how to survive: camping with your dog

To be honest, camping with my Westie Bestie, also known as Charles the Feminist, was not something I would have initiated on my own.  The pup requires a fair amount of beauty rest to maintain his rugged good looks and he’s pretty terrible about sharing sleeping quarters.  Also, being a rescue he can get a bit stressed in new environments and the last thing I would want is for him to spend a weekend away feeling panicked in his little puppy heart.  But when my partner in crime Grace suggested that he tag-a-long, I couldn’t help but at least try it.  I mean who wouldn’t want to hangout with this handsome devil nonstop for three days.  I’m happy to report that my fears were [mostly] unfounded and our inaugural camping trip was quite the success.  If Charles were on a hearts and minds campaign, there would be no competition.  The pup excels at garnering maximum belly rubs from unsuspecting strangers.

I went into this whole dog-in-tent situation pretty blind.  What more could he need than the basic necessities of water/food/bathroom bags?  Should you find yourself in a similar situation, here’s what I learned from my first pup + camping adventure:

1) Provide a comfortable traveling experience.

Charles the Feminist has his own car seat when living it up with my parental units.  Actually, he has two because who really wants to be switching those things out from one car to another.  Now usually I would be an obnoxious child and mock my parents for having such a thing.  Charles is a dog.  Dogs can do just fine sitting on a seat with a towel, if need be.  However after having the pleasure of driving more than 20 hours in 3 days with my canine companion, the seat was a necessity.  Not only did it keep the pup contained but he seems to have quite the affinity for that apparatus.  It allowed for prime window gazing, nose in the breeze-ing (when permitted), and he was always happy to get in the jeep.  A win-win for all involved.  As an aside: if your dog is on the larger side of life, a more comfortable traveling experience may entail a fluffy blanket and ample space to stretch out.

2) Plan size-appropriate activities or be prepared to carry your pup.

While in Acadia National Park, Grace and I decided to hike to Bubble Rock, which is described as a moderate trail that when all said and done is about 1.5 miles.  Since we found the Bubbles to be fairly easy/we weren’t as tired as we were expecting given our back to back 4 am wake-ups, we decided to take on the Jordan Pond path which was described as an easy and level loop.  We took what I am guessing is the Bubbles Divide trail but what was later referred to as the Avalanche by a local, which adequately sums up what I encountered with Charles – all the rocks.  For us human folk, it was fun to scramble down various wannabe boulders.  For the canine in the group with adorable stumps for legs, it proved to be a lessen in foot placement and I would guess that he was carried by yours truly for about half of the trail.  Tacking on Jordan Pond Path brought our hike to about 5 miles so by the end of it Charles could no longer find the energy to keep his shortness moving.  Fortunately, being 20 lbs means that he is easily schlepped but I would recommend avoiding my mishap and keeping in mind your dog’s stature and previous mileage when choosing your hike.  Or be prepared to get in a nice arms workout.  Grace is pushing for me to add one of these to the camping gear.  I think I’ll plan on keeping our hikes puppy appropriate from here on out. 

3) Prepare to have your sleeping space invaded.

As I mentioned, Charles is not the best at sharing a bed.  He takes his sleep schedule quite seriously and makes known his displeasure at any mid-slumber toss and turns.  Given the cool evening temperatures in Maine this time of year, Charley had no choice but to snuggle up and deal with my intermittent movements.  Add to it that we had two people and a pup in a two person tent and things got very cozy indeed.  In retrospect, I would have thrown a dog bed/blanket in the car.  Mind you the pup had no trouble at all getting his shut eye in but I would have preferred a little less late night snuggles.

4) Embrace the camp dog stench.

 During our island hopping adventures, I encouraged Charles to take advantage of the calm seas and go for a swim.  Dogs should be dogs and run/swim/play to their hearts' content.  (Except for rolling in dead things/animal feces.  We will have none of that.)  By the time we got back to the campground, it was evening but I still wanted to hose him down since he had spent some quality time in the sea.  He was the epitome of a salty dog.  Much to his disapproval, I tossed him in the shower for a quick rinse, hoping that there was still enough sunlight for him to dry off before the temperature dropped.  Huge mistake.  The cool evening temps necessitated me wrapping Charles in one of my sweatshirts and then letting him cozy up in my sleeping bag.  Lest I remind you of point number 3, this was not the greatest of sleeping set-ups for me.  Lesson learned and bath time will only be occurring at the height of summer heat or in the comfort of his own home.  The pup scent is part of the whole camping experience - why cut yourself short?

