The Steal Cowboyz Bikepack the Lost Hot Springs of Owyhee County

by Terry Campbell, photos by Kyle Heddy

Steel Cowboyz may not be as unruffled and sophisticated as the real deal, but ten gallon hats help and make a wicked amount of sense in the big open.

‘Steel Cowboyz’ are a new breed of outdoor enthusiast who use steel “bikepacking” bikes (steel horses) to adventure in the wide open spaces of America’s West.

A bikepacking bike is a cross between a road touring bike and a mountain bike. It provides all the long distance comfort of a touring bike, with wide, knobby tires for rugged terrain. All your gear is stored in bags strapped directly to the bike’s frame ensuring a better, weight-centered, handling experience. With a good set-up you can comfortably travel over almost any terrain and camp wherever you like. This provides the bikepacker an amazing amount of freedom to ride on paved roads, gravel roads, single track trails, through cow pastures, you name it!

These friendly “cowboyz” are defined by honesty, independence, self-reliance, and respect for Mother Nature. The Steel Cowboyz in this story are: Kyle Heddy (aka “Hammerin”), Ray Belt (aka “Ray-Ray”), and Terry Campbell (aka “TC”). I’ll tell you how Hammerin, Ray-Ray and TC took to their steel steeds and found the lost hot springs of the Owyhee Country.

Frosty morning bushcamp we found well after dark.
Camp requirements:  flat, near running water, and far enough off road to sleep safe.

The great land-owning Baron Workman of the Pacific NW Company and his evil sidekick, Mr. Job, have kept our heroes’ faces pressed to the coalface all winter. No rest, no recess, no hope of a better future. One day, TC showed Hammerin and Ray-Ray a book that detailed the existence of hot springs in the far off land of the Owyhee Country. He explained that the best way to connect with these warm, relaxing pools was to wrestle up some steel horses and ride across the open countryside. He cautioned this would be hard traveling and the early spring weather could be sour. Ray-Ray looked at Hammerin and said, “Anything would be better than staying here under the evil gaze of Mr. Job.”

Over the coming weeks the Steel Cowboyz warmed up to the vision of breaking loose from their tedious lives and heading out into wide open spaces in search of hot springs. They hatched a plan to break out on a Wednesday, after they clocked out, in a gas-powered company van. This would allow them to make the long drive to Jordan Valley, OR (Owyhee Country Frontier Town) under the darkness of night.

As the departure day drew closer, it was clear Ray-Ray did not have adequate gear to ride this rough country so he invested in a Surley ECR with a full rack and bag set-up. The departure Wednesday was more hectic at the coalface than usual but our heroes kept to their plan and left the bustling metropolis of Portland, Oregon as scheduled. Along the way, they found a quiet grove of trees in Farewell Bend State Park to rest for the night. The next morning Ray-Ray was hankering for a country fried steak breakfast so they headed to Ontario on their way to Jordan Valley.

After stocking up on final supplies in Ontario, the boyz made it to Jordan Valley, known for cattle ranchers and farmers, by mid-afternoon. While packing up their steel steeds, the Mayor of Jordan Valley kindly welcomed them to her town. The boyz needed to be careful not to reveal their identities as Baron Workman had many friends in the region and they were breaking company policy by not working seven days a week.

Ray and TC leave the pavement behind, navigating by relief features, topographic maps, and noses. Roads out here have a way of contradicting themselves.

Under gray, nonthreatening skies they pedaled off to find Cow Lakes, en route to Greeley Bar Hot Springs via Two Mile Creek. Right out of town, they found the navigating easy until they were cut-off from their route by private property. Unauthorized crossing of private property was against their ethos. Lucky for them, at just that moment, a rancher named John walked by. He granted them access and showed them how to get back on route. Rancher John’s directions were simple, “You see those two humps on the horizon? You need to squeeze between them and you will be on your way.”
These city-slicking Steel Cowboyz got a little nervous when they walked their steeds amongst very large cows. “Just don’t make eye contact!” Hammerin yelled.

