More Horse Play . . .

Compadre. . .

and the rest of the story

We met at the stables before sunrise—just me, Betto and the horses. An early beach walk to  reconnect with Compadre and start another glorious day. The waves were splashing and the air was cool as we leisurely walked along the brilliant blue Sea of Cortez. Me,  wondering how I could ever leave this incredible place and return to normalcy as I know it. Living so close to nature with the plants, the animals and the sea fills me with a sense of peace like nothing else. 

Being blessed with a private lesson this morning in using the reins, my legs, and my voice to guide him along, I quickly learned there was a lot to remember when riding a horse . At one point Compadre just stopped and refused to move forward as if to say: Just exactly WHAT do you want me to do? My messages were confusing to him, and to me. My short legs proved to be a problem. You see, when I kicked my heels to tell him to go forward my feet didn't connect. They are so short that they didn’t even touch his side so he had no clue what I was talking about. They were merely flapping in the wind around his massive body. Practicing the 4 points, (loosening the reins, making the giddy-up noises with my lips, kicking my feet and guiding the reins) takes time, patience and coordination for the rider and the horse. But, I am happy to say as the ride was ending we were getting better at it and Compadre was moving forward at a steady pace, even speeding up when I coaxed him. He no longer had to be pulled with a rope by Betto to get a move on it. A novice rider like me had to be extremely frustrating for this majestic creature. But Compadre handled it well, and even nuzzled his soft snout into my chest when we said goodbye. We had bonded in our own way. 

It was good to hear the rest of the story concerning my fall on Thursday night, because from my perspective it was still a mystery. Everything was fine until it wasn't and things changed in a nanosecond. Fortunately, another rider behind us had seen what happened. Apparently there had been people lying on the sand looking at the stars. Keep in mind that it was really dark because the full moon had not appeared yet. When they saw our riding group approaching the area, they sprang up unexpectedly and spooked Compadre, the closest horse to them. Betto had trained his horses to step to the side and stop, not rear up and run. And that’s exactly what Compadre did. He put his head down, brought it up and quickly stepped to the left before I could grasp what was happening. Unfortunately, I proceeded with my forward momentum to the right and slid over his shoulder resulting in a jarring face plant on the sand. If the reins had been in my hand maybe this could have been avoided, but maybe not. It happened so fast and I was not prepared so in reality this accident was my fault, not his. 

Leaving this magical place on Thursday will be difficult. Life is simple here and I have bonded with the energy of Baja California Sur. Travel is energizing, taking me out of the routine of life and providing adventures and lasting memories for my soul. I am once again reminded that life is simple, life is good, and life is meant to be experienced and enjoyed. I must continue to move forward with my wanderlust spirit and be here, there and everywhere at once! So many beautiful places to see and do, and so little time. 

Namasté

Out of Baja on a Prayer

“You know you are truly alive when you’re living among lions.” ― Karen Blixen, “Out of Africa”

On the way down the Baja Peninsula we were driving at least 12-hours a day, and often traveling after dark in unfamiliar territory. After getting recommendations from our friends in Los Barriles of dog friendly places to stay on our way back, we decided to back off the long days and take full advantage of our remaining time in Mexico. We had officially adopted the laid-back Baja attitude of enjoying every moment. Quite a contrast from our 4,000 mile journey from Alaska south. The unconscious driving to click off the miles as quickly as possible was drudgery, especially with all the ice and snow. There had to be a better, more fun way to travel and we were ready to find it.

The Rice & Beans Hotel was an ideal place to stay for the night and it was only a little after 5 when we arrived, the magical cocktail hour. Dogs were welcome and there was a restaurant and bar. I ordered shrimp tacos and a margarita to take to the room. I watched as she made the rita with lots of key limes, a splash of Cointreau, mucho tequila and a salted rim. It was unquestionably the best one yet! Our neighbors were friendly bikers from Oregon, and a couple from Vancouver, BC.  Good food, good drink, good company, and good sleep was had by all. 

