So I Guess I'm Not Magellan

I’d like to tell you Chico was wrong and I’m doing just fine, but I can’t. I’m just not sure the world explorer shtick is for me. I like being in the truck with my people and new places to walk are fun, but I just can’t stop shaking and panting when we start to roll down the highway. The panting makes me thirsty, the shaking turns my breakfast into purée and I don’t sleep for hours on end. By the time we get to our destination I’m dehydrated, exhausted and I have the runs. You can see why I might be questioning my aptitude for travel.

Chico with a new dog park friend.

Las Vegas is a pretty good place for me. We go to the dog park every day which is only a five minute drive away. I barely get up to full panting speed and we’re there. But this year, on one of our last visits, I gave in to my urges and grabbed another dog’s tennis ball that had been rolling around on the ground. It didn’t taste like anything was amiss but it sent my digestive system into turmoil and now I’m getting some kind of white powder added to my daily meal. At home I drink from murky puddles in the paddock and chew on bones that have been rotting in the dirt for a month, but it’s a different deal down here, a whole new world of flora and fauna.

Checking out the sign after the donkey encounter.

While waiting for the trailer to be repaired in Vegas, we went on a day trip over to Oatman, Arizona. It’s an old gold mining town up in the hills not far from Laughlin, Nevada, known for its eclectic nature and, oddly enough, its wild donkeys. Now the donkeys aren’t technically wild, since they were released by the miners when the mines closed in 1941, and they’re definitely not wild now as you can see in the photo, but they are free roaming and spend their nights out in the desert after a day of mooching alfalfa cubes in the streets of Oatman. Now although I’ve never actually met a donkey, I have heard about their aversion to canines, but this was all new for Chico. I think he figured they were just small horses with big ears and, before he had a chance to read the warning sign, he had two of them come over to check him out -- closely. Hackles up, he shot out from under their curious noses, probably just in the nick of time, and kept his distance after that. 

The "wild" burros of Oatman.

On top of Q Mountain.

We’ve been out in the Arizona desert at Quartzsite since last Friday. Now this I like -- quiet, some off-leash freedom around camp, daily walks that don’t involve trucks and busses roaring by like they’re bound for Indy, and day trips that include some kind of hike, like Wednesday’s walk up Q Mountain in Quartzsite or yesterday’s trip to Buckskin Mountain. We were at Buckskin Mtn State Park last year, and we hiked further, but I don’t recall the uphill feeling quite so steep or the day feeling so hot and thirsty. Probably just the current state of my bowels, nothing to do with my 11 years of age.

Hiking at Buckskin Mtn State Park

We spent time with some RVing friends on Sunday, Sue and Leon from Sacramento. We met them three years ago when they camped beside us at Fortuna Pond near Yuma. We spent about a week there together, sitting around the fire, playing ladder ball (the people, not the dogs, although I’m sure I could have managed what looked like a dirt simple game) and I liked hanging out under their motorhome. This year they were camped at Scaddan Wash just east of Quartzsite so we drove out for an afternoon of visiting with them and their friends Jim and Kitty.

Chico photo-bombing Teresa & Sue's pic.

While we were there I got an idea for a book I want to write: “1,000,000 Ways to Die on the Road”. Catchy don’t you think? I’ve always known about the dangers of simply riding in one of these machines humans have invented for getting around, but last year I found out that trailers can get blown over in a strong wind (not that it actually happened to us), and on Sunday at Sue and Leon’s I learned that propane tanks blow up. Seriously? We sit outside right next to the tank that powers the gas campfire, and two larger ones are housed inside a door at the front of the fifth wheel, and they could just blow up? And just what does that look like? I found out what it sounds like and I certainly didn’t enjoy that. There we were, enjoying the Arizona sun when KABOOM from some distant campsite. They thought it was probably someone’s propane tank exploding because, you know, that happens. Again…seriously?! Okay, so it’s extremely rare, but it makes me wonder what else they’re not telling me.

Yes, that's my tongue. The teeth that should keep it in while
I'm sleeping were removed by a horse.

For now, things are all quiet in the desert, nothing exploding, nothing popping, banging, beeping or chirping, and so…I sleep.

And We're Off!

