Tacoma: A Dog and a Snowy Mountain

Tacoma.

What a screwball! What can I say? He kept me on my toes!

Every day coming home from work, there he was to slide into the door from a full sprint to greet me! As soon as he’d hear the key in the doorknob…game over for me! You could hear his claws rapidly clicking across the hardwood floor as he scrambled down the hallway towards the front door.

I had to brace myself for the impact!

Every day!

Every time I walked through the door!

But I loved it. I loved his energy. I loved the dumb look he would give me when I would talk to him; when he would tilt his head sideways like he was always confused. HA! What a dope!

But I sure did love that dog. Sweetest dog you’d ever come across. And boy was he cute. He looked akin to an old man, but a dog. I must admit, though, his energy was almost too much for me to handle. Maybe it was because I didn’t have the pleasure of him being mine. He was my ex-husband, Andrew’s, dog. Tacoma came into my life when he was two-and-a-half year’s old. Still a spunky pup!

He really did grow on me. He was a beautiful Brindle Boxer with a brawny white chest and droopy chops. If we didn’t take him out for hikes, runs, and walks… then he was restless (unless you put peanut butter in front of him…then he drooled like Hooch and relaxed!).

GAW! The games we used to play with him. Oh gosh (I’m literally laughing in my head as I’m remembering this)! Tacoma and the laser light on the wall and floor… HOURS of entertainment! This dog would spin in circles chasing it for hours…that is, when he wasn’t smacking his chops on the wall trying to get it. Who needed Netflix when you had a boxer (or a disguised cat?)! But this isn’t a story about laser lights. It’s a story about a night hike in Alaska and a dog who loved snow.

One night in Kodiak, Alaska, in 2007, Andrew and I decided to go on a midnight hike up Barometer Mountain. In the snow. In the middle of winter. It was a full moon, and the snow lit up with the reminiscence of diamonds sparkling in the moonlight. It was perfect. A perfect night to hike…with an energetic dog...up a steep mountain where you needed ice axes, crampons, and snowshoes (insert *Slap My Head* emoji!). WHAT were we THINKING?! Doesn’t sound dangerous at all, right? Well…my mom would argue otherwise. I most certainly heard an earful the next day when we told her what we did (not to mention the fact that we didn’t let anyone know we were going—EEEEK thrown in with a little bit of nervous laughter). SORRY MOM!!

Okay, now let me preface this with describing Barometer Mountain. If you google a picture of this mountain, it looks short. Which it is. It’s not the tallest mountain in Kodiak nor does it have the longest trail, but it IS beefy. Its elevation is approximately 2,500 feet, and the hiking trail is roughly 3.7 miles round trip. But don’t let this little mountain fool you (as it does many people). This mountain is a demanding, and especially steep climb, with three false summits. These false summits are steep enough to where you need to keep one hand on the ground during most sections. You need to really lean forward and into it, so you don’t lose your balance and fall backwards. In the summer, it is littered with shale rocks and tundra once you get above the tree line and really start the climb.

So, imagine Barometer Mountain, but in the winter.

Our Arc’teryx bags were packed. Our Black Diamond ice axes were attached to the sides, and our headlamps were on our heads.

Gloves…check.

Ice Crampons for our shoes…check.

Snow pants and long johns…check.

Warm winter coats…check.

Dog…check.

Ready to go!

It was a nice steady hike in the beginning. Not too steep so we only needed our ice cleats until we made it to the ice sheet halfway up the mountain, right before the first false summit. I honestly don’t think I have ever seen a dog so excited to climb a mountain (or EAT so much snow!), and I’m pretty sure Tacoma climbed the mountain five times to our one. Every time we looked up; he was coming back down. I don’t know how many times we ‘lost’ him during our hike! That dog had natural cleats on his paws (aka extremely long toenails). There were times during this hike where I thought he was going to make us slide right back down the mountain because he was doing circles around us. Especially during the part where we had our ice axes out and crampons on climbing up a sheet of ice (literally!). I think we all really tested our limits that night. And I’m almost 100% certain I cried a little bit going up the sheet of ice (don’t judge me…it was slippery!).

