Dog Stories

Stories of canine hikers

Below are stories related to hiking with a dog on the trail. If you would like to submit a story about the experiences you have witnessed as you, or someone else traveled the trail with a dog, send an email with the information to: trailtales@atmuseum.org

In our time, we meet people, remember place and things that influence our life. These recollections become part of who we are… and as such…these become cherished memories. One such influence was Cassie.

I had just decided to hike the Appalachian Trail, and Cassie’s first few days on the trail proved as hard as mine. Her pampered paws became raw and she began to limp. Likewise, blisters on my feet caused me to hobble. Together we made quite a team. Alan, the other member of our team and seasoned hiker, was quite adept with mole skin. He patched me up as best as possible. Cassie, however, was another case. We resorted to getting some tincture to toughen her paws. She rolled on her back and was delighted at the attention as I tenderly applied the toughening agent. I could see in her eyes the relief she felt at her little feet being taken care of. She never complained…not that I heard. She and I would walk slowly along the trail, like two kids walking down to the fishing hole.

Rain and I were not strangers on the trail. At one point the torrential rain had developed a mighty flow directly down the path. Twigs and other debris flowed by our boots as we slogged along. Suddenly, a desperate snake caught in the deluge brushed my left boot as it was being washed down the stream. I pulled the leash to bring my girl closer to protect her. I feared the snake would hang on to one of her legs - or mine for that matter. Tears of fear ran down my cheeks and I would keep asking myself, “What the hell am I doing out here”?

Cassie "The Wonderdog" had her own backpack and carried five pounds of her own food. I had carefully wrapped the precious morsels in several plastic bags to keep them from getting wet. I knew the weight was a strain on her. I stumbled as my legs clipped the bulging saddle bags. Cassie barked as she was caught off guard just as I was. Al looked back at us and walked up stream to meet us. Poor Cassie was struggling through the water, so I began to transfer some of her load to my pack. I noticed that her water cup was missing. It must have come loose as we were wading through the water. It is not easy to follow the trail during a heavy rain as the faint white blazes are obscured even more by the curtain of rain, and the drops draining into your eyes - even when the path is in a ravine. Getting off the path could have been more dangerous and both Cassie and I trusted Al’s judgment on which route to take. The rain persisted. I sometime wonder how we made it. By this time both my knees were blown out, I had lost all my toe nails, and persistent blisters made hiking difficult. I had never done any hiking like this before, so this was quite an experience for me… on many levels.

The hardest time on the trail for me was the Smokey Mountains. Those eight days would be the worst of my life. We discovered that there were no pets allowed. That meant Cassie would have to be boarded for that amount of time. My heart sank. Arrangement were made for a lady from Tennessee picked her up, and upon reaching the end of the Smokey’s, to have her brought to us. There is no way to describe my feelings as I watched her depart with a stranger. She barked, she cried, and we later found out she had thrown up in the cabin of the truck. Yes there were tears in her eyes as well as mine. The sleepless nights that followed and the restlessness I felt did not allow for even a moment of enjoyment in the Smokeys. While others were having the time of their lives chasing bears just to get a picture, I was thinking of my Cassie and how I longed to be with her. One night, the shelter was so crowded that we slept on the dirt floor. The bunks were occupied by a group of day hikers who happened to be doctors who snored most of the night. To top that off, a skunk decided to visit and marched right over our heads as we lay petrified; no one dared to move. We all knew the consequences of any alarm upsetting the animal. The rain continued. We lay in the dampness huddled together like sardines in a can… and we smelled like them too. I don’t know what was worse, the smell of a wet dog or the wet clothes of a thru hiker. All I knew was that I needed to get the hell out of there as soon as possible and I wanted my Cassie.

Sometimes there seemed to be a conflict between the weekend hikers and the thru hikers. While thru hikers wanted to get to the lean to eat and rest, the others just wanted to talk and party. There were a few confrontations which were not very pleasant. One group wanted to play the radio all night long and we wanted to get some rest. Choice words were exchanged. Loads of beer and other alcoholic beverages had taken their toll. One had the audacity to tell us how we smelled! We did reek…however, that is part of the outdoor experience. As I recall the name sayer got tossed into the small camp fire that had a few pieces of charcoal still aglow. No one was hurt, but you could see the line forming, heads were ready to roll when I yelled, “there are mice getting into the food bags!”. Everyone scattered and reviewed their food loads. The thru hikes had their food tied high between two trees, out of reach of bear and mice, but the novices were ignorant in this area. Few words were said there after. We all quietly huddled in our respective corners and fell asleep. I think some slept with one eye open. I did wake up to a raccoon digging around the grounds.

