Learning to live without Scooter
In the depths of grief, I didn’t choose the outdoors for comfort like I normally have in the past. Instead, I took to the couch, curling up with my other dog Honey underneath my weighted blanket, and slept the days away. In my defense, I contracted Covid soon after Scooter passed away and literally could not do much but binge-watch Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix. After a week spent consuming only Dayquil and DoorDashed food, I finally returned to society. Even so, it took much longer than I thought it would to feel normal again.
During this time, I didn’t trail run, hike, or do much of anything besides walk to classes on campus. When I did try to attempt jogging again, I quickly realized I was going to have to build myself back into shape completely. Covid had taken its toll on my lungs and made every stride feel like I was running for the first time in my life. Needless to say, the 25-miler I had planned for the beginning of December was off the table.
The fall semester chugged along rather uneventfully and when exams week came, not being able to consistently hit the trails was a blessing in disguise because all of my resources had to be devoted to just keeping my head above water with the mountains upon mountains of assignments. Eventually, final grades were posted and I was free from school for the next month. I had tentative plans to go on a few backpacking overnights during winter break, one being while I visited family in Kentucky for the holidays.
A few posts ago, I mentioned how my family and I rescued a stray dog at the beginning of the year. With Clyde now being a member of our clan, I wanted to see how he would do on the trail. During a few short visits home earlier in the year, we completed local day hikes with ease and I was hopeful that maybe he would become a solid hiking companion someday. However, going on a backpacking adventure would be the true test.
First backpacking trip with Clyde
After securing a used dog hiking pack and picking out a route in Red River Gorge, we woke up early on a weekday to drive an hour to the trailhead. For a Wednesday, I was surprised at how busy the parking lot was. Several families sorted gear by their cars and strapped climbing helmets to their packs. With Clyde being young and excitable, we waited a while in my truck until the trailhead quieted. He launched out onto the gravel lot as soon as I opened the door, which left me scrambling for the leash trailing behind him. After fifteen minutes of sniffs and quick pees on each of the surrounding trees, we headed into the woods.
Being back in the Gorge felt so magical. With it having rained a day prior, the trail was all mud and the creeks were swollen high. Every bush, shrub, or plant glinted with tiny water droplets. After a semester spent buried behind my computer screen, I felt like I could finally breathe. Clyde was just as wanderlust as I was, weaving from each side of the trail trying to take everything in as we hiked. As we scrambled up large rocks that jutted from the ground, I was slightly impressed with how well Clyde managed the ascent. While he wasn’t the most surefooted dog I had ever hiked with, he did okay tackling the occasional fallen log or small water crossing.
My other dog Honey was agile and smooth on hikes. Moving like a deer on the trail, she was built for endurance tasks. Clyde on the other hand, with his 80-pound stocky frame, hiked more like a monster truck. He had a habit of spastically bulldozing through the underbrush and kicking dirt several feet behind him each time he hiked his leg up to pee. So while not very Leave No Trace, I reassured myself that he was a work in progress. Since this trip was more of an experiment for Clyde, I decided earlier on that we would not traverse very far that day. It felt a little unnatural setting up camp only four miles away from the trailhead with the sun still high in the sky, but I had this nagging feeling in my gut to make that decision just in case.
Needless to say, this had been the right choice because we ultimately had to leave in the middle of the night. After setting up my tent, I wanted to see how Clyde would react to sleeping in such a confined space. For an hour or so, we napped inside my sleeping bag with him awkwardly snoozing on top of me. While not the most comfortable position, I thought this could work. However, after the sun went down and I cooked a dinner of black bean lentil soup, Clyde started to become a little more rambunctious. He was having a hard time settling and started pacing restlessly while I ate. When it was time to try and go to bed, he was less than excited about it. I zipped us both inside the tent and he immediately began clawing at the mesh screen door.
This wasn’t a good sign, but I thought he would calm down eventually. However, it only got worse from there as I wrestled with him. During this debacle, he ended up ripping a few holes in the mesh of the tent body. This wasn’t a huge deal. Nothing a patch of Tenacious Tape couldn’t fix, but after almost an hour of him not being able to get comfortable, I was feeling defeated. Eventually, I tried taking him outside the tent and tying him up to a tree with his leash just a few feet away. I was tired and getting desperate. I thought maybe he would be able to curl up and sleep in the soft spot of leaves at the base of the tree. Unfortunately, he never did and ended up whining and howling for a while until I realized this wasn’t going to work.
In the end, I strapped on my headlamp and packed up camp in the dark. The four-mile trek back to my truck went quickly with the light of the full moon shining the way. This wasn’t the first time I have had to bail out early during an overnight. However, I was still pretty disappointed because I really don’t get to backpack often and I need to relish any chance I get. Even so, I am proud of Clyde for trying. I have a few ideas and adjustments I can make for round two. I think bringing a bone or toy would be helpful to calm any nervous energy he may be experiencing. Taking a bigger tent with me would also be a good idea and if all else fails, I can always count on Trazadone to possibly chill Clyde out a little.
Thanks for reading and for supporting this Substack! It means a lot to me and I am just so very grateful to whoever takes the time to check it out or subscribe. I have a few fun things planned for 2024, so definitely stick around to hear about them.
As always, see you out on the trail!