I usually spend my birthday on a hike. This year I spent it in the truck driving north toward Vancouver. Spending a night in Ashland, Oregon was something I always wanted to do, but in order to see the Oregon Shakespeare Festival not because I had to get up early in the morning to make it to the border.
However, waking up Ashland is pretty beautiful even if you don’t get to see Shakespeare.
However, waking up Ashland is pretty beautiful even if you don’t get to see Shakespeare.
It felt a little like the Berkshire Hills… with fog. I have been missing Autumn the past few years, so it was nice to finally experience--even at rest stops.
Because of the short notice of the job, we didn’t get to arrive early and get a sense of our surroundings. We arrived late Sunday night, and the next morning was work. I didn’t even get a chance to really look into daycares for Tucker.
So Tucker took over my job.
So Tucker took over my job.
And had to sit through terribly boring meetings where he exemplified what we all were feeling.
I did not see the sun the entire week. On our first Saturday, we did a tour of the local pet supply stores so Tucker and I could get out of the house. Granted, our house isn’t too shabby. The view alone is spectacular (that’s the Vancouver skyline in the distance.)
And the leaves changing color was inspiring. I finally got Autumn. Real Autumn.
Sunday brought a brief amount of sunshine and I took the limited opportunity to get to the nearest mountain for a hike.
Mount Seymour had a dog-friendly hike called, oddly, Dog Mountain. It seemed like a good beginning hike for us. However, it was closed.
Sunday brought a brief amount of sunshine and I took the limited opportunity to get to the nearest mountain for a hike.
Mount Seymour had a dog-friendly hike called, oddly, Dog Mountain. It seemed like a good beginning hike for us. However, it was closed.
I attempted to find another trail, lost the trail, and ended up going in the wrong direction.
Finding another trail which was more populated, Tucker and I finally got on our way.
Here’s the thing about dog-friendly Vancouver. It is dog-friendly—but in a very different way than other cities. Well-behaved, leashed dogs are not allowed on patios of restaurants. They are not allowed in stores or cafes or coffee houses. However, dog are free to be off-leash on many trails. And even if a leash is required, no one adheres to it.
Now, if you have full control over your dog, that’s great. Honestly, there were plenty of times I thought I might crack my head open as I stumbled over roots and slippery rocks while holding Tucker’s leash. It would be safer if he could be off leash. However, he’s not a fan of all dogs. He’s not great with un-neutered males, and he gets pretty worked up about any dog that is not being respectful of their owner. Tucker cannot be off leash. And that’s fine. I’ve accepted that. And probably 80% of the time, that’s totally cool. The moment that follows falls into the 20% "not cool" category.
Being my first hike in British Columbia, I didn’t realize there is a bit of difference in their ratings of trails. Now I know that “moderate” in Canadian terms is “impossible” to Americans. “Easy” will still involve some obstacles. A couple days ago I read a description of a “dog-friendly” hike that was “moderate” because there was only “a couple of ropes to climb that you will have to hoist your dog up.” What?!? Evidently us Americans are used to Candyland, and the Canadians are playing Chutes and Ladders.
This particular hike at Mt Seymour was quite muddy (it had been raining), and Tucker and I hadn’t yet coordinated our hiking-in-mud policies so it was a bit stressful as I tried to remain upright. Mud and severe elevation changes, and roots and rocks and then bunches of people and their dogs. It wasn’t quite the peaceful and serene hiking experience I’m used to.
I had considered turning back but tried to keep going. Tucker never wants to give up, and I really didn’t want this to be a wasted venture. But then there it was: the dog coming up quickly behind us with no person attached. Tucker wouldn’t keep moving forward, but there was no person so I didn’t know what would happen when the dog arrived in front of us. The person finally came into view, saw Tucker and called her dog. No response. Called again. Still nothing. The dog continued toward us, and albeit not in a threatening manner, still was not under the control of his person (and it was a leashed trail, mind you), which alone is terrifying and there was nowhere for us to step off the trail to be out of the way. The trail itself is only a few feet wide. Dogs coming up the hill are meeting dogs coming down head-on. Not a good way to introduce one another.