Upon exiting the park, we called the boarder to bring us our girl. Sensing how low I was, she invited us off the trail for a day of rest. We accepted her invitation and I said, “take me to my dog!” Before we could even make eye contact, I heard Cassie barking and trying to get to me as I rushed to the kennel to embrace her. Her mouth was bloodied from trying to eat through the hurricane wire fence after she caught our scent. I held her tight, loved her with all my might and promised her never to leave her again. And it was to be. She was away from me only 8 awful days of her life.

This bond between us did get her into some mischief. In Damascus, Virginia we stopped for supplies and a night’s rest. We left her at the hostel and asked her to behave. She had other ideas. When we reached the post office we turned around and found that she had gotten loose and found us. We were amazed since it was not a straight shot from the hostel. But there she was, outside the post office asking to come in. We had no idea how she found us…but then again…maybe our scent was distinguishable to her…and she followed her instincts. We were not allowed to bring her in. We scolded her severely. She ran off. We began to worry. I did not even know the way back to the hostel. After getting our mail and goodies we headed back. Not knowing what we would find or if we would find her. Terror was in our hearts. We rushed back to the hostel. She was no where to be seen. We rushed up to the second floor to drop of mail, and to our surprise we found her all snuggled up in my sleeping bag. With those beautiful soft loving eyes peering up at me, I could not scold her. All I could do was cry and hold her until she yelped. We were all baffled, yet happy. We just could not figure out how she was able to find the post office and then the hostel. Then again…she was an Australian Shepard. There was no reason to punish her, she just wanted to be with mom and dad. After being together day and night…she refused to be without us.

When it came to “yogi-ing” she seldom let us down. Any picnics are a delight for hiker scavengers like us. If lucky, we were wined and dined. And for that I thank them. Once, while were walking down the trail the heavenly scent of grilled hamburgers, and steaks tickled our olfactories. At first, we just looked at them, and started to walk away. I remember that a guy with a beer in his hand asked what kind of dog we had. She was our doorway for food begging! I recall demonstrating how well behaved she was to the interested picnic group. I asked the man for a hot dog and laid it on a stump and told her to sit. I told him she would not take it until my command was given. I was hoping she would not prove me wrong. I did not know who wanted the hot dog more, her or me, but she did not disappoint me. And so we were invited to the feast.

Another memorable occasion concluded with differing results. It occurred on Sunday over Memorial Day weekend. I don’t exactly recall where it was…but finding the opportunity, we decided to go to church, experience a little southern religion, and perhaps someone might invite us to their holiday feast afterwards. We were invited to join the service and had been given some privacy to clean up. We had washed up and put on our “best Sunday clothes”. Everyone welcomed us and said they were glad we could be there with them. We left Cassie with the backpacks and heard a wonderful sermon. Following the service be went back to get Cassie and collect our equipment. When we came out there was not a soul in sight… no preacher, no cars, nothing! The church was left open with us in it. We laughed at the “Christian generosity” and we have always wondered if we actually attended a sermon or not. People sure cleared out fast.

Al thought I may have scarred another couple during another incident. The couple was parked near a road crossing while pleasantly eating potato chips and dip. Suddenly, out of the woods comes this hiker in a tee shirt with a dirty dog. I commented to them how we were hiking and that we had hiked over 1,000 miles already and were looking forward to Katahdin in Maine. They looked at me, gave me the bag of chips and dip, and then left. A little later Al comes out of the woods with Mike. They had decided to take a scenic route to capture some other views. They were astonished at my good fortune and we shared the chips and dip.

Not only great for yogi-ing, the Shenandoah National Park also provided perfect trail conditions. Real mountains, yes, but just a beautiful park-like walk. Animals had to be kept on a leash at all times. This included Cassie. Al scavenged all the aluminum cans out of the part trash cans and took advantage of their recycling deposit program. We ended up with enough money to buy two gigantic milk shakes that were deliciously cold and refreshing. Cassie enjoyed it too!

We had to deal with the scare of Lyme’s disease that had just emerged as a perceived threat to hikers. Many did not like our dog because they thought she might be harboring deer ticks. At times hikers arrived at the shelter as darkness fell. Cassie would not bark.

She would be so tired that there wasn’t a bark left in her. We would snuggle in together in my sleeping bag. In the morning hikers were amazed to see a dog peak out from under my sleeping bag. She was my love and joy. I never developed Lyme’s Disease.

