The Fountain of Youth

I was hoping for a third trip to the beach but, after a day of chores (people chores that is) we were packed and on the road again. I fell asleep as soon as we hit the freeway and stayed that way until our lunch stop along the road to Palm Springs. Riding in a vehicle is so relaxing; I can never stay awake for long.

Fountain of Youth entrance

We made a short stop along a body of water called the Salton Sea and I thought for sure we’d camp there. The water was calm and on such a hot day I could imagine myself wading out until my paws left the bottom, letting the water come up and over my back, cooling me off. I was shaken from my daydream by Nollind restarting the engine. We were driving toward the exit. What? T was reading from a piece of paper the camp host had given her and commenting about the dog unfriendliness of California State Parks. We’ve stayed in them before and are always limited to walking around the campsite, which isn’t much of a walk, or on roads where it isn’t safe. Fine by me then, let’s go find some unrestricted desert trails for walking!

Not sure how anyone pulled a trailer with one of these.

Fountain of Youth RV Park was just up the road and on a hillside overlooking the Salton Sea, far from the boundaries of the state park. It looked pretty deluxe as we drove in—not our usual kind of rustic, desert camping location—with palm trees and cactus lining the long entrance, a gate where they checked your pass before you could come in, and people driving around in tiny cars. It seemed friendly though, everyone waving and smiling as we drove by. I hung my head out the window, wishing I was able to wave back. At the top of the park there was a large area that looked much more like home—the dry camping area. It was a little more crowded than we’re used to but it had the same easy feel of our boondocking sites.

Sweet shade.

It was hot the whole time we were there so we dogs spent quite a bit of time lying in the shade of the trailer. T and Nollind went swimming in one of the resort’s pools every afternoon but, as usual, I wasn’t allowed to go. I probably would have appreciated that pool more than all of the humans put together and yet I was excluded. If dogs ran the world…

On the plus side, there were no restrictions on where we could walk and there were miles of trails just outside the park fence. We were even allowed to walk all over the resort, on a leash of course, and "most" everyone was very friendly toward dogs. We did our desert walks in the morning to avoid the heat of the day and usually had a nice stroll around the resort later in the evening. At camp I had to be tied because, well, I’d run out to meet this Rottie who was walking by on a leash—but he told me to come over to him! I swear! What was I supposed to say to a dog that big? But anyway, I was kept on my tether after that. That Rottie is probably still laughing.

Fountain of Youth campsite.

We stayed at Fountain of Youth for a week and I think T and Nollind did seem a little younger by the time we left—but, in my opinion, it was more the R&R than any magical waters.

Huntington Dog Beach

I’m generally not a fan of the big city, preferring the tranquility of a quiet, country locale, but I knew there would be at least a few stops in populated places this trip so I tried to be patient during our stay in Los Angeles. For the first three days Chico and I hung out in the trailer and, other than one nerve-racking walk to the fairgrounds where the horse expo was happening, it was pretty relaxing. Day four we all got in the truck for something they were calling “dog day”. I wasn’t sure how riding in a truck could possibly play into my idea of a “dog day” but I was willing to go along with the excursion. We drove for almost an hour through the most frightening kind of traffic hell I’ve ever experienced—ten lanes of cars and trucks and vans and motorcycles flying along at speed in both directions, changing lanes, merging on and off, zipping overhead on bridges. 

Huntington Dog Beach

Much to my surprise, we made it to our destination unscathed—beyond a few more grey muzzle hairs—and parked along a stretch of green grass and sidewalk. It didn’t look like much and I wondered again how this was “dog day”, but when we went over the grass berm, there it was…the ocean. I remembered it from the last time we travelled, when we visited a little beach crowded with dogs and people, with waves rolling in and a few crazy canines actually playing in them. But this beach was different. It stretched for miles in both directions and there were people and dogs here too, but scattered, some of them so far away to be just small dots against the sand.

Wrestling on the beach.

When we reached the edge of the water the leashes came off. Oh the freedom! It had been two weeks since we’d been allowed to run free and I immediately ran at Chico biting at the backs of his legs to get him to move, inciting a small wrestling match on the wet sand. That is until the water came up and touched my feet. Ack! I’d forgotten that the waves come after you. I remained vigilant after my initial lapse of attention. We walked for an hour and a half, meeting some fellow beach-goers on our way. Teresa and Nollind took off their shoes and walked in the water but I didn’t join them, preferring to stay a little ways up the beach. Even Chico didn’t seem sure of the moving water, and he’s earned the nickname Otter back at home along the canal.