Her dog gets up to Tucker just as she reaches her dog with a leash excusing him because “he’s friendly.” Tucker lunges at the dog ferociously, people with small dogs coming up are terrified, and the dog with no respect for his owner just carries on like nothing happened.
Meanwhile Tucker and I are in the treeline, bush limbs jabbing into my spine, and he’s thrashing about, upset at the dog that just passed and scaring the people with a dachshund off leash heading toward us.
And that’s when I felt we should call it quits.
We climbed back up the steep, muddy, narrow trail and out into the open. I took a breath, looked around, and off to the side I saw a trailhead everyone else was ignoring.
Perfect.
Through a small meadow, Tucker and I alone crossed a bridge and headed up to a peak.
Now, if you have full control over your dog, that’s great. Honestly, there were plenty of times I thought I might crack my head open as I stumbled over roots and slippery rocks while holding Tucker’s leash. It would be safer if he could be off leash. However, he’s not a fan of all dogs. He’s not great with un-neutered males, and he gets pretty worked up about any dog that is not being respectful of their owner. Tucker cannot be off leash. And that’s fine. I’ve accepted that. And probably 80% of the time, that’s totally cool. The moment that follows falls into the 20% "not cool" category.
Being my first hike in British Columbia, I didn’t realize there is a bit of difference in their ratings of trails. Now I know that “moderate” in Canadian terms is “impossible” to Americans. “Easy” will still involve some obstacles. A couple days ago I read a description of a “dog-friendly” hike that was “moderate” because there was only “a couple of ropes to climb that you will have to hoist your dog up.” What?!? Evidently us Americans are used to Candyland, and the Canadians are playing Chutes and Ladders.
This particular hike at Mt Seymour was quite muddy (it had been raining), and Tucker and I hadn’t yet coordinated our hiking-in-mud policies so it was a bit stressful as I tried to remain upright. Mud and severe elevation changes, and roots and rocks and then bunches of people and their dogs. It wasn’t quite the peaceful and serene hiking experience I’m used to.
I had considered turning back but tried to keep going. Tucker never wants to give up, and I really didn’t want this to be a wasted venture. But then there it was: the dog coming up quickly behind us with no person attached. Tucker wouldn’t keep moving forward, but there was no person so I didn’t know what would happen when the dog arrived in front of us. The person finally came into view, saw Tucker and called her dog. No response. Called again. Still nothing. The dog continued toward us, and albeit not in a threatening manner, still was not under the control of his person (and it was a leashed trail, mind you), which alone is terrifying and there was nowhere for us to step off the trail to be out of the way. The trail itself is only a few feet wide. Dogs coming up the hill are meeting dogs coming down head-on. Not a good way to introduce one another.
Her dog gets up to Tucker just as she reaches her dog with a leash excusing him because “he’s friendly.” Tucker lunges at the dog ferociously, people with small dogs coming up are terrified, and the dog with no respect for his owner just carries on like nothing happened.
Meanwhile Tucker and I are in the treeline, bush limbs jabbing into my spine, and he’s thrashing about, upset at the dog that just passed and scaring the people with a dachshund off leash heading toward us.
And that’s when I felt we should call it quits.
We climbed back up the steep, muddy, narrow trail and out into the open. I took a breath, looked around, and off to the side I saw a trailhead everyone else was ignoring.
Perfect.
Through a small meadow, Tucker and I alone crossed a bridge and headed up to a peak.
There was just one couple there, dogless. Tucker and I took the time to sit and enjoy the peace. This is what hiking is for us. Not a tourist attraction, not a social event. It is our church; our peace.
Tucker and I sat in peace and relaxation until Tucker and I felt we should head back before the rains came in again.
Not the best first hiking experience, but we learned a lot. Regardless of “leash” or “off-leash” signs, every dog will be off leash. So we just need to go to places off the beaten path, less crowded, more remote, where Tucker can be at peace and not worried about rouge dogs coming up behind us.
We’ll find our place. It’s just isn’t on this trail. And that's okay. There's plenty more to try out.
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