After more than two weeks of delays, we finally hit the road on Monday the 12^th, bound for warmer climes, but it only got colder as we headed south and in Great Falls, Montana it was almost 20 below after the sun went down. I wasn’t worried though, we have Sid the fifth wheel and he’s warm like the house. We parked at Dick's RV Park and while T and Nollind got the trailer ready, Logan and I waited in the truck which was cooling off quickly. I couldn’t see what was going on because the windows were fogging up, but there seemed to be some sort of trouble with setting up the trailer, and then I heard Nollind cursing. Oh oh, that was never a good sign.

Tucked in for a cold first night on the road.

But Sid was fine when we went inside, other than the part that slides out and makes the living room bigger seemed to be at a bit of an angle. No worries though, plenty of room for my bed and food dish. What concerned me more was the temperature – the floor was like ice, the couch was hard and I could see my breath – but the furnace was roaring and the electric fireplace was on so I knew it was only temporary. T fed us dinner and they went to find food for themselves, leaving us to heat up the place. We did our best, but two hours later when they came home, despite the furnace running constantly, the thermometer still said only six. Now that’s not bad for a running around outdoors temperature, but it’s a little chilly for hanging out and sleeping. T messed with the fireplace, Nollind went outside and did something with the propane tanks and I was hopeful. They always fix things for us. Logan and I cuddled into the couch, T put a blanket over us and I drifted off to sleep dreaming of the sunshine and palm trees down the road.

That's me under the covers!

I woke up early, shivering. The trailer was still only +8 and the blanket was on the floor. I heard voices in the bedroom so I headed up there seeking warmth. Just a few whimpers and T invited me onto the bed and then (I couldn't believe it) under the covers with her! There I was in the flannel sheets snuggled up to T’s fleece jammies with the polar bears on them. I’ve never been allowed under the covers before and I enjoyed every single minute, even staying in bed after T and Nollind got up. But I was worried about T, that maybe the cold had affected her mind. When she got up she put her clothes on right over top of her fleece pj’s which I’ve never seen her do before, and then they went out for breakfast with her dressed like that. Yikes.

Pants over PJs?

I assumed we’d head out as soon as they got back from eating since the trailer was still so cold but it turned out we had to stick around and wait for a repairman. I guess the crooked slide was more of a problem than I thought. Fortunately, as the morning warmed up, the propane was able to flow properly and the furnace started to work better, and by late morning we were cozy warm and the sun was shining in. When Brett the repairman came at 1:00, he couldn’t fix the slide for us, but he did help Nollind get it pushed back in so we could travel, and we were on our way south on the I-15!

Logan hasn’t been having a great trip. He’d probably be mad if he knew I was telling you, but he’s just not travelling well. On the first day, we stopped in Lethbridge for fuel and human lunch (why don’t we get lunch?) and while T and Nollind were in the restaurant Logan just wouldn’t sit still. He usually settles right down once the truck is parked but he was up and down and back and forth…drove me crazy!

He looks okay (his stoic thing) but check out that OMG eye.

Then I realized why, poor dude had to poop, badly, and was leaving little brown bingo dauber marks all over the Soggy Dog seat cover every time he sat down. I watched in the direction T and Nollind had gone, trying to send them mental messages to hurry back. At last, there they came down the street, I was saved. But what do you think Logan did when they climbed in the truck? Nothing! He just sat there like all was well. He is way too stoic for his own good. Luckily for all of us, we drove only as far as the gas station and T took us out for a walk while Nollind filled the tank.

Help, he's lying on me!

Logan just barely made it to the first snow bank to drop this huge, nasty pile of brown goo. Wow, had to give him credit for holding that in as long as he had. Once Nollind had the seat cover cleaned up, we were off again, with my backseat companion much more settled the rest of the day. We all thought maybe it was going to be a better trip for him, and therefore me, but you can see in the photo what was happening by the next day. I don’t think he does it for comfort, I wouldn’t mind that, he just decides he wants to be somewhere and it doesn’t matter if I’m already occupying that spot. At one point I climbed into the front seat to get away from him but T and Nollind didn’t let me stay too long perched there on the console. There’s plenty of room, I didn’t see what the issue was. Maybe once I get my first travel bath and a few brushings I’ll be more welcome up front. Either that or my shaky, drooly companion will figure out that travelling is the bomb and he should just enjoy it like I do.

Vegas sunshine!

We had one more night of winter in Idaho Falls, although it was much warmer than Great Falls, and now we’re in Las Vegas and I see palm trees out the trailer window. We’re waiting for a repairman again, but I don’t mind so much without the snow and cold. We should be heading to the desert any day now and I can hardly wait for those long morning walks and naps in the sun. Arizona here I come!

