Full Circle: Sharing a Love of Backpacking Through Generations

Some experiences get passed down through generations like heirlooms, and for Ruffwear photographer Alex and his dog Raya, their love of backpacking originated with those who came before.

Growing up in Ohio, Alex first became interested in long-distance hiking through his grandfather's journals from the Appalachian trail. He'd always felt pulled toward nature, and reading those entries made the trail feel like an important stepping stone in life. So when he decided to attempt it himself, he wanted to share it with someone special—his dog Reptar.

Lesson From The Trail

Alex had pieced together the logistics over time—he'd had Reptar since college, and had trained him early on with backpacking in mind. He knew they'd be doing the Appalachian trail together, but he hadn’t anticipated all the ways Reptar would impact the journey.

Along with training him specifically for hiking, he outfitted Reptar with a pack and a dog-sized sleeping bag he’d sewn together using old gear. It wasn’t a perfect system, and he started with more equipment loaded up in his pack than he really needed. There was a lot he would continue to learn about backpacking—and with a dog in tow.

At first, Alex was focused intently on miles, with a carefully planned schedule in order to finish the entire trail—which was his ultimate goal. But over time the newness of the expedition wore off. Some sections were easier than others, and Reptar didn’t get to join for all of them.

Alex had to hand him off to family in order to hike through the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, after which he reunited with them briefly to pick up Reptar and some supplies. Adhering closely to the schedule, he resumed hiking right away—maybe a little too soon. He didn’t realize how much the quick transition would affect him emotionally until he was 18 miles down the trail.

The route had become a relentless up-and-down rhythm with nothing to break up the visual monotony. His spirits were low, he missed his family, and when it came time to make dinner, he slipped and dropped an entire pot of macaroni in the dirt. It was at that point he broke.

"I was so defeated after that. It was like four o’clock in the afternoon and I just didn't want to be there anymore."

He looked at the map. The next town was six or seven miles out. So he pushed Reptar a little further so he could get them to a hotel room.

They ended up putting in a really long day. By the end, Reptar was stiff and slow, and Alex felt it, too. But they got what they both needed—a comfy bed and a couple of days to rest, reconnect, and recover. When they returned to the trail, something had shifted. “I started asking myself, ‘Why have I been pushing so hard? What's the point?’”

A few days later Alex and Reptar passed through Grayson Highlands, a protected stretch of the trail known for wild ponies. Alex had mostly written off any chance of seeing them—or anything at all for that matter, because it had been raining for days. It was still foggy, and as they wove around and through mud puddles, he caught movement in the corner of his eye.

A herd of ponies was nearby, and in the process of taking time to pause and watch, the herd got close. At some point, Reptar leaned in and licked one of them on the nose. This was the kind of moment Alex might have missed in strict pursuit of an itinerary.

"We both were just in awe," he says. “The rest of that day my spirits were high. I was so glad we hadn’t rushed.”

A Different Kind of Pace

Years later, Alex and his wife expanded their family and got a new dog named Raya. She was just a puppy, with energy that took a little bit of adjusting to for everyone, including Reptar. "He was so patient with her. He never snapped at her or anything. If she was bothering him, he would just calmly get up and walk away.”

What they didn't know yet was that Reptar was sick. He was diagnosed with cancer not long after Raya came home. By then, he was eight years old, and slowing down in other ways, too. But Raya had a way of pulling him back into play mode. She'd push him to engage and get his tail wagging. They were good for each other.

Raya also helped Alex process and grieve after Reptar passed. "I don't know what I would have done had I not had Raya there. She filled the emptiness of his presence. It was still devastating, but she was just so patient with me."

"I like to think that because they had that time together, part of him is with her; that he's rubbed off on her in some way that feels generational, even though they weren't related by blood."

Continuing the Tradition on Mt. Hood

By the time Alex took Raya backpacking on Mt. Hood, he hadn't been on a backpacking trip in five years. Raya had never been out, and with all of his knowledge gained from the Appalachian trail, he planned things a bit differently this time.

He picked a trail he knew well, the same one where he and his wife had gotten married. They would hike around 42 miles over four days. Other than a loose plan, he allowed the details to sort themselves out along the way—let the present moment guide them both, as Reptar had taught him years ago.

In some ways, it felt like returning to something. In others, it was completely new. Raya is more independently-minded than Reptar, and she required more time on a leash. That was something to get used to. ”The leash connection allowed a greater physical and emotional connection. It makes you really consider every step you're taking, because you're taking them together."

Unlike the retrofitted sleeping bag he packed for Reptar, this time Alex had a dog-specific sleeping poncho that was made to keep Raya comfortable throughout the night. Because he didn’t have to wake up and check to make sure she was warm, the nighttime dynamic he had become accustomed to with Reptar had changed.

”It reduced a lot of worry and she could settle down in a way that felt natural to her. It meant better sleep for everyone." Raya liked it so much she still wears it at home.

He also used an updated pack that handled logistics a little more cleanly, with removable side bags so Raya could carry her own food without being fully loaded at every moment.

What surprised Alex most was how quickly everything came back to him; where to position himself on singletrack, how to move around Raya on the trail, and the rhythm of long distance hiking.

And just like Reptar on the Appalachian trail, Raya brought her positive attitude and devotion to the present moment. He watched Raya play in the water, investigate sights and smells, accept loving pets from strangers, and notice things he would have walked right past. He didn't feel behind schedule. He felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

What Comes Next

Alex is already planning more trips with Raya. Longer ones. More nights out, more miles, more time in the mountains at the pace a dog sets.

The idea of finishing the Appalachian trail still pulls at him. He thinks about it often—about completing what he and Reptar started, and picking up that thread again. This time, with Raya at his side.

The biggest thing is that there is no destination anymore. He knows it’s all about appreciating each moment they have together. Raya continues to teach him this everyday. "She's always present. It always reminds me to do the same thing. Just look up, breathe, and smell the air."