The Feathered Hat
Active member
Trails: Mt. Kinsman, Kinsman Ridge
Miles: The usual 8, up and back
Time: Extended due to circumstances
I had planned to write an oh-so-clever Trip Report full of witty (or not, depending) references to NH's most famous, and now late, resident, J.D. Salinger, but the way the day ended calls for a bit more sobriety.
We almost lost our sweet, sweet dog Polly.
She's a mutt but is mostly a breed of eastern European sheepdog (Slovak Cuvac, we think) -- a livestock guardian dog, in other words. As opposed to sheepdogs like border collies that are bred to work under the control of humans, LGDs are bred to guard flocks when there's no shepherd around. They're independent thinkers, stubbornly so. At the same time they're gentle and kind, and if you've got the yard space they make great family dogs.
Polly's a year old, so still a year away from being an adult. I've been working with her every day to learn how to hike off-leash, and she's done really well. Our other dog, the hound Tuckerman, whom many of you have met, is a champion off-leash hiker and I never have to worry about him; he and Polly had seemed to develop a trail relationship that kept her relatively close. Sometimes she'd wander off, but Tuck would usually go find her and bring her back. Other times Polly would make her way back to the trail within a few minutes.
Yesterday, as we came down the Mt. Kinsman Trail after reaching North Kinsman, Polly wandered off the trail near the sugar house on the lower portion of the route, a half-mile or so from the trailhead. No amount of calling brought her back. Tuck couldn't find her scent either. We walked down to the trailhead; I thought she might meet us there (it's happened before). No. We hiked back up the trail to where I last saw her, calling and calling; nothing. Nothing on the way back down, either. Now I was really worried, because Polly isn't familiar with the area we were in, not like she is with our yard and neighborhood. Tuckerman by this time was exhausted, so I quickly drove the three miles from the trailhead to our home in Franconia -- Polly had disappeared about 3 p.m., so there was still some daylight left -- to drop off Tuck, told Cindy the terrible news, then she and I returned to the trailhead. Still no Polly. While Cindy drove up and down Highway 116 looking for her, I re-hiked the Mt. Kinsman Trail past the point where I'd last seen her, calling and calling; still nothing. Full of anguish and why-didn't-I-watch-her-more-closely? second thoughts, I slowly returned to the trailhead. By now it was dark and getting cold.
We drove home again and began making calls -- to people we knew in the area, to the Franconia police department and the state troopers (the trailhead is technically in Easton, which is trooper territory), and anyone else we could think of. There were some frightening worries: coyotes are common in the area and, perhaps worse, so are coyote traps hidden in the snow by pelt-hunters. But there was tremendous encouragement, too. Franconia and Easton are dog-loving towns, and it felt to Cindy and I that within minutes an entire local army had enlisted in the search for Polly. I wish I could say I thought immediately of what turned out to be the best idea but I can't, a dog-loving local reminded us to hang a familiar article of clothing at the trailhead and, because of the snow, to leave her bed there too. So I went back to the trailhead once more --still no Polly and no response to my calling for her -- and hung my hiking sweater and put her lovely soft bed down in the snow. By now it was a little after 7 and the temperature had dropped to below 10 above. My plan was to return to the trailhead every couple of hours through the night, but as I showered at home Cindy couldn't stand the waiting so she drove on her own back to the trailhead, about 7:30. And there was Polly, laying on her bed -- confused and very cold. Thank God.
In those terrible four and a half hours that Polly was gone, I thought about the photos I'd taken during our Kinsman hike, and every time I did I teared up. There were a couple of especially sweet shots, and looking at them without Polly being part of our family would bring a terrible grief. But with luck, our grief when Polly is no longer with our family will come far in the future, after she's lived a long, full life of happiness in the mountains. She seemed to be looking forward to just that as we reached the North Kinsman summit:
And Tuckerman is again in the company of his best friend, who he loves romping in the snow with more than he loves life itself, it often seems:
About the hike itself... very nice right up to 3 p.m. The Mt. Kinsman Trail is packed hard enough right now that Microspikes work great. The Kinsman Ridge Trail is a bit more powdery; I wore snowshoes up there. The three brook crossings are all frozen and getting over is no problem. The spur to Bald Knob is broken out and so is the short spur to the flume at the third brook crossing. We had no views from the summit's view ledge, but what the hey, it was still looking to be a mighty fine day in the mountains. We removed a blowdown; there are still a handful remaining and they all need a chainsaw to be got out of the way. There's one, about a quarter-mile up from the Bald Knob spur, that's at juuuuuust the right height to be troublesome to shorter hikers (be careful on that straddle, Rocketman!).
Our family is complete again. Perhaps only our cat, Attitash, is not fully happy about it. Polly will snarl at him at night, and I'm sure he was thinking that he'd finally got rid of at least one of those bothersome dogs. Too bad, Attie. We're a fivesome again -- and this time for good.
A few more photos:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/99682097@N00/sets/72157623326360360/
Steve B
The Feathered Hat
stevebjerklie at yahoo dot com
_______________________________
Tuckerman's and Polly's report for dogs:
Not much running water right now. Just one small stream about a mile up from the trailhead, so tell your Big Boss Person to carry extra.
Totally excellent sliding down that short steep part of the Kinsman Ridge Trail just below the summit.
We found no animal poop, darn it.
We don't understand complaints about blowdowns -- we think they're fun!
Big Boss Man is talking about re-thinking this whole off-leash deal for Polly. Say it ain't so!
*** Three sniffs (out of four) until 3 p.m. Then no sniffs because we were scared. But T-Dog and P-Dog say check it out -- and keep close by your Big Boss Person!
