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Last Updated Tuesday, June 27, 2017
Saturday, June 17, 2017 - 7 PM PDT– This year, like 2014 in Alaska, started with a ridiculously long day of travel yesterday (and today) to get to our rental cabin about an hour west of Seattle. It started for me at 5:30 AM EDT when I got up to take the boys out, and ended at 2 AM PDT (5 AM EDT) when we finally settled into our accommodation and passed out. The plan, which made sense during the planning stages, consisted of Tony flying his two dogs out of Philadelphia late Friday afternoon, and meeting Vik & me in Seattle after we flew out of Baltimore about the same time. Then grab the rental vehicles while Vik watched the dogs and luggage at the airport terminal, load ‘em up and have a leisurly drive to our cabin. If only it had been that easy.
I won’t bore you with details, but providing a few highlights will give you a little of the flavor that was our day in purgatory.
Tony, after letting his two shipping crates be stolen by TSA thugs, walking back to the terminal in Philadelphia, with the dogs on lead, because the shuttle driver from the long term lot would not let him take Teddy and Peggy on the shuttle. And we all know the long term lot in any airport in the world is not exactly close to the terminal. And mid-way in the journey, the Alaska Air folks called his cell to tell him he had 20 minutes to get there or the dogs wouldn’t make it on the flight. His pace suddenly became that of a highly motivated middle distance runner.
Me, madly rushing to the short-term parking lot in Baltimore to move our vehicle to the long term lot before boarding our flight because like a moron I forgot I parked it there temporarily to make getting all our detritus on the plane a little easier. Seeing as how the long term lot is $8 a day, and the short term lot is $8 an hour I also became highly motivated.
Tony, in the Seattle terminal, desparately looking for paper towels and a bag for his face after Peggy, just after returning from an airing session, decided to spew forth a viscus abomination right by baggage claim that caught the attention of all in the vicinity, and likely TSA air quality sensors from Los Angles to Anchorage.
Me, trying so hard to drive the rental SUV from the rental pick-up back to the terminal and making a series of woefully wrong turns that ended in the taxi drivers holding pen, and me driving the wrong way on a one way ramp just to escape what looked like some sort of sacrificial ceremony they were conducting since they had some down time, it being in the middle of the night and all.
Tony, having rented a soccer mom Toyota Grand Caravan from Alamo, in front of the terminal, trying, with minimal success, to fold down the seats so he could get the crates in. Being in such a bad way that he actually asked two security cops if they could help him. Sad, very sad.
Me, walking out of the terminal while the cops were bending down, fooling with the seats, and immediately assuming that he had somehow pissed them off and they were now searching his vehicle, which was parked right next to mine, for drugs. Wanting both to be supportive, while not giving the Man the slightest hint that I knew him, I walked behind him and hissed in his ear, “WTF dude???” without breaking stride. He then said all was well, but I refused to believe him and kept going to my vehicle with the two dog crates and loaded them just to be sure all was well. It actually was, although they couldn’t get the seats down either and left, much to my still skeptical disbelief. Eventually he found a woman with two young children in tow and was instructed on how to accomplish the task.
All of us, at the end of a 12-vehicle queue in the McDonald’s all-night drive through, desperate for food and drink, watching the line not move, finally giving up and backing out just before we were past the point of no return, and seeing that we had finally made a correct choice, as at the head of the line there was a van of questionable pedigree, filled with a number of economically challenged farm workers, one of whom was bent over and fertilizing the entire drive through lane.
Photo courtesy Tony Carlo
We took a little trip around the house to see if there are any good places to train. There aren't, but the boys were nice enough to pose for us in a totally unsuitable slash pile. Peggy, Teddy, Bry & Hank.
Photo courtesy Tony Carlo
I always like to explore the local culture, and this little shot from Tony is of one of the ever present legal marijuana stores that dot the country side. Having indulged a bit in my youth I'm okay with it, but I am a bit concerned that they are offering Military Discounts. But who am I to judge?