January 7th and Waiting

Waiting...

The fifth wheel has been sitting up near the house for a long time now and for a while Teresa was regularly taking things in and out with bins and boxes filling all over the house. There was talk of the 27^th of December for heading south, but then the horses had a visit from the vet on Christmas Eve and that was the end of that. The next departure date was set for New Year’s Day, but on the Monday after Christmas they hauled a couple of the horses off to another vet and were suddenly talking about the 8^th.

Storm getting his New Year's bath.

On the last day of the year they started giving baths to the horse herd with five of them done on that day and the other six the next. Bathing eleven 1,000 lb animals in freezing temperatures seemed like an odd way to celebrate the new year but apparently the horses have some kind of cooties. In the event it's something transferable to dogs, I'm glad I only come in contact with the backs of their heels now and then when I’m herding one of them. I’ll pass on the itchy skin and missing hair.

Ready for the -30C windchills.

Until recently, I didn't see the need to go anywhere this winter because the weather's been so warm and snow-free. Although we did have one nasty stretch back in late November when we had to wear the dreaded jackets a few times. I don’t mind so much if it makes my people feel better about taking us outside since I’m all about the outdoors, but Chico rolls around and rubs himself on everything he walks past as if the thing is strangling him. If he were human I’m sure he’d be a nudist. And if you think that's funny, you should see him when they put boots on his feet -- more effective than hobbling a horse! He won’t even move for food, which I didn’t think was possible without hog-tying him. He moves like lightning if I drop even a morsel of something I'm eating. I admit I did feel for the little guy when Teresa and Nollind got laughing so hard they were wiping tears from their faces. Poor dude, standing there in the kitchen in my new boots, a ring of treats around him just out of reach. Good thing he’s got tough paws and doesn’t need protection from the volcanic rock in the Arizona desert.

The travel delay doesn’t really bother me. I get to sleep in my own bed, explore my home turf and chase off any coyotes who dare enter my domain, and I don’t have to ride in the four-wheeled death trap. They assure me this new truck will be quieter and therefore less scary than the old one, but it probably goes just as fast, maybe even faster since it’s supposed to be more powerful, and I'm guessing those monstrous rigs with their freaky jake brakes still roar up and down the interstate highways south of the border.

Checking out the Coyote Freeway

I admit, I miss going for walks when it’s cold like it has been for this past week, and in the desert we walk for 1-2 hours every day. If only I could get there without the days of terrifying truck travel. How I envy Chico his ability to sleep most of the way. They once put me to sleep to have some dental work done (got a little too close to the horse’s heels that day) and it would be ideal to have some of whatever was in that needle to get me down to Arizona. Although, who would keep an eye on the road.

We Made it Home!

T told us people were enjoying our travel blog but, just the other day, we found out we have an actual fan! I was so excited I could hardly eat my dinner. Okay, kidding, that's just never going to happen, but I was excited. So a big thanks to Uncle Allan for following us on our journey and for the positive feedback. Well, not all positive, he did have one criticism. The last post was in Colorado where we were holed up waiting for the wind to die down and then…nothing. Maybe more of you are wondering what happened next: Did we not make it home? Did we get lost? Is our rig lying in a windy Wyoming ditch? Well, none of the above, thank goodness, just a lack of getting around to it. Seems when we get home there are so many things to do that, before we know it, weeks and months have gone by and then it just seems too late.

On the hunt (see bottom right of photo)

So what could a couple of dogs possibly have to do? Well, for one thing, the farm was overrun with gophers when we got back. I guess they’re technically ground squirrels but whatever they are they were EVERYWHERE! I did my best to decrease the surplus population but I did need help from Nollind and his friend Darren. They got a hundred and fifty or so more than I did, but then I didn’t have a gun. If you’re counting gophers killed with bare hands, or paws, I won!

Keeping an eye on T while she rides

And then there are the horses. That’s more Logan’s area, keeping them in line, moving them to where they’re supposed to be, helping T and Nollind get them through gates and such. He can have that job. I’d much rather take my chances with a gopher than tangle with a horse’s hind feet. I got bit on the nose once and I’m embarrassed to say I did let out a good yelp, but Logan’s missing half a dozen front teeth. I think I won that one too.