A two track 4WD road awaited them on the opposite side of the rancher’s land, and the pedaling resumed, mind you at a slow pace. As Jordan Valley and the private property faded behind them, the concerns about their lives and the threat of getting caught fell away as well. The focus shifted from what was behind them to the roads in front, but TC was up to his old tricks. He had broken free from Baron Workman’s clutches many times before but he was still a neophyte in the ways of the Steel Cowboy. Bringing a rear rack with panniers sounded like a good idea, but the King of Rigs, TC’s nickname, had not planned for the rocky, rough roads and his bike rack clattered and clanked like an out of control chuck-wagon. There was a major concern that something would break and not be repairable, but TC simply said, “Nothing that duct tape can’t fix.” A true Mazama statement.

Smoother riding was under tire when they found a well-maintained gravel road that led them to the Cow Lakes and beyond. At the junction for the Cow Lakes they decided to head north and stay away from the lakes. The boyz were flying down gravel roads with the wind whipping under their cowboy hats as the sun set. Hammerin and Ray-Ray always went first as their skills in the saddle were strong. TC rode more tentatively waiting for his head lamp to illuminate the darkness ahead. Riding in this country deep into the night was a dangerous game, and the boyz concluded they should find a campsite.

Attitude is everything out here. Ray is a pro at keeping up the humor and positivity
even when dusk turns to night and we are still hunting for a bushcamp.

The beauty of traveling on Bureau of Land Management (BLM) land is any place that is relatively flat, with a local water source, can be a campsite. No need to find a campground, pay a fee, deal with reservations, etc. This provides the ultimate freedom to roam where you want and sleep where you want. A grassy meadow next to a roaring creek made a perfect place for the boyz to settle in for a dark, dark night. The Owyhee Country is one of the darkest places in the lower 48. However none of our heroes grew up in this region, so after they identified basic constellations, all that was left to see was shooting star after shooting star. A cold air settled in around the camp as they zipped up sleeping bags and closed their eyes.

Waking to their own body rhythms the next morning further disconnected the boyz from their painful existence back in Portland. They had the whole day ahead of them with no one to tell them where to be: ultimate freedom. Frost from the night’s cold air evaporated as the sun rose and Hammerin got to work making coffee pour-overs. No cowboy coffee for these guys, just straight-up hipster drip. Packing was easy, and everyone remarked that TC’s steed was holding together nicely.
Riding west, they found Coffeepot Crater which is the origin of a 27-square mile lava flow that stretches across the Jordan Craters. From the top of Coffeepot, you can see the flow that scorched the earth and carved the land. Pedaling west again they descended on their way to their first hot spring along the Owyhee River. Unfortunately, a deeper read in the hot springs guidebook revealed that the Two Mile Springs was on the north side of the Owyhee River, which is not a river they felt comfortable crossing in spring.

They kept pedaling on faint, two track gravel roads, and eventually they reached the edge of the Owyhee Canyon for the first time. “Wow!” said Ray-Ray as he peered deeper into the broad canyon. “Look at all the cliffs and tiers as it drops down to the beautiful Owyhee River.” Their GPS gizmo pointed them south on Blister Road which traced the edge of the canyon for miles. On one side of their bikes they saw the precipitous drop of the canyon while the other side offered wide open spaces of desolate grasslands.

Having lost their chance on the Greeley Bar Hot Springs, their new goal was to reach the town of Rome, just as the sun was setting to disguise their approach from curious onlookers. They crossed through a small canyon that had been created by lava flow. This made the riding really fun, on well-maintained roads with gradual descents and banked turns. The boyz really let it out as they rode across the Rome Airstrip and connected with the Winnemucca to Silver City Wagon Road. This wagon road was a popular route between the mining town of Silver City and the railroad hub of Winnemucca. Lots of Pacific NW Company men moved product back and forth along this route and discretion was paramount.

As they arrived at the wagon road, they noticed that this popular route had been left to Mother Nature. Unfortunately, the hair bending 1,000 foot descent, in the dark, required them to dodge large tumble weeds and the occasional boulder while staying away from the road’s cliff-side edge. Thankfully, they found flat ground again at the bottom with just enough light to see the Pillars of Rome. Flipping on their headlamps they cruised into the rafting campground along the river where they reloaded on water, ate lots of food, and fell asleep to the sounds of the river.

Roads out here require hours of research, several forms of navigation, friendly locals, and just being comfortable and prepared in the art of being lost. Mountaineering on bikes.

