What a great weekend!
I’m co-haring the Hash with Martha Screw-It next week so this Saturday morning was spent scouting a trail. I took Quincy along with me and Martha had her Basset, Ruben. We spent the morning trudging around in swamp, often up to our crotches with me squealing like a girl and being very suspicious and nervous as to where I was putting my feet while Martha just threw herself in with great gusto.
Quincy had a grand time. He got to go off-leash and was a swamp dog for the morning. Poor Ruben however only has short legs and wasn’t so keen on following Martha through the sludge. Saying that, Quince had his limits too as Martha blazed a trail up to her waist in smelly water with a very heavy disgruntled Ruben in her arms. Quince eyed the swamp, looked at Martha and Ruben, looked at me, and gave me a whine which clearly meant “When are you going to carry me?!”
I’m very excited about trail next week. Martha has found us a beautiful location in a very surprising place through which the pack will intrepidly pound. Just in our little foray this weekend we found some pretty cool natural features. We came across some trees that looked like they had been chopped down. Martha commented that the beavers had been at work. It didn’t dawn on me that it really was the work of beavers until we ran across a lodge (literally) and I found myself a picked clean beaver skull with four long shiny brown teeth like polished wood still intact (until we dropped it.)
We also found a rather intriguing death scene involving a deceased brown snake which still had its victim (grey and feathery by the looks of it) protruding from his mouth.
Woodpeckers were also evidently on the job in the area as we ran across several trees completely obliterated by bore holes.
So yes, very excited about going out to lay trail next week, though, I think if asked I would perhaps be suggesting swimsuits and waders should be the attire of the day. Oh and maybe a peg for one’s nostrils, that swamp water was a bit ripe. When we returned home Quince and I had to hose ourselves off in the driveway before venturing in to see Bill and Sam.
I’d then planned to miss the Hash that afternoon as I thought we had a clash of commitments and was thinking that a morning traipsing in the woods would be enough for me for one day. But nope, our social engagement didn’t transpire so with surprising energy hurriedly I washed and dried my running clothes, hosed down my trainers, packed my bag, managed to find myself a torch (the directions worrying instructed us to bring one along) and hastily charged up some batteries before being on my way once more.
At this point the day went horribly downhill and I began to seriously regret the decision to venture out when I found myself getting more than a little anxious crawling around on wet knees in a smelly, dark, underground drainage tunnel. I did not like that so much and was very glad to make it back out alive into the daylight where I could get home to hug on Sam again. I’ll try to get to the full story of that one later, suffice to say I now have a no tunnel policy. Not having to drive home coupled with a couple of beers and some interesting chats at the Down Down did smooth things back out again and by the time got home to the boys I was feeling somewhat more cheerful again.