I had learned my lesson or so I thought, about watching the gas gauge while driving out of Baja, and as I passed through the larger town of Guerrero Negro early the next morning I had a little over three-quarters of a tank. I had spent the night here on the way down and had no desire to return. The road was dirt with huge ruts and the first hotel I stopped at left me waiting for 20 minutes (after driving 12 hours) before telling me they had no rooms available. The next hotel was questionable but it was already after 9 PM so I didn’t mention the peros in case there was a problem. Exhausted and spent, we just needed a bed. We got a room for $28 with a latch on the door that sometimes worked. After an extremely long day of driving from Rosarito, we didn’t care. The sheets and towels were clean, and it was a place to sleep. We quietly got into our room without being detected by the front desk guy who was busy watching Jeopardy on the TV. 

Sleeping Peros

After getting through Guerrero Negro we started looking for a Pemex station as we headed into the mountains. We passed a few towns and they all had hotels, cafes and restaurants but after a few it occurred to me that I had not seen a petrol station at all. We continued driving for several hours and watched as the needle slowly moved closer to the halfway mark. Driving in the desert is lonely, and long. There are few cars and even fewer towns, and the road goes on and on. It’s easy to go 80 MPH on the open road, and sometimes even 90. I wasn’t that concerned until the needle began approaching a quarter of a tank as we passed through yet another town with no services. There had been no cell service for hours so it was hard to know where we were exactly and where we were going. Maps do not show most of the desert towns. I  tried not to panic, but nevertheless could not believe I was once again in this situation, cursing under my breath as the dogs slept on. Remembering to practice yoga deep breathing  to calm myself from the stress that had been building now for over an hour and there was still no relief in sight. By the time I got down to almost a quarter of a tank the dogs let me know that it was indeed their time to poop. Rather than drive on as quickly as possible and get it over with if we were going to run out of fuel, I decided it was time to stop for a break in the middle of nowhere. We pulled over and walked as I thought about what to do, and again cursed myself for getting into this dilemma again. Two days in a row! Shit!!!! I reassured myself that it was going to work out the way it was supposed to, and it was all part of the adventure. Relax, breathe and accept the natural flow as it presents itself. Watch the dogs, as they relieve themselves without a care in the world. They are my teachers. 

SHIT! Not again. . .

At that moment I saw a car coming toward us and raised my hand in an attempt to get him to stop. His car began to slow down as he pulled across the road and in behind me. The Mexican people are always so helpful. Ole!  He said  as I rushed up to his window saying mucho gracias for stopping. He spoke some English so I asked him how far it was to the next gas station. He said something amazing—beautiful music to my ears, only 15-20 more minutes ahead, he replied; how much do you have? I said about a quarter of a tank. Oh you will be fine, he said. He continued to give me direcitons in Spanish but I could not understand anything but the name of the town. But just to be sure, I confirmed that  gas was only 15-20 minutes away, right? Si, he said. That’s all I needed to know. Mucho, mucho gracias, Señor. He smiled, Hasta Luego, Señorita. Buena suerte!

The weight of the world had just been lifted off my shoulders. I felt the anxiety leave my constricted chest and could once again breathe easily. We still had a quarter of a tank so we would make it to the station, no problem. As we came into the town we saw hotels, cafes and restaurants but where the hell was the station? I’m frantically looking as I continued on, the anxiety once again building when I realized we were going back into the desert without fuel. No way were we leaving this town without gas! I quickly made a U-Turn in the middle of the two-lane highway behind an 18-wheeler. The road was not wide enough to complete the turn so I had to back up, stopping traffic to get turned around. There was an RV behind me so I rolled down my window and asked the driver if there was a gas station that I had missed. He said there were full gas cans on the side of the road, it’s very expensive but they had it. Just look for the Pemex sign written on plywood he said. I could have kissed him but he was in his RV and I was in Toyota Lander and she desperately needed a drink (and so did I). Instead, I said thank you so much. Obviously the Mexican man had tried to tell me about the gas cans, if only I understood Spanish!

Where the hell?

Cruising back through the 2 block town, I finally saw the sign with the hand-written word Pemex—nothing resembling a station or pump, only some 5-gallon drums sitting on the side of the road. Who knew? I pulled over and a Mexican man came  out of the hut across the street and sauntered over our way. He could speak English and that was a good thing! He sold gas by the gallon, and could sell me 5 gallons for $33. I didn’t do the math or even blink an eye because, well, I didn’t give a shit. I just needed some fuel! I said I would take it as a young boy came over and began siphoning the gas with a hose into my tank out of a 5-gallon can that probably wasn’t full to start with but again, we didn’t care! It took forever before the needle began to move upward, I remember saying over and over that the needle wasn’t moving. The Mexican man just smiled. When he finished we had half a tank and I wondered if we needed more. His response was: “You want more?” And then I reconsidered. 

