32 Trail Miles With a 36-Pound Dog

By Alton Eckel

Over one year ago my best friend had to give up his beloved dog. Cole, then a 7-month-old white shiba inu, had always been my favorite puppy to play with. He was independent, unexpressive, and calculating. He was self-cleaning and smelled like fresh air at all times. Even during his first day with my best friend, I felt an immediate connection to him that I couldn’t describe. Needless to say, I agreed to take over ownership and make Cole my new training partner.

Since I adopted Cole, my trips to the White Mountains for hiking have changed from riding in the loud car with friends and dictated on the hike by their athletic goals to driving with the radio low, with a cup of hot coffee in my hand, and with Cole’s head peeking in my rearview mirror. As I enter the unpredictable notches, I feel a release. I suddenly don’t notice what time it is. I often don’t even realize my radio station has become static. I go inward, blank, calm.

As I exit my car, often in sub-zero temperatures at the base of the mountain, I feel my heart begin to beat harder. Cole often waits for me to quickly throw on my gear and stays within eyesight the rest of the day. I find myself talking out loud to him and asking what he thinks of the views or if the trail conditions are good enough for him. This becomes more of a monologue that is directed at him; I suppose that feels less psychotic. I find I bypass summits and often just enjoy the walking on the trails. I am present, in the moment, focused on the beauty of every turn I make. The solitude that comes with being accompanied by only a dog is unsurpassed.

One year after I adopted Cole, I had an idea: Why not do the second hardest day hike in the area (according to Backpacker magazine) with my endurance pup? The Pemi Loop is a hike that consists of connecting the summits over 32 rugged, knee-buckling miles with more than 9,000 feet of elevation gain. Book time from the AMC’s White Mountain Guide lists the loop as a 20-hour and 17-minute hike, which is why most hikers complete it in 2-3 days. I had done this hike on my own during winter in 14 hours and during summer in roughly 12 hours. Now I was intrigued to see if I could shave off time while carrying food and water for Cole and managing my own apprehension over how he would handle such a feat.

We set out in the morning alone. Cole was wearing his signature trail outfit, which consists of a bowtie on his collar, and I had on bright knee-high socks; we certainly were easy to spot! Cole was incredible and didn’t struggle at all for the first several miles over Franconia Ridge. We even met another female hiker with a white shiba inu heading up to Mt. Lincoln, although the other shiba was not interested in Cole’s companionship. As we began to descend the ridge, Cole found a pond to cool off in and drink. It was as though he knew what the day had in store for us and that we were not even half way through our long trek.

At the halfway point, we took a photo on the summit of Mt. Garfield slapping high five to one another. Cole does not know many tricks, but this is one of them. I checked the time and realized we were keeping a fast pace and Cole wasn’t panting at all. At this point, I needed to hit the Galehead Shelter for more water and to check Cole’s paws and pads. He continued to push by hikers on the trail and lead the way as though he had been there before. That’s the other thing about Cole: He loves to lead. You could call him an “alpha in his own mind”.

After the halfway point and a short break to meet people at the hut, we continued forward.
Except, the concept of a loop is lost on Cole; he began wanting to turn back 20 miles in, and I needed to coax him with treats and cheese to continue in our circle back to the start. I began to worry that I was pushing him to do too much… Or, even worse, that I would begin to let my own fatigue and anxiety paralyze me. The beauty of committing to a loop hike, especially in the White Mountains, is that there often are not bailouts or escape routes if you want to give up. This type of structure forces any hiker to have a mental tenacity and trust in their athletic capabilities.

We continued to the final summit: Bondcliff. This summit was the finish of my Winter 4,000-footers in New Hampshire and is a majestic spot. It is nine miles away from civilization and offers 360-degree views of the White Mountains. We stopped for a few photos and continued on the final nine miles in the forest. While exiting our adventure, I found myself telling every hiker we passed that my dog was doing a single-day Pemi Loop. While some hikers hadn’t heard of this accomplishment those who were aware congratulated him as though he was a child earning an academic award.

Cole and I reached the car in ten hours: a new personal record for me, and Cole’s personal best by default! He stared at me to pick him up and place him in the car on his bed.

After this day, I felt invigorated by every trip up north. It was as though any doubt or anxiety had left my mind and the mountains were equated with strength, power, toughness, solitude, relief, and love. Every time I look at Cole’s face, I see accomplishments and erasing doubt. It’s amazing how one day, 32 miles of trails, multiple summits, and a 36-pound dog can change your life forever.
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Alton is a New Hampshire native who enjoys participating in all that the state has to offer. From running in the White Mountains or rock climbing at the slabs of Rumney to kayaking in the ocean and cycling for 175 miles on the country roads in one day. Alton has her Master’s degree in Mental Health Counseling and Sports Psychology and has lead adolescents on hikes to increase their skills for managing depression and anxiety. She has competed in the National Championship for triathlon, completed 50-mile ultramarathons and Ironmans, and set course records in triathlons and road races. Alton enjoys being outdoors in any capacity whether it is running, cycling, swimming across a lake, bushwhacking off trail to a hidden summit, kayaking at sunset, climbing up rock and ice, or attempting to surf.
Facebook: facebook.com/alton.eckel
Instagram: @trailbright

Category: Hiking & Backpacking