Teresa enjoying her bare feet.

Game of beach fetch.

Such a magnificent afternoon for man and dog called for a repeat, so we booked an extra day at the Pomona Fairplex RV Park and returned to Huntington Dog Beach the next day. It was foggy and kind of cool that afternoon, perfect for mock fighting with other dogs, and after a few of these sparring sessions I was feeling pretty brave so I ran into the moving water for a drink. Blech! What did they put in the water? I tasted it again. Nasty! I looked to Teresa and Nollind who seemed to be finding the whole thing amusing and called to me to come out of the water. But I need a drink! Down the beach a ways, after another dehydrating play session, I tried the water again, this time taking a couple of big gulps before I realized it had the same foul taste and wasn’t in the least bit thirst quenching. I ran to Teresa who often carries a water bottle for us but she didn’t have it. Did they expect me to drink from the swill pond?

Lesson learned - no more drinking the water.

It took an hour to walk the full length of the beach to a sign that had a drawing of a dog with a large red circle around it and a bar through the middle. Chico seemed to interpret it as a “dogs pee here” sign and immediately did so, much to everyone’s amusement. I sampled the water one more time on the way back to the truck at yet another spot but it had the same horrible taste. By suppertime I wasn’t feeling so good and didn’t eat. I knew that water wasn’t okay. I wasn’t much better at breakfast the next morning so skipped that too. Luckily it was a stay-at-home-do-laundry-clean-trailer day so I was able to rest and felt well enough to eat dinner that night. Note to self: always sample water carefully before taking a drink. Or, better yet, let Chico drink first.

California Here We Are!

T’s been getting after me to write this blog for weeks now, but she seems to think she has to type for me and she’s been far too busy. If she’d just leave the computer on the table ready to go I could get it done but, like most humans, she underestimates my abilities. So, we’ll do it her way. I talk (from my brain to hers) and she types.

"Homer Simpson" Skull Rock

We’ve been in California for three weeks. We started off at Joshua Tree National Park, camping in this very cool spot with giant rocks and weird trees everywhere. Trouble was...no dogs on the trails, at least that’s what the sign said, but T and Nollind did take us on a hike to a place called Skull Rock. Nollind thought it looked like Homer Simpson Skull Rock and I'd agree. Love the Simpsons—not as much as Family Guy where the dog part is far more realistic, but the Simpsons are pretty funny.

Walking Lost Horse Mine Road in Joshua

T was sick at Joshua Tree so we didn’t do much other than a couple of short walks. She mostly sat in her arm chair at the back of the trailer looking out at the scenery, reading, napping, and drinking this terrible smelling tea that apparently made her feel better. Not sure how that was possible. I like most everything humans eat or drink but…yuck! Have to admit though, by the time we left she was feeling better so I guess the nasty tea must have helped.

Borrego Springs was next, boondocking at a place called Pegleg Smith Monument. We were there two years ago for a week and it’s still a great spot for long desert walks and freedom outside the trailer. But, then it was my turn to get sick. T and Nollind thought it was from the water at a dog park we visited in Indio. It tasted fine to me but supposedly had little things swimming in it that made a mess of my intestines. After a few days of far too many trips to the bathroom (including three I had to wake them up for) we visited a vet in town. I love the vet, not sure why some dogs make such a fuss about going. Attention focused entirely on me, petting, treats—what's not to like?

Pegleg Library (that's our place between the signs)

For the next five days I was on medication. T and Nollind thought I didn’t know the pills were hidden in those little balls of turkey loaf, and I was happy to oblige by willingly taking them. I don’t do a lot of chewing anyway so if the pills tasted bad—who knew? By the time we got to Pomona I was feeling much better, ready for the activities planned there—horse expo, car racing—it all sounded good to me. I was up and ready on Friday morning only to learn that I wasn’t going along. But I love horses! And there will be so many people there that will like dogs! 

Now I understand why Nollind drinks so many of these!