Miles: The usual 8, up and back
Time: Extended due to circumstances
I had planned to write an oh-so-clever Trip Report full of witty (or not, depending) references to NH's most famous, and now late, resident, J.D. Salinger, but the way the day ended calls for a bit more sobriety.
We almost lost our sweet, sweet dog Polly.
She's a mutt but is mostly a breed of eastern European sheepdog (Slovak Cuvac, we think) -- a livestock guardian dog, in other words. As opposed to sheepdogs like border collies that are bred to work under the control of humans, LGDs are bred to guard flocks when there's no shepherd around. They're independent thinkers, stubbornly so. At the same time they're gentle and kind, and if you've got the yard space they make great family dogs.
Polly's a year old, so still a year away from being an adult. I've been working with her every day to learn how to hike off-leash, and she's done really well. Our other dog, the hound Tuckerman, whom many of you have met, is a champion off-leash hiker and I never have to worry about him; he and Polly had seemed to develop a trail relationship that kept her relatively close. Sometimes she'd wander off, but Tuck would usually go find her and bring her back. Other times Polly would make her way back to the trail within a few minutes.
Yesterday, as we came down the Mt. Kinsman Trail after reaching North Kinsman, Polly wandered off the trail near the sugar house on the lower portion of the route, a half-mile or so from the trailhead. No amount of calling brought her back. Tuck couldn't find her scent either. We walked down to the trailhead; I thought she might meet us there (it's happened before). No. We hiked back up the trail to where I last saw her, calling and calling; nothing. Nothing on the way back down, either. Now I was really worried, because Polly isn't familiar with the area we were in, not like she is with our yard and neighborhood. Tuckerman by this time was exhausted, so I quickly drove the three miles from the trailhead to our home in Franconia -- Polly had disappeared about 3 p.m., so there was still some daylight left -- to drop off Tuck, told Cindy the terrible news, then she and I returned to the trailhead. Still no Polly. While Cindy drove up and down Highway 116 looking for her, I re-hiked the Mt. Kinsman Trail past the point where I'd last seen her, calling and calling; still nothing. Full of anguish and why-didn't-I-watch-her-more-closely? second thoughts, I slowly returned to the trailhead. By now it was dark and getting cold.
We drove home again and began making calls -- to people we knew in the area, to the Franconia police department and the state troopers (the trailhead is technically in Easton, which is trooper territory), and anyone else we could think of. There were some frightening worries: coyotes are common in the area and, perhaps worse, so are coyote traps hidden in the snow by pelt-hunters. But there was tremendous encouragement, too. Franconia and Easton are dog-loving towns, and it felt to Cindy and I that within minutes an entire local army had enlisted in the search for Polly. I wish I could say I thought immediately of what turned out to be the best idea but I can't, a dog-loving local reminded us to hang a familiar article of clothing at the trailhead and, because of the snow, to leave her bed there too. So I went back to the trailhead once more --still no Polly and no response to my calling for her -- and hung my hiking sweater and put her lovely soft bed down in the snow. By now it was a little after 7 and the temperature had dropped to below 10 above. My plan was to return to the trailhead every couple of hours through the night, but as I showered at home Cindy couldn't stand the waiting so she drove on her own back to the trailhead, about 7:30. And there was Polly, laying on her bed -- confused and very cold. Thank God.
In those terrible four and a half hours that Polly was gone, I thought about the photos I'd taken during our Kinsman hike, and every time I did I teared up. There were a couple of especially sweet shots, and looking at them without Polly being part of our family would bring a terrible grief. But with luck, our grief when Polly is no longer with our family will come far in the future, after she's lived a long, full life of happiness in the mountains. She seemed to be looking forward to just that as we reached the North Kinsman summit:
And Tuckerman is again in the company of his best friend, who he loves romping in the snow with more than he loves life itself, it often seems:
About the hike itself... very nice right up to 3 p.m. The Mt. Kinsman Trail is packed hard enough right now that Microspikes work great. The Kinsman Ridge Trail is a bit more powdery; I wore snowshoes up there. The three brook crossings are all frozen and getting over is no problem. The spur to Bald Knob is broken out and so is the short spur to the flume at the third brook crossing. We had no views from the summit's view ledge, but what the hey, it was still looking to be a mighty fine day in the mountains. We removed a blowdown; there are still a handful remaining and they all need a chainsaw to be got out of the way. There's one, about a quarter-mile up from the Bald Knob spur, that's at juuuuuust the right height to be troublesome to shorter hikers (be careful on that straddle, Rocketman!).
Our family is complete again. Perhaps only our cat, Attitash, is not fully happy about it. Polly will snarl at him at night, and I'm sure he was thinking that he'd finally got rid of at least one of those bothersome dogs. Too bad, Attie. We're a fivesome again -- and this time for good.
A few more photos:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/99682097@N00/sets/72157623326360360/
Steve B
The Feathered Hat
stevebjerklie at yahoo dot com
_______________________________
Tuckerman's and Polly's report for dogs:
Not much running water right now. Just one small stream about a mile up from the trailhead, so tell your Big Boss Person to carry extra.
Totally excellent sliding down that short steep part of the Kinsman Ridge Trail just below the summit.
We found no animal poop, darn it.
We don't understand complaints about blowdowns -- we think they're fun!
Big Boss Man is talking about re-thinking this whole off-leash deal for Polly. Say it ain't so!
*** Three sniffs (out of four) until 3 p.m. Then no sniffs because we were scared. But T-Dog and P-Dog say check it out -- and keep close by your Big Boss Person!
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. By the looks of her fur, I expect she could sleep in a snowbank overnight. 
