A bar! Three weeks after becoming a teenager, I finally got to visit a bar! Now there technically isn’t a legal age for dogs, so I don’t think my age was the game changer, but whatever the reason, I went along for an afternoon beverage at Beer Belly’s in Quartzsite.
Tyson Wells shopping before our trip to Beer Belly’s.
Some people would call it a “beer garden”, because it’s outdoors. But that doesn’t make sense to me because a garden is where you grow things and not much grows in a beer garden. Well, except maybe bellies, judging by the name of this particular beer garden.
Just chillin’ in the pub with my peeps.
The owner refers to it as an “adult daycare”, which is probably more accurate, although there didn’t seem to be the level of supervision you’d expect from a daycare. I pretty much had to supervise my own people while we were there so I’m not sure how they managed on their other visits. ;o) I’m kidding. They’re very well behaved when it comes to drinking establishments, or drinking in general.
See? Well behaved.
It was a beautiful, sunny Arizona afternoon at the bar, and because of that, full of snowbirds enjoying a drink under the shade of the many colourful umbrellas. We found a table along one side, so I could have a place to lie down without risk of being stepped on. The music duo played some great tunes that were just at the right volume for my mostly deafness. And I parked myself on the very cushy fake grass that clearly has multiple layers of underlay.
Pretty comfy for a barroom floor.
But here’s where we get to the best part. T and Nollind bought their own drinks, a pair of Angry Orchard Ciders, but a very nice guy with a good eye for a handsome dog bought one for me. It was only water, but it was the good kind that comes from a bottle. I wasn’t actually thirsty as I’d filled up at the entrance, but it was a pretty cool thing to have happen. This old dog has still got it!
Such a dog friendly place!
We’re in Lake Havasu City now, at the state park for Bluegrass on the Beach. The peeps are off enjoying the start of the festival right now, actually, so I’m just hanging out telling drinking tales. So, until next week … cheers!
Can you believe it’s been three weeks since my last post!? I have to say, it’s not because there’s been nothing to write about. Storm has a whole summer to report, Hank became a house cat for a stretch before petitioning the committee to send him back to the barn, and I have been a travelling pooch. Since the original name and intent of this blog was Chico’s and Logan’s Great Adventures, I get to go first.
When I last wrote, I was fresh from a boys’ week at the ranch. By the following Fur-iday, I was on the road with T and Nollind with trailer in tow, bound for the Blueberry BluegrassFestival Jam at Stony Plain. It’s typically a weekend of trailer time for me with the peeps off listening to music, but this year, because of Covid, it was different. It wasn’t a festival, but what they call a jam (not the kind you put on your toast). T and Nollind went off to workshops and stuff, but they played music right in camp and even took me along to hear a concert one evening. Usually they don’t allow dogs in the concert area, so I have to say, it was my favourite Blueberry event to date.
Sunday morning jam at Blueberry.
After two days of music, we were westbound to the Rockies, overnighting in Hinton before reaching our destination, a favourite of T’s and the highest mountain in the Canadian Rockies, Mount Robson. With all the forest fire smoke, it wasn’t very impressive when we arrived, but after a whopper of a thunderstorm overnight, the mountain appeared in all its glory. The highlight of my stay there was a swim in the Robson River after three hot days and no swimming holes.
Aahhh….the Robson River on another hot afternoon.
After just one night, we continued west through Prince George where we did some laundry and I had a bath. I won’t get into the details of what inspired this dog wash and laundry trip, but let’s just say some new holistic supplements were more potent than T anticipated.
Wash bay at Bosley’s by Pet Valu.
With me and the bedding smelling fresh as a daisy, we headed north on the Hart Highway to a provincial park called Crooked River. Wow … what a place. Forested trails, sandy beaches, and the warm, shallow waters of Bear Lake. This is another T favourite, a place she spent many happy camping trips as a child. I wasn’t the only one to go swimming.
A dip in Bear Lake.Home sweet trailer at Bear Lake.
We stayed two nights at Bear Lake before venturing yet further north via another childhood favourite spot for T, Bijoux Falls. A quick lunch stop, a dip in the creek, and we were off again, landing near Hudson’s Hope at Dinosaur Lake Campground. Much to my surprise (but apparently not T’s), there was family camped there, two of T’s brothers and a sister-in-law.
Bijoux Falls selfie. Look how tall I am!
The next morning, we explored the trail to the beach that ran right past our camp, and came across these odd droppings. Looked a little like coyote but much too big. I had a sniff. Not horse—wrong contents. Definitely not another dog. Hmm. And then the peeps started talking loudly and whistling. Turns out the mysterious piles were made by a bear, one of them recently. And it wasn’t the last we’d see of the resident Ursus Americanus.
Beachcombing at Dinosaur Lake. I met my match with this stick.
It also wasn’t the last we’d see of T’s family. They just kept coming. Some with trailers, some with tents, and all setting up camp next to us. What fun! In the end, there were four of T’s siblings and her sister-in-law, plus three cousins and their significant others, as well as some friends of T’s oldest brother. Sadly, I was the only dog, but it garnered me quite a lot of attention and all the treats.
