Kelly, Oso, and Mount Massive
or
Why Dogs Don't Mess With Me
Dateline: Around August 1997, to the best of my recollection.
Disclaimer: No actual dogs were hurt in the filming of this story. Oso is too much like a person and way too smart to think he's a dog, anyway. And at no time was he actually 'in danger,' or anything like that. Really. I treat him like he treats me, pretty well.
My good friends Trent and Melissa decided to travel back to Michigan for a week, and asked me to dog-sit their (huge) friendly Rottweiler, Oso (Spanish for Bear) while they were gone. I told them my plans for that coming weekend included going climbing, but that I'd be happy to take care of Oso if it was cool for me to take him with me. They said that they thought Oso would love to get out, and gave me the okay. I collected the leash and other stuff I'd need, and headed home to plan an easier hike/climb. I was pretty deep into climbing in those days; every weekend I'd be off on some mountain or another. I think I had 20+ summits that summer, so it was interesting looking for something I could do without any 4th class climbing.
I settled on a longer hike; the standard route up Mount Massive, by Leadville, along the Colorado Trail and up the east face. The route was rated novice but long, and popped onto the summit ridge between the true summit and the large south summit. No problems, I thought, and perfect for my canine companion. I stopped by and fed and played with Oso all week, and on Friday packed up his stuff. Really large dogs don't fit too well into my little 2-door Honda, but Oso was just perfectly content to hang out in the back seat. Unbelievably well trained and behaved, and a tribute to Trent's training.
My stuff was, of course, always packed and ready to go, and usually already stowed in my trunk (just in case I got a wild hair to go climb something). We pulled out of the Springs somewhere around 4pm, headed west. I'd not climbed Massive before (but soon would again, in winter conditions with an interesting electrical storm on the ridge - but that's another tale), but knew exactly where I was going. To the end of the 4x2 road. As it turned out I could've probably gone another couple of miles up the 4x4 road towards Deer Mountain and the wilderness end of the road, but the Colorado Trail, my path for this hike, crosses the road right between Elbert (the tallest mountain in CO at 14,433') and Massive (the second tallest at 14,421'). There were lots of RV-campers in the campground (never understand that whole thing, but I digress), so I went right to the trailhead parking area. Pulling in around 1930, I figured crashing on the ground at the trailhead was as good a solution as any. I heated up an MRE and tied Oso to a tree with a long leader; I hoped his collar would dissuade him from trying to wander off.
Apparently Oso doesn't like curling up with people to sleep (too bad, no warm dog tonight), so he lay down on his own a dozen feet away from me. It was chilly but not cold out, and I slept quickly and deeply. I'd set my alarm for 0500 in anticipation of the long march ahead (to keep away from afternoon t-storms, you know), and I woke ready to go. Except that Oso was nowhere to be found. Rottweilers' heads are kinda conical and they have small ears, and he just pulled out of the collar and wandered off. 'Great,' I thought. I wandered up and down the road past the campground, calling for him, and probably waking everyone in the RVs. If any of them understood Spanish, they probably thought there was a bear loose in the campground and didn't come out all day. Well, as I wandered back up to the trailhead, here comes Oso bounding down the trail from Elbert. No doubt, off ravaging some poor hikers' campsites.
I eventually got Oso under control (a little food helped) and threw my sleep kit in my car. We finally got started hiking around 0630, and I picked up the pace to make up for lost time.
It would be difficult to find this trail or the turnoff to Massive in the winter, without knowing it really well; there are lots of widely spaced trees and the path weaves quite a bit. In the summer it was pretty obvious. We made it to treeline in the great eastern bowl around 1030, and after another couple of hundred vertical feet I decided to call for a rest break. A little snack. Oso was grateful, though he didn't like the leash too much. I just decided I didn't want to chase him over hill and dale in the middle of a climb. Well, another guy hiking alone appeared down by treeline, and as he came up and by he said hi. I've had nothing but good experiences with Oso and other people, and with other dogs I've met out in the field. He asked me if Oso was friendly (sure, a friendly Rott, you're probably saying), and I said 'I think so.' Well, the guy came a couple of feet closer and Oso lunged out. I had the leash tight and still nearly got pulled off my feet. Well, that didn't make the guy too happy, but we parted on good terms, wishing each other good speed and good climbing. I waited till he got a ways up the trail before I continued on. I felt it would be a good idea now to avoid other climbers while on this trip.
