Da Boys at Da Beach

That’s us, “da boys”, or so we’re called by some very dear friends. And we’re here at “da beach”, that’s the beach at Lake Havasu. We moved Sunday from our boondocking spot in Craggy Wash just north of Lake Havasu City and came here to the state park, which is pretty much right in town and on the lake.


Our camp at water’s edge.

We were here last year at this same time for Bluegrass on the Beach. This year, Teresa and Nollind are volunteers, so we were able to set up camp on Sunday, and got a spot right here on the water. It’s a nice change from the desert, water life instead of desert life. Boats instead of ATVs. Kayakers as opposed to cyclists.


Even the dogs get out on the water.

It’s also a very different kind of camping from what we’re used to. Craggy Wash was already closer quarters than Quartzsite or Wickenburg, but now that things have filled in here at the state park, we are shoulder to shoulder. Sunday we almost had the place to ourselves, Monday the ticket holders started rolling in and today, it is getting very cozy.



But I don’t mind. It gives me plenty to watch when I’m lying outside … or not. Something about the sound of the water keeps lulling me to sleep, that gentle lap of waves on the shore, the put-put of a boat going by in the no-wake zone of the canal, the faint sound of someone playing a banjo in a campsite somewhere. Well, faint until about half an hour ago when the main stage started up.


Imagine the sound of waves lapping at the shore.

It’s okay though, I like music, and even though I’m more of a classical kind of guy, this old-timey, acoustic, foot-stompin’ stuff is alright … for a few days once or twice a year. Teresa and Nollind play too, but not all day, and without the barrage of instrumentation. Just guitar and bass. But, even when they play, I tend to go up in the bedroom. They try not to take it personally but I have been accused of being a critic.


Maybe a good spot for some quiet?


What’s really great about being here at the beach is the beach. There’s a bunch of it that’s off limits to dogs and other pets, but Teresa has scoped out all of the dog-friendly spots and we visit one of them at least once/day. We can get in the water right from camp but it drops off quite steeply and I’m not the swimmer or bank climber I used to be. The flat of the beach suits me just fine. And there’s just something about getting my feet wet and drinking from a fresh body of water that is soothing to my old canine soul.


The beach near the boat launch.

Chico’s been out and about quite a lot more than I have, exploring some of the beaches that are too far for me. And yesterday he got a walk into town and some time on a patio that he wouldn’t shut up about the rest of the day. I know he doesn’t do it to gloat, he was just excited. There was food involved after all. Anyway, I won’t steal his thunder. I’ll leave him to tell you his fish and chips story.


The beach along the canal.

Teresa and Nollind have headed off to the music area for the start of the festival … oh, and there it is, that distinctive sound of bluegrass. I don’t expect to see a lot of them these next few days but, as long as they leave the back windows open so I can hear the water on the shore, I’m a happy napper … or, I mean, camper.


Born to Run – A Foto Fur-iday

It’s Fur-iday again and, in honour of my buddy Logan, I’ve decided to make it a Foto Fur-iday!

He told you all about the state of his elbow arthritis last week, which surprised me since he’s not one to complain or talk about his troubles. The good news is, his 10-step program does seem to be alleviating some of the pain and he’s able to get around more easily. He even led a little, unsanctioned excursion to the neighbours’ place a few days ago when T was riding. She seemed angry, but I think she was secretly pleased he felt well enough to go on an outing.

The thing is, no matter how much that damaged wing keeps him grounded, in his heart, he’s a born runner. And he’s had the opportunity to stretch his legs in a lot of great locations. (Sorry about the blurry photos. Logan runs so fast it’s hard to get him in focus.)

A little mood music by The Boss



Home in the meadow running with friend Roxie…


…and in the snow with friend Jonah…



…and with me when we used to love a good game of kick ball.



Fetch time in a California dog park.


A great catch in the Las Vegas dog park.


Our first dune experience at Kelso Dunes, CA.


More Kelso.


The amazing white dunes of New Mexico.


More dunes! These ones the Imperial Dunes of California.


The white dunes of the Canadian prairie.


Beaches are great places to run…


…and Logan never passes up an opportunity.



Clark Dry Lake near Borrego Springs, California.




Lake Powell, Arizona


Near 29 Palms, California.


Home sweet home along the canal.

It’s going to be a different kind of trip this year without my running buddy, but I know we’ll have a great adventure anyway.









Cool Clear Water

Cue the theme music!

As you’ll know if you’ve read my blog posts, I love the desert, never get tired of it. I love to lie in the sun, hate being cold, and there are so many great places to hike and explore down here. But, there is normally one thing missing from this near-paradise—water. And when there is water, it’s in a swimming pool—aka, no dogs.

At home on the prairie, my favourite place to go for walks is along the irrigation canal. Get a little too warm, go in for a dip. I’ll let the current carry me along until I’m feeling refreshed before I go back on shore to continue the walk. On the eastern slopes of the Rocky Mountains where we regularly go camping with the horses, nearly every trail has a creek or river running through it.


Home along the canal

Desert, by its nature, is dry. I get that. So I have little expectation of cool streams and mountain waterfalls when we’re south for the winter. I enjoy the desert for its own unique awesomeness. But, when you add water to a desert environment, man, is it paradise.


Wetting our toes at Lake Havasu.

While we were camped at Craggy Wash, we got our first taste of water at nearby Lake Havasu. We had a terrific walk at a cove near the north end of the lake that included a swim and a drink at the beginning and end of the walk. I was happy.


Top of the Lake Havasu hike.

When we moved camp to Lake Havasu State Park for the bluegrass festival and I found out we were going to be a short walk from the water, I was ecstatic. Granted, we spent some time in the trailer those three days since we weren’t permitted in the concert area, but we also had three walks a day that included a swimming option on almost every outing. I wasn’t sure about the waves on the windy day, but wading in up to my belly was such a treat at the end of a walk along the shore trail.


Our swimming hole was back near the boat launch

And that wasn’t the only treat at Lake Havasu State Park. People! … and lots of them, including T and Nollind’s friends from home, Chris and Sheila. They parked their trailer right next to us, making a cozy island in a sea of motorhomes and trailers. In the evenings it was perfect for visiting around the fire and making music. I’m always happy to share our camp with friends, especially friends who like dogs and are willing to include us in the festivities.


Taking an afternoon break from the festival stage


Chris & Sheila before they headed out on Sunday morning.

I was sad to leave on Monday. I was going to miss the people and the water. Or, not so much as it turned out. We left Lake Havasu but gained Lake Mohave. Here at Telephone Cove, Sid is parked right on the water and the cool breeze blows off the lake all through the hot part of the day. And we’ve made new friends who are camped on each side of us; some fellow Canadians, some Californians, and even a dog named Trixie.


Telephone Cove – our camp is hidden by the tall clump of trees halfway down the beach. 

It’s a little piece of doggie paradise I’d have to say (Logan won’t even come inside!), and T & Nollind seem pretty taken with it too. We were supposed to be leaving today, that was the plan, but I don’t see any signs of packing. Looks like I’ve got a few more swims in my future.


Evening walk at Telephone Cove.