Wednesday, June 21, 2017 - 11 PM PDT– Sorry for not updating this as much as I would like, but we've just had very long days and I've been pretty wiped when we get back in the evenings. I'll try to do better.
We have had some great training and this is probably the most cohesive training group I've ever had at an Invitational. I was afraid that wouldn't happen since we're missing many of the east coast handlers that I've grown accustomed to being with; the Snows, Mellenders, Jim and Terry, but Tony and I got together with Karen Loh from back east, as well as DickO from Minnesota, the land of nice, and Kody and Mike Hemmer from Alaska. We've set up scenarios that addressed what ever anybody wanted to work on, and in general it has been a pleasant and productive couple of days. I know my guys came off the plane much worse that I anticipated, and they just blew chunks in training Monday, but they got much better Tuesday and today they didn't put a foot down wrong so I'm reasonably confident going into tomorrow.
Photo courtesy Victoria Pepper
Here's our group. From the left: Tony with Teddy and Peggy, Sushi and DickO, Betty and Mike Hemmer, Hank, Bry and Me, Kody and Zink and in the front, Karen and Max.
We're just back from the banquet, which was outstanding as they always are. I do believe they might have set an auction record, as a bunch of things went for 4 figures. I got a smokin' deal on a tritronics 550 and tritronics release. I needed a second collar so that was great, but since I'm a dogtra guy for remote releases if anyone wants to trade a nib tritronics remote system for a dogtra receiver only I'm your guy.
Harry and company have come up with a new tradition in running order that I think adds a little something to the event while still being fair to all. While they have a draw for running order as usual, they had a second draw at the opening orientation this morning to determine which dog starts. In this case, it turned out to be lucky dog #25 Chami, handled by Diane Crider. Most relieved dog under the tent was dog #1, Spring, handled by Lance Sennette. Then of course there will be the rotation for each series, and since there are 28 dogs I just figured they'd go with every 7 counting up from 25, so dog # 4, Bob Boeh's Ice would start the upland. But I was wrong, and the committee came up with a rotation (I'm assuming from an old algorithm from Harry's days at Boeing) that has Dog #12, my own Hank, starting first on the upland, Dog # 5, Alan Black's Jura starting the trail, and Dog #19, Dan Hosford's Kobe first on the water. That means Tony and I will be in the back half on the water, and Tony and Peggy will be beer dog, which sucks, but I'm pretty happy that Bry will be second on the trail. Can't hurt, that's for sure.
I'm packing it in for the night, but I will end with another bit of local flavor. The sign below is on the road right before one turns into our driveway at the cabin we rented. Its presence was not mentioned during the negotiations on our accommodations.
Photo courtesy Victoria Pepper
More tomorrow.
Thursday, June 22, 2017 - 9 PM PDT- A very interesting land series, held in sunny weather at about 75 degrees with a swirling, somewhat brisk wind. Very doable, but with enough potential pitfalls to keep you on your toes. Most of the dogs did very well on it, but the blind in particular was a deceptive little tester, and the marks were tougher than they first appeared.
The test scenario was a pheasant hunt with the working dog arriving late to the hunt, which resulted in a walk-up triple with blind to catch up to your buddies already in the field. It was held in a pasture with mostly 1 1/2 to 2 foot grass that had been mowed by the diabolical test chair, Harry Williams, into a series of shapes not normally seen in nature. The direct line to all of the birds involved going through multiple patches of high cover and mowed paths, with many of the paths leading away from the birds. Dogs really had to stick to their lines or trouble awaited. A small stream ran behind the fall of the left hand bird, and more than a few dogs went deep and ended up back there and had to be handled out.
Before you were under judgment you were instructed to walk, stroll, quarter or otherwise transit about 120 yards of mowed field. I took that opportunity to dunk my guys in the previously mentioned stream, since there was no judging going on. You then crossed over a small ditch and began your hunt. You walked with your dog at heel (some more at heel than others) about 30 yards, and when you entered a clearly defined box your test started. You could proceed at your own pace, and I took it very slow, and stopped both my guys just before entering the box to make sure we were all on the same page.