And our duties don’t end there. There’s barking at any and all who venture into the yard, running out to greet the boarders when they come to see their horses, keeping the barn and horse shelters free of pigeons, warming the dog bed in T’s office while she’s working and checking on all of the bones I buried last year (and Logan’s that I’m able to find).

Squirrel watching in Wyoming

But, back to the rest of the trip. The wind finally died down enough that we were able to leave Colorado Springs and head north again, aiming to be home in a couple of days, but Sheridan, Wyoming was such a great spot we stayed an extra day there. Well, that and we heard there was a snowstorm at home. Why rush back to winter? T and Nollind explored Sheridan while Logan and I hung out at the KOA RV Park, a nice quiet place right beside Goose Creek. After months in the desert it’s hard to describe how sweet it is to roll in green grass and drink from a creek. And, even better, this park had gophers that lived in the trees! Impossible to catch but I could watch them all day.

Leaving Great Falls - I think I can smell home!

Our final stop, same as two years ago, was Dick’s RV Park in Great Falls, Montana, where we repeated our Missouri River walk. Dick’s was our first stop in January and our last in May, a fitting end to another great trip. On Monday, May 5, after four months on the road and 15,000 km, we rolled into the yard. The snow and ice were gone (good thing because I started blowing my coat in Tucson), the air was warm and we were home!

Waiting our turn at the border.

Cool thing is, we’re coming up on an important day in about a week’s time…the halfway mark between our last winter RV adventure and our next. Yes, we’re off again in four months!

So, apologies to Allan and anyone else who was left hanging. And thanks for reading.

They Tip Over?!

Yet more road hazards in New Mexico.

I’ve known for years that vehicles are dangerous—you only have to pay attention to the news—but yesterday I learned of a new danger: the damn things can tip over! We’re here in Colorado Springs, have been since last Wednesday, and our plan to leave yesterday morning was foiled by wind warnings in northern Colorado and Wyoming. But, the frightening part was the “no light trailer advisories” all along the I-25 in Wyoming where, get this, "blow-overs of light trailers are very common”. Blow over!? What the hell? Who decided this was a good way to travel? If I thought I could walk home I would but, realistically, my feet are just not up for an 1,800 km trek through this rocky, cactus-filled country. I have no choice but to endure the death trap a few more days and be prepared to hold on for dear life if required.

A little something I picked up beside the Rio Grande.

Teresa and Nollind have been much easier about going home this year compared with two years ago. Back then it was a bit like watching someone try to stuff a cat into a carrier. This year they seem to be looking forward to it, even excited. Me, I'm all over it—room to run, pooping in privacy, no foreign objects stuck in my paws on an almost daily basis, and oh…my leather couch...sigh. Leaving tomorrow I’m told, if the wind subsides.

Campsite in the Rio Grande Gorge

Granted, the stay in Colorado has been pretty nice, with a visit to a terrific off-leash dog park every day we’ve been here. It has a creek running all along its 24 acres and, no matter what time of day we go, there are plenty of other dogs. And, for the humans, it’s fenced, so they can enjoy themselves too (such worriers). Before coming to Colorado, we were camping in the Rio Grande Gorge near Taos, New Mexico for a few days. There wasn’t a lot of off-leash time there but some very good hikes and a lot of peace and quiet.

I continue to occupy my time with the training of my humans. They’re doing quite well in some areas, failing miserably in others. I’ve got them dipping my glucosamine chews in bacon fat so that I’ll eat them (and they think they’re outsmarting me!).

Taking my people for a walk at Garden of the Gods, CO.

On the failing side, it took me two weeks to make them understand they’re not to sit in or place items on my seat in the truck. Really people, why so difficult? The whole time Darren was visiting us, Teresa sat in my place right behind the passenger’s seat. I made such a fuss I couldn’t imagine how it wasn’t obvious, but no, they just debated on why I was suddenly not travelling as well as I had been. If humans spent less time looking at electronic screens and more time observing what’s right in front of them they’d be so much smarter, maybe even as smart as dogs.

It's All Good but the Goat Heads

New Mexico would get an A-1 rating from me if it weren’t for the “goat heads”. You heard me right, I said “goat heads”, although a biologist type would probably call them something different. A nice local woman in Las Cruces told us what the vicious little seed pods are called, the ones that stick to my feet almost every time I leave a paved surface. Logan doesn’t pick up nearly as many as I do…I guess he doesn’t always get the worst of things.

