Two years of hauling a 46 pound dog's water up Cascade trails before I finally let him carry it himself. Here is what changed, what did not, and the two days a week I still leave it on the hook by the door.
Two seasons of Saturdays on Cascade trails with a Medium Front Range Day Pack on a 46 pound Australian shepherd mix. What held up, what I still fumble with, and the days I leave it home.
A plain comparison from a weekend hiker: the Ruffwear Front Range Day Pack against the only other method I know, carrying the dog's water and gear in my own pack.
Ten reasons, plus the two kinds of days I leave it home and the one load I refuse to add.
Two years of hauling a 46 pound dog's water up Cascade trails before I finally let him carry it himself. Here is what changed, what did not, and the two days a week I still leave it on the hook by the door.
Five steps, one bowl, and a dog who finally carries his own water. Notes from two years of Saturday hikes in the Cascades.
Two years, one dog, and a lot of 20 ounce water bottles: what the pack does well, the three things I still grumble about, and who should leave it on the shelf.
Four years, one dog, and a lot of Cascade Saturdays on the same harness. Here is what held up, what still annoys me, and who it actually suits.
Four years of Saturdays on Cascade trails, one harness, one flat collar, and a clear answer about which one the leash clips to.
Four years of Saturdays on Cascade trails, one harness, and a flat collar that still does its job around town. Here is what actually changed on the trail.
A plain-spoken note on the one harness that has stayed on the hook by the back door for four years.
Two measurements, five steps, and about ten minutes on the kitchen floor. Here is the order I would do it in again, from someone who has fitted exactly one harness and left it alone for four years.
Four years, four hiking seasons, and one harness that has never broken. Also the hand washing, the burrs, and the fading nobody puts in the listing photos.
Eighteen months on lava rock, hot summer stone and packed snow. What held up, what takes practice, and the one ordering detail people miss.
Eighteen months of Saturdays, one dog, and a rule I did not expect to land on: the boots earn their place on three kinds of ground and none of the rest.
A weekend hiker's plain notes on when four dog boots earn their space in the pack, and when they stay home.
A weekend hiker's plain notes on the Ruffwear Grip Trex Dog Shoes, from a 6-year-old Australian shepherd mix who wears them on lava rock and packed ice, not on soft dirt.
A weekend hiker's plain routine for measuring, fitting, and checking dog shoes so they stay put on the trail.
A weekend hiker's plain notes on the Ruffwear Grip Trex: what the listing does not say out loud, where the shoes earn their place, and who should leave them on the shelf.
Three years, most Saturdays from April through October, one zippered fabric bowl clipped to the outside of a pack. Here is what held up, what got gritty, and who this actually suits.
Two ways to get water into a dog on a trail. One is what I have carried for three years. Here is where each one honestly beats the other.
Ten reasons a 1.76-ounce bowl has ridden on every pack for three years, plus the two cases where it stays home.
Three years, one bowl, one carabiner, and a lot fewer stops with water running through my fingers.
What four years of Saturday hikes taught me about getting water into a dog on a trail, including the one piece of gear that made it easy.
Three years, one bowl, and the small zipper detail that decides whether it rides outside your pack or gets buried in it.
Three and a half years of Saturdays on Cascade trails with one waist leash, both trekking poles, and one dog. Here is what held up, what I fumbled, and who should buy something else.
Three and a half years on the same waist leash, and a plain six foot leash still living in the car door. What each one is actually good at, and where I still reach for the simple one.
Ten plain reasons the waist leash earned a permanent spot on my hikes, plus the limits I would tell a friend about.
Three and a half years of Saturdays, one pair of trekking poles, one dog, and the piece of gear that let me keep both.
One pair of poles, one dog, and the setup that finally stopped the leash from wrecking my pole plant.
Three and a half years, one waist belt, and the small things the listing photos do not show.
Two seasons of Saturdays on Cascade trails with a Medium Front Range Day Pack on a 46 pound Australian shepherd mix. What held up, what I still fumble with, and the days I leave it home.
Two years, one dog, and a lot of 20 ounce water bottles: what the pack does well, the three things I still grumble about, and who should leave it on the shelf.
Four years, one dog, and a lot of Cascade Saturdays on the same harness. Here is what held up, what still annoys me, and who it actually suits.
Four years, four hiking seasons, and one harness that has never broken. Also the hand washing, the burrs, and the fading nobody puts in the listing photos.
Eighteen months on lava rock, hot summer stone and packed snow. What held up, what takes practice, and the one ordering detail people miss.
A weekend hiker's plain notes on the Ruffwear Grip Trex: what the listing does not say out loud, where the shoes earn their place, and who should leave them on the shelf.
Three years, most Saturdays from April through October, one zippered fabric bowl clipped to the outside of a pack. Here is what held up, what got gritty, and who this actually suits.
Three years, one bowl, and the small zipper detail that decides whether it rides outside your pack or gets buried in it.
Three and a half years of Saturdays on Cascade trails with one waist leash, both trekking poles, and one dog. Here is what held up, what I fumbled, and who should buy something else.
Three and a half years, one waist belt, and the small things the listing photos do not show.