5) Make new friends.

People love dogs.  Or should I say, people love Charles.  This dog is more than willing to take a break from whatever the day's activities to allow his adoring fans to show him some love.  Everywhere we went, someone would stop by and ask to pet him while chatting about their own puppy loves.  It created a quick community in a place where Grace and I would have otherwise most likely been left alone.  At the Bass Head Harbor Lighthouse, we met two engineers from Detroit who helped with the transport of Charles over some obstacles.  Along the Jordan Pond Loop, we met a kind older couple who had recently lost their own dog so we exchanged stories on the impact of pets.  Old Quarry Campground is exceptionally dog-friendly so Charles was off-leash and free to mingle with some of his peers.  

All-in-all it was a successful first camping adventure with the pup.  Now to plan our next excursion... 

stonington, maine

As we sat down with our mishmash of leftovers for our last night in Maine, I was only peripherally aware of the single, older gentleman loitering about the campground lobster pot.  With the threat of a tropical storm stymying our plans, I was more than preoccupied with the how and when we going to get back to New York.  (Spoiler alert: I made Grace get up at 2am.  She was thrilled.  Fear not – we’re still on speaking terms and hey we made it back across the LI Sound on a ferry. Win-win if you ask me.)  Also, any extra mental reserves were spent dreamily reminiscing of our day’s activities. 

Inspired by our surroundings and a slow morning, Grace and I had spent the afternoon lazily paddling from one island to another, which dot along the inner coastal Atlantic.  It was one of those days when you know in the moment it is something to be treasured.  While we never ventured too far from our launch, we spent much of the day by ourselves save for an island with an old quarry at it’s heart.  In true New Yorker fashion we managed to meet a couple of newlywed Brooklynites.   We discussed the surprises encounters that occur when one ventures away from the concrete jungle while snacking and sunbathing on the boulders that made up the shorefront.   After parting ways with our new friends and a much regretted dip in some fresh water, we continued on, stopping at the next public island which just do happened to have a little beach that was protected from the intermittent winds which helped make up for the previous stop’s poor decision-making.  As we continued to weave around the marine isles, the only other creatures to be seen were the occasional otter and a multitude of waterfowl and shorebirds.  We returned to the campground as the sun began to sink behind the ancient pines, adding some pink and orange hues to the evening sky to help ease us back to reality. 

By the time the responsibilities of kayak-returning and human/dog-cleaning were finished, any reinvigoration from an afternoon of island exploration had been mostly re-focused on the aforementioned extenuating circumstances of our trip’s end.   We set up our array of snacks and munched away while I did my best to coral Charles the Feminist why planning our return trip home.  I did not anticipate that I would soon be involved in a lengthy conversation with the fellow over by the lobster pot. 

There were certain aspects of this gentleman I noticed right away -probably a familiar thought to anyone who finds themselves as single, young-ish ladies – he was older, presumably my parents’ age, did not have a wedding ring on, and seemed to be by himself.  Again, in the purely judgmental sense, not someone I would have pursued a conversation with.  Not because this equates to an individual being creepy (he was not) but because the threat of it is there and most of the time I simply don’t want to deal with it.  Despite of or perhaps more likely due to my various distractions, we eased into the standard interaction of where are you from and what do you do.  However the discussion quickly veered off from formalities and I found myself seated across the way from a very angry individual.  Not at me, mind you, but at the universe it seemed that had allowed such atrocities in his life to occur.  The issue at the heart of this surprised me.  From his outward proclamations, it would appear that all of this pent up emotion was centered on inadequate pay for his profession, interspersed with vitriol regarding the current administration, a certain ‘crooked’ politician, and a variety of sexist and/or racist comments. 

