Shhh…It’s a Secret

We went camping this week, but I can’t tell you where. I’ve been sworn to secrecy. Usually I like to tell you where we’ve been, even provide links so that you can read about the places and maybe visit them yourselves. But, this time, if I tell you, I’ll have to kill you, and I’m a snuggler, not a killer.

Snuggling with the Earth.

The location of this latest camping adventure was discovered by G & S on a day outing back in July and they thought it was the perfect destination for our August rendezvous. And perfect it was. In fact, I think I saw tears pooling in Nollind’s eyes when we drove in, and I don’t think they were just tears of relief that we’d arrived safely with T driving. (She’s pretty new to this trailer hauling thing and I see his jaw tighten every now and then. He tries to hide it but we dogs have highly developed senses.)

Just two dogs hangin’ out in camp.

Anyway…this place. O. M. G. It’s in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, filled with spruce and aspen forest, has a beautiful river running through it, and quiet, oh so quiet. Heaven. And, since this describes many places on the eastern slopes of the Rockies, I think our secret is safe.

Did I mention yet that there were bones?

G & S and my buddy Ria arrived before us and picked, I kid you not, the best spot in the whole campground, right on the river, with a little dog beach for swimming and lots of trees for shade. Heaven. Wait, I think I said that already … but it bears repeating.

A walk in the woods.

There were twice daily walks on the quiet country road and along the south side of the river, turns around the campground in the morning and before bed, and as much swimming/wading as a dog wanted to do. Me, I’m more of a wade in when it’s hot kind of guy, Ria on the other hand is a very enthusiastic water gymnast. We were there two days and I’m not sure she was ever entirely dry.

Ria had far too much fun.

And therein lies the only down side of the outing … two days. It was only two days. (Sad dog-face emoji.)

And, after all that water fun.

You might be wondering why all the secrecy? Well, the camp attendant came around and chatted awhile, told us how you used to be able to get a spot in the campground any day, but now weekends were mostly full all season long. Turns out there was just too much of that telling two friends who tell two friends stuff going on. So, the six of us made a pact, then and there, that it would be our secret, special campground.

Apparently Nollind had fun too.

If any of you reading this blog has been to our secret campground and recognize it from the photos, maybe we’ll see you there sometime but, in the meanwhile … shhh….

Shhh…
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First Fur-iday

It’s the first Fur-iday of December and it’s got me thinking about how this blog got started. In one word … Logan. It was his idea. He wrote the first post, gave the site its name, and signed me up to write every second post. It was tough for me because Logan had a sort of cynical way of seeing the world that made people laugh. I’m a bit of a clown in person, but in writing, I had a hard time living up to the standard he set. However, once we began posting weekly and wanted a regular day, I was the one who came up with Fur-iday. :o)

I miss Logan. And not just his physical presence in my days as a friend to explore the world of scents with, but his storytelling, his sense of humour, his every-second-week posts in the blog. I considered ending Chico’s and Logan’s Great Adventures when he died. How could it possibly go on without him? And then I hoped he’d find some way to send his stories from wherever it is he’s gone. But, so far, no word from beyond. Now that he’s left behind that old wreck of a body, he’s probably too busy doing this…

or this…

or maybe this…

This morning I took a tour through the early days of our blog and reread some of my favourite Logan moments. And then I thought of a way to include him in the blog and keep his spirit alive. On the first Fur-iday of each month (Fur-st Fur-iday?), I will dig back into the archives for Logan’s wisdom and humour, combine it with some previously-unpublished photos, and add in a little of my own commentary.

Welcome to the first First Fur-iday!

Me in November of 2011

On the 11th of November of 2011 (11-11-11), it all began with…

Hi, My Name is Logan. I’m probably not your typical blogger; although, admittedly, I haven’t read a lot of blogs. I’m a 7-year-old Border Collie/Lab cross. Yes…a dog.

Logan, November 11, 2011

The dog blog was born! We were just setting out on a big adventure, a 5-month RV tour in the United States, and Logan thought it would be a fun way to chronicle the journey and share our stories with friends and family. Just as T and Nollind had no idea that our original trip would turn into another four winters of travelling, Logan and I didn’t know the blog would become a weekly event over the next seven years (and counting).

Arriving at our first mini destination in Coldstream, BC.

