Day 2: BARK Rangers of Wilson's Creek, a Fuel Scare, and a Farm in Kansas
Day two of the Southwest loop, Paducah, Kentucky to McCune, Kansas, the longest drive of the whole trip. Press play above for the video; our written reports follow.
Dublin's Report
Day two began at 3:30 AM, when a man with a leaf blower decided the entire Paducah Walmart lot needed his attention. We were up and rolling by six, whether we meant to be or not. It became the longest drive of the trip, 425 miles to McCune, Kansas. Missouri was kind to us: flat, straight, and easy enough that Elle took a turn at the wheel and reported she barely had to steer. I will cover the important development first: Chester and I are now official BARK Rangers.
Our big stop was Wilson's Creek National Battlefield near Springfield, Missouri, where a Civil War battle was fought in 1861. It is a solemn place, wide fields and cannons, and we behaved accordingly. We picnicked at the park, then set out on the loop. I will be plain about what happened next: my arthritis flared partway around, and the walk was cut short on my account. The humans listened when I said I was done, which is all a senior dog can ask. We still collected our BARK Ranger collar tags at the visitor center, earned fair and square, and I took the oath seriously. BARK stands for: Bag your waste. Always stay on leash. Respect wildlife. Know where you can go. Sensible rules. I have been living by them for years; now I have the tag to prove it.
I should report, in the interest of accuracy, that the humans had a fuel situation. The gauge said 166 miles to empty with a long way still to go, the planned stop in Springfield was passed by, and the cab got very quiet for a while. They topped off at a truck plaza in Cabool to be safe, then saved Joplin for the real work: a full tank, fresh water, and the dump station at the Flying J, which is the glamorous side of this lifestyle that nobody puts on postcards. The tank read 378 miles to empty when we rolled out. Order restored.
We arrived at McCune Farm to Market, a Harvest Hosts farm in Kansas, at 5:27 PM, ahead of the sunset, and the hostess there welcomed the dogs with a big piece of roast beef each. Kansas understands hospitality. Farm air, open sky, excellent smells. The tags jingled the whole way in.
Dublin's road wisdom: Watch the gauge the way you watch the road. The truck gets hungry too, and it does not care about your plans.
Chester's Report
425 MILES. That is the most miles I have ever done and I did them all lying down, which is harder than it sounds. Also, we were woken up at 3:30 in the MORNING by a leaf blower guy cleaning the whole Walmart parking lot, leaf by leaf, right past our windows. There were no leaves. I checked. 3:30 AM is not a time, it is a rumor.
But listen. LISTEN. We are BARK RANGERS now. Official. With TAGS. Wilson's Creek gave us collar tags that say Bark Ranger and I have never been prouder of anything in my life. Dublin got one too and he is acting calm about it but I saw his tail. The battlefield is a huge field with cannons and a lot of history smells, and we walked it like professionals because we ARE professionals now. There is an oath and everything.
Okay, serious part. Halfway around the loop I noticed Dublin slowing down. His arthritis was hurting, I could tell, he gets quiet and careful with his steps. I stayed right next to him and did not pull on the leash even once, which is a personal record. The humans saw it too and we cut the walk short and went back, and I was worried the whole ride after. He still got his tag. He earned it MORE because he did it on a sore day. He is resting now and he is okay, but I am keeping an eye on him. That is my job too.
Then the humans forgot to feed the truck. The truck's tummy light said 166 miles and Kansas was still basically in another universe, and Wayne and Elle got very quiet and did a lot of math out loud. I was not worried. I have seen this show. We stopped in Cabool for a quick top-off (bonus sniff break for me) and then hit a giant place in Joplin called the Flying J, where the truck ate a whole tank, the humans filled the water and did the stinky dump job, and I supervised from a patch of grass. 378 miles to empty. Crisis cancelled.
And then, Kansas. A FARM. We are sleeping on a farm tonight, at McCune Farm to Market, and it smells like hay and cows and freedom. The humans had supper at the farm cafe, and the hostess gave me and Dublin a big piece of roast beef EACH, like she knew BARK Rangers were coming. Best welcome of my entire life. Kansas is my favorite state now. We rolled in before dark with our new tags on and roast beef in our bellies. Day two, done. Being a BARK Ranger is tiring. I am going to supervise the inside of my eyelids now, from right next to Dublin.
Dublin & Chester, Paws Parks & Provisions