following atticus Forty-Eight High Peaks, One Little Dog, and an Extraordinary Friendship Tom Ryan william morrow An Imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
A tticus s Muttluks and bodysuit proved to be essential for us at various times during the winter. We encountered colder temperatures and deeper snow than either of us had ever known. I learned to keep the
People Die Up There in the Winter 77 suit in my pack until he started to get uncomfortable, and then I d put it on him and he d welcome its snug fit and warm fleece lining. However, our most valuable piece of equipment was not something I d bought. It was something we already had: common sense. We wouldn t push it, and we d take only what the mountains gave us. On the best of days, when the temperature was moderate, the skies clear, and the forecast favorable, we d climb one of the higher, more exposed peaks. Unfortunately, those days were few and far between. On days when things weren t as nice but still safe enough to hike, we d climb where we would be protected by the trees and there wasn t as much exposure. On the worst of days, we simply wouldn t hike at all. There would be many such days. As much as people worried about me, the way I saw it, I had an advantage over most. There were many days where I might have hiked if I were on my own, but I wouldn t expose Atticus to storms, high winds, frigid temperatures, or trails that were icy or too deep with new snow to make our way through. By refusing to subject Atticus to lessthan-favorable conditions, I kept myself safe. I was told by those who argued that dogs don t belong on the trails in winter that dogs don t know the difference between a bad day and a good one and that they ll go wherever their owners go. But I never had that problem with Atticus. Atticus always had a say, just as he always had in our life together, and if he felt he didn t want to go on a hike, he was never forced to. There were two occasions that winter when he decided we weren t going. On the first we d driven the two hours up from Newburyport, and when we arrived at the trailhead, the wind was wicked and the wind chill far below zero. Snow swirled in mini tornadoes, and when Atticus hopped out of the car, he turned right back around and hopped back in. He had spoken. On the second such occasion, the weather was much better. It was a perfect day for hiking. But it was our third day in a row, and he was tired. When we parked at the trailhead and I was getting geared up, he stayed curled in a ball in the front seat of the car. I called to him, but all he did
78 following atticus was twitch his white eyebrows as if to say, Wake me when you get back. I took off my gear, put it back in the car, and we drove home. It was a partnership, and if one of us didn t feel up to it, we weren t going to hike. Another advantage was that Atticus had the innate ability to know things that other dogs might not. He knew when a frozen stream wasn t safe to cross even if it looked like it was, and he knew when it was safe, even if it didn t look like it. The same was true for some of the icy slides we encountered. On some he would walk confidently, leading me across. On others he d stay back and let me go first, or he would wait for me to pick him up and carry him a short distance. His ability to read the conditions of the trails and to know his own limits was a great advantage for us, for we were challenged by an entirely different set of mountains and there was less margin for error. They were the same mountains we d climbed in spring and summer; they just didn t look it, and they definitely didn t feel like it.