The next day they woke up and played around at camp for a while. These Steel Cowboyz may not be able to ride a bull, but they can hacky-sack and fly a kite with the best of them. Out of the blue, a state trooper pulled up to their camp, and they felt sure they were in trouble. However, he greeted them in a friendly manner and told them that he was interested in talking to them about their steel steed set-ups. As a hunter, he explained that he was intrigued by the potential utility of using a bike to access the backcountry. They geeked out over bikes for a while, and then he informed the boyz that the Three Forks hot springs, their next destination, was on the south side of the river and it couldn’t be forded in spring. They wrapped-up their conversation, and TC tucked his tail as the dream of linking up hot springs by steel steed was officially lost.

Their last day in this wild canyon land brought them back to the Owyhee Canyon rim for more breathtaking views of sheer cliff walls. They passed through grass covered valleys until they descended quickly to Three Forks Road. Riding north on the best gravel road they had seen in 2 ½ days, they popped out on Highway 95, a few miles west of the campground at Antelope Reservoir. This reservoir is very large, and on its south end there was a daunting cliff face that rose out of the water and ended at Juniper Ridge. The next morning, their luck ran out as the temperature hovered around 40, and it started raining. They made haste with the pack-up and rode the final 10 miles on Highway 95 back to the town of Jordan Valley.

Our heroes set out to explore a new part of Oregon, camp next to hot springs like old cowboys, practice self-reliance in nature, leave no trace, and further deepen the relationships these experiences forge with friends. They never found the hot springs, but these three Steel Cowboyz experienced the joy and freedom of searching for those lost hot springs together in the Owyhee Canyonlands. You should too, they’re out there.

When Fireworks on the Fourth Just Won’t Do

Just an hour east of Portland, man and dog find peace and quiet on the noisiest nights of the year

by Matt Carter

When the neighborhood fireworks begin each July, my dog Lily becomes an inconsolable mess of panting, pacing, whining, and shaking. In recent years I have used this as justification to get out of town and into the mountains with her.

In 2014, the Fourth fell on a Friday. The weather forecast was unusual, as it did not include rain, making it a perfect weekend for a backpack. I checked with Lily to see if she was available. She cleared her schedule for me and was ready to go in under a second. It took me a bit longer to load our packs. Our plan was to hike up Tanner Butte Trail to the Tanner-Eagle cutoff, down Eagle Creek to the Wahtum Lake Trail, around the lake past Chinidere Mountain to Benson Plateau, and out Ruckel Creek.

We encountered our first hikers as the trail levels out then grades gently up Tanner Ridge: two young men and their freshly groomed Collie. They were trying without success to coach their pup to jump a log crossing the trial. Without a pause, Lily walked up to the log next to the Collie and hopped over. “This is how it is done newbie,” she wagged. The Collie watched and shortly thereafter hopped the log.

This young team was keen to get in front of us, most likely to secure what would surely be the last spot at Dublin Lake on such a beautiful weekend. I picked up the pace to no avail. Youth won out and they arrived at Dublin Lake minutes before we did. I tossed some sticks into the lake for Lily to retrieve and then hiked on. We would not see another person that day.

Shortly after the lake junction the trail picks up an abandoned road. Along the road we encountered two large patches of cut bear grass arranged to make beds. Not aware of any forest critter that cuts bear grass to form a bed, I was allowed to speculate on the cause as either Bigfoot or space aliens. Lily’s nose showed no interest in the piles of vegetation, so we moved on.

When Lily and I arrived at Tanner Springs Campground, we were amazed to find ourselves alone on such a beautiful weekend in the Mark O. Hatfield Wilderness, which lies barely an hour east of Portland. We set up camp along the stream and prepared for the evening. Lily sleeps at the tent door with just the bug screen. From there she can monitor the olfactory action of the night forest as I drift off to sleep.

The next morning, we encountered a few Boy Scouts and their leader, who reported an arduous adventure up from Big Cedar Springs that included losing the trail many times and being trapped in thicket. They looked beat. Lily wasted no time putting their unoccupied hands to use.

This is a well-practiced routine for her. She slowly moves into position alongside of a hiker and places her head into the hiker’s unoccupied hand. Without being much aware of what they are doing, they begin petting her. And if they stop, her head presses gently against their leg and the petting resumes. In the early days of hiking with Lily, I would try to stop her or at least alert the person that they were petting a dog without knowing it. More recently, I’ve just let it happen. When they depart from our trailside conversation, most are unaware they spent the last minute or so petting a dog.
I put Lily in the lead whenever a trail goes faint. She has the advantage of being able to follow scent beacons and can tell the difference between lost and not-lost scents. We are a well-integrated team. Thanks to her, we had no difficulty passing the section described by the scouting group as nearly impassable.

