The Do's, Don'ts, Safety Tips, and Gear We Actually Bring
If you've spent enough time around off-roaders, you've probably noticed a pattern.
A lot of us bring our dogs everywhere.
Camp trips. Trail rides. Road trips. Coffee runs. If there's an open passenger seat, chances are a dog is trying to claim it.
Some of my favorite memories from being outdoors involve dogs. They make campfires better, trail rides more interesting, and somehow always seem to know when an adventure is about to happen.
But here's something I've learned over the years:
Not every dog is a trail dog.
And that's okay.
My best trail dog was named Sweet Pea.
She was my ride-or-die adventure buddy for years. If I grabbed my keys, she was ready to go. If a vehicle door opened, she assumed she was invited.
The crazy thing about Sweet Pea was how easy she was.
She never needed a leash. Her recall was incredible. She'd run down the trail with the biggest smile you've ever seen, checking back every so often to make sure I was still coming. One whistle and she'd come sprinting back and load into the vehicle.
She just got it.
Then there was my dad's dog, Max.
Max was an overweight Dachshund who wanted absolutely nothing to do with off-roading. The second the vehicle started moving, he'd curl up on the floor and shake. Every bump, every turn, and every mile of trail was something he simply endured.
And if he wasn't miserable in the vehicle, he was usually finding new ways to create problems outside of it.
If Sweet Pea disappeared for ten minutes, she'd come back with a stick.
If Max disappeared for ten minutes, there was a decent chance the rest of the day was about to get a lot more complicated.
Both dogs were great dogs.
Only one of them was a trail dog.
That's an important distinction. We love off-roading, so sometimes we assume our dogs should love it too. Some do. Some don't.
The goal isn't to turn your dog into an off-roader.
The goal is to understand your dog well enough to know whether they're actually enjoying the adventure.
There is a video floating around the internet that most off-roaders have probably seen by now.
A Jeep is climbing a pretty nasty obstacle when things go wrong. The Jeep stands nearly straight up before starting to roll backwards.
What everyone remembers from the video isn't the Jeep.
It's the dog.
As the Jeep starts going over, the dog hops out and walks away while the Jeep continues rolling onto its roof.
Thankfully nobody was hurt, including the dog.
The video is funny because of how casually the dog handles the situation. It's like he immediately realized his owner had made a terrible decision and wanted no part of it.
As funny as it is, it also shows how quickly things can happen on the trail.
Most trail rides are uneventful. That's the goal. But vehicles get tippy, obstacles don't always go as planned, and sometimes things happen faster than we can react.
We spend a lot of time thinking about protecting our vehicles. Bumpers, skid plates, sliders, recovery gear. It's worth spending a little time thinking about how we're protecting our dogs too.
I'm not going to tell you there's only one right answer. Some people use crates. Some use harnesses. Some use barriers.
The important thing is having a plan before you need one.
One thing I've learned over the years is that running out of water is a much bigger problem than bringing too much.
That said, there is a limit.
Years ago, a friend of ours named Becky joined us on a trip into Canyonlands. Becky takes preparedness very seriously.
Maybe a little too seriously.
For a three-day trip, she brought what felt like half of Lake Michigan with her. I'm not kidding when I say it had to be close to 40 gallons of water.
Every obstacle we drove over sounded like someone was transporting an aquarium. You could hear the water sloshing back and forth inside the vehicle all day long.
To this day, we still give her grief about it.
The funny thing is that Becky wasn't wrong about bringing extra water. She just got a little carried away.
A good rule of thumb for humans is about a gallon of water per person per day. Dogs generally need about an ounce of water per pound of body weight per day. A 70-pound Labrador can easily drink over half a gallon of water in a day, especially if it's hot and they're running around camp.
Let's say you've got two adults and a 70-pound dog on a three-day trip. You're already looking at roughly 8 gallons of water before adding any safety margin.
Suddenly Becky doesn't seem quite as crazy.