Soon to be. . .

Lander was now back on the road with half a tank of gas and we only had 120 km (approximately 75 miles)  to the next real gas station. We were so grateful. The stress had finally left me, and I was able to relax in the moment just like the dogs, my role models. When you’re in the middle of the desert you can drive for miles and miles and miles and see nothing but more desert. We are happy to say we are on the road headed north, and the gas issue has been permanently resolved. Things worked out exactly as they were supposed to, when they were supposed to. Sometimes it takes more than once to learn a lesson.

Living on the edge

Living on a Prayer (Bon Jovi)

The times you know you are truly alive!

― Karen Roush, “Out of Baja”

Being Blonde . . . In The Desert?

As we connect to Mexico Highway #1 out of Los Barriles the cool air tickles the senses as the ocean breeze blows through Toyota Lander. We had one final beach walk (swim for Brody), and a small care cooler was delivered by our dear friend who thinks of everything. Sautéed chicken, goat cheese, salmon spread, boiled eggs and crackers—our snacks for the road. Mucho gracias!

Glancing in the rear view mirror as we begin our long drive north, I reflect on all the wonderful people we have met. Here are just a few. The local veterinarian that was willing to share his cases with me each time I stopped by and asked questions, explaining everything so well. We thought BunBun may have contacted kennel cough so he prescribed some cough medicine and honey for her food. In hindsight it was only the desert dust causing her to gag and occasionally cough. 

Luis at the clinic, who graciously gave me Vitamin B shots every day for 6 days with a smile on his face, always asking how I was feeling. And let’s not forget the doctor that initially treated me with a sense of calmness that helped me breathe deep and not panic, and the clinic staff that put up with me coming in the back door each day with a Hola, Buenos Dias and Como Estas—the extent of my Spanish. 

Wednesday night open mic at La Fogata was always a treat. So many talented musicians. 

The lovely ladies at the nail spa that did several repairs on a nail that was breaking deep into the quick. They were able to save it for several days so it could grow out. When it finally did come off it was not painful. And, they refused any pesos for doing it. 

And the horseback riders and stable staff that accommodated my lack of riding experience and short legs! Mucho gracias, to all of you!  

Also a special thanks to all the expats we met that shared a piece of their Los Barriles life with us. As I think back on this incredible month I realize how much I will miss the lifestyle and the people. In some small way we have connected here, and leaving is bittersweet. We are lost in thought, filled with a sense of peace, contentment and euphoria. And far from being in the present moment.

Introspective times like this is when I can be so blonde. Arriving to the first town with a Pemex station I notice that I have half a tank of gas but it doesn’t occur to me to fill up. I’m still reminiscing as I head into the desert mountains. As the road curves around and gets steeper by the mile, I decide to find out how far it is to the next gas station. Siri said it was 29 miles. No problem, we got this. 

As we continue on the landscape becomes more and more curvy and remote, and cell service is sketchy at best. I wanted to confirm the distance so I asked Siri once again how far it is to the petrol station and this time she said 49 miles! WTH? Maybe I should map it (brilliant idea), and guess what? The gas station is behind us!  OMG, cell service is completely out now as I quickly make a U-Turn on a steep curve  hoping that an 18-wheeler does not come barreling around the bend.  In a flash I was once again headed south! Running out of gas in the desert would not be a good thing. Backtracking added a 100 miles to our day, but it’s OK. Mexico can be like the Alaska Highway used to be—miles and miles and miles with no gas. I vowed not to make this mistake again!  

Back on Highway #1 N with a full tank of gas, destination tonight San Ignacio, with a reservation at The Rice & Bean Motel where all dogs are welcome! We will add Los Barriles to our memory bank of adventures and anxiously await our return to this small slice of paradise. 

Hasta Luego Amigos!

Horsin’ Around

Getting back on the horse, so to speak . . .