Bird #1 came out first, a dead bird from a hidden winger about 50 yards to the left of the line. It was one of those giant throws that could bring rain, and it landed on a mowed path right behind a large patch of cover. I thought it was going to be an easy mark, and while it was the easiest of the three, it was no gimme as even dogs that took good lines and didn't fall for the temptation to go deep had some significant hunts.
Immediately after that bird fell, the right hand mark went off, with a shout from the gun station at the height of the arc. It landed at about 55 yards in a patch of mowed cover, but it was surrounded by lots of the high stuff, and in my estimation was the money bird. Lots of gorilla hunts and handles, with not the best visibility, but you could keep track of your dog for the most part. The only issue I had with it was that the gunners yelled to attract the dogs attention at the height of the throw, rather than when they actually released the winger. As a result, dogs, who had to make a quick 180 degree turn to see the bird, were only able to see the last downward portion of the fall, and if they were at all late coming off the first bird they really didn't have much to mark.
The flyer was the last bird down, and it also was one of those space shot launches that went up into the stratosphere, but the guns were very consistent, at least from the runs I was able to see, and the birds landed behind and to the left side of the gun station from the dogs point of view in pretty thick, unmowed cover. I only heard of one no-bird so the gunners did a very good job. Most of the falls were at about 80 yards and I don' t think there were too many excessively long hunts since it was the go bird. Both of my guys did very well on the marks with Hank in particular really just front footing the memory birds to go along with a pretty short hunt on the flyer.
The blind was a judges' blind for sure. You were allowed to start from anywhere in the previously referenced box, and I think to a man/woman we all ran it from the left side. The right side brought in two patches of unmowed cover to the mix, and why would you try to run through something you could ethically avoid altogether by moving to the left. Once you kicked the dog off you had a pretty well defined open patch for the first 2/3 of the blind. There was some suction to the left from the flyer station, and plenty of dogs succumbed to that, but most took pretty decent paths to the bird. About 3/4 of the way out, if you were on a good line, you went down a small hill with suction to the right which put you behind some heavy cover and out of sight. That caught plenty of dogs. Basically, if you were slow on the whistle your dog could be out of sight in a heartbeat. The bird was just at the edge of heavy cover, about 10-15 yards from the hill although i may be off on that distance. There was far more room for error to the left of the exact line to the blind than there was to the right. I think it was about 80 yards.
Bry ran first, and had a very nice first 75 yards I thought. I was sure he was just about on the bird, but the little felon went right by the bird on the wrong side of the wind and went deep into the heavy cover, and out of sight. I got him back after more time than it should have taken, including a couple of verbals, but we survived. I still don't know where I went wrong, but it was by no means the worst job so I'm not too worried overall.
Hank had a great blind. I don't remember if it was one or two whistles to get him to the hill, but I stopped him there, gave him a left back and he went right to the bird. However, with Bry's run still fresh in my mind, I think I gave him 2 or even 3 whistles right at the bird as i was going to move him 2 feet at a time until he picked it up. Judge Plewa mentioned to me, in his own caring way, that I perhaps didn't need all of those last whistles, and I'm sure I didn't, but it is almost always the whistles you don't blow that haunt you the most. I certainly wish I'd blown one more with Bry.
All of our little training group is back and overall we only lost two dogs. As is always the case, some are bleeding a bit, but the judges have been generous in their call-backs and everyone still in it knows what they need to do. Day 2 tomorrow will start with the Upland, with Hank running first, followed by the trail. As those of you familiar with my history know, Day 2 is my ghost of christmas yet to come, the one I fear the most. I've gotten a great draw so we'll see what we can do with it.
