Dora the Explorer

This rescue dog's 2160 mile journey along the Appalachian Trail

Written by Nick Myers Photos by Nick Myers

I first met Dora, the goofy 80 lb Mastiff mix, three years ago at Pet Helpers on James Island, SC. When I arrived that day I wasn't entirely sure that I was ready for the commitment and responsibilities involved with adopting a dog. Dora must have recognized my hesitation, and she secured a ride home with what I would soon realize was her signature move: a trusting, heavy lean against my leg.

With that, the staff handed me a sleeve of tennis balls and said their bittersweet goodbyes, happy that she wouldn't be spending another night in a shelter. Dora immediately made herself at home on Kentwood Circle, and I found myself wondering how such a well behaved, loving dog could possibly end up in a shelter. I became content with the notion that it was fate. Dora needed me just as much as I needed her. In the spring of 2016, an idea that had been in the back of my mind for half of my life held the possibility of becoming reality. I wanted to complete a thru hike of the Appalachian trail. Now, I was prepared to make drastic changes to my life in the preparation and execution of this goal, but what about Dora?

The logistics of caring for such a large dog on a 2,000 mile trek can be overwhelming. After comparing the pros and cons, I made up my mind to let her tag along. Part of me wasn't sure if I could successfully complete the trail without her. A contingency plan was put into place because I didn't know if the trail would be too difficult for Dora or if I would be unable to sustain a level of good health for her. Gear lists were made with careful inclusion, and pack weight sacrifices were inevitable.

In mid March we started our journey. Heading north from Springer Mountain in Georgia, we began to make our way to Mt. Katahdin in Maine. I had made a last minute decision to carry Dora's food, leaving her free of burden. That day my pack weighed in at around 50 lbs. Not ideal for a thru hike but we both had some learning to do. It was pretty warm for March, with the mid day temperature hitting 80 degrees the day we stomped through Hog Pen Gap. That day sticks out in my mind because it was the first time we ran out of water. Up until this day Dora was very picky about drinking, and she was spooked by any moving body of water. After a hot and dry ten mile hike, Dora was the first to jump right in the creek and drink her fill, laying down in the process. She learned to drink water when it was available, and she became very resourceful at finding water for us both in the weeks ahead.

It was in New York when Dora started showing off that she had learned about blueberries from watching people foraging for them. Soon she could be found rooting around in blackberry patches as well. Dora wasn't the only four legged beast scrounging for berries on those mountain tops. We came face to face with a few black bears along the way. The first encounter didn't end up playing out the way that I had thought it would during countless hours of day dreaming.

Curiosity overcame fear, as Dora and a small bear approached each other within a mere five feet. Dora seemed as if she wanted to play with the the young bear. They were practically the same size, after all. Most likely sensing the disappointment in her human hiking company, Dora let off her most menacing snarl/bark combo and sent the poor guy scrambling to take cover in a nearby outhouse.

This is where my captions go!

THis is my credit

Subsequent meetings with bears along the way proved that Dora was a very effective deterrent against the thieving night bandits. In early June the bear activity was picking up in the Shenandoah river valley, and since we got a great price on some very tired looking canoes, our group took to the river. Our Aquablazing started out full of sun and cold PBR. A week later, our boats were full of water and cold hikers. Dora hated every minute of the ordeal but she was a trooper, only jumping out of the boat to escape her confines twice. I'll never forget the constant looks of contempt as she obediently huddled in the center of our canoe, bathed in murky river water.

Her presence was often requested at shelters in areas of high bear activity and she was always welcomed into a campsite with shouts of "Doraaaa!" and plenty of butt scratches. Given the nickname "Badass," she was complimented on her toughness and agility on a daily basis. She amazed us all when she would scramble up a rock face and look down, patiently waiting for me to catch up, so that she could continue her never ending quest for chipmunks.

Dora is a trail dog now, through and through. There is no denying it. Her excitement and love for the trail is evident every time I pick up my pack. Old girl likes the mountains as much as I do.