We hiked up to the south saddle, and it still being clear and early decided to head south to bag the south summit. What the heck, there's 5 summits, might as well get them all. Oso made it up to within about 50 feet of the south summit (ridgeline direct), but waited while I did the last little 4th class piece. I jogged back down to the saddle with him and we started out towards the central summits. We followed the normal traverse below the other summits towards the main summit for ease of walking; lots of big 3rd class blocks would've perhaps given Oso some trouble. Well, about half a mile from the summit, Oso decided he'd had it and wasn't going any further. The trail wasn't too difficult for him, he just wanted to show me who was really in charge with his stubbornness. I thought about it for a minute, and noticed there were a couple of other parties headed up to the saddle now, probably 15 minutes behind me. I tied Oso to some big rocks (three separate anchors, so he couldn't pull out of one) below the trail so he wouldn't (hopefully) eat anyone.
Wanting to be as quick about it as possible, I now took off running (not too easy in mountaineering plastic boots at 14,000 feet) to bag the summit and get back before the other parties got to Oso. He seemed perfectly content to lay in the sun with some food and water. I ran the entire next half mile to the summit proper (with people watching me come up probably thinking 'what the heck'), tagged it, turned, and ran back. I got to Oso a good 2 minutes before the next party came by, and Oso just rolled his head at them. I missed the north summit and the other two sub-summits on the ridge, but hey. At least no one died.
Well, I untied Oso, and I was about ready to head down. The running had tuckered me out a bit. I noticed about 20 feet below us was the main snowfield that led most of the way back down to treeline, and as any self-respecting mountaineer with nylon pants and an ice ax would do I resolved to glissade down. Plus it's fun, so long as there aren't any crevasses. Oso wanted nothing to do with this. Wouldn't even stand up. I packed up his food and water, then picked him up too. He probably outweighs me, so I now was carrying 200 pounds down to the snow slope. I was disgusted after the 20 feet, and set him down in the snow next to me. He laid down again. Well, I wasn't going to let him get me!!! I pulled out my trusty ice ax and sat down next to him, and tied the long leash around myself. I looked at him, he looked at me. And then I pushed off.
He got the idea that he'd better come along quickly. He picked up and started trotting down the hill behind me, as I accelerated. You start moving pretty fast on a good glissade, and Oso's front-heavy body started leaning, and tilting, and pretty soon he was doing somersaults beside me. He'd catch himself, run for all he was worth, then start tumbling again. A thousand feet lower, we slid to a stop. Oso looked at me incredulously ('Like, what was THAT for?'), then showered me in snow as he shook off. He didn't want any more of that, and had figured out I meant business now. I gave him a treat to show that there were no hard feelings, and we marched back over to and down the trail.
As we got back to the junction with the CT, we passed a ranger heading up. I stopped to talk with her for a few minutes (it's not every day you bump into a cute female ranger miles from anywhere), and Oso took this to mean it was time for a rest. He moved over under a bush on the right side of the trail, laying down and panting. A couple of minutes later we were set to move out again, but Oso wouldn't have any of it. A battle of wills! I ended up dragging a sitting dog most of the rest of the way out (4 hours of dragging dog is no fun at all). He collapsed into my car at the trailhead and was out like a light.
I drove home and took him back to Trent's, fed him and made sure everything was ready for Trent and Melissa's return the following evening, and went home for a much-needed rest.
I got a call the next night from Melissa. "What did you do to our dog???," she asked. Normally Oso will run around and jump up and go crazy when he's been separated from them for a while, and follow them around and up the stairs and to wherever the food is. "We came in, he was laying there in the living room! He lifted his head, looked at us, and went back to sleep!" They couldn't get him to move up or down stairs or even to food. I went over that night and Oso got up, came over to me, and just started licking my hand. Before laying down. I think he's now about the best-trained, most calm Rott I've ever met. But he sure doesn't want to go climbing with Kelly anymore.