We have a weather vane that sits atop our dog barn.  It is the likeness of a dog team and musher, with the leaders always running face-first into whichever direction Mother Nature casts her fury.  Tonight, with wild gusts pummeling the landscape around the kennel, it is hard to tell for sure which direction the wind is blowing. Just before the sun slipped beneath the horizon, I could see that there were low-slung clouds moving in.  I am hopeful that this is an indicator that we will begin to see some snowfall in the near future.

It is the absence of snow that has been the catalyst for Paul’s annual migration far into the heart of Alaska’s interior once again, something many other area mushers are doing as well. The current trail conditions around the kennel are not at all conducive to training, with hard frozen ground that is the consistency of sandpaper on the pads of their feet, and shards of ice crystals that are like running on broken glass. In order to maintain quality miles for the team, the long trek north was required. 

Last weekend, it was in the shadow of North America’s highest peak that the team spent some time.  Paul, along with our handler, Kristi, had retrofitted a horse trailer to allow for hauling of all of the dogs and gear needed to comprise three full teams.  Traveling some 8 hours north, they met up with our friend, Scott Janssen, to do some back-to-back training runs near the Denali area of the state. Scott graciously allowed them to use his RV as the staging base, which gave them a fantastic alternative to a tent in the minus -10 degree weather. Paul had a portable heater that he was able to use for the dog care, and they were fortunate to be near a lake that allowed them to draw water for feeding the dogs, rather than having to melt snow. 

They enjoyed good trails, with the three teams running together on the base of welcome snow cover.  Although they never encountered them directly, they saw the tracks of a large wolf pack that frequented the area.  A Kasilof neighbor of ours that was also training up there reported to have had the wolves surrounding his team, and when offered, heartily accepted the trio’s invitation to share in their accommodations and camp with them. 

Paul can appreciate the hair-raising feeling of being in close proximity to wolves.  On several occasions during the Iditarod, he has had encounters with the team’s canine ancestry.  One time, on the run in the section of trail that can best be described as “absolute wilderness” – the run from Ophir to Iditarod – Paul literally ran right through a pack of wolves. There had been teams ahead of him on the trail earlier that had stopped to snack their dogs. In the ebony hours of darkness through which Paul was now traveling, the wolves had moved in on these stopping spots and were devouring the remnants of meat that were left behind. Before he could see them, Paul sensed that something was ahead on the trail by the way his dogs started acting. Using the beam from his headlamp, he shone it up the trail, only to capture the eerie glow of the wolves eyes staring at him. Remarkably, the wolves split to the sides of the trail, and allowed the team to pass through between them.  Paul recalled that there was one big black wolf he almost could have reached out and touched.  As the dog team kept running, the pack of wolves just closed back in on the trail and resumed their dining.  Paul’s headlamp shone backwards for some time that night, checking for any indications of the pack’s pursuit. Thankfully, Paul was able to slip through this primal encounter unscathed. In recent years, there have been numerous encounters with wolves attacking dogs across the state.  So the unnerving sense that the musher who saw the wolves recently had, was not without merit.

After just a few days back here at the kennel to regroup and pack more supplies, Paul and Kristi were back on the road to find more trails for training the dogs. This time they headed towards the frigid region known as the Copper River Basin.  In past years, Paul has successfully been able to stage training runs from a lodge that sits on the edge of Lake Louise in that area.  He contacted the lodge owner, who is very savvy about training conditions, much of which revolve around the frozen surface of the lake. Because of the number of dogs in training, and the uncertainty of how well they would be able to hold the team with their snow hooks, Paul took the snowmachine on this trip.  He would use this to hook one large team of 24 dogs up, and Kristi would follow behind with a team of about 12 dogs using a regular dog sled. Should Kristi have any issues stopping the team, Paul would be in front of her to assist.  Plus the weight of the snowmachine provided Paul with the stopping capacity that they needed. However, it was that same weight that almost brought the team to a watery grave. 

It was their second day of running, and they had successfully flanked the bay-studded shoreline to an area where another body of water connects to Lake Louise.   Paul’s big team of 24 dogs was stretched out like a long semi across the ice, with the snowmachine in tow.  Kristi was keeping her team at a practical distance behind them, something that turned out to be a real blessing. Because suddenly, the big yellow snowmachine broke through the ice with Paul standing on the running boards. Remarkably, the tips of the skis stayed on the ice’ crust, a consequence that allowed the dogs enough of a lift to be able to pull the rest of the machine from the clutches of the icy water.  Kristi had seen what was happening and was able to stop her team.  Once Paul was out of the water, he was heading back to help Kristi navigate her team around the open water.  However, perhaps it was seeing Paul, or their immaturity, but whatever the cause, her leaders ran straight into the water.  It became an immediate situation of getting the dogs out and making sure everyone was ok.

They got the dogs back to camp, and loaded them up in the retrofitted horse trailer.  Using the big kerosene heater, Paul and Kristi were able to warm up the dogs and make sure they were dry and safe.  Neither the snowmachine nor the dog sled were any worse for wear as a result of the ordeal, and when I talked to Paul this morning, there seemed to be no ill affect on the dogs either.  The two mushers were justifiably a little shook up, as Paul learned that the area where they went down drops off from 6-8 feet to over 40 feet deep.  Regardless if it was six feet or forty feet, when the temperature is fifteen below zero, this was a serious situation that must have called more than a couple guardian angels into play.

I look forward to their return in a couple of days, and surely hope that we will soon have enough snow cover here to keep the on the trails locally.  At least here we only have to worry about …moose or bear or trails crossing roadways…

Until later - Life is a journey, enjoy the ride! Evy