Early the next morning we started out again. Still no luck on using the truck, so we hiked. This time we took along a dog, hoping it might smell the other dog or perhaps the abandoned dog would sense this one. We were grasping at straws, hoping for any miracle. Our whistling and calling didn't work yesterday, so another dog might work. At least it was hope.
Today we met some of the bovine residents. Not many and they didn't hang around. They all got away as quickly as possible.
Today Bob and I stayed together until we hiked the hour up to the mud patch. Up. Down. Bushwacking ...today we brought the machete. I meant to count the number of gates that we climbed over, but I forgot.
After 2 1/2 hours into our search, trodding about and searching up there, I was beat! Time out for a rest. Yes, I'm surely not as young as I use the be. Even the dog was willing to take a break.
Recovering a bit, I climbed atop a gate to look down on the town. What a beautiful vista.
Bob recovered before me an opted to head for the distant water trough. Taking the dog with him, I watched as he disappeared over the rise in the distance. Once gone from view, I turned to recheck the muddy area, calling and whistling again. An hour later, still no luck.
Regrouping, we started to wind our way back down the hill. I whistled until my whistling lips quit working. Called until my voice no longer could shout "pup, pup, pup" over the sound of the wind. Sadly, we never found the dog.
4 1/2 hours into this hike we finally caught sight of the cattle pen that's only 1/2 mile above the highway. Boy was I glad to see it come into view. Within a half hour we would be back at the truck. Tired and defeated, but we gave it a try, gave it our best. It just wasn't enough.