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| Warrior Rock lighthouse |
It’s no secret that our newest
little monster, Dory,
has been both a delight and a challenge. Trying to keep up with a smart dog, it
turns out, is a full time job.
Over the last year, I’ve been
missing hiking, outdoor time in general, and spending more time with my husband,
friends and animals. Turns out, I’m abysmal at the 8-5 grind. I’ve spent the
last two weeks mostly Portland-bound due to weather (hello, ice storms?!), just
unwinding and resettling as I transition to a new job in the near future.
Turns out, sometimes unexpected
weather is a blessing. Since I haven’t been able to get to the Gorge, I’ve been
exploring little places close to Portland, places in all the time I’ve lived
here I have somehow overlooked. Close to home stuff translates to some nice
local hikes in Powell Butte (complete with coyotes and deer in the snow),
Thousand Acres and our local biking paths.
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Most recently, I took some time on a drizzly Friday afternoon to
explore Warrior
Rock on Sauvie Island.
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| first view of Warrior Rock, flood tide and rain |
It isn’t a fancy hike, especially on a soggy, cold,
viewless day, but honestly there is something about walking in the woods that
is always therapeutic for me, especially when I am alone. I love being able to
set my own pace, to be alone in my thoughts, to just wander and be. And dogs
bridge that little gap somewhere between loneliness and human companionship.
This was one of those walks where the exercise was good- a little over seven
miles in 2.5 hours (gotta keep warm in the rain somehow!) and Warrior Rock was
totally charming. One of those little oddities that you don’t think exists. It also was a nice reminder of how far our
little Dory had come in her training.
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| Even in the rain, Portland manages to be charming |
In the theme of catching up:
Our first summer backpack (one of only two this year, sob) was a strict reminder to me not to
be too casual with a new dog. It takes time to dial them in.
Pepper, while a monster in many ways when we first got her, never had
to be trained on recall. She parks herself behind your right foot and hikes that
way. Itty bitty Velcro monster. I don’t know how, as I never taught her this,
it’s just where she ended up. I’ve had friends take her on hikes and freak that
they have lost her, only to find she’s hanging out just out of eyesight by their
right ankle. She’s always been a funny little mongrel.
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| Pepper is HOT if she is deigning to flop in the mud |
She also learned to SWIM this summer (shock, surprise, wonders-never-cease, world-is-ending kind of stuff):
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| Apparently she will do ANYTHING, even swim, for cheese |
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| Shenzi and Dory, crack-heading out in different ways at Thousand Acres |
Yobo,
also never had to be trained on recall. Maybe pug and pug-mixes are just pure Velcro.
Rocky
was a train-wreck most of his life in most ways, but on trail was a super dog. Although
horrifyingly dog aggressive (yeah, I have fun stories with that), I could put
him in a “Stay” off trail, and he wouldn’t break it so long as someone didn’t
get right up in his face.
Dory, on the other hand, has explorer tendencies.
On our first backpack she seemed so….good (initially)...off leash,
until camp. Then BAM! “That other side of the lake looks really interesting,
thanks for bringing me, have a nice time setting up camp, see ya!” Which leaves
a very aggravated me, hoofing around a lakeside through fields of huckleberries
and deadfall, hunting for my wandering Border collie mix.
Somehow, in the morning, I thought things would be different. Nope. Cue
me, coffee in hand, trying to find Dory again.
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| Serenity before the "Finding Dory" morning coffee incident |
Lucky for us, on trail, she is decent. However, due to a wandering eye
and intense prey drive, we have a long way to go before she gets dialed in to
our standards. I despise little as much as poor dog
ownership/stewardship/manners on the trail (or in general really); turns out,
at Olallie, I was that person.
{sigh}
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| Andy and Pepper both watching to see what she does now |
On a funny note, about smart dogs: while tethered in camp, Dory was
watching me pick huckleberries (loads of them, nom, nom, nom) and taught
herself how to pull them off the bushes and eat them, like some kind of
dog-bear. It was endlessly entertaining to watch and almost redeemed the
wandering fiasco incident.
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| OMG, happy place |
Regarding the Olallie lake area- it was a perfect, low-key,
reintroduction to backpacking for the (sadly) two weekend warriors that Andy
and I were becoming at the time. Hours at the desk had taken over, and we both
really needed the outdoor time. The plateau surrounding Olallie Lake is probably
at its best in the fall- an explosion of color and blue sky and huckleberries- as
it is largely viewless, heavy on forests and meadows and tiny, alpine lakes.
Reminiscent, in many ways, of Indian
Heaven. As a lover of the high alpine, these areas are more mood based for
me than places I actively seek out, especially in the height of summer.
Somehow, though, I fell in love with this area and would love to go back for
future backpacks.
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| Red Lake from camp |
Fast forward five months, and we have major improvement. Albeit, it’s
taken tons of training to get her here, from multiple classes at the Humane
Society, private training and active, daily work/reinforcement on Andy and I’s
part…however, I was able to hike mostly off leash with Dory across seven miles.
I can actively call her off birds and possums and nutria and other dogs. I can
recall her and keep her at my side or within six feet of me. Squirrels are
another matter we are continuing to work on and, I suspect, may never fully
proof. I will never trust her with cats.
That said, we adore her. Here’s to many hikes in 2017. Big and small.
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| Taking in the view at Top Lake |
