Gratified. At the beginning of June I took Callie on yet another adventure, this time to Caprock Canyons State Park in the West Texas high plains. After my customary drive through to get to know the park and identify trailheads where I want to hike we parked at the lot for the northern backcountry camp area. It was about 2 o'clock in the afternoon, and
hot. Even the short mile and a half hike to the area we were assigned to camp in was almost too much for both Callie and I, and we were desperate for shade. I found a site situated below a small hill that sat about eight feet above a dry wash, nice and flat, but no shade. No trees in sight. The most we could hope for was the sun to set quickly and dip behind the canyon cliff to the west, bringing cool respite with it.
 |
| The canyons of Caprock Canyons State Park |
In the mean time, I set up the tent quickly and we ducked into it, hoping for a little shade even if there wasn't much breeze (or none at all.) It took us both a while to cool down, and we spent the hottest part of the afternoon napping, as well as reading and writing a little. Only after 6pm did the sun hide behind the canyon cliff, and I decided to poke my head out of the tent and take Callie for a walk. We trudged back the way we came until we found a side trail that I knew would take us up to the top of the cliff that I had sheltered the tent next to. It wasn't easy, with a 600 foot elevation gain in less than a quarter of a mile, I had to stop to catch my breath multiple times even in the cool shade of evening. Callie, of course, handled the scramble way better than I thought she would, and often paused to wait for me, looking over her shoulder at me struggling like "what?" When will I stop being surprised at how well the dog adventures??
 |
| Sunset over the canyons |
Finally we managed to make it to the top, and caught the first bit of sunset glowing over the canyons. We wandered around up top for a bit, watching the sun sink lower and the shadows grow deeper, before scrambling back down and heading back to camp for dinner. A ranger on horseback arrived at our site at the same time we did, and I was so happy I had Callie on leash; I don't think she's ever seen a horse before and wouldn't quit growling! I'm not sure if she was growling at the stranger or the horse, but I didn't discourage her. When I'm camping alone, I want my dog to sound ferocious. I just swung her up into my arms and let her continue as the ranger explained he was just checking on everybody for the night, and might be wandering around a little later to make sure things stayed quiet. He wished me a good night, and trotted away (that was the last I saw of him, though I was happy to know they patrolled the park regularly.) I proceeded with my camp dinner, and settled in for the night. I slept like one of the rocks I was surrounded by, lulled by the sound of coyotes howling in the canyonlands. Morning started early for us, and we were packed and back on the trail before the sun was truly up; we had several miles of trail to hit before we went home, and I was anxious to start. We first walked through a shaded canyon, still cool with pre-dawn mists that the sun hadn't yet burned away. We found flowing water in a stream at the bottom, and both Callie and I spent some time enjoying splashing around in the cool water.
 |
| Our sun-baked trail |
All too soon we started climbing. Up, up, up, another 600 feet in less than a quarter of a mile, and Callie got several compliments from other hikers when they witnessed her jumping boulders that were three times her size (seriously, when will I stop being surprised by her??) A short, flat walk with amazing viewpoints greeted us at the top, then back down not so much of a trail as a steep washed out gully full of tumbled rocks to the next canyon's bottom. Here we paused a bit at Fern Cave, a shaded oasis set into the box canyon's end that actually had seep springs running from it, before continuing on the last several sun-baked miles. By the end of the trail Callie had taken to veering toward any shaded spot she could find, even if it wasn't big enough for both of us, and if it was big enough she flat out stopped and rested before wearily getting back to her feet and moving on. At one point, less than a mile from the trailhead, my car, and air conditioning, we came across a muddy red puddle filled with warm water. Callie stopped, looked at the puddle, looked at me, then back at the puddle. It couldn't have been more clear that she was asking permission to get into the water. I took her leash off and said "go ahead," and she all but belly flopped into the shallow water. She lay there up to her neck in the dirty red water until she had cooled herself down, then sprung back onto the trail, spraying muddy red water everywhere, and would have sprinted to the end if I hadn't leashed her. At least the dog knows how to reenergize! The rest of the trail passed quickly, and I blasted the a/c as soon as I reached my car. Once again my white-dog-turned-red passed out on the seat next to me as I drove the slow hours back home.
 |
| Fern Cave, a little oasis on the trail |
What I'm listening to: Over Hill by Howard Shore
