For now, we were in Seattle, up at 5 AM EST, or 2 AM local time, bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to rock and roll.
This is the morning to meet the team at Trupanion... at 9 AM local time. I'd had breakfast and lunch by the time I make it to their offices!
When we leave, I'm thinking about what and where supper will be.
Why not on a beach?
Cannon Beach, three hours from Seattle, on the Oregon coast is rated as one of the most dog friendly. I could park in town and walk across the road to it... where's the fun in that?
Instead, I take the crew to Ecola State Park right next door and we hike down to Crescent Beach. They forgot to add "soupy mud" to trail description.
Follow the leader.
Getting closer. See the sun, yeah, it's shining again. I have the best luck during my travels.
We make it! The beach is approx. half a mile long, bordered by impassible rock formations at each end, making it the perfect place to let the hounds loose. For the first hour, we are to ourselves on the beach... until the hiker, who'd been laying across the trail joins us. A little troubling to see what looks like a dead body in the woods, but I quickly realize by the way he has his hands in the earth, that he is communing with nature. Been there, done that, but not in the middle of a trail! Pete licks his face as we all step over him. Thank you is all he says without ever opening his eyes. I don't know this young man, but I instantly like him.
We enjoy our private beach with abandon! Sea Lion Rocks prevent Cole from running back up the coast to Washington.
Bird Rocks keep him from escaping to California.
He almost makes it through this hole before I can stop him. Tide is coming in and I don't need to lose him today.
Takes eyes behind my head to keep up with the Master of Disaster.
He's my favorite mess.
Along with Pete and Garrett, equally favorite messes.
They run and play, coming back to me on occasion, as I am the carrier of the gallon of spring water and snacks.
As it's getting close to dusk, we leave Crescent Beach and the lone hiker who is now setting up some sort of a little altar, made from rocks and driftwood, on the beach. Sweet gentle soul, I tell him the world would be a better place if more people like him were in it. He beams back a smile.
The dogs crash in the back as I settle in for the +7 hour drive back to our rental in Union, Oregon.
We hit a snowstorm in the mountains and have to inch our way over a mountain pass.
Finally, we arrive at 3 AM Eastern Time, or 1 AM local time, wrapping up a chock full 22 hour day. Wouldn't trade a minute of it.
With only 3 hours of sleep logged, the dogs insist I hit the road for our next stop in Southern Idaho. Like driving a van full of Miss Daisys.