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my one job with respect to Neville
Friday, September 18 2026
This morning I took Charlotte back to that Gulley I'd become better aware of yesterday. This time I brought a camera. After returning to the section where it cuts the most deeply into the landscape (only about fifty to seventy feet below a sheer cliff where it suddenly begins), I then tried to descend into it using toeholds in the extremely steep south sidewall. But inevitably one of these gave way and I found myself sliding all the way to the bottom on my ass. Fortunately, the speed of descent was not too rapid and I didn't even wear a hole in the sweatpants I was wearing. But then Charlotte was cut off from me almost overhead fifteen or more feet away. I wouldn't see her again until I was nearly home. Since I was now at the bottom of a small canyon, there was essentially no getting out except by hiking down it. There were some large fallen trees I had to clamber over, and at one point the gulley-canyon takes a sharp turn to the south, but ultimately I made it down to the Chamomile. At the Chamomile itself, the gulley is so shallow that it is easy to overlook (and I had done so many times). The most interesting thing that happens as the gulley arrives at the Chamomile is that it produces a large mound of rubble, a sort of delta comprised of some fraction of all the material that had to be removed to make it. I'm not clear on when the gulley was actually formed. Could it have been recently, a consequence of overgrazing back when people tried to run sheep on this mountain? But had it every been completely deforested? That would've been difficult with 19th Century technology. Perhaps the gulley formed quickly from the uncorking of a large glacial pool high on the plateau to the west some twelve thousand years ago.
Later this afternoon, I went to take Charlotte for her second walk of the day, and, though I'd barricaded Neville inside the house, I'd failed to latch the bottom hooks of the wooden dog-door blocker. He must've been very motivated to join us, because he easily pushed the blocker out of the way and started marching with us. At this point in his heartworm therapy protocol, it's been my hypothesis that his heart has been worm-free for weeks and that worrying about him getting his heart rate up has been unnecessary. Also, since there are non-lethal symptoms that happen well before heart worm debris becomes lethal, I figured I could be on the lookout for those. So I opted to let Neville join us with the idea that I would cut the walk short and not do anything too demanding on it. We headed a short ways down the Stick Trail and then climbed up the hill to the west via a gently-sloping cove that happens to be the headwaters for the gulley I'd explored this morning. There's an ad hoc bluestone mine on the south side of this cove and as I passed it, I selected a nice piece measuring about two square feet in size but light enough to carry under an arm since it was only about three quarters of an inch thick (it weighed maybe 20 pounds). As I headed towards the Chamomile Headwaters Trail, I could see that Neville had made it up the slope and seemed to be doing fine. But then I saw him going in some weird direction, though at his normal plodding speed (in orther words, he wasn't chasing some critter). I hurried home and decided to get the Chevy Bolt so I could pick up Neville where the Chamomile Headwaters Trail meets the Farm Road and save him nearly a quarter mile of trudging. I figured the gabapentin and trazadone he was on were making him wish he hadn't decided to join me even on this pathetically short walk. But when I arrived in the Bolt, Neville had yet to make it to the bottom of the Chamomile Headwaters Trail. So Charlotte (who had ridden with me in the car) went to look for him. We hiked nearly all the way back to the ad hoc bluestone mine and didn't see any sign of him. Had he decided to return to the Stick Trail and head home that way? Or were the drugs he was on affecting his normally superhuman geolocating prowess and he was heading down into the Chamomile gorge? I grabbed a few more nice pieces of bluestone, returned to the Bolt, and drove back home. After thoroughly searching the house and finding Neville nowhere, I started to panic. Had I completely fucked up Neville's heartworm therapy? I had one job, and now Neville might well be in a patch of burnweed somewhere suffering from a grand mal seizure due to thrombosis caused by an errant chunk of worm debris!
I ended up hiking down the Stick Trail at least two more times, going only to the ad hoc bluestone mine the first time and then going further afield the second time to see if he was off mining for chipmunks or something (that second time I heard a commotion just over the horizon and hoped it was Neville, only to encounter a herd of fleeing deer). Both searches turned up nothing. I even waded into a big patch of burnweed north of the bluestone mine looking for his white fur, but it was fruitless.
But then off in the distance I could hear Charlotte barking like a crazy dog at Crazy Dave's dogs. There was a confidence to her barking that suggested to me that she knew that Neville was safe. Perhaps she was even being upset with him because he'd gone into the ravine to troll the canine neighbors. So I returned home and there was Neville, pleased as a clam lying in the entranceway to the house. He wasn't even panting, suggesting he'd never gotten his heartrate up at all. I don't know how he'd made it back home without me having run across him on the way, since there aren't a lot of possible routes. But, as I say, he has amazing capabilities when it comes to finding his way on a map. In any case, I was very happy to see him. Bullet: dodged. Now I could do more of that drinking that I'd started with a "forest beer" just as this crisis was about to begin.
Before I got too intoxicated, though, I went up the Farm Road a second time to gather some more good pieces of bluestone for the Mossy Rock Trail up in the Adirondacks.
Charlotte above me on the edge of the gulley-canyon after I'd just slid down to the bottom. Click to enlarge.
A view uphill (westward) to the cliff that marks the start of the gulley. Click to enlarge.
The north wall of the gulley, which is comprised of crumbling shale. Click to enlarge.
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