Got an earlier start today. I often take a screenshot to know what time I set off — even if living in the moment is the goal you might need a data point later in the day.
Almost two hours earlier than yesterday. This is the face I see every time I look at my phone.
Bella still wasn’t eating much. We had brought treats -- dog biscuits, kitty food, peanut butter, a can of soupy wet food to mix with her kibble. She’d take the treats but hadn’t had a real meal in over 24 hours. Something to remember for next time we travel with her: you need higher value food if you’re going to break through all the other stimuli.
It’s tempting to anthropomorphize your pets, especially if you’re trying to make a clever post on social media. “I’m sad because foster kitteh is getting adopted.” These posts inevitably result in comments like “you HAVE to adopt that kitten — look how sad Bella is!!” The first page of this blog has one of these. “The side-eye says it all.” The side-eye was, in actual fact, saying nothing but it fit the narrative.
“I’m sad to leave Bill and I am sad to leave my warm bed in that weird crate on wheels. I am, however, not sad enough that I’m going to ride in that fucking thing. I’m going with Sue.”
Bella definitely started out on the second day slower than the first, but I didn’t see any unevenness in her gait. Maybe she’s stiff, or cold, maybe she’s still groggy but her legs feel fine. I have no idea. We walked for a while and eventually she moved faster so I did too.
There’s no question that she’s much more amped up out here, for many more hours per day, than at home. What I don’t know is at what point she would be in danger, whether I’m reading her cues or projecting my own anxiety about running injury. A friend told me that when her husband says “the dog’s anxious and needs to get out of the house for a bit,” she knows he’s talking about himself. When we do a short run in Rock Creek and Bella’s on high alert, chattering at a squirrel, focused simultaneously on external stimuli and patrolling/protecting me, I don’t worry that I’m abusing my dog. I think she’s having the greatest day of her life. What I’m seeing here on the trail doesn’t actually look all that different. I’m concerned about being dog-mom judged if something bad happens, especially since I’m doing a fundraiser for an animal rescue. Last year when I showed up on crutches at my music festival people were sympathetic for exactly this long:
“Oh my god Sue what happened?”
“I did a stage race last week, equivalent to five marathons. Pulled something. Nothing major.”
“Ah, I see, you’re an idiot, that’s what happened.”
It’s one thing to be an idiot, but if you run your dog to an injury, now you’re an asshole.
There was a lot of news about dogs dying from blue-green algae this summer. Is that that slimy stuff I see in the canal? Looks more green than blue. Hang on, blue-green algae is invisible. Why would you name something that is invisible after colors? It’s October. Does it survive in these temps? Surely hundreds of dogs (including Bella) swam in the area’s waterways this summer and didn’t get sick. Did some of them just have stronger immune systems? Or is it more a matter of being in the wrong pond at the wrong time? How do the odds of Bella getting the algae compare to my odds of getting shot or stabbed in DC? So much that I don’t know, so many possible bad choices. She’s probably too cold to jump in there right now. Sure is a nice color. Matches her cute sweater.
“If my adorable sweater is the same color as the “invisible” algae, does it work as a cloak of invisibility?”
Bill and I each carried a filter because the water from the pumps is treated with iodine and can taste awful. I took this photo to commemorate the moment she agreed to drink from her bowl.
Today was the day of the Paw Paw Tunnel, one of those amazing engineering feats from a time before Facebook or Twitter. I was all ready with my head lamp — the tunnel is about a km in total darkness. There was a sign near the start. The tunnel was “open for visitation” and there might be delays up to an hour. I had no idea what this meant (open for visitation? is there a gift shop?), how long that sign had been there, or whether having a cute pit bull along could affect things. Maybe there would be a tour group of dog-fearing kids or seniors. I decided to take the detour over the hill.
An interpretive sign said “Tunnel Hill Trail is two miles long, steep and strenuous. Use caution when hiking on the trail and watch your footing in areas with loose stone and steep embankments.” It was hardly strenuous but it felt good to do some climbing and have a change of scenery. There were more signs along the way, telling the history of the people who built the tunnel. Labor riots, cholera, hazardous conditions. A tiny little schoolhouse for the few who brought their families.
The tunnel bypasses six miles of bends in the river.
We both got much warmer as we climbed. I kept an eye on her tongue. If it started flopping to the side I’d sit down and she’d join me. I’d squirt a little water into the bowl, offer it to her first, and then drink whatever she didn’t want. We were low on water so I didn’t want to waste any. I was listening to Rachel Maddow and she ended a segment saying, as she often does these days, “there’s a LOT going on.” Then she added “Stay hydrated.” I love Rachel. Always current.
(it’s come to this. I’m drinking from her water bowl.)
We are now down the other side. Same sign about the delay. I have run out of water and the Tongue-O-Meter levels are high.
The canal varied a lot, from dry beds to the toxic algae soup to (relatively) clean-looking flow. She was really hot so it seemed the better gamble to let her go in.
Before too long we were at another lock where Bill caught up with us. He couldn’t believe I’d opted out of the tunnel; he’d experienced no delays. Would have been cool I’m sure but it was ok. We enjoyed our little mountain pass.
At the locks you can be very far from water level.
Yay a pump! I’m SO THIRSTY!
And even better… this lock has a Bill.
Riding a loaded bike at 4-6 miles an hour is hard to sustain which is why we had so many separations and reunions. If I didn’t sit with Bella and hold onto the leash until Bill was out of sight she’d lose her shit and chase him down. I think this was a factor in why we couldn’t get her to ride. No matter how tired she got from the running, the appearance of the trailer sent her into a state of rapture. It was like jet lag. You feel hyped and exhausted at the same time. She didn’t take one nap the entire trip. Not the best conditions to try something new.
We cry…
… then we pull…
Then we slow down until we’re in view again. Repeat.
At the end of this video Bill told me the pump didn’t work. Luckily there was easy river access so Bella got stick time while I filtered river water. The Potomac is much cleaner here than downstream in DC. We ended up camping here. Really nice site! [Campsite. Campsight. I think the first one is correct.] We ended the day a couple hours earlier than yesterday — approximately the same travel time though we covered only 18 miles today. This gave us a couple hours to hang out at the lovely site, eat and set up while there was still light, even get out the hammock. Bella did not want to be apart from me for one second so she tried to get into the hammock too.
We kept noticing anew that this spot was as nice as many on our more “exotic” travels.
I got some stick time too.
This was the most relaxed she’d yet been in the trailer. Until I went out of view of course…
Patrolling for wildlife. My jacket is cute too, and reversible. It’s plaid on the other side.
It was indeed a tick. Yay, let’s all get into the tent together!