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Poodle Turns Ski Bum

It didn't rain on the parade, yesterday, the Fourth of July. The hard rain held off until afternoon. When I got back to my trailer in the national forest I was astonished to see that it had literally snowed on the Fourth of July, in New Mexico. (Of course, the campsite was at 10400 feet.) Only a trace remained, but two hours earlier it might have been impressive.

But the snow inspired us to do what we had been thinking about: walking from town proper up to the top of the ski mountain, and then riding the ski lift down. I was sure that my little poodle had never ridden a ski lift, and I couldn't even remember if I had.

We stopped at the bottom to buy our ticket. Not only was there no charge for the dog, but there was no charge for me either, as long as I walked up and rode down. No chubby, motorized tourist would even consider that option; they did it the other way around.  


It was a nice walk up to the top. I've never deliberately sought out ski areas in the summer, but perhaps I shall. There are quite a few open areas, not just for skiing, but all the service roads. It makes the forest look attractive.

But how would the little poodle take to the ski lift? The plan was that he would be tired by then and easy to control, especially stuffed into the daypack. It worked even better than planned. What did I ever do to deserve this dog? You can tell there was a bit of trepidation at the beginning.


But by the time we were halfway done, he was practically asleep. I was the one who was nervous--not so much because of the heights, but because the chair/cable attachments looked frail to me.

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