The catch here though was he genuinely trying to be understood and from what I gathered he was a nice guy.  I understand the notion of ‘good intentions don’t matter’ and I am guilty of harboring such sentiments but in this moment his intentions were of the utmost importance - if only because it enabled me to be open to a change in perspective.  While my initial internal reaction was to focus on weaknesses in his argument in order to take it apart piece by piece (thanks for those genes, Dad), instead I simply listened.  I’m not entirely sure why either.  It’s not as though I have some super human power of patience and/or compassion. Maybe I was still reveling in our dreamy adventure, or I was influenced by the still and weight of the evening sea air, or maybe even I was just too tired to argue after a few long days with pre-dawn risings.   Whatever the reason, it was a fortunate reaction. There would have been no benefit from behaving in a confrontational manner.  Oftentimes people just want to be heard and I forget this because being a person myself, I want to tell my story.  I want my experiences to be validated, for my thoughts to matter.  I want to be known without being exposed.  How rare is it though that I grant that opportunity to the people that I meet.  As the conversation lingered on, he recalled episodes of profound sadness and it was in those moments that his particular worldview began to have some context.  He felt letdown by society - that his hard work and perseverance were for naught.  After all he had overcome, where was the fulfillment of his American dream?  I became preoccupied with the root of his pain rather than focusing on its symptoms and by doing so I ended up just feeling sympathetic. 

It wasn’t all tales of disappointments and despair.  When the topic ever so lightly shifted, every so often a smile would flash across his face such as when describing his love of navigating the Maine coastal waters by kayak or recounting a time of childhood impishness where he grew up in the Midwest.  He spoke with emotion as he shared the pride he felt at finally accomplishing his professional goals.  And he even managed to express some hope at what the future may hold, if only to return to Stonington the following summer. Ultimately, behind the tirade and misplaced advice was a person venturing through life and just trying to make sense of it all. 

post script:

i by no means think i had a perfect response to this encounter but it did get me thinking quite a bit throughout the weeks that follow.  how often do i hear someone say something i disagree with or at worse find offense in and instead of rejecting the words, i reject the person.  i think there is a balance in all of this but a personal life lesson nonetheless.  yay for adulting. 

notes:

we stayed at the old quarry campground and absolutely loved it.  there are limited campsites available so i would recommend reserving a spot sooner than later.  given our last minute plans, we stayed in an overflow site which happened to be a waterfront patch of grass on the owner’s front yard.  it was lovely, especially for a first time camper.  we also rented our kayak from them and found the staff to be incredibly helpful with planning the perfect afternoon excursion.  oh and if you are going to get lobster, buy it there – it goes straight from the sea to the pot.

i still dream of returning for a backpacking adventure at the nearby isle au haut.  thus far it’s been my favorite spot in acadia national park.

don’t be like us and drive to maine for a three day weekend.  make it at minimum a five day adventure and congratulate yourself for taking the time to sleep during your vacation.

acadia national park, maine

I'm so thankful Meg was all like "let's go to Maine" for Labor Day Weekend. I had never been and it felt like our final impulsive summer roadtrip for the season. We had one last long weekend to get out of dodge before both of our schedules filled up with a lot more obligations. I've just passed my 11th year anniversary of moving to New York City, and the more roots I grow here having a place of my own, the more I want to invest in my little corner. Adulting: le sigh.

I'd like to say becoming an official New Yorker also means becoming well versed in all of the New England getaways, right? Well, I will definitely dream of becoming a Maine regular with age. Our little travel squad of 3 couldn't have loved Maine more on our 3-day weekend. (Charley, the family dog who also goes by Charles the Feminist, proved to be quite the pro at the hiking and camping bit too!)

Though it's about an 8 hour drive from NYC, we made it in record time thanks to waking up super early to avoid traffic and the 90s hip hop station. Upon arrival, we set up camp at Blackwoods Campground and headed over to explore the seaside at Bass Harbor Lighthouse in the late afternoon light. I had my first ever proper lobster dinner complete with local blueberry beer with little blueberries floating around in it. Charles happily sat at our feet (and flirted with everyone else there) on the deck of the restaurant as we enjoyed the sunset over a bay of sailboats... I'd say that's a pretty good welcome to Maine. 

