Wow, what a great day for a hike! We got up and it was about 35 degrees out. I had my requisite two cups of coffee and we left around 9 this morning. Our first stop was Target in Queensbury, to stock up on hiking equipment. I bought some water, trail mix for me, and chicken strips for Ella. Then I went to Dick's Sporting Goods (seems like everywhere I look up here, I meet a Dick) and bought myself a pair of Sorels. I chose Sorels mostly due to Nostalgia, since they are what Cheryl wore 30 years ago in Colorado when she went hiking.
We had planned to go to Buck Mountain, but due to driver error we ended up at Pilot Knob Preserve instead. No big deal; a hike is a hike is a hike, especially if you do not know the area at all. This was a good starter trail anyway, only about 3 miles round trip.
At the trail head, there was very little snow but a lot of deer scat. First indication that Ella is NOT a lab: she did not show any interest in ingesting or rolling in said scat.
The trail went straight up. Luckily, it was clearly marked with 3" in diameter orange medallions. I say "luckily" because the trail soon became snow covered and I was thankful I had bought the Sorels. Had it not been for the trail markers, I would have been hopelessly lost.
I should point out that my dog has been over-trained. It is true. I worked and worked to get a good, leash-trained dog, and what happened? I lost my ride up the mountain. Every time the leash went taut (I had her on a 20-foot flexi) she would sit down. If I pulled REALLY hard, she would immediately run back to me, run around me, and sit down. In obedience, we call that a Finish, and they really SUCK on the hiking trail. I had on my new Eddie Bauer back pack, loaded with goodies. Every time Ella circled me, the flexi got tangled in it. I found myself doing "spin outs." A "spin out" is a drama term that indicates the action you take when doing a multi-character piece and have to change characters. You spin in a circle to become a new person. After this hike, I am very schizophrenic.
We did not see any people on our way up the mountain (I think we were still on Buck Mountain, just not at the summit part). There were waterfalls everywhere, which meant that I did not have to pack the 6 16-ounce bottles of water for Ella. Oh well. At the top of our hike, there was a pavilion. Yes, somebody actually hauled a butt-load of lumber up that mountain to build a pavilion on which I could take a break. I sure needed it by then. But oh the view. The pavilion sits in an open space, not unlike the top of Mt. Pinnacle, and you can see forever. Lake George stretches out before you. It was like a Currier and Ives postcard, since the lake is still frozen. Mountains reach up on all sides. To the north, I saw a snow-covered summit that I assume is in the Lake Placid area. More mountains to the west have snow on them, but are not completely covered. I am still mad at myself for leaving my camera at the office.
After a quick snack, we started on another trail. We went about halfway down when I realized we were going down and I would have to go back up. So we turned around and took another short break to enjoy the view.
As we started back down the trail toward the parking area, Ella realized that I wanted her to pull. Why she didn't realize this on the way up, I will never know. Have you ever tried to walk down a mountain with a 115-pound dog pulling you? It is not a pleasant experience. Every few feet, the line would get taut and I would have to do another spin out.
Then we saw The Other Dog coming. I saw them way down the trail below us, so I pulled Ella off the trail a few yards, found a good rock, and put her in a Down Stay. Ha! What a laugh! It should be called a Down Pause Until The Time Is Right. Anyway, the people with The Other Dog reached us and Ella broke her Down Stay. I had a hold of her collar so she wasn't going anywhere, but I saw the looks on those people's faces. They clearly read "Cujo is here and he is going to eat us!" I smiled and pulled on Ella's collar to try to coax her back into a down stay, but she had puffed herself all up and had added her bass drum bark just for good measure. The people practically ran up the trail, muttering something. Hey, I wanted to tell them, she's a nice dog! No, really! Even if she had gotten loose, that small black lab-mix they had would have scared her to death. Just ask Eileen, who owns small, brown Summer who once put Ella in her place for trying to steal cheese.
After the people left, I stood to leave and Ella pulled hard, thinking I had signaled, "Ok, go get them." I ended up on my butt and slid about thirty yards. I was muddy and wet and had snow in my pants. It was clearly time to go home.
After another ten minutes or so, I had calmed down some and let down my guard when a very fast chipmunk ran across our feet. "Leave it!" I growled, and something in my voice worked, because Ella took a seat and waited for me to start moving again.
You know, there is a huge difference between hiking in Arkansas and hiking in the Adirondacks. It isn't the steepness; Pinnacle and Petit Jean have spots equally as steep, and Pinnacle has the rock slide. No, it's all about my friend, the snow. We reached a spot in the trail that was completely ice covered (maybe there was snow under there somewhere). Hm. I didn't remember that on that way up. Oh well, I just started down. I felt myself begin to fall and remembered, if you start to fall, sit down. Guess what! That doesn't work too well on ice, especially if you have on rubber-bottomed boots! Ella chose that moment to go "cracker dog" and took off at top speed. I was basically down hill skiing on my boots. The leash jerked out of my hand and I fell over on my face. Nothing broken. I called, and much to my surprise, Ella was back with me in a flash.
We ended our hike and got back in the car. For fun, I drove on down to find the Buck Mountain trail. It was three miles on down the road. That's where we are headed next week. Yes, I actually want to go again.
