Campsgiving 2025 - The Hard Wind

Parts of our family have been late-season camping (Sep-Oct) in Jasper since 2017. It is rare that all four of us are able to go on this cool-weather hot spring trip, but rarer still for the trip to occur without incident.

In 2018, Frankentrailer gave up the ghost.

In 2020, Covid scuttled the whole thing.

In 2023, I tried the cold pool at the hot springs and regretted it immediately.

And last year, damage from wildfires ended up closing our chosen campground and Bride of Frankentrailer got a flat on the Henday as we headed towards our alternate site, so we ended up staying in a motel with kitchenette instead.

This year, we were fully aware it would be cold. We knew there was a high likelihood of rain and a possibility of snow (all of which eventually happened) and dressed accordingly.

But we were unprepared for the 40-knot winds on Saturday morning that inside-outed our 10' Coleman shelter and nearly carried Fenya away with it while I was trying to make French toast. Thankfully I had already turned the camp stove off so there was no risk of fire or injury that way. The girls gamely held onto the legs of the bent structure while I struggled to remove the covering as it flapped loudly in the gale-force wind.

It was raining at the time so we were all damp and chilled by the time we got everything stowed, and breakfast was a write-off. But when we got to Jasper townsite there was a parking space directly outside North Face Pizza, and two large pizzas made a great hot breakfast...at 1:30 in the afternoon.

Heading out to the hot springs, the weather turned less windy and more snowy the moment we turned onto Miette Road. The twisty trail (that still has automated traffic control for the single lane area where the road washed out a few years ago) carries you up nearly 400 meters up from the Yellowhead and although the roads themselves were clear, the limbs of trees were bowed under the burden of wet, heavy snow.

Thanksgiving weekend is the last chance to visit Miette each year, so it is usually pretty crowded - last year there was a line-up to get in for the first time. But despite being close to capacity, it is still very relaxing to sit in the naturally hot waters and let cold snow melt upon your head. 

We got to the Inn Grill for dinner around 6 pm, and were seated right next to the fire, which was lovely. Sipping on cocktails while we waited for dinner to arrive, the girls were a bit surprised when I thanked them profusely for their patience.

"We volunteered, and weather is not guaranteed..." they said.

"I know," I agreed, "but you signed on for cold nights and maybe setup or takedown in the rain, not almost getting pulled into the sky by a runaway shelter. To say nothing of how cold is it likely to be tonight. Do you have any idea how many offspring would have turned on their dad like cornered snakes after the night and day you two had?"

They shrugged it off like I figured, but took my toast to their patience and understanding with good humor.

That night we watched Bull Durham on my iPad before bed, and our tiny space heater was put to the test overnight as the temperature dropped to five below freezing. But there was no complaining that night, nor the next day as we packed up camp while the occasional transient snowflake drifted in.

The Waiting (Room) Game - Canine Edition

Sleeping with a dog like Canéla in the room can be a challenge at times. While she will begrudgingly depart our bed for her own when we ask her too (often voicing her displeasure with a low, rumbling growl), and on occasion even remove herself after lights out, she fully believes she can reserve the right to unilaterally resituate herself on our queen-sized mattress at pretty much any time she wishes. And if we are sound asleep, oftentimes it turns out she is correct.

Friday morning at 3:40 am, however, she was whimpering on the floor loudly enough that it woke me up. This wasn't the soft cries of bad dreams that we find so unsettling during the day, but sounds of stress and discomfort. She was also at the foot of our bed, not in her own, which was unusual behaviour.

Thinking she needed to go to outside, and got up and led her to the back door, but noticed her walk was much more stiff-legged and awkward than her usual loping gait. After opening the back door, she proceeded gingerly down the back steps and towards the grass.

When I came back from my own washroom break, it looked like she was trying to poop but unable to, and her back legs were visibly shaking. She stopped trying, and then her long legs seemed to fold up under her and she lay down on the cool, damp grass - also unlike her.

I thought perhaps we was taking a short break or perhaps cooling off, but when she didn't get up after a few minutes, I opened the door again and whistled. 

Other than turning her head to look at the open door, she didn't move. 

I put on my jacket and went outside in my Crocs, bending down and scratching her behind the ears. I stood up, clapped my hands and pointed to the back step, inviting her back in. 

She looked at me with an expression I couldn't fathom.

I ended up picking her up and carrying her into the house and setting her on the loveseat in the living room. Glory was up by now and I explained my level of concern, which had been rising consistently since being awakened. Glory checked her legs and paws while I fetched a bowl of water, but didn't find any sore spots or injuries, and Canéla turned up her nose at the water I offered her.