Friday, June 23, 2017 - 9:30 PM PDT
The Upland. We did the upland first thing this morning, and all the dogs did enough to keep playing to the trail. For the first time I can remember, nobody went out on a break (there were a couple controlled breaks/long creeps but nothing that rose to a capital offense.)
We quartered along the side of a hill that had escaped Harry’s bush hog carnage so the natural coverage was intact. We had some 3’ bushes spaced out so there was some open area, as well as some solid but low grass. You walked down the middle with a judge and gunner off on each side. We quartered about 80-100 yards and got a hen pheasant flush that the gunners, for the most part, dropped in good fashion. You then quartered another 50 yards and were done. The gallery was in the same location as yesterday, and had a good view of the flush and the dog, but much of the hunt was out of sight.
Judges Plewa, Day & Pommerening discuss a dog's run. You can see the contrasting cover styles
Both my boys did well, although I did have a bad moment with Bry, when after the flush, he got the only fly-away of the day. The bird did go down, but at least 400 yards away, and was clearly unscathed. I had marked it, but when I turned to the nearest judge and asked if he wanted me to pick it up I was expecting to be told no, and keep on hunting. But he said yes, and I just stood there in disbelief. He then said heel your dog, which I did, and then asked again if he really wanted me to pick it up. Thankfully he had second thoughts and we were able to finish out the hunt and move on.
Karen Loh, flanked by a gunner and Judge Plewa at the beginning of her upland run with Max. They did well.
We didn’t lose any dogs, and took the remaining 26 to the trail.
The Trail. Life sucks and then you die. Just to set the stage a little bit, you have to know that our little training group spent parts of two days training in a little tiny field about a quarter mile from the site of the land series. It had good parking in shade along the road, a nice bit of woods that provided additional shade, and a solid path to the field. Our own little nirvana, and best of all, nobody but Harry seemed to know about it. And therein was our undoing.
At some point, the judges and Harry decided they would use our field for the trail. Mind you, they didn’t announce that until well after the upland was over, and well after we had all parked down there and used the field to air our dogs, dunk them in the small creek around the perimeter and in general we treated it in a matter that would not have been the case had we known what was to come. But we did, and at a very inopportune time we were instructed, along with the rest of the rabble, to stay out of the field. That was bad enough, but to compound our misery, Harry told everyone that the entrance to the field was literally where I was parked and for all to assemble there. So instead of having a safe haven among friends, it suddenly turned into a lovely suburban neighborhood after HUD started passing out Section 8 Vouchers to every homeless soul in the nearest big city. The culture change was both significant and disturbing. Every dog had to walk right behind our open hatchback, which as you can imagine did not sit well with the boys. One couldn’t even find a place to sit down as our lovely copse of trees was filled with dogs and handlers waiting to run. And we couldn’t even move our vehicles since every place around us was now filled with the interlopers.
Our beautiful little copse, now overrun with all of my fellow handlers. That's Bob Boeh and Steve Dal Porto on the far right.
All that said, the trail was so set up for me to cruise through it in a matter of minutes. Bry, who isn’t at his best on hogged up trails, was slated to run 2nd, so I was very confident I wouldn’t get hosed on this one. And he did make it to the bird pile with remarkable alacrity. Unfortunately he did so at the expense of actually running the trail, as the little beggar apparently smelled the pile on the way to the start of the trail and just went right to it. I saw it as an incredibly efficient display of “pick up the wounded duck as quickly as possible”, but the judges saw it differently and we were instructed to go back to the group W bench and wait for a whole new trail to be dragged. Only I could screw up the #2 seed like that.
Hank, on the other hand, ran a very nice trail and was done almost as fast as Bry had been. And then the waiting began, while all the time I’m thinking I should be sipping ice tea back at test headquarters, waiting for the pig roast to commence.
