On the return trip, Sputnik informed us that he was feeling left out of the packgoat experience. He was right. I pulled the pack off Finn and let Sputnik carry it back. Proud goat!
It was hard going in the canyon bottom. That soft sand was brutal on tired calf muscles.
It doesn’t matter how tired you are or how late it is… there’s always time for a goofy photoshoot! Phil discovered a pile of bleached bones and…
“Water! Water!” 
I remembered this grand pedestal from our last trip. Phil stood up there and made muscle poses with yearling Finn.
But was the rock still sturdy enough for the two of them? Finn’s a little bigger these days (and Phil might be too)! 
Satisfied that the rock was sturdy, off came the shirt. Finn eagerly bounded onto the rock at Phil’s call and gave us his most magnificent pose.
I think we need a different kind of NAPgA Calendar next year…
How Sputnik felt about the whole thing:
And now it’s my turn to show off. Remember the big stone beehive we passed in the morning? Well it was still beckoning to me when we passed in the late afternoon. Sometimes discretion feels like the cowardly part of valor. 
It looked steep but doable. It was steeper than it looked.
They were not invited, but the goats had to follow me nonetheless. As always, goats make a steep ascent look easy-peasy.
About here my nerve almost failed me. It was a looong way to the bottom and my boots were slipping. So I took them off.
Barefootin’ it!
Whew! I made it! I wasn’t sure I wanted to look down. I was sitting on a very narrow perch with a very steep drop on three sides. It took me a few minutes to figure out how to climb down. Gravity can sometimes be too helpful in these cases, and I possess a lot more gravitational pull than I once did.
The goats wondered what the big deal was about. 
And at the day’s end, Sputnik finally mastered the bottle of Gatorade! Although he did dribble enough to earn himself the title of “Bluebeard.”