Ghost Riders on the Beach

Spring equinox horseback riding on the beach waiting for the full moon. I read about it and knew I wanted to do it. What a concept on a beautiful night. There was no better way to welcome spring than a warm ocean breeze, a white sand beach, a majestic horse, and a full moon over Baja California Sur. We met up at the stables and were taken by car about 10 miles down the beach where the horses stood waiting. I have ridden many times, but would not consider myself an experienced rider so I opted for one of the slower guys, Compadre. I spoke with him before getting up onto the saddle and knew he was a gentle soul.

Compadre & Me

As we began our trek down the beach it was obvious he had no desire to hurry and neither did I, as we sauntered along the magnificent seacoast We were often close to the last rider, with only one slower horse behind us that was literally asleep on his feet with his tongue lobbing out to the side. The horses do these treks so often they can obviously do it sleepwalking. I had the reins and pulled Compadre toward the right so we could get closer to the waves. He complied but didn’t seem thrilled about the new route. He preferred to do it his way so I relented. By this time the horse behind was awake and got ahead of us. The sun was going down, the beach was beautiful and the sky was full of stars. The full moon would be coming up soon. We passed people on the beach but the community areas were quiet with not much activity. We were going so slow that I had no need to hold the reins, but instead held onto the saddle horn (first mistake). There were people near the beach but not close to us. It was a glorious ride.

Until . . . it wasn't. And all hell broke loose in an instant.

Compadre heard or saw something that I didn’t, and got spooked. He reared his head up and stepped sideways to the left leaving me behind on the sand, struggling to breathe. In an instant, another face plant but this time there was no tequila involved (Gaslight District, San Diego). He immediately stopped when he realized I had fallen off. If I had held onto the reins this could have been avoided. It was a total shock and I was immediately out of control trying to figure out what was happening. This resulted in a trip to urgent care for X-rays as I struggled to breathe, walk and get into a car. The right side of my back was throbbing and my breathing was shallow causing some dizziness, along with the aching in the right side of my head and face, and my knees. Fortunately one of the riders was a nurse. Once it was determined I was coherent and my neck was okay, I was helped up to rest on a ledge before being guided to the car for transport.

At the clinic I was finally able to inhale deeply. X-rays showed nothing broken, only bruising and the side of my face/head and knees were sand-burned and sore. The medical care was impressive. They gave me anti-inflammatory meds, a shot for pain (non-narcotic) and they sent me home with Vitamin B shots to be given to myself once a day! Should I faint now or wait until I stick the needle in my butt, no less? The doctor saw the distress on my face and told me to come back once a day and they would do it, no argument there! I have no clue how to give myself a shot and am not interested in learning.

The Mexican people were so incredibly helpful and genuine. The stable owners wife never left my side and paid for everything. The doctor gave me strict instructions to rest for the next few days saying I would be really sore. But it didn’t happened! I am astounded at how quickly I healed. The following morning I was already better, and two days later it’s almost like it never happened. I’m sure it has to do with the vitamin shots. When I first arrived in Baja I hit my knee on a bedpost and was bruised for almost 3 weeks. In only a few days the bruising on my knees and face has faded considerably and the ribs are back to normal. I can’t explain it, because when it happened I felt sure I had seriously injured myself. I am so grateful to heal this quickly and thank my lucky stars. That little angel that rides on my shoulder was definitely with me. My spirit guides are always out there watching over me. 

So what happened to Compadre that spooked him so badly? I decided to go see him to let him know I was okay. I’m sure he was very frightened that night, and since all the attention was on me he was left not knowing. He needed to know. I drove to the stables and told Betto (owner) I wanted to see Compadre. I walked up to him, stroked the side of his incredibly soft snout,  and assured him I was okay; that I knew he didn’t mean to hurt me. He immediately nuzzled his nose into my chest, pushing against me ever so slightly. I stood with him for some time and we connected; he understood. 

I could be just as crazy about horses as I am dogs, if only I had a place for one. So whenever I get an opportunity to go on a horseback ride, I take it. Horses are spiritual creatures with a deep connection to humans. They are magical animals. Their intuitiveness and their relationship with us is profound. They are often used in healing therapies. The Tao of Equus: A Woman's Journey of Healing and Transformation through the Way of the Horse is an incredible book written by a Linda Kohanov. She rescues abused horses and works with abused women. In the initial therapy session she puts horses in a ring with abused victims and the horses choose who they want to work with. Invariably the most abused horse will choose the most abused woman. 

