Hiking with children takes some extra planning to anticipate what you'll need on the trail. Add a large dog (or two) into the mix and you'll discover, as we did, that the combination becomes a test of organizational skills in packing and a go-with-the-flow type of attitude for the adventure.
We are not dog owners, but the girls were dog-sitting for friends and decided to take their two furry charges on a hike with us to Wolfe's Neck Woods State Park in Freeport (Maine state parks, with only a few exceptions, are pet-friendly).
At 11 and 13 years old, the girls are well versed in organizing their backpacks for a hike, but they figured out quickly that a few hours with a couple of large dogs was really going to weigh them down. In addition to their usual binoculars, water bottle and snacks, they had to pack a large water dish (with a towel to keep their packs dry after the dish was used), a couple of extra water bottles, doggie treats and poop pickup bags. But my 13-year-old, the driving force behind taking the dogs hiking, took the heavier load of water without complaint.
Once we arrived at the park, everyone had to use the bathroom (an amenity we appreciate about state parks) before we started on the trail. The girls led the dogs to a spot to take care of business as well. They were grateful that the dogs only peed, but it wasn't two minutes on the trail before the messier business came along.
That's when a debate ensued about who was going to pick up the poop, because neither was keen on the idea. There were a couple of whines – "Oh mom, this is sooooo gross!" This from kids who regularly clean up after cats, as well as cows, pigs and chickens. Apparently the gross factor is all about what you're not used to.
Daddy came to the rescue by agreeing to do the job. By default (i.e., he was already holding the bag), he became the designated dog-poop carrier until a trash can could be found to dispose of it (which turned out to be near the end of the hike). A couple of times I heard my 13-year-old tell the dogs, "please, no more poop" (between the two dogs they'd managed to do their business at least a four times within the first 15 minutes of the hike). She started to worry that the number of dog poop bags she'd packed (which included a couple from the ranger at the entrance gate) wasn't going to last long enough for our hike. But her estimate turned out, thankfully, to be just right.
An unexpected challenge my 11-year-old faced hiking with dogs was our stop to view the osprey on Googins Island. She wanted to take a closer look at the nest, but the dog she was holding had different ideas and was tugging on the leash so she couldn't keep her binoculars steady. The leash was turned over to me so my daughter could take some time to look at the nesting birds. She commented several times it was hard to do her usual birding on this hike because the dogs "move around too much" (although it should be noted that these dogs were trained and very well-behaved and the issue was with my daughter, not the dogs) and she couldn't focus on listening and looking out for the birds as she usually does.
After a detour down some stairs leading to the water's edge, the girls found another challenge of hiking with dogs. Their furry friends had a hard time walking on the uneven rocky surface, yet were tugging on their leashes to get closer to the water. The girls were feeling as unsteady as their charges and opted to encourage the dogs to sit down. And as dogs will prefer, they flopped themselves into a puddle of water and the girls decided that wet, messy dogs were not going to be so great on the car ride home. They made haste back to the main trail.
The whole family agreed the highlight of this hike was meeting other dog owners. Every single person with a dog stopped to say hello and chitchat with us. After years of greeting other hikers with children, we all concurred that we'd never stopped to talk so much while hiking. But then again, a greeting that usually includes a question about the breed of your dog doesn't exactly translate well to parents of human children.
This hike was also a particularly good workout even though we were on mostly level ground because the dogs took us on a much faster pace than we're used to (but the stopping to chitchat helped us catch our breath). This was a plus for my older daughter, who has a lot more stamina for fast-walking and was just plain happy to be out with the dogs. But my younger child felt it was too fast and lamented that she couldn't "look around at everything as much."
Fino and I listened to the girls' various comments during the hike and had a chuckle about something we already knew. Our 13-year-old is a true dog-oriented person and happy to follow a furry friend's lead. And even though our 11-year-old likes dogs, she's not likely to share her life with one when she's older because she's just not wired for accommodating a pet's needs over her own.
Overall we had a very enjoyable day on this trail system and my 13-year-old was eager to bring the well-behaved dogs on another hike with the caveat that her dad also come along to scoop the poop again (though she conceded she could take care of that business on her own next time). My 11-year-old was less eager to take the dogs because they interfered with her hiking pace and her usual birding activities, but she enjoyed chitchatting with other hikers so she's still on the fence about it.
Fino and I enjoyed the dogs, and although it took a bit more work to plan a day on the trail with two kids and two dogs, we agreed we'd definitely bring our friend's dogs along again. We could continue to enjoy the dog culture without having to actually own one. That's a compromise with our 13-year-old we all liked.
Originally published in Raising Maine Magazine, August 2009
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