rescue the hat from certain death from drowning??? ME. Of course I did it; I am certainly not one to shirk any duties assigned to me. So I jumped across the little creek, grabbed the hat that had drifted to the opposite side, and began the swim back. The hat made it nearly impossible, so I let go of it when I got to the bank. Mom could easily grab it from there, and she did, and put the soaking wet thing back on her head. Said it would dry quicker that way...and lo and behold, it did!

Did some fishing at the lake, and mom and dad both caught some trout for dinner. Joey is an avid fisherdog, so he kept trying to catch mom's lure. Not a good plan Joe! We all had to watch him pretty close so he wouldn't get hooked. Fortunately, after the first trout was caught, Joey lost all interest in the lures. Big fish are lots more fun! Plus they smell better.

After 5 trout, plenty enough for dinner, we headed back to camp. Great dinner tonight, a little of the dreaded Dog Food, mixed with some Beef Stroganoff and TROUT! Cleaned the plate.

That night, and almost every night thereafter, we all hiked up the granite face behind our camp to watch stars. Well, the pawrents watched the sky, Joey snoozed, and I kept my eyes, ears, and nose open for new scents and possible threats.

For the next glorius week, we camped at Big Lake and did some walks over to Yellowhammer Lake and other nearby places. When we weren't hiking, I was patrolling the area for racing squirrels and making sure they couldn't come down out of those trees. Oh how they wanted to! They chattered and yelled at me, but as soon as I spotted one in the tree, I layed down right there, and it couldn't come down. One tried, and he was almost "lunch". But I was snoozin a little bit that time, and my normally catlike reflexes a little slow.

One venison and her fawn paid us a visit. The venison did not like that I was there at all, and they went the other way when they saw us. But in the mornings, I could smell that they'd been around. Plus they left those little tracks in the sandy beach when they dropped by for a drink of water.

All too soon, it was time to pack on and move out. I was bummed out. I was beginning to think this was a permanant move to the high country! But we all put on our backpacks and headed down the trail. All our packs were a lot lighter now, and we moved pretty fast. Up the granite face toward Pingree lake, and then we cut off on a new trail. Cross country to Koll Lake, then Leighton Lake, and after that Coyote Lake, all in rapid succession. At Coyote Lake, we took the packs off for awhile. There had been no trail after Pingree Lake, and the pawrents consulted their GPS toy A LOT. Even I had trouble sniffing out the trail here, and there were no sign of people anywhere. I picked up faint horsey smells, but nothing fresh. No one had been on our particular "trail" in a while.

Finally, following the outlet of Coyote Lake, we found the main trail. A deep rut cut into the ground by many years of hikers and horse packers, and there was no losing the trail again. The pawrents kept the GPS thingy out just in case.

Moved on up and across some granite again to get on a different trail, which we followed to Gem Lake, and then on to Piute Lake. We had done about 8 hard miles by then and we were all tired. Camped for the night. Still plenty of Dog Food left, so guess what was for dinner! That and a little lasagna. If I wasn't already Australian, I'd volunteer to be Italian! Do they have Italian Cattle Dogs? Those Italians sure know how to make a good meal. I bet it's better without the Dog Food mixed in though.

8 a.m. and we are up and eating again! It seems like if we aren't hiking, we're eating. Eating all the time, but mom is still cinching up her belt, and my backpack too. Dad's got his backpack tightened as far as it will go on his waste, and he's mumbling something about getting a smaller size pack. Mom's mumbling about having a steak when she gets home, and why hasn't someone come up with a way to freeze dry beer or wine? I agree on the steak part, and if someone DOES find a way to freeze dry beer, I think I wouldn't mind tasting that. I like beer.

An hour or so later, we are loaded up and on our way again. Up and down canyons, three of them maybe, each with windy switchbacks, granite steps, and DUST. I need a bandana for this kind of trail. Mom put Joey's boots on him to protect his feet, and he BIT HER HAND! He is such a cranky old fart sometimes. Mom calls him a grumpy old man. He needs the boots, but he hates them. Mom very calmly asked dad for the first aid kit, and some alcohol swabs and a bandaid later, we are back on our way.

Five miles from the truck, and suddenly we are BOMBARDED with people, dogs, horses, more people, dogs. So many groups one after another. The first group said they were headed for Deer Lake. The second group said Deer Lake. So did the third group. I've been to Deer Lake, last year, and it's a medium sized lake. An okay place to go in my book, not my first choice though. Mom asked the fourth group if they were going to Deer Lake, and they said YES. Mom said, "you won't be alone!" In all, there must have been 6 groups of people, maybe 40 people or more, all going to Deer Lake. That is gonna be one crowded place! Glad we're headed the other direction!

The last lake on this little trek was Camp Lake. Another crowded place, and as soon as we past it, we started passing more groups that were headed THERE. I don't know where those people are gonna camp, there's no place left! I guess they'll get it all figured out. I think they scared all the squirrels away, because I didn't hone in on one single scent.

A few miles later, the parking lot and the truck was in site. Now I know for sure, we are heading home. Joey is happy because he knows he has a big house and a nice pillow bed waiting for him. Mom is happy because she is going to have a steak and a beer for dinner. Dad is happy because he also is going to have a steak and beer for dinner. The only depressed one in the group is ME. No more racing squirrels, no more fun smells and tracking. No more living outside and rolling in the dirt and watching for intruders. Tap water...yuck! Fenced yard...yuck! Dog Food...yuck! Town...yuck! Mailman...yu...well, maybe that part is okay. I can go back to hunting the mailman, the UPS truck, the gas meter guy, and I think granpa has some more irrigation to do, so that means gopher dinners...well maybe home isn't so bad!

Hope is missing

The black dog with the airplane ears from Tennessee who captured all of our hearts is missing. She mysteriously disappeared from her home on Halloween day and is lost. Her enclosure appears to have been tampered with.

Hope is the "gas station dog", who eluded capture for a year while KM worked so hard to gain her trust. If you are not familiar with Hope and would love to read a heartwarmer, please read the thread, (and soap opera!), Very elusive stray pup.

Our hearts are breaking here over this sad news. Her family continues to look for her. Please pray that she is found soon!

A Very Long Overdue Thank You!!

Some time ago, a doggie pal of mine had a birthday...even got to blow out his own birthday candle!! I thought I'd give my pal Redford a birthday gift, and soon he was an anonymous recipient of a Dogster Plus subscription.

But, he is a cattle dogs, and us ACDs are known for our smarts...and he figured out that it was me who was the culprit.

A short time later, a very heavy, wonderfully fragrant box arrived at my house. A lovingly put together care package from New Mexico!! Things for me, things for Joey, things for Cleo, and even mom received some gifts!!

Redford and his mom and family had put together a box filled to the brim with wonderful things! She made Joey and I some beautiful personalized bandanas adorned with chili peppers, and toys and goodies! Cleo has some new collars, some home made catnip toys, and yummy cat treats, and mom received a colorful Albuquerque, NM shirt, (which she is wearing as she types this), and a lovely wind chime with dolphins, which the delta breezes here help to create some very pleasing music as it is right now. There are personalized magnets and a bookmark...so many other nice things.

Discovering Dogster has been a fun experience...but the cultivation of such friendships on Dogster has been most rewarding. Finding caring and generous people who begin by only knowing each other by the names and stories of beloved pets, which then in turn develops into friendships between humans.

Thank you so much, Redford and family, for the gift box, and especially for your friendship. We will treasure and value it always.