Famous. Callie and I had arrived at Petit Jean State Park, Arkansas's first state park, earlier that morning and had spent part of the day driving the roads and getting to know the area. We had hiked a couple of short trails, more to stretch our legs than anything, and to try to get our minds into a hiking mentality. Our big goal of the day was to hike to Cedar Falls, the tallest waterfall in the park along of one of its most strenuous trails. I had to fight for a parking spot, both because the trail was popular despite its strenuous rating and because the trailhead is located at the park's lodge, which was already bustling with people. When we finally got to the trailhead, we went right for it without slowing to read the signs and hardly registering the warning signs about the hike being strenuous, not to hike it in the heat of the day, and to not attempt it during a thunderstorm. I was confident Callie and I could handle the terrain, it was the first day of October and the "heat of the day" was about 75 degrees, and there wasn't a cloud in sight. I think Callie was just as eager to hike as I was, and she led the way (on leash) down the embankment as the trail dove over the edge of the two hundred foot bluff towards the canyon floor.
We were flying; we moved past other hikers as they came up or headed down the trail, jumping on rocks to give the slower moving people the trail as we maintained a pace that surprised me. Callie didn't even stop to sniff at the other dogs as they panted at her, looking for a break and probably not used to the exertion of climbing up or down the steep bluff trail just like their human counterparts. She barely spared them a glance, intent on the trail in front of her nose. We were delayed briefly by any child who stood directly in our path, demanding to pet the "puppy." Callie was more gracious about it than I was, though I could tell she wanted to keep moving as much as I did. The only time on the trail that Callie paused at was a single-person footbridge over Cedar Creek, where you could see through the metal grate into the water below. She wasn't too sure about being able to see below her own feet but followed me over the bridge without complaint.
The trail widened out as we hit the canyon floor and followed the creek upstream towards the falls, and Callie set the pace at a near-run as we continued to move around groups of other hikers. I have to admit, I had expected the "strenuous" rating of the trail to scare people off, but was surprised at how many families were hiking it. To be fair, I would put the trail more at a "moderate," with the steepness of the bluff at the beginning and end of the trail as the most difficult part. The trail was well maintained, and flatened out along the canyon floor, making for either a leisurely walk or a good trail-running route. Callie and I followed the creek up, and soon the babble of chatter floated back to us and we knew we were nearing the falls.
A jumble of boulders marked the edge of the pool, and we picked our way right to the edge of the water. I sat myself on a rock that had a flat place, then rose up to a crest before it slid smoothly into the water on the other side. Callie explored as best she could while on leash, and before too long she discovered she could use the rock as a slide. She did this several times, sliding almost all the way to the water before scrambling back up to the crest and sliding back down again. I was giggling to myself as I watched her, knowing she was having a blast but really, really wanted to go for a swim. There were a lot of people around, and I didn't want her to take off into the water and get out somewhere where she wasn't wanted. As I was giggling to myself, holding my internal debate as to whether or not I should just let her swim, I heard an older couple seated not too far from me start cracking up, clearly laughing at Callie's antics. We struck up a conversation, and the gentleman said they don't mind if she comes over for a visit, and to let her swim. That was all it took to convince me, and I pulled off her leash. She was so excited! She skidded around on the rock, jumped onto the crest, lay down on her belly and slid right into the chilly water!
It didn't take very long for the rest of the people around the edge of the pool to notice the little white dog swimming, and soon they were throwing sticks and leaves into the water for her to chase. She entertained everyone for quite a while, diving and paddling almost to the middle of the pool before turning around to check in with me. Everyone got a kick out of her going for a branch bigger than her that floated in the water, and attempting to drag it back for me to throw. After a while, when she had swam to her heart's content, she came back to me and climbed onto the slippery rock. She made it as far as the crest before she shook herself off, and promptly slid back into the pool to another course of laughter from the surrounding crowd. I ended up having to lay flat and get the leash on her to help her out of the water, and when she had shaken herself dry for a second time, we left.
Instead of going straight back up the cliff, we meandered downstream a ways toward another destination, the Blue Hole. We also managed to leave the crowds behind, and I was able to let Callie off leash for a bit. She ran in and out of the creek as we walked, sometimes on trail with me and sometimes splashing through the shallow water, chasing sticks the swirled on the current. We never reached Blue Hole, instead walking as far as we felt like and turning around when it started getting towards evening. As we went, I put Callie back on leash as we started encountering more people, all of whom recognized her as the little white dog who went swimming. We fell back into our quick pace, and soon were over the metal footbridge and on our way up the bluff, passing by hikers going up and those still coming down. We managed the ascent in less than fifteen minutes, but were followed all the way up by comments like "that's the dog who was swimming at the falls!" And it didn't stop when we finished the trail. Back at the campground Callie was recognized, and we had people coming up to us and commenting on how cute she was, and how good of a swimmer she was, and how well she listened to me when I called her ("because there is no way I'd let my dog do that, he'd be gone!") Despite me wanting a quiet escape in nature for a weekend, because of my choice to let Callie do what she loves led us to being instantly recognizable. And you know what? That's ok. Sometimes, attention is fun.
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