I have another date with Compadre, a morning beach ride. What a beautiful way to end our time in Baja California Sur, connecting with this majestic creature. Getting back on the horse, so to speak—but this time I will hang on to the reins.

Where Are We, Toto?

Abandoned Surfboard

Spacious Shade

Nestled into our thirty foot trailer by the beach in Los Barriles, we are in the perfect spot for the moment. The yard is totally enclosed with a large palapa providing shade from the afternoon sun. It’s lovely having a fenced area for the dogs. 

Outdoor Fridge

Surfer Boy

Truly a doggie paradise, they are free to run the beaches with abandonment and swim for chuck-it balls in the surf. We are literally 80 paces to the white sand and dogs are everywhere. Los Barriles is a wind surfing destination and the afternoon landscape is peppered with colorful wind sails and kites. The calm morning waters are perfect for paddle boarders working their core muscles. 4-wheelers are allowed on the beach but only in the lanes provided for track vehicles. Winter storms provide piles and piles of wonderful driftwood on the upper beaches. There is always a breeze making the 75 degree temperatures very pleasant. The trailer has a fan keeping the inside cool during the day and chilly at night for sleeping. AC is also available but we rarely need to turn it on. We are in a quiet RV Park with El Gecko Restaurant just a stone’s throw away. Happy hour is everyday from 11-5 and the pollo quesadillas are amazing. They offer a shaded area with lounge chairs near the water, and are happy to wait on the sunbathers. Chairs can also be pulled out of the shade and into the full sun for maximum tanning.

Alaska White

Five dogs sleep on the bed at night. Guinness has developed a habit of needing a drink and a poop around 5 AM each morning. He sits up and starts panting. Sometimes after a few pats on the head he will flop back down for an hour. Recently he has been persistent. The rest of us are like, Really? It’s still dark outside!

Guinny

This morning I was hoping for a reprieve of a few more minutes of shut-eye when I heard the thump of a dog hitting the carpeted floor. OMG! Struggling for the light above my head, while the others are moving over so I can get out of the blanket,  I find Guinny has landed on the backside of the bed and is making his way around in hot pursuit of the door. I grabbed my sandals and after checking to make sure he was okay, I opened the front door just in time to see him scamper down the 4 steps.The incredible full moon to the West was lighting his way. By this time all the dogs have arrived at the door, except Bunny and Anne who must be lifted down off the bed. Oh well, guess it’s time to get up after all. I put on water for the French press, checked my iPhone for messages, and got out the computer to write a blog. In typical doggie fashion, they are now all back to sleep beside me on the couch as I ingest myself with caffeine and start my day.

Pike's Market

Looking for the Sun

Marathon driving from Whitehorse to Fort Nelson (600+ miles) made for an exhausting day, especially when you count the drama inside Toyota Lander. Imagine looking in the rear view mirror and seeing a dog assume the position without being able to do anything about it! She had desperately tried to climb out the closed window before the eruption. Poor AnnBanan could not help but poop in the backseat three times before I could find a place to pull over. Bless her, she tried to cover it up with the dog blankets. She was mortified. Bunny and Guinness stayed on the other side of the seat to get away from her, while RockDog and Brody cuddled on the passenger seat, occasionally looking back to give her the proverbial stink eye.

Once again breaking my rule of not driving after dark, we continued on as there was no place to stop. We finally made it to the Shannon Motel where only one dog is permitted for $10 extra. We have stayed here many times with multiple dogs because it is the first motel you see after a long day of driving, and it’s easy to get the dogs inside without being noticed. This previous quiet, nondescript motel was now unrecognizable with various colored blinking lights adorning the outside. The place could have passed for a brothel or casino but the sign still said Rooms Available. I signed the register, paid the extra $10 and was happy they didn’t ask me how many dogs. It got a bit weird when we pulled in front of our room to unload and saw the owner walking in the yard. This was a good time to fill up with gas and walk the dogs at the service station instead of the motel yard. When we returned the owner was gone and we managed to get all five dogs into the room undetected.

