Yesterday afternoon (Saturday), after another morning of tedious garden work that never seemed to end, I had the urge to take the dogs up Ash Canyon for an hour or so to walk around and explore. The wash in the canyon is well-known among rock hounds and prospectors for gold flakes. I have never been there with the dogs.
We never made it to Ash Canyon, though. As soon as I got into Essie to drive the five miles to the trailhead, it began to rain. And hard. And then the wind blew in that wouldn’t relent. There was no way I was going to walk around in the rain, so I pulled into the Hunter Canyon trailhead to let the dogs out there and hope for the rain to end.
A black sweatshirt and backpack were hung over the barbed-wire fence along the forest boundary fence, left behind by an immigrant who managed to hike across the border and get picked up in Hunter Canyon. In the grey clouds of the afternoon, I was a little worried of meeting a group of illegals coming down from the mountain.
I had to park Essie after half a mile because the rain was too intense and the dry-rotted windshield wipers were screeching at high decibels. The dogs stayed near and around the SUV and at times Sadie would put her front paws on Essie’s hood and look at me as if she wanted in.
After 20 minutes the storm stopped and we finished our loop around Hunter Canyon. This was my first time driving the loop around Hunter Canyon in a few months. The dogs stayed outside the entire time and I didn’t let them back into the vehicle until we were back at the trailhead.
Although the dogs brought in sand and dirt and smelled up the van with wet dog smell, I was glad to make the loop with the dogs. The grass was green and most of the emory oaks were looking lush and healthy. For now, at least, we skirted another summer of potentially deadly wildfires in the foothills.
We never made it to Ash Canyon, though. As soon as I got into Essie to drive the five miles to the trailhead, it began to rain. And hard. And then the wind blew in that wouldn’t relent. There was no way I was going to walk around in the rain, so I pulled into the Hunter Canyon trailhead to let the dogs out there and hope for the rain to end.
A black sweatshirt and backpack were hung over the barbed-wire fence along the forest boundary fence, left behind by an immigrant who managed to hike across the border and get picked up in Hunter Canyon. In the grey clouds of the afternoon, I was a little worried of meeting a group of illegals coming down from the mountain.
I had to park Essie after half a mile because the rain was too intense and the dry-rotted windshield wipers were screeching at high decibels. The dogs stayed near and around the SUV and at times Sadie would put her front paws on Essie’s hood and look at me as if she wanted in.
After 20 minutes the storm stopped and we finished our loop around Hunter Canyon. This was my first time driving the loop around Hunter Canyon in a few months. The dogs stayed outside the entire time and I didn’t let them back into the vehicle until we were back at the trailhead.
Although the dogs brought in sand and dirt and smelled up the van with wet dog smell, I was glad to make the loop with the dogs. The grass was green and most of the emory oaks were looking lush and healthy. For now, at least, we skirted another summer of potentially deadly wildfires in the foothills.
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