"Cracker dog" is a phrase I picked up from reading James Herriot. He used it to describe one of his patients, a Pekingese named Tricki Woo.
This hike wore Ella completely out. She is stretched across my bed, snoring.
We had planned to go to Buck Mountain, but due to driver error we ended up at Pilot Knob Preserve instead. No big deal; a hike is a hike is a hike, especially if you do not know the area at all. This was a good starter trail anyway, only about 3 miles round trip.
At the trail head, there was very little snow but a lot of deer scat. First indication that Ella is NOT a lab: she did not show any interest in ingesting or rolling in said scat.
The trail went straight up. Luckily, it was clearly marked with 3" in diameter orange medallions. I say "luckily" because the trail soon became snow covered and I was thankful I had bought the Sorels. Had it not been for the trail markers, I would have been hopelessly lost.
I should point out that my dog has been over-trained. It is true. I worked and worked to get a good, leash-trained dog, and what happened? I lost my ride up the mountain. Every time the leash went taut (I had her on a 20-foot flexi) she would sit down. If I pulled REALLY hard, she would immediately run back to me, run around me, and sit down. In obedience, we call that a Finish, and they really SUCK on the hiking trail. I had on my new Eddie Bauer back pack, loaded with goodies. Every time Ella circled me, the flexi got tangled in it. I found myself doing "spin outs." A "spin out" is a drama term that indicates the action you take when doing a multi-character piece and have to change characters. You spin in a circle to become a new person. After this hike, I am very schizophrenic.
We did not see any people on our way up the mountain (I think we were still on Buck Mountain, just not at the summit part). There were waterfalls everywhere, which meant that I did not have to pack the 6 16-ounce bottles of water for Ella. Oh well. At the top of our hike, there was a pavilion. Yes, somebody actually hauled a butt-load of lumber up that mountain to build a pavilion on which I could take a break. I sure needed it by then. But oh the view. The pavilion sits in an open space, not unlike the top of Mt. Pinnacle, and you can see forever. Lake George stretches out before you. It was like a Currier and Ives postcard, since the lake is still frozen. Mountains reach up on all sides. To the north, I saw a snow-covered summit that I assume is in the Lake Placid area. More mountains to the west have snow on them, but are not completely covered. I am still mad at myself for leaving my camera at the office.
After a quick snack, we started on another trail. We went about halfway down when I realized we were going down and I would have to go back up. So we turned around and took another short break to enjoy the view.
As we started back down the trail toward the parking area, Ella realized that I wanted her to pull. Why she didn't realize this on the way up, I will never know. Have you ever tried to walk down a mountain with a 115-pound dog pulling you? It is not a pleasant experience. Every few feet, the line would get taut and I would have to do another spin out.
Then we saw The Other Dog coming. I saw them way down the trail below us, so I pulled Ella off the trail a few yards, found a good rock, and put her in a Down Stay. Ha! What a laugh! It should be called a Down Pause Until The Time Is Right. Anyway, the people with The Other Dog reached us and Ella broke her Down Stay. I had a hold of her collar so she wasn't going anywhere, but I saw the looks on those people's faces. They clearly read "Cujo is here and he is going to eat us!" I smiled and pulled on Ella's collar to try to coax her back into a down stay, but she had puffed herself all up and had added her bass drum bark just for good measure. The people practically ran up the trail, muttering something. Hey, I wanted to tell them, she's a nice dog! No, really! Even if she had gotten loose, that small black lab-mix they had would have scared her to death. Just ask Eileen, who owns small, brown Summer who once put Ella in her place for trying to steal cheese.
After the people left, I stood to leave and Ella pulled hard, thinking I had signaled, "Ok, go get them." I ended up on my butt and slid about thirty yards. I was muddy and wet and had snow in my pants. It was clearly time to go home.
After another ten minutes or so, I had calmed down some and let down my guard when a very fast chipmunk ran across our feet. "Leave it!" I growled, and something in my voice worked, because Ella took a seat and waited for me to start moving again.
You know, there is a huge difference between hiking in Arkansas and hiking in the Adirondacks. It isn't the steepness; Pinnacle and Petit Jean have spots equally as steep, and Pinnacle has the rock slide. No, it's all about my friend, the snow. We reached a spot in the trail that was completely ice covered (maybe there was snow under there somewhere). Hm. I didn't remember that on that way up. Oh well, I just started down. I felt myself begin to fall and remembered, if you start to fall, sit down. Guess what! That doesn't work too well on ice, especially if you have on rubber-bottomed boots! Ella chose that moment to go "cracker dog" and took off at top speed. I was basically down hill skiing on my boots. The leash jerked out of my hand and I fell over on my face. Nothing broken. I called, and much to my surprise, Ella was back with me in a flash.
We ended our hike and got back in the car. For fun, I drove on down to find the Buck Mountain trail. It was three miles on down the road. That's where we are headed next week. Yes, I actually want to go again.
"Cracker dog" is a phrase I picked up from reading James Herriot. He used it to describe one of his patients, a Pekingese named Tricki Woo.
This hike wore Ella completely out. She is stretched across my bed, snoring.
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