Thursday, June 13
“C’mon, guys! Come get in your suits. Let’s walk the creek all the way up to the campground.”
Bridget and Spike have been running around naked since we’ve been camped along Ivie Creek in central Utah. That’s another thing I love about camping away from campgrounds. I don’t have to keep the crew on-leash. They can come and go as they please.
Ol’ Spike takes several soaks in the creek every day!
If we’re going to walk up to Maple Grove Campground, I need them in their harnesses. I’ll bring the leashes along for when we get there.
“Bridget! Calm down! You’ll be worn out before we start!” She hops and squeals with excitement. Spike waits patiently, his little nub of a tail wagging. Finally we’re ready to go.
We take the paved road toward the campground until we come to a path that goes to the creek and a footbridge.
Spike takes the path to the left to go down to the water. Butterflies flutter around him.
Bridget and I don’t mind waiting while he enjoys himself. He’s our sweet mud-puppy.
All along the creek the mysterious screeching sound assails us from the trees. Of course, I don’t see the source.
I take a lot of photos as we walk. Every day I notice changes. The yellow columbine are fading. Buttercups are in their glory. The buds of pink, wild roses are starting to bloom. Neon blue dragonflies have arrived and flit here and there. More moss has crept over the rocks in the creek.
The path comes out by the restroom building. A father and his two blond-headed young sons are there. Their pick-up is parked nearby.
“Hi!” I call out as I approach.
“Hi,” he responds. “Adorable dogs.”
“Oh, thanks. Do you happen to know what makes that annoying screeching sound in the trees?” Whatever it is obliges with another couple of screeches.
“I don’t know. I’m usually here in the fall. This is my first time hearing them. It bothers my boy, too. Chipmunks? Squirrels maybe?”
“Hmm, could be. You leaving now?”
“Yeah, we’re the only ones here. The campground’s empty. My mother used to bring me here when I was a kid, so I thought I’d bring my boys here. A family tradition.”
“That’s nice,” I note, smiling. We commence talking about camping. He’s from Grantsville, Utah (southern shore of Great Salt Lake), and he usually camps in the Uinta Mountains of northern Utah.
“We camp along the road from Kamas to Evanston — Route 150. Beautiful along there. Lots of places to camp.”
On the way back to camp, Spike almost has a catastrophe.
As usual, he stops for soaks along the way. Bridget and I walk on and I look back. “Spike, are you coming with us?” I yell back, which is dumb because Spike can’t hear me. He eventually catches up with us.
Well, after one of his soaks, he figures . . . Hmm . . . Why get out of the water? I’ll just walk in this creek to catch up. It isn’t long before Spike finds himself being pulled by the current. He starts to lose his footing.
Later I cropped the photo below and enlarged it. You can see Spike’s getting nervous.
Right when I expect to see him swept downstream like a leaf, zooming over waterfalls past Bridget and me, he makes it to the shore and scrambles up the bank. Whew!
I take off my shoes and throw them across onto the lawn on the other side. I put my socks in my pocket and start to wade. Bridget steps in and seems to enjoy a brief wade also.
The water is very cold, but it feels good after a long walk.
Bridget deserves her own, full-size, water photo. She’s such a good girl.
I start to think about what to fix for lunch. Hmm . . . Running short on protein items . . . Had eggs yesterday . . . Don’t want to load up on cholesterol . . . Well, it’s either a hot dog or cheese and crackers . . .
“Gee, Bridge. Where’d Spike run off to?”
He usually comes in after a walk to take his nap. I hope he isn’t out rolling in the dirt somewhere while he’s still wet.
I go outside and look around. No sign of him. I go back inside and there he is.
“SPIKE! OH NO, LOOK AT YOU! YOU’RE A MESS!”