The original trail held up pretty well, but with about a half-dozen dogs left to run, the judges scrapped the first trail and set up a new one. Keeping a keen eye on the proceedings, as soon as I heard the phrase “new trail” Bry and I were out of the car and down to the field in record time. I might have butted up a little bit, but I wanted to avoid the specter of having to run the new trail last, rather than no later than 2nd. I think I ended up 3rd, had to put him on it twice, but the second time was almost perfect and we were through. Whew..., and on to Saturday.
Early indications are that the water blind will be a bear and that seems appropriate as stout water blinds are a staple of Invitationals, as they should be. It also appears that we will have our worst day weather-wise, with temps over 90 and not much wind. I’ll report back tomorrow.
Sunday, June 25, 2017 - 11:30 AM PDT
Had neither the time nor energy to post anything yesterday except the final results. So to bring you up to date:
The water series was pretty much what we expected, although the two outside marks alternated being harder than expected. The scenario was that you were doing a little duck hunt with your buddies and stood under a tree on the shore with your gun as the ducks came in. Your dog was just in front of you, or if you were confident that your dog would stay put as the birds were going down, out a bit farther so they could get a better view of things. Another 180 degree swing between birds one and two was required, so you had to count on your dog making that swing unaided if you left him out front on his own.
Bird one came out on the left at about 50 yards and landed in among a bunch of trees against the shore. Mostly running to start and then swimming. Nice big throw, with some of them hitting some overhanging branches and dropping straight down, which was not a bad thing for the dogs. All got a good splash. There were a couple dozen of the Avery duck and goose dekes on the way, and it made for a very realistic mark.
Bird two came out on the right, and was ideally placed about 30-40 yards out from the bank, which resulted in a 50 yard retrieve. It landed out in the open, past another bunch of Avery decoys, and looked to be a pretty basic retrieve. If the bird fell a little short it was a little closer to a pile of deadfall that came into play when dogs hooked around it to the right and lost track of the bird.
Bird three was a flyer that came out from about the same place, but was angled more into the dog and fell in with the decoys and vegetation about 40 yards out. A cake retrieve, but it very effectively wiped out the second bird and the combination was deadly to a lot of dogs, especially early. Counting the test dog, 7 of the first 8 dogs had at least one handle.
Bird one, from the left.
Birds two and three, from the right. Bird two was very hard early, but got easier as the sun got up higher and made it more visible. If it fell short the dogs got confused by the dead fall sticking out into the water, some going behind it and having to be handled out. Bry actually did that to a certain extent, but i moved up to be able to see through a slot in the pile and was able to determine he was working his way back out so I didn't have to handle.
The flyer seemed to have a pretty consistent fall, although the combination of a long 2 bird and a short flyer left you with an inline to deal with.
Most people seemed to pick up the right hand bird second, leaving the left hand bird for last. I just let my guys pick what they wanted and I don't even remember which order we ended up with. As the sun rose and the right hand bird got easier, the left hand bird seemed to get harder. The dogs that had trouble got hung up while going through all the decoys and the transition to swimming water and they stayed short and to the right. The trees on the right looked just like the trees on the left so it was understandable. I think only one dog had an issue by going too far left on it.
The blind was a wonderful, very difficult but eminently fair Invitational water blind. It required precision to get through a tight window, but even after you got through that, you had another 40 yards of swimming to close. The last 10 yards were particularly difficult for dogs that wanted to beach early, as there was scent coming off the blind planter to the left that was very attractive, along with the fact that the shoreline converged right at the bird so dogs wanted to go left anyway. To me it was the kind of blind that if you had points to give you were pretty confident if you had a dog that would listen to you. If you were on the bubble it must have been a scary experience.
The blind - about 90 yards I think, although it looked like about 175 if you hadn't done any work on keyhole blinds lately. The slot was probably 10-12 feet wide, although it looked like about 4 foot max if you were a handler. Before we get into the nuances of the blind, to help with understanding it, here's a picture of Tony Carlo's Peggy coming back with her blind bird.