With my concern reaching peak levels, I went back the bedroom for my iPad and sat in the recliner next to her, glad to see her rest her head at the armrest so she could see me. I saw there were a number of 24-hour vet clinics I could bring her to if needed, but she didn't seem to be in any distress at the moment, so Glory and I agreed that wait and see was probably the prudent approach. I texted the happenings to the family Instagram chat and headed back to bed, where sleep eluded me for at least another 1-2 hours. Was my pet's issue neurological? Parvovirus? Cancer? 

I found out after I woke up that when Glory got up for her 7:30 am shift at Grey Nuns, the dog was laying on the floor outside her door. Glory let her out, and the morning pattern repeated itself - she ended up carrying Canéla back in and laying her on her own bed, with more room to stretch out. Somehow the same incident repeating made the entire situation more worrisome.

Audrey wanted our own vet in Spruce Grove to look at her instead of taking her to an emergency clinic but they didn't open until 8:30. I called in to work to let them know I would be absent and went back to sleep for a few minutes, but when I called, I discovered they were booked solid for the day and recommended I take her in right away (somewhere else).

So I ended up carrying her out to the Lander (where she had exactly enough strength in her limbs to walk across the comfy blanket I had laid out and onto the opposite rear seat, where she collapsed in a heap), and driving her to Boreal Veterinary Centre, across from the Humane Society on 137 Avenue.

It is a new facility (2 years old this summer), with three of the four receptionsit stations crewed so I could see one right away. They got her checked in quickly and even lent me a leash, since I left the house in such a state that bringing one hadn't even occurred to me.

Canéla walked under her own power to the waiting area until she could be triaged, with her tail tucked and feet skittering uncertainly along the slick floor. She lay down beside my chair in a clear state of apprehension, only rarely letting her head rest on her paws, but not once expressing any interest in or barking at the other people or dogs in the centre. 

It did not take long for a tech to come in and assess Canéla, concurring that the limbs seemed all right, and although her temperature was the high end of normal, her heart and respiration were pretty normal. With her being classified as stable, we would basicaly enter the queue of non-emergency cases, and would be bumped if more pressing cases presented themselves. She advised it we likely be a 2-3 hour wait, which I said was fine and understandable.

We walked back to the waiting area, and after about an hour she stood up and pulled for the door, the most initiative I had seen her take all day. I took her out to their spacious lawn and watched her struggle to excrete a tiny bit of diarrhea, and then let her lead us back to the Lander. 

She seemed must more restful curled up on the back seat than laying on the hard floor inside, so we stayed out for a couple more hours, driving away briefly so I could get some drive-thru for lunch. After eating, I took her back on the lawn with no result, but did get to see her drink a little water from the makeshift tuna can dish I keep in the vehicle.

After three and a half hours, I was growing a little uncomfortable and a bit impatient, but when a young man in his twenties walked by with (presumably) his father, his eyes puffy and cheeks flushed and tear-stained, I overheard him asking if their pet was going to be cremated here. Reminded that these premises contained far worse things than waiting, I opened my iPad and returned to reading. 

It was five hours before we were shown into an examination room, and the lights actually turned off once and I had to flap my arms to reinstate them before the vet arrived . She introduced herself as Milla and apologized for the long wait. She explained there had been an influx of more serious cases and status changes that had kept all the staff hopping.

Despite the stresses of the day, she was delightful and friendly, and plied Canéla with treats while conducting her examination. I held her collar while the vet checked her temperature at the other end, and she noted it had actually increased another tenth of a degree, but wasn't too concerned about it. 

She confirmed the diarrhea and largely ruled out constipation based on palping the dog's abdomen, and suggesting an x-ray to confirm was probably unnecessary. In the end, she suggested that the diarrhea must have taken enough of a toll on Canéla to exhaust her early in the morning, and while she couldn't make a determination as to cause, we agreed that "digestive misadventure" was not out of the question.

She suggested a pre-probiotic paste but not only wrote out a prescription for antibiotics just in case (so we wouldn't have to come back in if her condition worsened), but also asked if she could give Canéla a quick ultrasound to make sure there was no fluid around her heart (something that had happened with another case) for no charge. The emergency exampination and medicine came to less than $250. The dog not only walked back to the car but jumped in on her own this time; she was still for the rest of the ride home though.

Friday night Canéla had a few accidents downstairs, and today the backyard evidence suggests she is still pretty unsettled so we are switching from kibble to beef and rice (there's a reason it's a classic)to see if that helps. But she is jumping on and off the bed again under her own power, which is a relief to see, and acting a little more like herself every hour it seems.

And if nothing else, it is good to know that there is a 24-hour animal hospital just down the road that already has "Kanela" on file if we need to go there in a hurry...but I am okay if we never go back either.