ON THE ROAD, IN THE AIR
Putting the glider down on a dusty track I heard the radio crackle into life. “Say, ‘Good dogs, hello dogs,’ they’ll be OK.” The barking had followed us up and down the hill as we’d eked out every metre of our scrappy, stable climb, the dogs chasing our shadows. The homestead below was on its own, three miles from the main road, and the owner was clearly a fan of big dogs. “I have twenty-one,” he said when he arrived in his battered pick-up to see what we were up to. “Great Pyrenees dogs, for the mountain lions.” He had lost 200 goats in the past two years, he said in a mix of Spanish and English, and these big, fluffy, white dogs were the only thing that kept the pumas…