Well... maybe a little less crazy.
The lesson isn't to bring 40 gallons of water.
The lesson is to bring more than you think you'll need.
Just don't get carried away and pull a Becky.
One thing I've learned over the years is that wildlife encounters are usually a lot more exciting for your dog than they are for you.
Sweet Pea was pretty good about this. If she wandered off, she usually came back with a stick, a pine cone, or some other treasure she was convinced I needed to see.
Max, on the other hand, treated every trip into the woods like an opportunity to make terrible decisions.
A squirrel? Max was interested.
A skunk? Max was interested.
A porcupine? Especially interesting.
The problem is that dogs don't always understand consequences. They see something new, exciting, or fuzzy and immediately want to investigate.
Wildlife usually has other plans.
Porcupines, skunks, snakes, and even deer can all create problems for curious dogs. Most of the time, the wildlife wins.
That's one reason I always recommend keeping your dog under control, even if they're well trained.
Nobody wants to explain that the trail ride ended early because their dog picked a fight with a porcupine and lost.
One of the things I love about the off-road community is how dog-friendly it tends to be.
Bring a dog to camp and odds are pretty good they're going to end up with a dozen new friends before the evening is over.
The best trail dogs are usually the ones nobody notices.
Not because they aren't there, but because they're easy to be around.
My friend Becky's dog, Brindle, is probably the perfect example. Quite possibly the best dog on earth.
She's gentle with kids. She doesn't bark. She'll happily spend the evening laying around a campfire soaking up attention from whoever happens to be nearby. And unlike most dogs, she doesn't seem to mind putting on a jacket when the temperature drops.
Honestly, she's a better camper than a lot of people I've met.
Brindle isn't constantly wandering into other campsites. She isn't stealing food. She isn't creating chaos. She just hangs out and enjoys being part of the group.
That's what makes her such a great trail dog.
A well-behaved dog makes camp better.
A poorly behaved dog becomes the main character of the trip for all the wrong reasons.
One thing dogs are really good at is hiding when they're tired.
Sweet Pea would have happily run herself into the ground if I let her.
If there was fun to be had, she was participating.
The problem is that dogs don't always know when to stop.
As the owner, that's your job.
Pay attention to excessive panting. Make sure they have access to water and shade. Give them a chance to rest.
If you're spending time in hot environments like Moab, the desert southwest, or anywhere temperatures climb throughout the day, don't assume your dog will tell you when they've had enough.
Sometimes they won't.
The pet industry has figured out that people love their dogs.
The overlanding industry has figured out that people love their dogs too.
Put those two things together and apparently every dog now needs a tactical vest, GPS tracker, sleeping system, hydration system, cooling system, and enough MOLLE webbing to invade a small country.
The reality is much simpler.
Most dogs don't need much. Over the years, these are the items that have consistently earned a spot in my vehicle:
The best gear isn't necessarily the most expensive gear.
It's the gear that solves problems.
Sweet Pea has been gone for a long time now, but it's funny how often I still think about her when I'm out on the trail.
I don't remember every obstacle we drove.
I don't remember every campsite.
I definitely don't remember every modification on the vehicle.
What I do remember is looking over and seeing her riding in the passenger seat. I remember her sprinting down a trail with a giant smile on her face. I remember watching her curl up by the campfire after a long day outdoors.
The older I get, the more I realize those are the memories that stick.
Vehicles come and go.
Parts come and go.
The adventures are what matter.
And for a lot of us, our dogs are a big part of those adventures.
Not every dog is built for trail life.
Max made that pretty clear.
But when you find a dog that genuinely loves being out there, they're about as good a trail companion as you could ask for.
Know your dog. Keep them safe. Make good decisions on their behalf.
And if they're anything like Sweet Pea, don't be surprised when some of your favorite memories from the trip end up having very little to do with the vehicle and everything to do with the dog riding along beside you.
See you on the trail!
Brian Meyers - President/CEO
