The tale of Tucker
I woke up from my super comfy bed at 6:15ish. A bit of sleeping in, but still up at a good time. the breakfast joint opens at 7 anyway.
I shower and grab my stuff and head out the door. It’s the opposite way as the trail, but I was hoping to be able to get a ride, and I’d want all my stuff with me.
When I got to the restaurant it was already completely full, with a line. Holy cow! It’s the spot in town (and only one of two maybe three). I put my name in for a seat, and the lady in front of me asks me what kind of journey I’ve been on. We get to talking about the CDT and all, and she invites me to sit with her and her husband for breakfast, so I don’t have to wait for too long.
We chat and eat and it was great to meet Heidi and Russ. Both retired and spend summers in Dubois and winters in Arizona. As we finish up breakfast they offer to drive me to the trail. Being about half hours drive which they hadn’t planned to do, I buy their breakfast as a thanks.
And I’m glad I did…
On our way up, we pick up a couple more hikers. Two who I had met the night earlier with River Dance. One was a triple crowner who was out for the Yellowstone portion with her boyfriend who is currently hiking. They drop us all off at the trail and we say our goodbyes.
I check the car to make sure I’ve got everything and then off they go. I put in my pack and we all start walking along when I realize my chest rig isn’t there. With my inreach, and my camera (and my uncrustables!!). I realize I left it at the restaurant and run off to the road to hitch back into town. Frustrated. I had a smooth exit out of town and was on trail before 9am.
About 10 mins go by and no ones picked me up. However, Russ and Heidi roll right passed! They had gone out a bit more to the pass just to drive for a bit and was on their way back into town. So they picked me up again. Drove me to the restaurant, AND back to the trail. We even picked up a couple more hikers on our way back. They were rockstars and made a crummy situation a great experience.
I get dropped off and race off. Now after 10:15, it’s a late start. Normally I wouldn’t mind, but Yellowstone is ahead and my permits require me to camp at certain campgrounds on certain days, so I’m forced to make a certain mileage each day.
Making good time, I reach up to Hush and Sideview. They asked if I noticed the big dog prints, which I had. Honestly I thought they might be wolf prints because they were truly huge. Sideview goes on to tell me that a few miles out of Brooks Lake a dog starts following them northbound on the trail. A big Newfoundland dog, they had tried to shoo him off and tell him to go home. But out on the trail, he seemed to have enjoyed the hike, his new friends, and may have been a little scared to go back on his own.
Eventually, they find a southbounder. They try to give the unnamed and tagless (but collared) dog to him to bring back towards brook lake to find its owner. Shortly after, WiFi and dirty bowl (the two who I had taken my first ride to the trail with) walked by and the dog latched onto them going back northbound. Eventually, they’re 10-12 miles away from the lake, and the dog is still with them. Worried for him, they begin giving him some beef sticks and some food. Making sure he drinks some water, etc. but eventually they get to a large river Ford, and that’s where I run into them.
And sure enough, the doggo is massive. Looks like a small bear if you saw it from far away and didn’t see the white paws or stripe on his chest. Looks similar to the coloring of Bella (my moms border collie). The sweetest dog you’d ever meet. Never once jumped, or barked, or was overly excited or aggressive. Just a pure bundle of (100+ pounds) of love and adventure.
I kept moving forward while WiFi and Dirty Bowl figured out what to do with the pup and the river crossing. They tried to hand him off to me, but he wouldn’t budge. So I crossed as he watched me with his big doughy eyes, and then I sat a little ways down the trail to dry off my socks and shoes.
15 mins later, they roll by, doggo in tow. They wanted him to turn around and go home, but nearly 12 miles away, they weren’t entirely convince he knew where to go. So as they began to Ford the river, the doggo came with then. WiFi had to hold on to his collar as he crossed some of the deeper parts just to make sure he wouldn’t drift downstream. It wasn’t moving too quickly, but it was wide.
When I saw WiFi and Dirty Bowl, they reminded me of a log cabin with bear boxes up the trail. I had heard about it but wrote it off as I needed to make more miles to get to Yellowstone. However, I looked at the map and realized I made an error in my calculations, and instead of 24 miles a day, I only needed to do 21. So thankfully I was able to stop and utilize the bear cans.
The three of them came down the trail and we all hiked the last mile or two into camp. That’s when the transition of responsibility began, and the doggo became a part of The Dusty Camel.
Even before meeting them all, I put on my producer/problem solver hat and started messaging friends and family from my satellite beacon (no cell service since town to make any calls myself). My mom called Brooks Lodge and left a message (later I found out around this time they were all on horseback looking for him frantically). My buddy Chris had called the local ranger stations, but they were already closed.
Looking at the map ahead, there wasn’t a single road we would cross until in the boundary line of Yellowstone, where dogs were strictly not allowed. So really, that night and next day would the be the best and only time to really find this pups home.
We all setup our tents and had our dinner. The doggo, who we nicknamed Dingus, Toby, Divi (for Divide, aka the CDT) and a bunch of other names, was with me for the evening. We pooled our food and gave him the kingly meal of unseasoned) ramen and a beef stick. It took him a second to figure out what this tortilla bag of mush was, but once he did, he lapped it all up quickly. I also gave him a cliff bar to up his calorie count. He’s a big pup!
My tent is made from DCF, which is essentially super lightweight sail cloth, also kind of like super expensive plastic wrap. Aka, high tensile strength, but very weak puncture resistance for big ol dog claws.
