Inevitably, if you live in Fairbanks, Alaska and like to run sled dogs you will have the opportunity to do so when the mercury plummets. Those of us who are crazy enough, will don every bit of outdoor gear we own and faithfully hook up our howling sled dogs for a run.
The cold only makes the sled dogs more happy to run because they don't overheat. Actually they are crazy to run at ANY temperature, they can just run farther and faster when it's really cold.
It is entertaining to me when, completly unprovocated on my behalf, many of my relatives in the mid-west states take great pains in telling me how their state gets just as cold as Alaska. "You really don't have it that tough", they like to say. It's national news if the temperatures fall below zero for muliple days in their area of the country. The temperatures return to normal quickly and their cold spell is over with out too much inconvience - normal being "right at freezing". Tropical by Alaska winter standards. January in interior Alaska can be brutal and deadly. This type of cold sits, not for just a day or two but for weeks at a time. Rendering everything brittle and breakable. Flesh freezes in a matter of moments when exposed to the air. Ice fog (pollution) hangs over populated areas making it hard to breath.
When the sky is clear and sunny it means cold, cold, cold. When the clouds come it means relief and a little warmth. The days are short and the darkness almost absolute making the illusion of warmth that much more difficult to grasp.
Running the dogs at -40F can be a real challenge from the human perpective. You must cover every exposed part of your skin. My eyes are the only thing that can be "touched" by the outside air. I can't seem to use ski goggles with out them fogging badly. My eye lids freeze together as we rush down the trail. Mushing with eyes frozen shut is not a good thing. I remove my naked fingers from a warm glove to press them to my eye to thaw the eye lash temporarily releasing one eyelid from the other. I must blink my eyes quickly to let the eyelashes freeze apart. I can hear them making a "tink, tink, tink" noise as I blink the newly frozen eyelashed together - but at least I can see.
Alaskans talk of the snow being "slow". This refers to the cold making the snow more abrasive thus creating drag on the runners of the dog sled. The dogs have to work a little harder to pull the sled but the cold makes them happy to do so.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Sun Dog Express Dog Sled Tours First Film
I created Sun Dog Express Dog Sled Tours in the summer of 1998. Disallusioned with working as an advertising manager for Beaver Sports Inc. of Fairbanks, Alaska. I decided to see if I could get paid to work at my passion - dog sledding. I sold my shares in Beaver Sports to make myself a cushy little nest egg, quit my job and began to put flyers around town and brochures at local hotels.
I was able to secure a small area in a large warehouse at the back of Beaver Sports to establish my office. Just so happens that Beaver Sports is located off some of the best dog mushing trails in Fairbanks. My sled dogs spend a few months of the year at this "winter" dog yard and the rest of the year is spent at my ranch - getting a sun tan.
One of my very first customers was a film crew from the BBC. They were doing a documentary on global warming called "Arctic Warning" and wanted the film to have a broader appeal. I was the only person included in the film that didn't have a docterate degree. It was interesting to be wired with a microphone that they could pick up voice on for 1/2 a mile.
The reporter, Julien O'Hallaron, asked me to run my very excited dog team around a one mile loop many times so they could get just the right shot. My dogs were happy to obligue. We went to Creamers Field Wildlife refuge to film. As I recall the snow was still pretty low for that time of year so the trail was bumpy. Fences on the trail, usually open during winter months, weren't open yet so it was interesting getting a six dog team through little openings between the pilings meant for a person to squeeze through. The sled just barely fit and it was a task to keep the team slowed down enough to get through the tight space without taking the sled apart.
We were successful and the film premiered three months later in Great Britian and on the Discovery Channel.
I was able to secure a small area in a large warehouse at the back of Beaver Sports to establish my office. Just so happens that Beaver Sports is located off some of the best dog mushing trails in Fairbanks. My sled dogs spend a few months of the year at this "winter" dog yard and the rest of the year is spent at my ranch - getting a sun tan.
One of my very first customers was a film crew from the BBC. They were doing a documentary on global warming called "Arctic Warning" and wanted the film to have a broader appeal. I was the only person included in the film that didn't have a docterate degree. It was interesting to be wired with a microphone that they could pick up voice on for 1/2 a mile.
The reporter, Julien O'Hallaron, asked me to run my very excited dog team around a one mile loop many times so they could get just the right shot. My dogs were happy to obligue. We went to Creamers Field Wildlife refuge to film. As I recall the snow was still pretty low for that time of year so the trail was bumpy. Fences on the trail, usually open during winter months, weren't open yet so it was interesting getting a six dog team through little openings between the pilings meant for a person to squeeze through. The sled just barely fit and it was a task to keep the team slowed down enough to get through the tight space without taking the sled apart.