Once past Big Cedar Springs the trail improved and we found our first muddy tarn. Like a magnet, Lily is drawn to water features, and in she went, despite having been trained not to do so while wearing a pack. What emerged from the muck was a half white, half black dog and a pack filled with goo.

As we approached the west fork of Eagle Creek she began her water happy dance. Leading out and turning her head frequently, “Can I?!! Can I?!!” her eyes asked. The siren call of Eagle Creek again defeated her discipline; in she went, pack and all. On the plus side she and her pack cleaned up nicely.
Some time later we meet a young woman coming out from Wahtum Lake. Lily moved into position to receive pets. After the young woman reported that everyone out hiking that day is at Wahtum Lake, I told Lily to knock it off. The young woman pulled her hand away quickly, surprised to realize that she had been petting a dog. Before she departed, she called Lily adorable.

True to the young woman’s report, Wahtum Lake was packed with tents in every available space. Lily retrieved some sticks for me from the lake. On the move again, we headed past Chinidere Mountain toward Benson Plateau. Near Camp Smoky, we encountered a lone hiker. While Lily was working him, he reported a large group ahead of us was headed to the Plateau to camp. Again, the race was on. There are several trails in the Plateau. We took the shortest to Hunters Camp and turned up the wick. Arriving at Hunters Camp, we found ourselves alone again. Lily settles into camp life quickly, taking a position where she can comfortably track my progress setting up camp. Her keen sense of smell allows her to monitor me with her eyes closed.

The next day we began the hike out down Ruckel Creek. Over the years Lily has day-hiked all the trails we covered on this Fourth-of-July excursion. As we started to head down she stopped frequently to bark and stare at me. The message was clear: “This trail leads to the car. No, this can’t end!”

Our last encounter was with a young couple. They were headed up Ruckel Creek just past the Indian pits. The young man pulled out a map and began to tell me where on the map we are (not even close), and asked how much further to Cascade Locks. They had taken the alternate route on the Pacific Crest Trail down Eagle Creek, and rather than walk the Old Highway to Cascade Locks, they were headed back up Ruckel Creek. I advised him that Ruckel Creek via Benson and the PCT to Cascade Locks was a very long way. He assured me I was wrong and they pressed on. Lily had scored pets with the young woman. Near the road they passed us up, retreating without a word.
We returned to a quiet Portland neighborhood. A tired dog is a good dog.

Author Bio: Matt Carter has been a Mazama member for 22 years, as well as a Climb Leader, BCEP Leader, Advanced Rock leader and has served on many committees and Executive Council. Lily, (aka The Lovely Miss Lily to her climber friends), is a nine-year-old Golden Retriever who can be found with Matt most weekends on local trail and off trail adventures. She is an accomplished mountain dog comfortable in pack and harness. 

First Wedding Anniversary: The Mazama Way

by Leora Gregory
Photo people, in strict left to right:
Mark Fowler, Dyanne Foster, Jean Hillebrand,
Gary Riggs, Lynne Pedersen, Rita Hansen,
Moriel Arango, Leora Gregory, Jason Vosburgh,
Jay Avery, David Carrier, Jonathan Myers,
Karen Vernier, and Amad Doratotaj. Photo: Aaron
Mendelson (another Mazama who happened
to also be on the mountain)

What better way to follow up a wedding on the summit of Mt. Hood, but by a wedding anniversary on the summit of Mt. Hood?  Mazama members Leora Gregory and Jay Avery did just that, by leading a Mazama climb to the top of Mt. Hood to celebrate their First Wedding Anniversary.  (See article on their Mt. Hood Mazama Marriage climb in the May 2015 Bulletin.)  The idea was born right after their wedding, when so many (and especially, Rita!) couldn’t make what was then a mid-week climb.  This year, the anniversary fell, conveniently, on Saturday, and the fairly regular stream of storms Mt. Hood had been getting subsided long enough for a spectacular climb.
This year, the climb had to be done at night, as the freezing level was forecast to be above the mountain the entire night with clear and sunny skies predicted for the summit day.  The team climbed the western chute of the Pearly Gates (last year, they went up the eastern chute) with pretty much stair steps through the crux, and enjoyed long distance views bathed in sunshine on the summit.
Photo taken by Jason Vosburgh of the anniversary
couple kissing on the summit, with Gary
Riggs looking on.

