The border collies and I returned from a long trip to Southeast Utah last week, backpacking a little bit, but mostly wild camping not too far from the truck. We had a week of very nice spring weather, until a storm moved in with cold and some light snow. The dogs and I took hikes every day after slow mornings sitting near a campfire, drinking coffee, frying eggs and toasting sourdough bread. We wore ourselves out several times from all the hiking and exploring, which was the reason for the slow mornings.

The silence and peace and companionship of my good dogs is why I am drawn out there, year after year.

I am finding it takes a little longer to recover from stiff and sore muscles after hiking and backpacking, which I figure is one of the effects of getting further into my seventies. (I turned 73 last November). The proper attitude is to accept it, adapt, and do what you can to continue with a life in wild places. Still it is not easy getting old.

Hayley, who turned 14 in December, also is feeling the effects of aging. Our hikes wore her out, and more than once I let her rest in the truck when we went out for an after dinner hike.

One of the most touching scenes I witnessed was on the morning of cold and snow, when Hayley was clearly struggling with being worn out from our active week. Beau showed some compassion, walking up and nuzzling her face, giving her some affection.

This is probably the last trip to Utah Canyon Country that Hayley will take.

I had someone collect the chicken eggs at home every day, so I don’t come home to hundreds of eggs in the nest boxes. I appreciate very much that Andrea can do this for me. Sometimes I also ask the neighbor boys for their help (Corey and Nathan), so as not to take advantage of Andrea’s good nature. (I do pay Andrea, and ask her to keep as many eggs as she wants).

After many trips to Utah over 15 years I have figured out where to go to find maximum solitude. On this trip it was backpacking in the San Rafael Swell, then wild camping above Moab on a secluded mesa, followed by a trip south of Hanksville on the edge of Mount Hillers in the Henry Mountains. In the entire time I only saw two people out where I was - a couple of climbers going up a sandstone Monolith and back down not far from our camp in the Swell.

After all that alone time I was more than ready to go dancing at the Rose on Thursday and Saturday Nights, for some social life. Thursday has become my favorite night for dancing. It is ladies drink free Thursday from 8pm to midnight, and I end up with a whole lot of dance partners.

It is going to be a hard time for me when I eventually age out of all the fast triple steps, easy twosteps, romantic waltzes, and blues dancing that gets me around people (women). That will just be another stage of aging that I will need to adapt to. But I will have plenty of good memories from years of hanging out at the dance hall when that time comes. (I started going to the Rose in 1990; I saw Waylon Jennings, Patty Loveless, and Chris Ledoux at the Rose that first decade of attending).

More journal notes:

8 March: I enjoy nights like tonight, when I'm not in the mood for socializing or dancing, at least early on. The Rose is large enough that I can sit at my normal table in the back and just chill. At least I'm around people, which I won't be for at least the next 5 nights. Chances are my mood will change, and if the band or the DJ play some good songs I might be drawn forward fo find a sweet woman to dance with.

Live music and dance halls work just as well when you are in a blues sort of mood, as in a celebratory mood.

Addendum: I ended up having many very good dances. Walking to the truck I was thinking a lot of the success in dancing is forgetting that you are an adult and opening your heart to the joy of music and movement and the touch of your partner.)