We were successful and the film premiered three months later in Great Britian and on the Discovery Channel.
Sunday, January 01, 2006
You'll learn all you need to know from an old lead dog
My dog sledding story begins in 1985, I was living in downtown Anchorage attending the University of Alaska, Anchorage. I was bored one Saturday morning in March and decided to walk a few blocks over from my little house to the corner of 15th and Cordova. I watched as large teams of up to twenty dogs roared down the street at top speed starting out on their 1049 mile journey to Nome.
I watched as Susan Butcher went by, yelling things to her handler that stood on the sled she towed behind her. They were working to control many dogs on grainy snow. I didn't know then what I know now - that her snow hook didn't stand a chance of holding in the unpacked snow atop asphalt streets. She was basically out of control and hanging on with as much dignity as she could muster.
Libby Riddles went by, her brake making the snow arch up as she descended the steep Cordova hill into Mulcahey Park. She wore fur and looked ready to spend a few weeks out on a trap line in the remote wilderness. Her dogs ran smooth and strong but the thousands of people lining the street made them nervous.
I didn't know it at the time but I was watching two women that would turn the male dominated sport of mushing on its ear. I caught their spirit that year as they passed me standing on that street corner. I thought to myself, I've been born and raised in Alaska and if they can do it, so can I. Thus began my passion for dogs and what we mushers affectionately call "the sickness".
The next year found me back in my home-town of Fairbanks attending the University of Alaska, Fairbanks. I lived in a remote cabin on the outskirts of town with no running water and an outhouse. Out my back door was hundreds of acres of undeveloped state land with miles upon miles of trail. I acquired three young pups. A husky-malamute mix named Miler, a Chesapeake-lab-husky mix named Hunie and a pure bred Siberian Husky named Royal Hawaiian Kahuna.
I hooked this group of young energetic dogs together on a home made sled of two by fours and plywood. I figured with age comes wisdom, so naturally I decided that my leader would be the oldest dog, Hunie, who was a little over one year of age. Miler would run lead with Hunie because he was the second oldest and Kahuna would run wheel because he was the youngest of the bunch at seven months.
After several attempts to put the harnesses on my young team of wiggling, enthusiastic dogs I got them hooked together for their first run. Climbing on the back of the sled I took tight hold of the drive bar, in anticipation of the jolt the dogs would give me as they left the dog yard at top speed, and yelled, "Mush!"
My loud command startled Miler, he turned around to stare at me, tail tucked and ears back as if I was mad at him. Hunie wasn't as affected, he found an interesting pile of yellow snow within reach to sniff. Kahuna had the best idea of them all, as would be characteristic of him throughout his life, he stood still insulted and bored, if he had been human he would have been rolling his eyes and sighing at how stupid I was.
Frustrated that my team wouldn't leave the dog yard I huffed back inside my cabin. I read the newspaper to try to calm myself. My eyes went straight to the mushing column in the want ads.
Old Sled Dog
Runs Lead
$50.00
I looked out my window at the three young dogs chained in front of their dog houses. "We definitely could use some help!" I decided.
I made a call and that afternoon went to meet the lead dog with no name. He was mostly black with some brown markings. A black wolf looking sort of dog. "He's somewhere around twelve years old and he used to run in Denali Park for a Yukon Quest musher." Was all the rotund lady could tell me. "He has a little bit of arthritis, nothing that an aspirin, now and then, won't cure. He don't got a name but we've been calling him D.O.G. (Deoge). Get it? Dog?" I nodded politely, gave her fifty dollars and loaded him up in my "dog truck" which was my Honda civic.
Doege seemed happy to move from a dog yard filled with fifty plus dogs to a dog yard of four. He was a quite and thoughtful dog. When I would play hide and seek with all four dogs, the three young pups would run around wildly looking for any sign of me while Deoge wouldn't break a walk as he calmly and methodically followed my scent to my hiding place.
I put him in front of my young team the next time I attempted to leave the dog yard by way of my make shift sled. I told him to go and he went, pulling the bewildered puppies with him. I asked a lot of the old dog that first mushing season and he came through without a complaint. He had those puppies pulling hard after only two lessons. But I have to say it took me much longer to learn the tricks of the trade. I have an old lead dog to thank for everything I know about dog mushing….. that is everything of real importance.
