Whitecap meltdown

Western view with Mt Washington at the far right in the background.
Click on photos too enlarge.  

On warm days for quick local hikes, I tend to head over the Whitecap. Eighty percent of the trail is shaded by a canopy of tree limbs and leaves and there are about 5 stream crossings. Such a hike helps keep Bailey cool. That's the same case with mountains like Puzzle, Brook, Black/White Trail, Wright Trail, Mt Will.... Today was no different. In 3 or 4 places Bailey can climb into a stream and take a bath and slurp up water. Near the top we ran into a couple out in the open area. I'm pounding up and Bailey's behind me. I holler ahead to ask if they're OK with a dog and one hiker says, "Oh, yes. And thanks for asking." I always try to check with fellow hikers if I see them in time. Some people are freaked by dogs and I get that.

Bailey rolling in the blueberry bushes. 

The other hiker comments on the lack of water at the top, tells me about how the summit often has puddles... and then he comments about how Bailey is panting. I say, well, we may just go to what I call the western summit, a section that cuts out 15 minutes of hiking on granite and all in the sun.  The hiker mentions Bailey's panting again, but I stay quiet. By now, Bailey's had 4 swims and drinks of water in a 50-minute shaded hike. It's hot but he's fine.

As I hiked farther up the trail after chatting with the two hikers, I start to get pissy about the hiker's panting comments. Part of me knew he was showing concern; part of me took offense. I run the scenario over and over in my mind once we start heading down, now wishing I'd run into the two. Well, I got my wish near the bottom and I was an idiot. 

The hiker said, "He's still panting but at least he's wet." And I say something like, "Well, not to worry, we hike the this trail 80 times a year and he knows where every bit of water is. In fact, we hike a couple hundred mountains a year... and if he weren't panting, he'd be dead." He'd be dead. Someone shoot me, please. 

We passed the two hikers and continue heading down and I say, "Have a good one" without looking back. I boil over with anger as I walk down the final 1/4 mile. My meltdown is not about the hiker's comments but about my own lack of control. I'm an idiot.   

Now I'm at home. Bailey's had his post-hike peanut butter treat and water and a blow-dry around his neck. I've taken a shower and searched for ticks, and my moronic comments are upper most in my mind. How come I can't be smooth under pressure? Why do I have to have these occasional crack ups It happened a couple of weeks ago in a university meeting when someone was trashing a younger colleague. I couldn't stand it and I lost my mind.  

I've got to get a grip and take deep breaths and shut my quick-trigger mouth. Now, hiking Whitecap will conjure up those two hikers and my irrational response.