In that very first Logan post, we got a taste of a subject that would come up again and again in our adventures, his travel anxiety. Me, I never understood it. A dog bed in the truck doesn’t feel a lot different than a dog bed in the house other than the gentle motion and noise that lulls me to sleep. But Logan didn’t see it that way …

The stops are filled with new sights, sounds and, most importantly and best of all…smells! It’s an absolute scent-fest every time we stop in a new place. Travelling between stops is a lot less appealing, or let’s make that more terrifying — hurtling down the highway at great speed with others doing the same thing in the other direction. Does no one else see the danger we’re in? Have they not read the newspapers or watched the nightly news? My people sit blissfully naive in front, seemingly enjoying the ride, regularly trying to reassure me of the safety and okay-ness of it all. But I’m not falling for it. I’m a Border Collie and we’re known for our intelligence. Some might say we’re obsessive…I prefer to think of it as focused.

Logan, November 11, 2011

Our first RV park dog run.

It would also be the beginning of Logan’s experimentation with various kinds of recreational herbs and medications…

The morning we left Canada, they slipped something into my food. It made me feel a bit sleepy, but I fought it and remained ever awake and vigilant all the way to Spokane. Somebody has to watch the road and remind them of the dangers.

Logan, November 2011

For all his wonderful qualities, and there were many, Logan was a terrible travelling companion, for humans and dogs alike. If he hadn’t been so easy and happy once we arrived somewhere (see earlier comments about sights and sounds) I’m sure T and Nollind would have left him in the care of someone at home and we probably wouldn’t have stayed away as long without him.

Our five trips south wouldn’t have been the same without Logie.

Luckily for me, Logan was a trooper, T and Nollind were patient, and we were able to tell many stories in the pages of Chico’s and Logan’s Great Adventures over the next seven years.

Check back on the first Fur-iday of January for more from the Logan archives!

Home Sweet Snowy Home

We saw the first snow not far outside Las Vegas, just a little, high on a mountain, but there it was, snow. In Utah there was lots of it up high, and even some lower down. By Idaho the snow had reached the road level in places. Montana was snow covered until we reached the far north where the Chinook winds had removed the snow from the fields in patches. Southern Alberta was similar, lots of melting.

Then, as we travelled those final miles from Lethbridge home, the world outside the truck windows grew steadily whiter, until it was just a sea of white under a bright, blue sky.

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Almost home.

There usually isn’t any snow on the ground when we return from the south. Partly because we’re three or more weeks later, but also because there was a huge amount of snow while we were gone this year, with most of it falling in the last month.  Records were broken. Luckily for us, we had some good friends looking after our farm and the snow had been cleared from the driveway and the walks. Thanks, Judy and John for making it possible for us to reach the house (and the couch)!

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Logan gets the couch in Sid but I get the one in the house (okay, only because he can’t climb up on it anymore)

Someone commented that it must have been a big shock to go from Arizona to Alberta in a few days. For me, it’s actually a series of small shocks throughout the journey. I go to sleep in the desert, I wake up in the trees. I go to sleep with dry land all around, I wake up to snow. I go to sleep in Utah, I wake up in Idaho. Surprise after surprise over two thousand kilometres.

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Rolling into the nicely plowed yard.

By the time we arrived home, I’d adjusted to the change of scenery and climate, and was ready for the snow. What I wasn’t prepared for was the amount and type of snow. With the frequent warm winds in southern Alberta in winter (called Chinooks) there’s usually enough melting and refreezing to create a thick enough crust on top of any deep snow to support my weight. This year it stayed colder and the crust is only thick enough to make me think I’m good before I break through into the dry, grainy stuff underneath. It’s a bit like trying to swim in thick, slippery water.

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Breaking through the crust.

T took me along when she went skiing on Monday. It was a beautiful day and I was so excited when we started out. But holy hell was it tough going. Three steps on top of the snow, four floundering, one step on top, two floundering, half a dozen on top (yay!) and then, just when I’d start to think I was home free, I’d break through again. We did half a mile like that. Well, I did. T skied along without a care. We finally reached a snowmobile track and, wow, did that make a difference. I could run! I’m not sure if they make snowshoes for dogs, but I’ll be surfing Amazon when I’m finished with this blog post.

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Ski day.

Out walking, we’ve been sticking to the road. There’s just too much snow everywhere else and if you think I have trouble you should see poor Logan. T’s had to yard him out of a snow bank a couple of times when he wandered off the side of the road to smell something and broke through into the deep stuff.

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Walking along Range Road 262 heading home.

The crazy thing is, it snowed again yesterday. I’m just hoping the warm weather we had on Tuesday and Wednesday was enough to put a better crust along the ski trail for the next time T straps on the boards.