Many of the older dogs in the Sun Dog Express dog yard have learned from Miler, Hunie and Kahuna, who all ran lead for me in their older years. These older dogs in turn are in the process of training the younger generation in a never-ending cycle. Sadly Doege, Hunie, Miler and Kahuna are no longer with me but their legacy lives on in the Sun Dog Express dog yard.
I watched as Susan Butcher went by, yelling things to her handler that stood on the sled she towed behind her. They were working to control many dogs on grainy snow. I didn't know then what I know now - that her snow hook didn't stand a chance of holding in the unpacked snow atop asphalt streets. She was basically out of control and hanging on with as much dignity as she could muster.
Libby Riddles went by, her brake making the snow arch up as she descended the steep Cordova hill into Mulcahey Park. She wore fur and looked ready to spend a few weeks out on a trap line in the remote wilderness. Her dogs ran smooth and strong but the thousands of people lining the street made them nervous.
I didn't know it at the time but I was watching two women that would turn the male dominated sport of mushing on its ear. I caught their spirit that year as they passed me standing on that street corner. I thought to myself, I've been born and raised in Alaska and if they can do it, so can I. Thus began my passion for dogs and what we mushers affectionately call "the sickness".
The next year found me back in my home-town of Fairbanks attending the University of Alaska, Fairbanks. I lived in a remote cabin on the outskirts of town with no running water and an outhouse. Out my back door was hundreds of acres of undeveloped state land with miles upon miles of trail. I acquired three young pups. A husky-malamute mix named Miler, a Chesapeake-lab-husky mix named Hunie and a pure bred Siberian Husky named Royal Hawaiian Kahuna.
I hooked this group of young energetic dogs together on a home made sled of two by fours and plywood. I figured with age comes wisdom, so naturally I decided that my leader would be the oldest dog, Hunie, who was a little over one year of age. Miler would run lead with Hunie because he was the second oldest and Kahuna would run wheel because he was the youngest of the bunch at seven months.
After several attempts to put the harnesses on my young team of wiggling, enthusiastic dogs I got them hooked together for their first run. Climbing on the back of the sled I took tight hold of the drive bar, in anticipation of the jolt the dogs would give me as they left the dog yard at top speed, and yelled, "Mush!"
My loud command startled Miler, he turned around to stare at me, tail tucked and ears back as if I was mad at him. Hunie wasn't as affected, he found an interesting pile of yellow snow within reach to sniff. Kahuna had the best idea of them all, as would be characteristic of him throughout his life, he stood still insulted and bored, if he had been human he would have been rolling his eyes and sighing at how stupid I was.
Frustrated that my team wouldn't leave the dog yard I huffed back inside my cabin. I read the newspaper to try to calm myself. My eyes went straight to the mushing column in the want ads.
Old Sled Dog
Runs Lead
$50.00
I looked out my window at the three young dogs chained in front of their dog houses. "We definitely could use some help!" I decided.
I made a call and that afternoon went to meet the lead dog with no name. He was mostly black with some brown markings. A black wolf looking sort of dog. "He's somewhere around twelve years old and he used to run in Denali Park for a Yukon Quest musher." Was all the rotund lady could tell me. "He has a little bit of arthritis, nothing that an aspirin, now and then, won't cure. He don't got a name but we've been calling him D.O.G. (Deoge). Get it? Dog?" I nodded politely, gave her fifty dollars and loaded him up in my "dog truck" which was my Honda civic.
Doege seemed happy to move from a dog yard filled with fifty plus dogs to a dog yard of four. He was a quite and thoughtful dog. When I would play hide and seek with all four dogs, the three young pups would run around wildly looking for any sign of me while Deoge wouldn't break a walk as he calmly and methodically followed my scent to my hiding place.
I put him in front of my young team the next time I attempted to leave the dog yard by way of my make shift sled. I told him to go and he went, pulling the bewildered puppies with him. I asked a lot of the old dog that first mushing season and he came through without a complaint. He had those puppies pulling hard after only two lessons. But I have to say it took me much longer to learn the tricks of the trade. I have an old lead dog to thank for everything I know about dog mushing….. that is everything of real importance.
Many of the older dogs in the Sun Dog Express dog yard have learned from Miler, Hunie and Kahuna, who all ran lead for me in their older years. These older dogs in turn are in the process of training the younger generation in a never-ending cycle. Sadly Doege, Hunie, Miler and Kahuna are no longer with me but their legacy lives on in the Sun Dog Express dog yard.
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