Did I mention it is absolutely freezing here?  At a temperature hovering around minus 13, most people were staying inside, and it was dark with minimal reflection from the snow. After dinner the dogs were ready to stretch out on both the beds and I was actually able to take a bubble bath. The bathtub wasn’t great but the hot water still felt good on my weary legs. Who knew there was a Motel 6 right down the road with a much nicer tub where all dogs are welcome ? Oh well, note for next time.

After a good nights sleep we were ready to go at 7 AM. I took the dogs out separately to avoid being busted. Apparently I didn’t get the door properly latched—dogs are opportunists at heart—and when I turned around all five of them were running around the yard! OMG, Panic!  Chasing Anne on the ice with a sore knee in my Birks was a bit tricky. I actually got her on leash quicker than I expected and all the others followed me back to the room for breakfast.  And the good news? They all pooped before coming in as I frantically bagged the evidence. Yay! Hopefully there will be no accidents in the car today. Again, we were lucky to be unnoticed but at this hour, it was still a frigid minus 11 degrees. 

I started the car and began loading it after feeding the hounds. After about 15 minutes I took another load to the car and noticed it was still freezing and frosted up! OMG! Is the heater out?. The mind goes into overdrive figuring out how we can continue with no heater, or where we could get it repaired? After looking closely, it appeared Lander was only sitting there and had not really started. I apparently did not push the start button long enough, or forgot to put my foot on the brake. I fired her up, set my timer for another 15 minutes and when I came back out she was warm as toast. Major relief! 

Today we’re on our way toward the highway that cuts off the Alaska Highway and goes down to Abbotsford BC, a  border crossing into Washington State, still about 700 miles away. We will still be in British Columbia tonight but will be officially off the Alaska Highway and back to civilization as we know it. We are avoiding Vancouver and the Seattle area at all costs because of an amazing amount of snowfall. I just looked at the thermometer and it said minus 20, when I looked again it read minus 15 and I was elated. Can you imagine being excited about minus 15? 

So happy to report, we have officially left Sergeant Preston of the Yukon and his amazing dog King behind as we continue our exhausting search for snow free roads and warmer weather. We are headed south. Arizona and the hot sun are out there somewhere and we can't wait! 

Little did we know we were still thousands of snowy miles away . . .

Traveling with Dogs

Traveling with dogs that have a sense of humor is not always easy and can be totally exasperating. If I’m not one step ahead of them with my own sense of humor, things can turn sour in an instant. They are confused, wondering what the hell happened to their couch, their bed, their deck and Katie Jean Circle. All eyes staring at me with a “when are we going home” look. The rules as they know them are currently on hold as they try and find their way on a journey that keeps changing—a car ride for 8 days, resting for 5 days in Arizona, 3 more days in the car, a guest room in Baja for a week, and now an RV on the beach. Before they return home they will spend a month on the Oregon coast and have another 4,000 mile car ride. No wonder they are confused! Dogs are routine oriented and mine are no different, but living with a wanderlust spirit is unpredictable and flexibility is the key. I give them lots of slack but nevertheless, it’s a job trying to stay ahead of them. Here are just a few ‘laughables’ in the life of a blonde wanderlust with her 5 cocker spaniels on the road.

Brody quickly learned how to step on the electric window button in the backseat and rolls his window down at will, thinking it’s all pretty cool. That is, until he steps on the electric door lock when I’m not in the car. Brody you need to learn to unlock the car too! 

He's our surfer boy, always ready for a swim in the waves chasing his orange tennis ball. 

Guinness took off running (Yes, running!) when I let him out for a walk-about at a self-made rest area. I struggled with my post-op knee to catch him; it was his way of saying: ‘Get me the hell out of this car’ after more than twelve hours. 

RockDog became chicken little again opening the oven door in the RV in hopes of once again dining on succulent poultry. He has been rewarded several times with chicken from the oven and has been the pack hero. But today, he had to settle for an empty oven with only the trash can on top the stove—put there to be out of reach of the blonde mop-top called Anne, aka AnnBanan. The find wasn’t much for all his effort—just an empty yogurt container from breakfast.