Al wanted me to turn into a tough, self-sufficient woman. Being a city girl made that a bit difficult. Lighting a small tin stove to warm water to have hot cocoa in the morning was not my way of living. Nonetheless, I got used to it, but never embraced it. So it was no surprise when Al just walked by me after I slipped on some rocks and fell face down while crossing a creek. However, I could not get up, Cassie barked, Al turned back and picked me up by my backpack. What he had not realized was that…I was bleeding profusely. I’d cut left temple on a rock. I needed help immediately. He dragged me to the far edged of the current, Cassie was whimpering and licking me. Al dropped his backpack and ran back to other hikers known to be behind us. My tee shirt was covered in blood… my bandana kept the pressure on the injury…. I was going in and out of consciousness. He found two hikers, one had some medical knowledge and immediately wrapped me in a aluminum blanket to keep me warm. Luckily they figured out we were not to far from a road. He ran down the road to locate a house with a phone to call for help. A vehicle eventually arrived. They wanted to carry me to the vehicle on a stretcher, but I insisted on walking out on my own two legs…that was the stubborn part in me, but not the practical thing to do. I don’t remember how I got the hospital, nor the stitches. When I woke up, I had the worst headache I have ever had, the side of my face was all swollen, and I had seven stitches over my left eye. I rested one day and had to take off a few others. For a few days after that, walking up mountains created a pressure that made me feel as if my head was about to explode. As a result, Al secured a ride for me with a section hiker with a car to the Pearisburg hostel where I stayed at a hostel with some priests and some crazy locals.

This hostel has a haven for hikers and street people who needed refuge. Unfortunately for me, there was one young man who was schizophrenic. He would talk to the walls, and to his boots. I slept with one eye open and one closed. Well, I could only open one eye anyway! And believe me, I held on tight to my meager belongings. Cassie stayed close to me but since Al was not there it was of little comfort to me. Al caught up with me in a few days. It took awhile before I felt good enough to hike again.

Thru all the ups and downs, there were many things I learned on this Appalachian trail hike. I found 17 uses for a bandana. Two bandanas tied together made a nice top for those times when you needed to do laundry. It also made a good bandage when I cracked my head like a walnut. I will let you discover the other uses. Life can teach us so much.

My favorite stay was at Greymore Monastary. It is the most pleasant and loving place on earth. Cassie had to say outside tied to a tree. A monk visited her and we were fortunate to capture a picture of the monk talking to Cassie. In my mind,it is one of the most beautiful pictures ever taken. There was a spiritual connection, she sat and looked straight at him as he talked. At night I could hear her soft whimpers calling for me from the area outside my window. I went to the window and assured her that she would be all right. Al had to sleep is the men’s quarters. The rooms were perfect, all the necessities were there. That night day I heard the monks singing. I asked if I could attend. I was told that no women were allowed. For some reason, an exception was made, and to my knowledge I have been the only woman allowed to sing with the monks. This was one of the highlights of my trip. I have no way of confirming that no other women have been allowed to attend. I just went with what I was told. But I know this…part of my soul remains there. They are so generous to hikes, free lodging and free food.

Feeling free and not knowing where one will wind up at night fall is a very uncomfortable experience at first. Then as one becomes one with nature, we realize that the outdoors is the true place where man belongs. Waking up in the morning in a strange place with strangers pushes our psyche to trust one another and to depend on one another. These instincts are some times forgotten. When you are out there you depend on one another. You learn your physical weaknesses and your mental strengths. You push yourself to the limit. It is not for everyone. It is definitely not for the light hearted or for those who want to prove that they are better than anyone else. It is an inner consciousness that one develops. One learns more about oneself on the AT than at any other time in their life. You give it all up…to get it all in. Al…when he proposed marriage, I said, “if we can walk the Appalachian Trail and be together for 6 months 24/7, a marriage might have a chance”. That was the challenge. That is his strength…to love me whether my knees blew out, whether Cassie’s paws hurt, whether he had to carry more than we did, he was there…and always has been. Sometimes when we create an opportunity to challenge ourselves we don’t realize how much we grow. While our baby Cassie is no longer with us…she gave me 16 years of her life…I saw her being born…and she died in my arms. Al did not experience her whole life as I, but I know he loved her just as much. I could look into her eyes and see eternity…and one day her ashes and mine will be one, sprinkled from Baxter Peak near the northern terminus of the Appalachian Trail.

Written by: Freyda Strackeljahn…I’m Mighty Thor! Yes, I am still mighty sore!

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