If you visit Acadia National Park, going to the top of Cadillac Mountain to see the sunrise is hands down the top thing you should do (pun intended). It's the highest point in the North Atlantic seaboard and the first place that you can see the sunrise in the USA for the majority of the year. You won't be alone in your venture and you'll have to get a head start (sunrise was at 5:50am), but there's enough room for everyone to find their own rock to enjoy the panoramic views of the sun drenching up over the hundreds of little islands in view. 

We took a pitstop for breakfast at the Sunrise Cafe in Bar Harbor for a refuel before a few hours of hiking. It was comfy and crepes may have been involved... Charley was a champ on our hike, making it up several impressive scrambles, surveying the area around Bubble Rock, and strutting his stuff around Jordan Pond. I may be the last person on Earth to learn this, but walking around with a dog is the best way to make a lot of friends. We stopped and met many new friends on our walk around Jordan Pond (which is a beautiful mixture of planks, paths, and rocks) and once we crossed the halfway point to make our way back around the other side of the loop, we met those cheerful familiar faces again. Several of them said how they had been talking about how cute Charley was for the past 30 minutes since we last saw them. It's a really tough life being a Westie in Maine.

Though Acadia and Mount Desert Island were an epic start to our laborious Maine vacay... the island hopping was just beginning. 

isle au haut, me

For Labor Day weekend I wanted to escape the city one last time before the reality of autumn set in.  A newer friend and I hatched a plan for Maine a few weeks ago and before I knew it August was nearing its end.  We left early in the morning in an attempt to beat the holiday traffic and traveled 10+ hours to our destination.   Using mostly borrowed equipment, we quickly set up camp and set our sights on the weekend ahead of us. 

Isle au Haut is an island that’s part of Acadia National Park but you can only get there by the mail boat.  There are two stops – 1 mostly for the townspeople and 1 for visitors to the park. 

The day we went only 5 people were on the boat for the park: my friend, myself, another Brooklynite, and an older couple.  We were greeted at the dock by a park ranger who let us know the basics of the park (latrines, potable water, etc.) and also what to expect on the various trails.  She also cautioned us about poor footing and the potential for steep climbs, resulting in the paths taking longer than we might otherwise anticipate.   As she spoke, my mind could not help but wonder how the older couple would fair; I doubted their ability to make it through sections of park. At the end of our briefing, we all started off towards the various trailheads.  When the others stopped for a very important powdering of their noses, my friend and I veered off towards Duck Harbor Mountain. 

While it is only about 300 or so feet above sea level, the trail is comprised of many ups and downs.  We climbed up numerous rock faces only to slide down the other side and then repeat the whole process again.  I loved it. 

When we reached the end of the trail we were directly in front of Squeaker Cove.  We followed the trail for a bit but the lure of the pebbly coast led us to abandon the path and scramble over giant rocks once again.  Having gained some wisdom with my years (perhaps learned from experience with waterfalls and falling, maybe), we did eventually decide to stop hopping across the boulders lining the sea and follow the trail. 

Although we were back on a designated trail, the terrain remained rocky along the coast and full of tree roots in the woods.  When I allowed my mind to wander a bit too much, I would quickly stumble and be brought back to the present.  After tripping myself once again, my friend and I discussed how we were able to take on the rock climbing and the trails because we were still young.  We felt pretty good about ourselves and even acknowledged that the older couple had must have been hiking the easier path, enjoying the view near the harbor.

No sooner had the words left our mouths but who should we pass – the older couple.  They had each found a walking stick and were making their way up and down the rocks, gracefully I might add as compared to our lumbering about.  Small talk ensued about holding the boat for each other and what great views were coming up on each other’s paths and then we each continued on our ways. 

I was dumbfounded.  Not only had this couple decided to take a more difficult route – they were owning it and managing much better than my friend and I were.  I don’t think a drop of sweat graced their bodies.  As I sat down at the end of the dock waiting for the mail boat to come back and take my tired bones back across the sea, all I could do was laugh at my prejudice.  The couple continued to explore about the island, enjoying each other’s company, and proving us all wrong.