Once we got past the ice climb, we had to put on our snowshoes. There was about two feet of powder on the mountain, and the wind really started whipping. It was snowing somewhat hard up there. With our headlamps on, we could only see about 15 feet in front of us, and Tacoma kept getting lost in the snow.

“TACOMAAAAAAAAAA? Here boy!” We would call out and look around. Then we would see his head pop up out of the snow and look around the same as if it were just another day playing in the snow. His dopey confused look just made us laugh. At this point, all you could see was his head tilting to the side as if he were saying, “What?” Then he would eat more snow and bound away.

Two false summits down…one to go (Huge *sigh* as I sat there staring at the steep top, thinking “Nope”). And there darted Tacoma; bounding away resembling a rabbit! Then Andrew. Then (sigh) me. Andrew was probably thinking he should have brought a different hiking buddy than me (lol). Okay, so off we went up the last summit. Wind whipping and pushing us in the opposite direction of the top. Every step forward seemed to equal two steps back since the snow was so deep. I just kept sliding back down each time my snowshoe pressed into the snow.

I’m pretty sure there are many of you out there who have seen Spider-Man (you might guess where this is going, right?). Well…the only way I can describe what was happening at this moment in time is to compare myself to Spider-Man. I couldn’t see the dog. I couldn’t see Andrew. I could only see what was six inches in front of my face. SNOW. And more snow. I LITERALLY looked and felt identical to Spider-Man scaling the top of this mountain (although, I’m certain Peter Parker would not have been crying in this position). I swear I wasn’t crying too hard…maybe, lol. I was scared (pardon my language) sh**less. I finally could see Andrew who was close to the top, and I’m confident he was holding his hand out to try and help me…but I could NOT move. Not even an inch. I honestly don’t think I have been more scared in my entire life (well…until the time I took a flight into Las Vegas, and we almost crashed. But that will be for another story!).

Okay, moving on. So…with me hanging on for dear life (okay…perhaps an over exaggeration there), the dog still going UP-DOWN-UP-DOWN, and Andrew undoubtedly slapping his forehead saying, “UGH, Let’s go!” …I took another step. But it was my last. My snowshoe got caught in the powder and I slid down a few feet. I thought it was over! My heart was racing, and I was shaking like crazy. Then, I helplessly leaned against the snow with my chest, still in my Spider-Man stance, and cried. I couldn’t do it. I was terrified to move. All I could think was, “I’m going to die right here. They’re going to need to send in the Coast Guard to get me off this mountain!”

Andrew was great throughout the whole ordeal though. He decided to turn us around to head down instead of going the rest of the way to the top. Reasons are as follows:

One—we lost Tacoma (again!).

Two—I was crying (again!).

Three—visibility was none.

But I was still too scared to move. Well…what did I do? I slid, inch-by-inch, on my stomach. My head was still facing the top of the mountain, but I was moving down the mountain. YUP! You heard it right. I suppose I kind of just ‘oozed’ my way down; comparable to thick slime just creeping down the mountain. If I were Tacoma, I would have been thinking, “WHAT in TARNATION is WRONG with this girl!” He was most likely laughing at this whole situation (of course…if dogs could do that). Maybe he thought I was a cat now considering a was so scared (HAHA! Get it? Scaredy cat?! I know, I know…*Slap My Head*).

Okay. Now that you get the point and I have established how scared I was, we can talk about the trip down. After successfully oozing my way down Barometer’s crown, we made it to a flat area. “TACOMA!” He was waiting for us. I think only just to see us because he took off again. Bounding like a rabbit again; playing peek-a-boo in the fresh powder. I don’t think Andrew’s dog ever got tired. Ever. After a short break, we took off our snowshoes and put on our ice cleats. Ready to go. Now comes the fun!

