Morning Trip Report. 4 miles, new route. Started at 8am, 40°F, cold and clear skies.

Wore my zip-off hiking pants which were cool but allowed freedom of movement and I warmed up. Also a cotton t-shirt, oh, no, cotton kills, all the hiking experts will tell you that. Somehow I made it back alive in my cotton t-shirt under my zip fleece with thumbholes, which helped keep my hands warm, but my ballcap did nothing for my ears. Mensa was packless for this new route. Wayeh to Old Dixie and down to Kirk Webb’s driveway, nearly to Macedonia, total right at 4 miles.

Mensa walks behind me. Part of that is she’s a natural follower, and part of that is we left her daughter Tok behind today. I was going to bring her but she was a butt about putting her training collar on, so I crated her instead. Not going to create problems for myself on a new route.

The other routes, 2.25m and 3m must have been in an acoustical “dip” in the topography, because I never hear the dogs at home on those routes. This one started the same but there was a bit of a climb after we crossed Roddy Road and I could hear my dogs singing 2 miles away. Mensa sure heard it and wanted to return. I imagine it was her daughter Tok making the fuss. We carried on anyway. The route is surprisingly loose-dog-free, not so in years past, but we did find barky dogs across from the Webb’s driveway, so we reversed and came home. Again, this is supposed to be FUN not a conflict.

Speaking of the Webb’s, who are honorary aunt & uncle to me and honorary grandparents to my niece Sloane, this is about as hillbilly as it gets. I’m walking 2 miles from my house and come up on this. It happens to be brother Matt in the Chevy and Kirk Webb in the Toy truck, having a chat on a country road. Lord loves a hillbilly.

My feet hurt, the ball of my feet, a little in the shin, but we’re toughening feet on the asphalt. The dogs have feet like iron and I check every time, but they have concrete floored kennels and grass/gravel yards to run in. It’s my legs and feet that need toughening up.

Note to self, bring an extra collar and lead in my backpack, just in case I have an equipment failure or need to bring a loose dog home. It occurred to me, the fuss at home might have been Tok escaping to follow us, but, no, she was safe in her crate when we returned. This time.

Happy Trails.
–SHS, 2019