Just when the tents were set up and everyone settled, the bear showed up. He didn’t seem too concerned with us, just eating berries right behind our trailer, but it chased the tent dwellers to their vehicles for the two nights and put a damper on our wanderings. You know that saying about bears being more afraid of us than we are of them? Well, this guy hadn’t heard it. There were more than a dozen people in camp when he wandered by.
Just passing through…
Around suppertime on Friday, all seventeen people piled into cars and roared off to the Peace Valley Folk Festival to watch two of T’s brothers perform. I so wanted to go along, but the event was not dog friendly and I had to stay back in the trailer. :o( If they’d left me outside I could have visited with the bear. I’m guessing he wasn’t welcome at the festival either.
The next morning dawned cool, windy, and rainy. To this fur-covered hound, I have to say, it felt awesome. After nearly two months of hot weather, I was finally comfortable. The humans, being a generally more delicate species than we dogs, were less so. But I had to hand it to them that day. They adapted to the situation and probably had more fun than if they’d spent the day at the folk festival. The gathering of family turned into its own miniature music festival under tarps and awnings with propane firepits in the middle. Even T’s mom was in attendance, singing songs around the campfire. I didn’t spend the whole day with the group (I’m an old dog and I like my comforts), but I could hear the singing and laughter from our trailer next door.
When we left Dinosaur Lake, after ten days on the road, I assumed we were headed home. But we weren’t finished with the family visit just yet, parking at G-Ma’s house overnight where there was more food, fun, and music to be had. I didn’t want to leave. They had to coax me to the truck. And I think T must have felt the same because she had tears in her eyes as we hit the Alaska Highway.
Our last stop, after an overnight at Nakota Crossing at Glenevis, was one long overdue. You might remember that my friend David, and Nollind’s dad, died in November of 2019. Well, with all the pandemic restrictions and fuss, the family hadn’t been able to say a final goodbye. So that’s how we wrapped up our road trip, with the spreading of David’s ashes near Devon. I think T is still recovering from those last two emotional days of the trip.
A visit to the North Saskatchewan River after David’s farewell.
Me, well, I’m relishing the multiple beds of home and resting up for the next adventure. I’ll be passing the keyboard to Hank or Storm next week, and likely the one following, so enjoy some tales from the farm!
When I last wrote we’d just returned from a fab week in the Rockies. Sigh. Such a good time. The thing that made it easier to come home from that trip was the plan to set out again in just two weeks, and this time in partnership with our camping buddies G & S and their canine companion Ria. Yay! We were all so excited.
Our bestest camping buddies on one of last year’s trips.
The plan, although I’m reluctant to use that word in 2020, was to go to Writing-On-Stone Provincial Park at the bottom end of Alberta for a few days, followed by another few days at a lake a couple of hours west of there. Our departure date was set for the 10th. We just needed to get Fred the truck fixed. I wrote about the demise of the Dodge in my last post.
One week beyond that scheduled departure, we’re still home, and Fred is still in the shop. To be more precise, Fred is in shop number three. T and Nollind are not at all thrilled with the Dodge dealerships that charged a bunch of money to not fix the truck. Fred is now being repaired by a transmission shop in Calgary that was able to track down the actual problem.
But, as is typical, a setback didn’t mean a bunch of moping about the house. Instead, we were on the road last Fur-iday for a consolation road trip (T is quite fond of these alternative adventures). We trekked west past Cochrane to the Waiparous area, followed by a visit to Ghost Lake. I didn’t see any ghosts, but that mountain-fed lake was very refreshing on a 27-degree, sunny afternoon after being in the car for a couple of hours.
Heading for the water at a brisk trot.
Our wander along the lakeshore spurred a thirst and hunger so was followed up by a trip to the Half Hitch Brewing Company in Cochrane. T enjoyed one of their beers when we were down in the Crowsnest Pass in February and has been wanting to visit the brewery ever since. I was resigned to an hour or two of waiting in the car, but then … say what? They allow dogs on the patio? Even the covered patio? Doggie heaven—shade, people, other dogs, and food! Apparently, the beer was also good but I wasn’t given a sample. I’m eleven now. I’m pretty sure I could handle it.
Patio dog – they only take well-behaved dogs so, guess what I am? :o)
Back in the car, I was just settling in for the trip home when we turned toward the river instead and took a short tour of the Bow RiversEdge Campground. Nice spot. Might just return one day with a trailer. It’s right next to the river and the off-leash pathway. More RV park-ish than we’re accustomed to, but did I mention the neighbouring off-leash area with swimming?
A dip in the Bow River.
We pulled into a parking lot near the campground so that T could feed me my dinner. She’s good that way, always bringing a meal along on our road trips in case we go beyond my six o’clock dinner hour. (And yes, I can tell time. More about that in a future post.) Post dinner, we were off and walking on that same off-leash river pathway I just mentioned. We were actually there four years ago when Logan was still around so our wander brought up some great memories, and yet another swim opportunity. It won’t be long before all of the water in Alberta is frozen solid so I have to get in these soft-water experiences while I’m able.
River walk September 2016.
So it wasn’t a camping trip, but by the time we were driving in the direction of home, after three walks, some patio time, and a road trip with my favourite peeps, I stretched out on the back seat of our old-but-trusted Honda and slept all the way home.
the Fur-iday Files 