Help Mateo get home!

The short version:

This sweet brave pup followed us a total of 40 miles. We were able to carry him some of that, maybe 20 miles. Him strapped to my back with Titan straps and a potato sack. We need help getting him all the way home! Anything helps! Please consider anything at all. All advise welcome. Let’s do this!! All funds will be used for getting Mateo in good health, safe and state side. Any extra funds will be donated to the rescues that have helped make this all happen.

The less short version:

A dog grew attached to us in San Mateo, Oaxaca and started following us on our bikepacking journey. We expected him to stop after a short while, but he kept going, and going, and going. After trying to scare him off, lose him and distract him from following us. He was still there. He carefully avoided oncoming cars and incoming bike tires behind him. He dodged other strays who were protecting their territory and kept up with the crew, as if he’d been there the whole time. Happy as a clam, trotting along beside us. After 10 miles we got worried he really wasn’t going to stop. At mile 15 we decided we needed something to carry him in so he wouldn’t hurt himself. Somehow, we scored a potato sack from a local farmer in a tiny mountain town at about 9,000. So deep into the Mexican mountains the prominent language was not Spanish, it was Zapoteca (an indigenous language here). We put duct tape over where we were going to cut holes to prevent the bag from totally tearing under our new friend’s weight. We cut four holes, slinging Titan Straps through to act as backpack straps. This dog looked young and we knew it wasn’t good for his joints to be running so far. We were aiming for a 40 mile bike day. We slipped him into the sack and strapped him to my back. He didn’t put up a fight or seemed bothered. He seemed to be pretty tired, but still determined to continue with us. We could only have him in the sack for the downhills, but luckily there was a 10 mile “downhill” coming up. It was a blow out narrow dirt road. A lot of concentration and careful navigation was required and with the added 20-25 pounds on my back. My arms and lower back started to give out pretty quickly. But we were determined. “Maybe we‘ll take him home!” He learned his name “Mateo” within hours. That ended up being our biggest day of climbing for the whole trip. We finally got to a place to camp and had only gone 32 miles, but had climbed 7,783 feet. (For those Gunni/CB folks… imagine climbing from sea level to Gunnison in the distance between Gunni and CB….) Having picked up the surprise addition to our crew about two miles in, this dog had run 20 miles with us that day and had walked up 7,783 ft. He didn’t complain. He didn’t lolligag. He didn’t seem to be completely depleted of energy. Just a brave, determined soul who had chosen us as his family and that was that, in his simple dog mind. He camped with us that night, somewhere around 9,000 ft in the height of the San Jose del Pacífico mountains. As soon as all of our tents were rigged for sleeping, he found a soft place right next to one of our bikes, curled up in a tiny little ball and fell fast asleep. The next day I woke up and unzipped the fly of my tent and was immediately greeted by a wiggly butt and wet black nose. Even though we were still worried he might have flees, like so many other strays we had seen in Oaxaca, I couldn’t resist giving him a hefty good morning scratch. He was ready to go. Ready to bike more. But it was starting to sink in more and more that we weren’t going to be in the mountains much longer, where it was cool. The hot desert portion of our 240 mile bikepacking journey was coming up, fast. We were trying to figure out how to get this lump of joy back to Oaxaca city with us safe and sound. We were in it. Deep in the Mexican mountains where service barely existed and most locals didn’t even own a phone. Finding a taxi or car to take us further that could also accommodate our bikes, there? Forget about it. We finally decided to ask the very kind women who served us breakfast if they wanted a dog. They laughed at us and told us to just shew him away. At the end of breakfast they said they’d hang onto him while we left, but they couldn’t guarantee he’d be fed and he may die. So that was a hard “no” from me and into the potato sack he went for another long descent. We passed very confused locals, construction workers who pointed and laughed, and disgruntled abuelitas. Probably all thinking “gringos locos”. Mateo started running again, when the climbs became more frequent. On one such climb there was a shorter descent, which we decided he could do since there was a large uphill right after. At the bottom of the descent a rancher was buckling up his horse. Mateo went straight for the shade of his tact house. We started talking with the this rancher, Luis, in broken Spanish and asked him if he wanted a dog, semi-jokingly. He perked up and said yes. He said he would take good care of him and he would be fed and live a good life. The situation was exactly what was needed in the moment. We couldn’t continue with our furry friend through hot pavement, scarce water and steep climbs. It would be cruel. We still had 130 miles to go. So we left him with the rancher. My eyes swelled with big fat tears as I rode away. I couldn’t look back. I swear I heard him bark after us, calling to us to wait up and he wanted to come too. He had chosen us as his family and we couldn’t keep him and were leaving him with a stranger. I thought about this throughout that day, and the next day, and the next. Chocking back tears when I imaged his face. Imagined what his life could be in America, in the Rocky Mountains. His first time seeing snow. My heart swelled and fell with the realization that he was far behind us.

