Getting Out of Lost Maples

Frazzled. I woke up in the backcountry at Lost Maples State Natural Area to Ghost standing over me, hackles raised, eyes fixed on some point outside our tent over my head, a low rumbling growl issuing from his chest. Pre-dawn diffused light filtered through the mesh upper three quarters of my tent, where I had left the rain fly off and had pretty much slept in the open. I don't think even the crickets were chirrping, but I wasn't focused on them; I went from dead asleep to wide awake in a matter of seconds, as soon as Ghost started growling. I sat up quickly, jostling Callie still snuggled in my sleeping bag and banging into Ghost because he was still standing over me, peering through the dim light into the forest around us. I caught a glimpse of something big and whitish, or maybe light tan, as it scampered away into the trees. We could hear the snapping of branches as it crashed away through the underbrush, and Ghost didn't stop growling until silence returned to our part of the forest.

At that point I was pretty much ready for the day, and slowly made my way out of the tent, still sore from hiking the day before. The dogs followed, staying close by my side as I moved around camp getting things torn down and ready to hike out. Coyotes howled somewhere in the hills, their direction impossible to discern due to the echoing canyons surrounding us. Before the sun had reached our side of the little valley we had camped in, we were on our way. Our trail followed a lush, green canyon that held on to the mists of the night before, this time of year laced with the yellows and reds of early autumn. We didn't hike fast, instead enjoying the morning stillness as we passed through.

After a spring, where Callie swam and Ghost waded, and a series of stream crossings, we came to our last steep uphill portion of the trail around the same time the sun was gaining height and heat in the sky above. The climb up was brutal; no shade, loose rocks that shifted underfoot with every step, and no clear "easy" way up. We just had to go for it. All three of us were panting as we reached the top and stopped at a bench that was clearly placed for our use. In the haze of exhaustion I didn't notice the ant hill near the bench, where Callie had decided to lay down. It wasn't good. Within seconds she was covered in giant ants with huge mandibles, crying and whining as she hopped from foot to foot, shaking her paws in an attempt to get them off. Her panic caused Ghost to panic, though he wasn't in the ants, and he tried to take off running and choked himself when the leash stopped him. I had swung Callie up into the air, away from the horde of ants now rising from the earth, and was swiping the little demons away from her paws and legs as fast as I could while almost losing my balance as Ghost tried to bolt.

I cradled Callie in my arms like a baby, trying to assess the damage the ants had done. Her paws were already swollen and hot to the touch, with raw spots and little cuts covering most of her pads. There was no way she could walk on them, and I wasn't about to make her, but we still had about three miles before we hit the trailhead and my car. I slung her over my shoulders and went to check on Ghost. Somehow he had managed to stay clear of the ants, or else they hadn't gotten him as bad, and he didn't complain as I checked out his paws. He seemed fine to me, and when we set out again, Callie still over my shoulders, Ghost walked with his usually peppy puppy self.

Those three miles were some of the longest I've ever hiked. I had to keep shifting Callie from shoulder to shoulder, to cradling her in my arms, to letting her rest on top of my pack. It was slow going, and as we started to near the trailhead and the dayhikers began filtering onto the trail I got a lot of weird looks and some offers of help. It was with a lot of relief when we finally hit the cement and spotted our car. I lay Callie on the front seat before doing anything else and she immediately began licking her poor paws. I left her to it and got my gear and Ghost settled in, before slamming my car door and blasting the A/C. Lost Maples had been pretty, and I would love to go back someday, but for the time being I was more than happy to leave. It had been an interesting trip, no doubt about that.