We arrived to Elk River Guest Ranch right on time. On the ranch were five cabins in a row, with ours being sandwiched in the middle of them, directly behind a hogan-like building with a sign that read “The Saloon” above the door. While it wasn’t as remote as I was picturing (given the proximity of our cabin to the others), I was still satisfied. After all, we were alone, as nobody else had booked any cabins due to it being the mud season. We were also surrounded by acres and acres of untouched wilderness. The ranch itself had fifty acres of land, including about an acre or so down by the Elk river, and surrounding that in all directions was public land in the Routt National Forest.
I was so excited to spend the next 48 hours practically alone, with nothing but the wildlife and wildflowers to keep us company.
But as we pulled up to our cabin to unload our things, a huge German Shepherd came trotting towards us from the furthest cabin in the row. He was looking straight at us, his ears and head up high. But he wasn’t barking and his tail was wagging, so maybe he was friendly. Toby, on the other hand, instantly erupted into screams and barks the moment saw the German Shepherd (yes, Toby likes to scream at other dogs for some reason). As he’s grown older, Toby has gotten more reactive towards strange dogs, and I knew it would be a bad idea to take Toby out around an unleashed dog of any kind, let alone a strange German Shepherd.
After sniffing around the Xterra while I held Toby’s mouth shut, the German Shepherd trotted back to his cabin and disappeared around the corner. Cautiously, my grandpa and I stepped out of the Xterra while grandma called the ranch owner to ask about the dog. I kept my head on a swivel while I unloaded the Xterra, still unsure of if the German Shepherd would be back, and if he would be friendly.
Last time I ran into an unleashed German Shepherd, I was staying with Clarke at his house in Elizabeth when, out of nowhere, an aggressive German Shepherd with a beautiful black coat came around the side of the house and lunged at me. I don’t recall the details (it was five or six years ago), but I do remember holding up my duffle bag like a shield to block that thing from ripping my face off, right as his incredibly apologetic owner came sprinting around the corner to rescue me. Turns out, the dog belonged to one of Clarke’s roommate's friends, and I just needed to shake his owner’s hand to show that I was a friend.
That memory remained at the forefront of my mind as I brought all of our stuff in, with Toby being the last to leave the Xterra. However, Toby had to pee again before I brought him inside the cabin. I took him to the giant spruce tree growing along the front porch, and dragged him inside as soon as he was finished.
Inside, the cabin felt way smaller than it seemed online. Its main room contained a living area, a cast-iron gas stove, a small dining table, and an equally cramped kitchen. Still, it didn’t feel claustrophobic in any way. I felt much safer now that I was in the cabin, with a thick metal door between myself and the prowling German Shepherd.
All of the furniture was small yet comfortable. There wasn’t too much clutter on the walls or the bookshelf. And everything was neatly organized and smelled slightly of Pine-Sol.
The bedrooms were just as clean and cozy. While my grandparents took the bedroom with the queen-sized bed, I took the bedroom with the bunk bed and stripped off the bedding on the bottom bunk to replace it with my own. Like the rest of the cabin, my bedroom was small, with log walls and a rustic red door. It had one window facing out towards a treeless pasture, which backed into a mountain forested with barren Aspen trees.
“I bet that mountainside’s just beautiful in the fall…” I thought as I made my bed and set up Toby’s kennel next to it.