Some notable aspects of the climb: 

  • As was the wedding climb, this anniversary climb was led by Mazama climb leader Leora Gregory, and assisted by (now husband) Mazama Classic member Jay Avery.
  • This was Mazama climb leader Lynne Pedersen’s first *successful* Mazama climb of Mt. Hood!
  • The couple’s officiant, Mazama member Karen Vernier, freshly recovered from the flu wanted so much to join in the celebration that she did a simultaneous solo climb.
  • Mazama member David Carrier started his solo climb several hours later than the team, but skinned up in time to meet the team going though the Pearly Gates!
  • Four of the wedding climb participants (all Mazamas) were able to join the climb: Dyanne Foster, Mark Fowler, Jean Hillebrand, and Gary Riggs.
  • This was Jay Avery’s 95th successful climb of Mt. Hood, and Leora Gregory’s 57th, which also happens to match her age!

Explaining the reason for the large group (12!) to other climbers caused them to help celebrate, and removed the annoyance some climbers experienced when the team (and many other climbers) happened to clog up the chute on the way down. Providing a handline, and allowing everyone to use it, helped to speed up the descent. It would have been even smarter to have had the team descend the eastern chute of the Pearly Gates. . .  (Take-aways for the next climb!)

The entire team worked together to make the climb a fun, rewarding, and celebratory event for all! Many have already mentioned making this an annual event!

6,000 Miles in the Company of Canines: Meet Whitney “Allgood” LaRuffa

by Kristie Perry
Over the past 20 years, Whitney “Allgood” LaRuffa has logged more than 6,000 trail miles in the company of canines. 
LaRuffa’s journey to becoming an expert on backpacking with dogs started with a chance encounter while thru-hiking the 2,200-mile Appalachian Trail from Georgia to Maine in 1996. 
He and a buddy had been on the trail for about a month when in mid-March they reached the Bald Mountains, an 841-square-mile sub-range of the Blue Ridge Mountains. They made camp atop 5,516-foot Big Bald Mountain, which offered them a 360-degree panorama of the North Carolina–Tennessee border and a fierce wind.
“We’d been getting beat down by the wind all night long,” LaRuffa recounts. “Our tents were hitting us in the face. We hadn’t gotten any sleep. It was cold. There was snow on the trail.”
By 3 a.m., LaRuffa and his hiking buddy had had enough. They packed up their gear and headed down the mountain, collecting three more friends who perhaps more wisely had opted to stay in a lower-elevation shelter. 
They all trudged into the sprawling little town of Erwin, Tennessee. At that time, Erwin was a one-motel burg notorious for being the site of an elephant hanging in 1916.

“When I finally got to my motel, I was greeted at the front porch by this little mutt,” LaRuffa says. “I just sat down and played with him.”
Saved from the pound
For many weeks that little mutt had been following thru-hikers in and out of the Smokey Mountains. When LaRuffa and his friends were ready to hit the trail again, they decided to take the mutt with them.
Photo: Jeremiah “Sasquatch” Wright. One of the highlights 
of the Appalachian Trail is hiking through the Grayson Highlands 
of Mt. Rodgers State Park in Virginia. Wild shetland ponies are 
year-round residents in the park and are very accustomed to 
the numerous hikers. Photo: Kelley “Marmot” Douglas.
“The motel owner was threatening to take him to the pound,” LaRuffa says. We went to the store across the street and bought him a two-dollar collar and a bag of Gravy Train. We didn’t want to leave him in a town famous for hanging an elephant. We figured we’d keep him if he stuck with us.”
Officially dubbed Erwin, the dog stuck with LaRuffa and his friends all the way to the Maine border.
Along the way, he was repeatedly skunked; hailed by hikers who’d encountered him elsewhere on the trail; and equipped with a pack and ID tag by Damascus Dave of Mt. Rogers Outfitters in Damascus, Virginia. He faked an injury in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia, to get out of wearing his pack. He was examined by a veterinarian in Troutville, Virginia, who pronounced Erwin bulletproof. 
Throwing up liverwurst
LaRuffa’s parents collected Erwin when the pair arrived at the New Hampshire-Maine border so LaRuffa could continue on to Mount Katahdin in Maine’s Baxter State Park, the northern terminus of the Appalachian Trail, which prohibits dogs.
Above, from left: LaRuffa and his current canine 
companion, Karluk, summited Mt. Adams in 
July 2012. Karluk ran alongside LaRuffa’s 
glissade path on the way down. 
“After spending the better part of three and a half months with Erwin, parting with him was one of the toughest parts of my AT thru-hike,” LaRuffa says. He and his hiking buddies … cried. “There were many days when we wished Erwin was with us as it was the first sustained stretch of good weather on the entire trip and I could envision him enjoying the romp through the Bigelow Mountains.”
After LaRuffa and his friends returned to the trail, LaRuffa’s parents discovered Erwin wasn’t so bullet proof, after all.
“My parents like to tell the story of bringing my ‘feral dog’ home,” LaRuffa says. He speculates that Erwin had been tossed from a car and abandoned at some point in his life, causing him to tend toward carsickness. “I told my father to give Erwin Dramamine and showed him how to pry open Erwin’s jaw and shove a pill down his throat. My father was too nervous to do that so he bought some liverwurst and put the pills in it. To quote my father, ‘there’s nothing like going down I-95 and having a dog throw up liverwurst in the back of the car on a 95 degree day’.” 
LaRuffa pounded out the miles, finishing up his AT adventure about three weeks later. When he returned home to New York, Erwin, naturally, was overjoyed, and greeted LaRuffa in a quintessentially canine way: “I remember lying on the floor of my parents’ kitchen with my pack still on my back, just loving on him.”
Disarming hikers