We dogs stayed in the trailer the next two days while T and Nollind tortured us each night by coming home smelling of the exciting things they'd seen and done. At the end of day two, when I'd lost all hope, we finally got to go to the fairgrounds. I was so excited I could hardly stay on all four paws. While Logan walked right at Nollind`s hip, I ran from left to right and back again pulling at the end of my leash. We walked through a tunnel that had crowds of people streaming at us on the other side and I pulled toward them trying to make eye contact, my ears forward, tail wagging, but none of them stopped to say hello. I couldn`t understand it; that always seems to work. On the other side of the tunnel the people thinned out but there was something even more exciting—food kiosks!—a smorgasbord of french fries, popcorn, and pulled pork scattered on the ground right there where I could reach it! But, no go. I was pulled from every tasty morsel...well, not quite ;). Once we got away from the food area, T let the leash out and I finally had a chance to meet some of the people. My colour draws people in and once they touch my ultra-soft coat they just can't stop. I'm a bit like one of those flowers that lures its prey by being so pretty. 

One of T's horse expo photos -- I have no explanation.

We walked to the far end of the grounds where all the horses were kept tucked into little boxes in a long building. Not sure why they were indoors in such nice weather. Our horses only get put in boxes when the weather is very, very nasty. Other horses had riders and were in a huge covered space where a man was speaking loudly and tall metal stairs were filled with hundreds and hundreds of people, many of them with food. What a strange and wonderful place it was.

T and Nollind at NHRA drag races.

When T and Nollind started packing up to go to the car races the next morning, I was hoping I`d behaved well enough the night before to earn my way along. Not sure if it was the pulling on the leash or the popcorn score but it was another trailer day for us dogs. But, I was okay with that in the end; we could hear the cars from the RV park and I wasn`t sure how anyone could be closer without having their ears blasted off. Luckily, T and Nollind still had theirs when they got home.

Into the Desert

As soon as we rolled into Quartzsite I remembered it. We’d stayed there for more than a week two years ago and spent hours exploring the desert at Scaddan Wash where we camped. It was our first real experience of boondocking and I loved it. Coming from a farm on the big flat of Alberta, it’s tough to be sandwiched into an RV park and restricted to peeing on one small patch of earth designated for that purpose. The plethora of canine odour that rises out of the sand is pretty enticing, at first, but even I have to admit the place rather stinks. That was life in Las Vegas.

Walking at Plomosa Road BLM

Our first night in Quartzsite we stayed in an RV park right in town and I was a little concerned. What about the desert camping? But, after only one night, and a day of having the trailer at Solar Bill’s, we were out at Plomosa Road BLM – room to breathe, freedom to pee on any bush or rock I chose, and even some off-leash time around camp. When we arrived there were some other trailers and motorhomes in the area but as the week progressed there were hundreds, maybe even a thousand – something to do with a big RV show in a monstrous tent. Didn’t get to see it – didn’t really want to.

Palm Canyon

Hiking at Buckskin Mountain

I was quite content with the things we dogs did get in on – a hike to Palm Canyon, another hike at Buckskin Mountain, and daily walking around the Plomosa Road camping area which is more than two miles long and at least half a mile wide. There was one thing about the desert I had forgotten about though, and it wasn’t a happy remembrance…sore feet. Quartzsite is a rocky place, and the rocks are not smooth like the stones we have at home. I’d try to follow vehicle tracks where it was slightly more dusty and less rocky, but after day two I didn’t want to go for walks much anymore. It was then they put my boots on me. They’re made for snow but also provide some protection from the rocks. A bit embarrassing to have to wear them, yes, but I couldn’t help skipping along just a little that morning, my feet much happier. Not sure what Chico’s feet are made of, but obviously tougher stuff than mine.

Cooling our feet in the Colorado River after a hike.

On Wednesday night I heard Teresa and Nollind discussing a day to leave Plomosa and they decided on Friday the 24^th of January. The next morning, as soon as they were up, there was talk and activity uncharacteristic of relaxing mornings in camp. Something about the black water tank being full?

Leaving Plomosa

So, with the sun barely cresting the hills to the east we were hitched up, legs up, packed up and on our way, with a pit stop at the aptly named “Pit Stop” in Quartzsite to dump the waste water tanks and fill with fresh. California here we come…one day early.