I was hiking the M Trail last Tuesday, moving at a brisk but respectable pace, when I encountered a gentleman and his golden retriever. The dog was tethered to one of those thin, retractable plastic leashes that look like they were designed for a hamster.

The dog veered sharply toward a patch of sagebrush, and the leash extended a full fifteen feet, effectively creating a tripwire across the entire switchback. I had to perform a rather undignified hop-skip to avoid being clotheslined by a string no thicker than a piece of dental floss.

When I gently suggested that a fixed-length lead might provide better control in high-traffic areas, the man looked at me as if I had asked him to surrender his property taxes. He claimed it gave the dog “freedom.”

I suppose we all define freedom differently. To me, it is the freedom to traverse a public trail without being ensnared by a retractable mechanism that seems to have been engineered specifically to cause suburban chaos. If we want to enjoy the majesty of the Bridgers, we must be willing to sacrifice the convenience of a leash that functions like a fishing reel.

We are a community that prides itself on rugged self-reliance, yet we cannot seem to manage the basic physics of a six-foot lead. If your dog requires fifteen feet of slack to be happy, perhaps the living room is a safer venue for your morning exercise than a narrow mountain path.

I don’t mean to sound uncharitable, but a trail is not a runway for your dog’s wanderlust. It is a shared space. We are all just trying to get to the top of the hill without tripping over someone else’s lack of foresight.

Tammy Switchback moved to Bozeman in 2019, which she considers early enough to have opinions. She hikes recreationally and judges others for how they do it.