LaRuffa and Erwin spent the following two summers patrolling a 75-mile stretch of the Appalachian Trail in Pennsylvania as Ridgerunners. 
Ridgerunners provide an important service on the Appalachian Trail, acting as ambassadors, educating people about Leave No Trace Principles, doing light trail maintenance, administering first aid, and discouraging bad behavior. “The program is designed to keep a pulse on what’s going on out there in the woods,” LaRuffa says. “It was a great gig in the summer for a college guy who liked hiking.”
And it was a great opportunity for LaRuffa to hone his backpacking-with-dog skills. Erwin almost always wore a pack on the trail. “And that was back in the day before doggie backpacks were popular,” LaRuffa says. “That always disarmed people and encouraged them to ask questions. It also raised a lot of spirits. It can be really lonely out there for thru-hikers.”
The dog comes first
LaRuffa and Erwin went on to log many more trail miles throughout the United States, including within the South Dakota Badlands and the Cascade Range. Erwin accompanied LaRuffa on his first trip to the top of Mount St. Helens. 
For that outing, Erwin got a special jacket—fleece with a waterproof shell.
LaRuffa had no nervousness about that climb because he had already walked 5,000 miles with Erwin. “Having a dog with me at times can help calm my nerves,” LaRuffa says. 
Still, climbing or backpacking with your dog is a lot of work, LaRuffa acknowledges. “If you’re going to do those things, you need to understand that it really becomes your dog’s outing.”
 “You have to take care of your dog before you take care of you. If your dog is having a bad time, you’ve got to leave.”
For the Mount St. Helens climb, “The hardest thing was teaching Erwin to hike behind me so I wouldn’t step on him with a crampon. The main femoral artery in a dog is right through their leg. If they get cut there, they’ll bleed to death.”

Erwin has also been up through Mt. Hood’s Pearly Gates.

After 13 years of hiking together, LaRuffa said goodbye to Erwin when he could no longer walk. “Thanks to Erwin, I developed a deep love for hiking with dogs that continues on.”

Whitney “Allgood” LaRuffa is a Leave No Trace Master Educator. Over the last twenty years he has shared his tips with countless people who want to backpack with their dogs and has helped spread the gospel of how Leave No Trace principles can be applied to dogs in the backcountry. He shares his home in North Portland with Suzy, his wife of 12 years, and Karluk, a black lab mix adopted from the Oregon Humane Society in 2008. LaRuffa is a brand ambassador for Ruffwear Dog Gear, TurboPup, Barker Bags, Gossamer Gear, Mont-bell, Sawyer, Toaks, Purple Rain Adventure Skirts, Salazon Chocolate, UGO Bars, and Point 6 Socks. To learn more about Whitney “Allgood” LaRuffa and his tips for traveling in the backcountry with dogs, visit his website at www.allgoodsk9adventures.com.