Looking down the mountain, it looked like a cliff…like a steep drop-off. I’m thinking, “No way!” But we started the hike down and made it down the last false summit before the spot where we climbed with our ice axes. If you’re looking at the picture of Barometer with snow on it, there is a section in the middle of the mountain to the left of the trail. It’s a nice, smooth area which flattens out to a kind of bowl. This was where the fun happened. Before I continue, let me first mention Tacoma was already at the bottom of this section when we got to it, with his head cocked to the side as if he were saying, “Come on, guys! What’s taking you so long?!” Second, I did NOT want to break out my ice axe again. I was SPENT! So, we did the next best thing. I mean, we did have some nice, slick snow pants on. Do you know where this is going yet?

SLEDDDDDDDDDDIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNGGGGGGG!!!

But without a sled and on our bums!

I wonder what Tacoma was thinking when he saw us do this. Was he thinking, “RUH-ROH!” Or was he thinking, “Hmmm…I see these humans coming at me awfully fast! I wonder if I should mo-----”. TOO LATE! Andrew made it down first (probably because he had more mass *ha-ha*). Tacoma wildly jumped out of the way. And by wildly, the description which comes to my mind would be comparable to one of those cat videos where there is a cucumber, and the cat ‘wildly’ jumps into the air like a lunatic. Probably an over-dramatic comparison…but this IS a story! And this WAS about 15 years ago (15 years plus three concussions, so the memory could be slightly skewed). But, nevertheless, this is a TRUE story based on an actual hiking trip.

Anyways…back to Tacoma.

PHEW! Glad he got out of the way. But NOT before I made it to the bottom. I think he was VERY excited to see Andrew because he forgot I was still sliding down. I want to say I yelled, “TACOMA, MOVE!!” But…you know…things were moving a little fast! LITERALLY! Slow, we were not. We gained some momentum sliding down the hill. THANK GOODNESS there was a flattened-out bowl at the bottom. One which a dog was currently standing on with his back turned towards me. I knew it was MY turn to say, “RUH-ROH!”

WHIZZZZZZZZZZ!! I blew past Tacoma who was barking enthusiastically at the near miss. He was dancing around excitedly and wiggling his body and booty all over the place (I KNOW you can picture it). Now THAT was a close call. We were both laughing out loud SO hard! (And by we, I mean Andrew, not the dog *LOL*). SO much FUN!

The rest of the trip down was not as eventful as the aforementioned details. We did, however, slide most of the way down the rest of the mountain, until we reached the tree line where it flattened out some. Our ‘Midnight Hike’ was one of the most rewarding hiking trips, yet one of the scariest ones I have ever completed. I still laugh every time I think about it, even though I cried during it. Honestly, I didn’t think Tacoma was going to do well when we first set out. I knew there would be the ice sheet and a lot of powder, and I was worried about him. I was also worried about Andrew and myself because of how much energy Tacoma had. In the back of my mind, I had thought: “This dog is going to knock us off that mountain!” He sure proved me wrong. He found ways up the trail that we couldn’t see and we’re still standing, so obviously he didn’t knock us off the mountain. He kept our spirits up on our hike and he just amazed me.

The risk we took going up Barometer Mountain in the middle of the night was dumb. YUP! … I see it now! Again… SORRY MOM!

Despite how physically challenging that hike was, it was more rewarding for me because it was emotionally challenging. In the moment close to the top of the mountain, I honestly was so scared I did not want to move an inch for the fear of sliding off the mountain. I know it was a lot easier for Andrew and Tacoma, but something inside me just froze. I’ll never forget how much control panic can hold. It’s like a vice-grip. But I pushed past my fear and moved. An inch. Then two. Then made it down the mountain. And it was amazing. So amazing that I still tell people this story. I would love to go hiking like that again, but it would not be the same without that goofy, spunky, adorable Screwball! I’ll always love you, Tacoma!

Best. Dog. Ever.

R.I.P. Tacoma.

(Unfortunately, no pictures were taken during this hike. But I have attached a few for flair!)