I think we all hate keyhole blinds that even after you get through the slot you can lose your dog in a heartbeat if it takes a quick left or right on you and you can't recover because the cover is too thick. I would never throw one of those as a judge, and neither did our judges because they gave you an opportunity to hang in there if that happened, although you were going to pay a price for it. If your dog went off line you absolutely lost sight of them for a bit of time, but the judges gave you the option to handle over a wide range so you could always get your dog back. You just had to move around and pick it up between the trees again. But the price you paid was that while you were moving around trying to pick up your dog, your dog was very likely moving around trying to pick you up! There were a few of those dances and I'm sure it was frustrating, but once you stopped the dance most people got right back on line after a whistle or two.
After you made it through the hole it was a straight shot to the bird, except for the converging shoreline and wind off the blind planter. Obvious factors that we see all the time and should be able to deal with. The bird was placed under an overhanging tree limb out a few feet from shore and if you came up on the right side it was an easy close, but if you were off to the left you really had to be on your toes. At least one dog was feet away from pay dirt but bolted up the bank and was gone.
The reason I put Peggy's picture in this discussion (other than that she's a heck of a dog and got her second Invitational pass) is that it shows in a little more detail what the slot we had to go through looked like. She is shown just exiting the slot on the way back. While traversing most keyholes, there isn't much temptation to go off to either side in the slot because all the attraction is at the end. But in this one, while the slot looks like a short tunnel from the line, it was actually about 15-20 yards long with openings to escape all along both sides. As a general rule, if you enter a keyhole at an angle, as if you have gotten in there with an angle back for example, your dog is usually going to straighten out and go the the end of the slot. But here, you had so much open space in the slot that if you came in at an angle, and your dog kept that same angle since there was an obvious opening in that direction, you got in some more trouble.
Many dogs took 2-3 whistles to get into the slot; there was suction to the left and dogs took off or faded in that direction. I remember both my guys drifted left but after a couple of whistles they were in the slot. I don't remember any dogs really having major issues in the first half of the blind. All in all, a big dog blind for a big dog test, which it was.
And now a few pictures.
Missing only Bob Boeh, who had to beat feet to Montana right after he ran. It was good to see him running, as of the 15 judges from the last 5 Invitationals, dating back to 2012, Bob and Kody are the only two judges to subsequently run another themselves. I'm hoping for at least 2 out of this year's 3 next year in Virginia.
And here we have the goat herd, otherwise known as our training group, going a perfect 8 for 8. I suppose it was too much to expect that Ofstedal would be able to face his ribbon the right way for two photos in a row. On the other hand, at least his eyes are open, which I was unable to accomplish.
Our esteemed NAHRA President and Vice-President, working hard to improve the organization, down to the last detail.
DickO, celebrating his 47th wedding anniversary. Unfortunately, Kathy couldn't be with us as she stayed home to recover from 47 years of marriage to DickO. You are a saint Kathy!!!
Jeff Backstrom having a pleasant chat with Judge Plewa before taking the line as the first dog on the water series. Jeff and Abby had an interesting enough run to hold the gallery's attention and in the end they passed for what I think is Abby's first Invitational ribbon. The plaque's better, dude!
Along with Harry, Jim Tracey is my oldest Invitational friend, dating back to Colorado in 2006. I believe this picture was taken as we were getting ready to move the handlers up to the site of the water series Saturday morning. Although my wife thinks his expression is of someone calculating how to get rid of his stalker, I assured her that Jim gave that up several years ago.
Peggy and Tony wrap up the test as beer dog on water, having finished the honor and thanking Judge Day for a great test.
Although I don't personally believe in any sort of superstition, I often feel the need to support other cultures in their beliefs, such as always wearing the same gloves to handle ones dog or having a lucky talisman of some sort to ward off evil spirits. This week I thought I would help our western european allies, who are having some civil unrest issues. In order to support them I decided to build a cairn in their honor. Working with Patsy Hove, who inspired the idea with her pointer as I was walking back to the bullpen to pick up Bry for his run, we crafted a small stone structure to please the gods. Bry had a very good run, and it therefore seemed more than appropriate to add to the cairn before I ran Hank. And so I did, with the result that we got our first Invitational twofer. Not saying one had anything to do with the other, but you can't prove to me that it didn't!
