Punching Through the Great Mother of All Reefs

It starting getting colder as we neared the top of our ride through the reef.  I had to stop and fumble around with re-attaching the sleeves on my windbreaker jacket.  Of course, the Little Cute One was comfortable and untired.  She really is quite athletic.  This junction at the high end seemed like a good place to turn around and coast back down through the reef and down to river level.

We made it!  It's snack and water time.

 Nine miles and 1730 feet uphill.  Not bad for 20 pounds of fluff. I probably wouldn't have taken the ride this far if she weren't so tireless.  Visually, the most dramatic section was when the road penetrated the reef, proper, nearer the beginning of the ride.  The cold dark canyon walls made it seem like dawn.  At times I really felt trapped in the belly of the Beast.  How much crazier is it going to get?

It was almost a relief to get back to camp.  She got a snack on the ride, but I didn't:

She never complains about being cold.  She is not obsessed with cleanliness.  She doesn't twist every conversation into an illustration of what is wrong with me.  In fact she doesn't talk at all, except when a jackrabbit comes by.  And she has fulfilled the essential female function of bringing life into the world. She is turning out to be the perfect female to camp and travel with. 

Of course, being the perfect female doesn't mean the perfect dog: she is not very good at coming back to me.  She meanders off.