For Mother's Day, I requested we hike the Welch-Dickey loop. Unfortunately, the forecast for Sunday predicted cold, windy weather, so we opted to hike the day before Mother's Day instead.
Saturday was comfortable -- in the 60s, not too warm, not too cold. We set off feeling fine.
The girls ran happily along the trail...
...and eventually decided to hike holding hands.
We took a short break about a mile in. Then the sibling issues started...sigh. Whenever Alex and I hike together, she acts almost grown up. Whenever Sage and I hang out alone together, SHE acts almost grown up. But put the two of them together and they very much act their ages. I went ahead about fifteen feet with Sage while Alex hiked with Hugh, and then everyone chilled out and the hike was happy once again.
We had two unfortunate dog encounters a little while later. The first one involved a large dog that ran ahead of its owner and jumped around Sage, who was frightened and began screaming. The dog seemed friendly, but the owner never called it back to him. My young child was obviously terrified, but the owner failed to control his dog. He just hiked along without a word of apology or acknowledgement -- I had to get close to Sage and protect her from this animal's over-enthusiastic jumps while she shrieked. After they left, Sage said shakily that the owner was a BAD owner. I couldn't disagree. It's really not okay for even "always friendly" dogs to jump all over very frightened little children.
The second encounter happened just moments afterward. Two guys with a happy-looking dog came down the trail. They stopped a fair bit away from us and leashed their dog when they saw us. Sage and I passed without incident, then walked onward. Fifteen feet later, I looked back and saw that Hugh and Alex had stopped next to the dog. I heard Alex ask if she could pet it, and the owners smiled and said yes.
She reached forward, and the dog growled and lunged at her. It came within a centimeter of biting her face. It got her hair instead - Hugh and the owners leapt forward and got the dog off of her. The owners looked mortified and kept apologizing over and over. Hugh said a tense word or two, while the owners looked miserable and truly upset over the incident. They swore their dog was usually very friendly. I believed them, they looked just plain bewildered and horrified.
Alex stood there, rooted to the spot, staring straight ahead in a daze. I called her name several times before she looked up and moved forward, zombie-like. The owners went on their way, still looking shocked, and I spoke with Alex when she and Hugh had caught up with me. Her feelings were hurt, she didn't understand why the dog had done that to her, she was taking it very personally. I explained that sometimes dogs were unpredictable, and that she had not done anything wrong. She was upset about this for a while, and said she didn't want to pet dogs anymore, ever. I've a feeling her sentiment will change over time, after the shock of this incident wears off.
We continued our hike in silence, moving forward, climbing over stone stairs...
and reaching the don't-trample-the-vegetation sign.
Soon afterward, we arrived at the open ledge. I took a picture of the Tripyramids in the distance.
We took a break here and rested. Alex appeared to be her usual self again.
The summit of Welch rose about .6 miles in the distance.
The lady in the above picture graciously offered to take a family photo.
After some cheese and crackers, we continued onward, up the ledges. At one point, I turned and took a picture of the spot where we had just rested (the patch of rock down below).
From here, Sage and I went on ahead while Alex and Hugh hiked behind. We reached the summit a few minutes before they did, and I snapped a couple pictures of Sage.
Alex and Hugh approached...
...then Alex reached the summit....
...and then, last but not least, Hugh. It was time for a chocolate break.
We sat and discussed our options. The sky looked terrible. There were dark clouds everywhere. A tiny patch of blue sky looked like it was headed toward us, but we thought the situation could go either way. If we went forward toward Dickey, we'd have 1.5 miles to go before we were back down in the shelter of the trees. If we went back the way we had come, we'd have only .7 miles to walk before we were protected. These ledges would be dangerously slippery if it were to rain. We therefore decided to do the safest thing and turn ourselves around.
I took a picture of Dickey's peak and its ledges...another time, mister mountain.
We began our descent -- and within a few minutes I dropped my camera. I had just dropped it on Bald Mountain a few weeks ago. It had survived that accident...but barely. This time was just too much. It didn't work the rest of the trip, so I couldn't take any more pictures. Maybe I can get it to eventually recover, but probably not. I think I killed it this time. Drat.
The way down was routine. However, Sage began to complain of fatigue about a mile from the car. She did the entire hike on her own two feet, and I made the last bit of hiking as fun as I could for her by singing silly songs. However, for this year I think I'll keep future hikes to 3 miles and under. I want her to have fun and enjoy the process, and not feel pushed in any way.
Happy Mother's Day, everyone!
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