Three days later, drinking a corona by the pool at the hotel we had worked so hard to get to. Thinking more about, what if we go back for him. Thinking of all the complications, obstacles and hardships we may have to leap through. It’s too hard. Giving up. Thinking the same thing five minutes later. Until finally, I voiced my thoughts about returning and Ellen jumped on the idea. Saying she would go with me if that’s what I wanted to do. Ten minutes later we were asking our host if they could find us a driver who could drive us 3 hours through rural Mexico, over rough roads and steep climbs. A couple hours later, we had a driver. More research, more doubt, more excitement. Doubting we’d even find this 20 pound dog in the middle of corn fields, agave rows and rock slides. Are we that crazy?

…. Yes. Yes we are.

And we did it. We got up at 5 am. Still calling ourselves crazy. Picked up by a kind and humorous taxi driver who listened to our broken Spanish story and most likely thought we were nuts, but had no problem pushing on. We watched the sunrise. Big and bold. A glimmer of hope? Or just another day in the harshlands of the Oaxacan deserts? There we were. Barreling through the twists and turns, having no idea what we were about to encounter. A dead dog? A runaway? A rancher who may pull a machete on us, rather than give up his new found work partner? I thought I’d imagined it all, but it still didn’t prepare me. We arrived around 8:15 am at the shack we had left him at. It was deserted. We walked some of the property, checking other buildings announcing ourselves. “Buenos Dias! Luis?”, “hola”, “Mateo”? Nothing. The silence screaming in my ears. It wasn’t going to work. We had lost him forever. It wasn’t meant to be. We had lost and Mexico was determined to hold onto this soul as its own.

“What should we do?” I asked Ellen. She said “Well, we can at least go to town and show his picture around and see if anyone knows where he works?”

I said okay, but my spirits were low. Hope was quickly exiting my body.

We got back into the car. The cab driver could tell I wasn’t optimistic and asked if I was sad. I said yes.

A motorist and his passenger were zipping up the highway towards us. Our driver flagged him down and asked them if they knew of a Luis in town. Ellen got out her phone and showed them a picture. The motorists face lit up. “Sí” . Yes. He knew him and he knew where he was that very minute. He gave us some brief directions and just like that we were back in action! Hopes high! Still scared the rancher may be mad and turn us away. Two minutes later we were rolling through the small town. A woman was making her way up the road and our driver rolled down his window once more. “Escupé!” Do you know Senior Luis?

Her face did not light up. Ellen showed her the picture again and her face exploded with recognition. “Yes! That’s my dad! He is just around the corner at his house. Keep going”.

I was amazed. We kept driving. Rolling slower and slower. Trying to peak into houses for someone who looked like Luis and then I looked forward and there he was. Mateo. Laying in the dirt giving himself a clean dirt bath.

“MATEO!!”

His ears perked up, his head jolted. I was out the door before I knew it. He started running towards us. All wiggles and making all sorts of noises. Pure excitement. He recognized us. He knew who we were. He knew we were family, his family. I was crying. He was squirming in excitement and happiness on the ground. And we just kept repeating his name. Mateo! Mateo!

It must’ve been quite the sight. Two people were standing at the entrance to the home when we rolled up. What it must’ve looked like to see a Taxi with the name of a town 3 hours away plastered to it and two gringas getting out, calling a name and the little black dog sprinting over in excitement. They came up to us and said, he knows you.

Ellen began to try to explain. Explaining we had not been able to take the dog with us. But we decided to try and come back for him. And, as nicely as possible, explain that we would really like to take the dog back with us. To the United States. I quickly pulled up the photo of Mateo attached to my back by potato sack while we were biking through the mountains. They all laughed. The ice was broken. Luis came out and we again explained what we were doing. He remembered us. Remembered our names even. He said of course, absolutely, no problem. Take the dog! Even the taxi driver was out of his car. Smile on his face. I think he was very touched. They were a very very humble and good family. You could feel the love in that small little yard in front of their tiny abode, where all seven of them probably lived together. He would indeed have had a very good life there. I don’t know what it is about this pup, but the bond we had crafted in just one day was undeniable. We thanked these good people over and over again. Got back in the taxi and all three of us almost immediately went to sleep, trusting our driver to deliver us back to Mitla, where the next part of our journey home would begin.

One. Step. At. A. Time.

So now here I am. Starting my very first GoFundMe to try and help get this Oaxacan wonder back home to see his first snow flakes, never go hungry and be loved to pieces. I need YOUR help. Yes, YOU!!

Please, anything helps. We have a couple rescues and scattered people trying to help us with getting all the right papers. I am researching and changing plane tickets. Organizing vaccines, etc.

Let’s do this!! All funds will be used for getting Mateo in good health and state side. Any extra funds will be donated to the rescues that have helped make this all happen.