An added bonus to the week was that our little event got some very nice publicity from one of the local papers, the Kitsap Sun. Qualifier Wanda Frontado from California did us proud and got quite a few lines and pictures as did Alaska's own Mike Hemmer (well, not so much the pictures). I had the luck to run first so their photog just followed me around for my whole run and Hank did well so he got in there twice. I was, however, not asked for any sort of comment, and I don't know if that is because he quickly sized me up as someone to avoid for that purpose, or Harry just took him aside and told him. Oh well... the URL is:
http://www.kitsapsun.com/story/news/2017/06/23/top-dogs-strut-their-stuff-dewatto/424721001/
Tuesday, June 27, 2017 - 10:30 PM EDT
Monday Vik, Tony and I trundled in our respective vehicles and caravanned to beautiful Olympic National Park. Javier had previously done the same trip while the rest of us were out training the week before, and he came back with wonderful pictures that gave us our primary itinerary. We started off going to Sequim, which was allegedly a lovely little town renowned as the lavender capital of the world. We found it more of a rural county seat and continued on to Hurricane Ridge, which was beautiful.
Our little party on the way up to Hurricane Ridge. Bry looks bored, Hank looks pissed, Peggy is Peggy and you can’t tell what Teddy is thinking cuz he’s a black dog.
Our next stop was Ruby Beach, which was my #1 goal so Hank could swim in the Pacific and join Bry in the two-ocean club. And of course we got in trouble since they have those draconian leash laws in effect that no true handler could ever take seriously. We spent quite a bit of time entertaining the crowd with the boys and Peggy doing numerous driftwood retrieves in the surf. A fun time was had by all, except apparently, a dried up old woman and her little mongrel who mentioned the leash law to us several times. It probably didn’t help that one of Tony’s charges took a dump right next to her which he just covered with rocks since he didn’t have a bag to pick anything up (I actually had a bag, but he didn’t mention the incident to me until later so I couldn’t help).
We took a few pictures, retrieved some more driftwood, skipped some stones in a small pool and leashed the boys up to head back to the parking lot. Thank goodness we did put them on lead, as literally seconds later the Man comes down and heads straight for us. They got to me first and mentioned that the boys were awfully wet and it looked like I had taken them off lead to go swimming. I allowed as how I knew that was against the rules but I had walked them in the surf and the spray might have gotten them wet. All parties concerned saw that story for what it was but since my guys were on lead when they got to me that was it. Tony had a similar conversation, although he tried to say he wasn’t with me even though we were standing feet apart. His surf story was a bit more believable since he actually had been in the surf through inattention to the incoming waves and was wet up to his knees. As we bade goodbye to The Man I innocently asked if it was okay to pick wildflowers if they weren’t in bloom yet. Of course the answer was a harsh no, and I let them know that, while I wasn’t certain, I thought I might have seen an old lady with a big bag and little dog putting a few stems of something in her bag. I figured that settled our score with her nicely, although it did mean we’d have to hustle up to the lot to get out of Dodge as quickly as possible. And so we did.
This is a picture Vik took of the boys and girl lined up on a large piece of driftwood down at the beach, with the rock formations in the background. Japan is just over Hank's right shoulder. It really was a beautiful location, although I could have done with a little less of the huge fallen timber logs that looked like drift wood as it was everywhere and not great stuff for the dogs to transit.
The ordeal of getting a great shot.
Vik was able to get a shot of Tony discussing the error of his ways with the local constabulary.
Under the theory that one is never too old to be immature, we decided (well, Tony decided, I just wanted to decamp soonest) that we would get a ribbon picture with the Federal SUV.
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