White Sands, New Mexico

But otherwise, New Mexico is very dog friendly. White sand dunes for romping through, lakes with water in them, restaurant and coffee shop patios that permit dogs to accompany their people, and even mountain hiking trails with real streams! It’s a bit colder here–we even drove up a steep, windy road to a place that had snow on the ground–but for we furry types the temperature is just about right.

Crossing a creek at Hyde Memorial S.P.

Today we have company coming, our friend Darren from Calgary. I was worried he was going to bring his dog Roxie with him, and she and Logan would go off playing and ignore me, but I found out yesterday that she’s staying home. Roxie’s all right, but I’m relieved. I don’t like having to share my buddy with other dogs. We went to a dog park in Santa Fe and, as usual, he was off playing with everyone he met, including this one enormous dog that bounced around like a giant rabbit and totally freaked me out. 

The Capitol of New Mexico in Santa Fe.

I’m more inclined to make human friends, like the two students at Ecco coffee shop in Santa Fe. The one petting Logan in the picture even sat down on the sidewalk with me for a while. She was so sweet, sigh… That was such a great day, we went along on a Santa Fe downtown walkabout and there were so many people and exciting smells. I was exhausted by the time we got back to the truck.

My new friends at Ecco.

We’re in Albuquerque now, and there are a bunch of things planned while Darren is visiting us. I just hope some of them include dogs, especially because T will be riding in the back seat with us and I’ll be able to use her lap for my pillow–one of my most favouritest things.

And On and On We Go...

Thorns found everywhere from unknown source.

Two years ago when we travelled, we were ariving home on this day, but this year we’re roaming further east, into New Mexico. It’s cooler here, which is easier for a black dog to take, but damn it if there aren’t a bunch of vicious little star-shaped pods on the ground nearly everywhere we go. And at the last stop, City of Rocks, another snake in the trail, and this time not the harmless variety but a Mojave Rattlesnake! That put a bit of a crimp on the hiking I tell you. Teresa and Nollind don’t have to worry about me (even though snakes are a new thing I’m pretty tuned into any creature’s “leave me alone” vibe) but they worry about Chico, and rightly so. He’s as liable to grab a rattlesnake as a ground squirrel, anything that moves he tries to put between his teeth to see if he can either kill it or eat it or both. He’s the kind of dog who gets the rest of us labelled as animals.

Our campsite at City of Rocks.

Mojave Rattler lying in the trail.

Okay, so I admit I’m getting a bit homesick, and road weary, but I try to show enthusiasm for new things. In Las Cruces we’re camped in an RV park that’s within walking distance of the town of Mesilla, an historic Mexican town that was part of the Gadsden Purchase in 1853 making it part of the United States (or so the sign said). Chico and I don’t usually go along on shopping or dining excursions but Mesilla promotes itself as dog-friendly so along we went. 

Waiting patiently outside the gallery.

The shopping wasn’t bad, mostly wandering the narrow sidewalks past a bunch of very old buildings, but many other dogs walking the same route did make for a pretty interesting olfactory experience. We were only tied up twice (which I despise) outside a gallery and then a bookstore, and each time in the shade and for only a short time. Tolerable. When we walked into the front courtyard of Andele’s Dog House Restaurant I thought, good grief, we’ll be tied to these cement benches for hours while they eat and drink inside. Nollind went in while we waited outside with Teresa—odd—and when he came back out we took the walkway around the side, through the back drive and onto the rear patio of the restaurant. There we were—dogs—in amongst the Friday afternoon drinkers and diners. I think my jaw may have dropped a little…but only for a second.

Andele's Dog House Restaurant

Novelty aside, I wasn’t as enthused with the experience as Chico. People are so noisy when they gather in groups, especially when you put food and alcohol in front of them. Chico was enthralled and kept trying to venture to other tables to meet the neighbours and check for any dropped food. Of course, he never got further than the end of his six foot leash so Teresa and Nollind generously shared their basket of corn chips and plate of Mexican food (at least the parts that weren’t spicy) with us. I mostly hung out under the table, the same thing I do when we have people dining with us at home. There’s something oddly comforting about a low roof and human feet.

The Rio Grande, just before the leashes came off.

Two days ago they took us walking to a trail along the Rio Grande. My Spanish isn’t great, but I thought rio meant river. Apparently in these parts, rio means wide, sandy wash where dogs can run off-leash. Fine by me.