And the mischievous one, the one that really keeps me on my toes, the one that jumps tall buildings for a crumb has been up to her tricks as usual. So far AnnBanan has escaped twice, had three diarrhea blowouts in the backseat, eaten a month’s supply of homeopathic pellets for Guinness, dumped Starbucks coffee in my car and drank it—twice, followed her nose and attempted to break into the glove box for a piece of garlic chicken pizza and a breakfast cookie. I’m proud to say she was unsuccessful. 

Last night she jumped out of the car before her leash was snapped, me grabbing at and missing her, swearing, and chasing her ass around the RV park—after having a few margaritas. It was not pretty. Oh, and let’s not forget the can of Pringles that she inhaled while I was pumping gas. And the kibble she pulled off the counter in the motel room while I was loading the car, and all four dogs were chowing down. This obviously relates to the poop issues on the road.  

And there was the Travelodge in Page,  Arizona where she had the coffee condiments immediately pulled to the floor—opening up the sugar and the creamer and gobbling it up in a nanosecond. My favorite man’s purse, the one given to me by my London travel mate, chewed to bits all because I left a treat in the bottom and she smelled it. My bad for leaving it within her reach. She is relentless, marching to her own drum with a cocked blonde mop-top wearing that look,  the one that says it all—Who Me? Or, Whaaat?

And then there is Bunny, Sweet Little BunBun—who does nothing wrong . . . not ever.

Tok Junction, AK to Whitehorse, YT

It has warmed up to a balmy 1° and the glorious sun is out with some fresh snow on the windshield. We now have 3 dogs with diarrhea. Thank goodness for the magic pills from the vet. At this rate our supply will be depleted soon and we may be up shit creek until we reach Phoenix. 

With a breakfast protein cookie and Folger’s coffee in hand (no Starbucks here), we hit the road early. The car is full of sleepy dogs and life is good for the moment. The 92 miles from Tok to the Canadian border is called The Purple Heart Highway. We officially crossed into the Yukon at Beaver Creek. and wonder how we missed it.  I remember this as being one of the rudest towns in the Yukon, but we apparently drove by it without noticing. Many things are closed for the winter. The Customs Officer smiled when he saw the 5 dogs leaning out the window. They were hoping for MacDonald’s but it was not to be. Instead we were asked for their rabies certificates. Usually I pay $400 to secure the appropriate paperwork to cross the border, and they never ask for it. I have actually requested Customs to please look at it, and they have just smiled and waved me through. But today he actually looked at it.

The sunrise was spectacular and the 386 mile drive was long with multiple potty stops. The roads in the Yukon used to be notoriously awful, but they are now wide and well maintained. What a reprieve from the narrow passages and potholes that could easily swallow a car up back in the day. There was absolutely no traffic—just miles and miles of open road. The trucks can throw rocks that seriously crack windshields. When we saw a truck approaching we would say the mantra aloud “No Rocks Please,” and it worked. That is, until the time we forgot as a large 18-wheeler blew by at close to 70 MPH. BAM! The one time we weren’t paying attention a large stone left an imprint on the glass at forehead level. Back to “No Rocks Please,” for the next 1,500 miles. 

We arrived early evening at the Airport Chalet, our go-to motel in Whitehorse. Many rooms are pet friendly, and the hotel has a restaurant and bar. Perfect, 5 dogs and I are given a room key for the motel section out back. Add a bacon cheeseburger, a salad and coke for dinner and we are set. Little did I know this would be my last decent meal for a few days. The shitstorm lurking just over the horizon would prove exhausting for all concerned. 

It was still 1° and the dogs didn’t want to stay out for long, even though Brody went for a run around the motel. He needed to stretch those little legs. The rest of the dogs were happy to stay with me, do their never-ending business and go inside. A good rest was had by all with no emergency walks in the middle of a frigid night with temperatures dropping to -20°. The following morning I took some things to a cold car, started the engine and organized our nest for the long ride ahead. Back to the room to find Anne,  once again the pack hero. She had the dog food container pulled off the dresser and opened up for all to see. Four dogs were chowing down. The only one by the door was Brody waiting for me. He couldn’t care less about the food; he’d rather go for a run. 

We are officially on the road at 7:50 AM driving toward an incredible sunrise in the Yukon. Our destination is Fort Nelson BC tonight—600 miles, a very long day. The roads are amazing and 70 MPH is the norm. Hopefully the magic pills will keep the diarrhea at bay. 

In my dreams . . .