I laid out all my clothes, rain gear, and anything else I could put on the floor of my tent and tried to get doggo inside so he could sleep soundly and comfortably. He stuck his big ol head in my tent, and decided it was to cramped to snuggle with a stranger and circled a little spot next to my tent and plopped down. I left my little seat pad outside for him to rest his head on, but seems he was a okay with his big fluffy body outside. I tried a few more times throughout the night, but he seemed content and wouldn’t budge.
While he never barked, even through the night, a couple times I’d wake up to him growling a bit. Once or twice I even woke up to him bolting off into the darkness. Waking up to a giant animal barreling through the forest by my tent is not a fun way to wake up. It would take a second to recall I now had doggo with me and it was him and not some terrifying creature. Even when I did realize it was him, it was a scary thought of what he was chasing after or growling at.
For the most part, every time he’d dart off I’d hear a little chirp of a chipmunk or squirrel. Seemed he wasn’t chasing after anything large or scary. While a tough dog (he is hiked almost 20 miles to this point!) he did seem like a younger, well cared for pup that didn’t live outside. He spent most the night with his head up in the air and swiveling around looking for anything to see.
The next morning I had messaged Chris to try the rangers again. The cabin we had camped next to (which was locked) was a forest service cabin with a combo lock. I had thought maybe Chris could get ahold of the rangers, get us the combo and we could leave doggo safely in there for a ranger to pick him up (or if they had heard from the owner). Still early, and stations closed, a few hikers roll passed and exclaim, “is this the missing dog?!”. Having heard nothing myself, but obviously knowing he’s not a hikers dog, I said I believe so! Turns out these folks saw the people on horses looking for him, and told us that he was from Brooks Lodge and they had made it all the way to the river he crossed but turned around thinking he couldn’t have gone passed there. We also found out his name, Tucker!
The new hikers and the three of us pooled together our food once more to give Tucker a breakfast of champions. He had some beef jerky, a salmon packet, another cliff bar, and another beef stick. However, I found he wasn’t too keen on maple syrup brown sugar oatmeal. I wanted to warm him up and gave him a few scoops of mine, but he sniffed it and walked away.
With the pup fed, identified, and a plan generating, I quickly messaged Chris to give the lodge a call. He got in touch with one of the managers, Tim, who I then messaged on my satellite. He wasn’t able to send anyone out that far as his staff was working and it would take some time. He asked if I could bring him down off trail to the next lodge, but my maps didn’t have the side trail downloaded so I couldn’t safely navigate all the crossings and route. In an emergency scenario, solo, I could just bushwhack using the Topo maps. However, with the big pup, that seemed a bit dangerous and I didn’t want to get stuck off trail somewhere with him.
Fortunately, Tim was able to contact someone at another ranch along the way, and that GM sent up his head wrangler on horseback, about 5-6 miles up the trail.
At about 4 miles north of where the cabin was, Tucker and I begin making our way to the side trail for the hand off. Not more than a quarter mile from the cabin was a raging river. Only about shin to knee deep, it wasn’t too crazy to cross, but it was moving fast and Tucker was visually nervous. He sees me cross and tries to step in but quickly pulls his paws out and runs up the river trying to find a slower place to cross. I walk up the river to hell guide him, but he runs back down to the main spot unable to cross himself.
A bit at a loss of what to do, I did the only thing I could. Scooped him up like a big furry baby and carry him across.
Let me just say, carrying a giant, heavy dog across a raging river filled with boulders and slick rock was not particularly east. Fortunately the river was only about 20-30 feet across, but the time I get there in huffing and puffing more than a 1500 foot incline. I was able to safely set him down just in the Knick of time before my arms began to give way to his weight, and off we went. I got to the side trail and started walking down it. I had it marked prt of the way down the maps, so communicated my location and where I’d be to the team coming to get him.
A couple more (shallower and slower) river crossings and then a few camps were visible. I bee lined for one with tucker hoping it would be from the same ranch, but it wasn’t. Just some folks out for a few days enjoying the serene location. As the trail veered off and I didn’t have it on my map, I stayed there with tucker and waited for the fella on horseback to arrive and collect Tucker to bring back to his eagerly awaiting mama.
After a little while, a horse comes trotting by, and the hand off is complete. Not going to lie, it was a bit sad seeing the big guy head down the trail. He was such a happy adventurous dog, he went off with the wrangler and didn’t even look back more than once. Before leaving he came over to me and put his head against my hip and got a good ear scratch, then was off into the mountains to be reunited with his family.
I messaged his owner letting her know I passed him off, he had been fed well (albeit, hiker food well), and while a bit dirty, was in high spirits. I found out he was 2 1/2 and she hadn’t been without him for more than a few hours his entire life. So she was thrilled to be getting him back after such an adventure.
I said my goodbyes to my new friends, and hiked on. I still had lots of miles to do to make sure I’d get to Yellowstone on schedule, and with my bonus miles off trail and late start coordinating all this, I had to get a move on. Fine with a a few extra miles over the next few days to get the pup safely home, I was only able to get 19 trail miles done (plus 3-4 extra off trail). Meaning I’ve got 24 miles into Yellowstone tomorrow.
I got to a river and scooped up a bunch of water before it forked off into two rivers. The coolest part? One river goes to the Atlantic, while the other goes to the Pacific. Kinda neat being on the divide. What wasn’t neat, was the 3.5 mile climb, with no water at the top. Really needing to get those miles in so I don’t kill myself the following day, I load up my pack with heavy water and start the climb.
Getting up to the top around 7:15, I setup camp and eat my dinner and fell asleep by 9:30. A long day, but rewarding and happy to be able to do a good deed. I’ll miss Tucker! But was most excited to give him a safe adventure and bring him back to his normal loving life.
