Turning Heads Kennel

Alaska Dog Sledding Tours

Our Life

Our Wishes for 2015

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The end of 2014 has been tough on dog training. We’ve seen so much rain recently that it’s been hard to get in the spirit of “winter training” and racing. Unlike last year, we have been based solely out of Seward for the early part of the season.  Last year, we spent a good month and a half renting a house in Knik to better train our dogs out of. The comfort & ease that gave us has been sorely missed. It was so much fun waking up to cold weather and snow!

We hope that 2015 brings colder temperatures our way. 2014 marked the first year that Anchorage never saw temperatures drop below zero. Here in Seward, we have hardly had any snow! Although elevation has seen quite a significant amount of snow, we have struggled to find a thin layer of ice to run our sleds on!

Here are some things we are hoping 2015 will bring us:

  1. Colder weather
  2. Snow!!!
  3. Happiness
  4. Health
  5. Gratitude

We are looking forward to the mid-distance races we are running this year: the Knik 200 and the Tustumena 200. Unfortunately this year we did not do as good a job signing up for races as we have in the past. I’m disappointed we won’t be going to The Copper Basin 300 this year after Travis’ excellent 5th place finish last year with his entire team.

Playing Chicken

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On Monday I didn’t want to run dogs but did anyways. That’s what you are supposed to do, isn’t it? The dogs needed to get out and were eager to go but I was in a funk. Iditarod, I told myself. So I rose reluctantly and headed out to the yard. The dogs eager heads popped out of their houses when they saw me. They quickly realized we were going to be heading out on a run.

I am slow and methodical when I hook up my dog team. I like them to be quiet but it takes time and patience for them to learn that. Today, they obliged sprawling out waiting as one by one their teammates joined them. When I hooked up my 8th dog, they finally started getting excited but I was able to calm them down.

“Good dogs,” I told them when they settled back down.

So I harnessed them up and they were patient with me, letting me take my time and reserving their excitement until the end when I had all 14 of them hooked up. They were excited. We took off and then —

Oh no!

An orange ball of enthusiasm rushed out of the woods and charged at my team. Before I knew it, I yelled: “MAX! GET OUT OF HERE!”

The ball of fur was Max, my pet dog. And when I yelled he turned remarkably fast, but not before my lead dogs brush him aside.

Ok, Disaster Averted. “Good boy Kermit!” I tell my lead dog. He didn’t let Max phase him and I sure wasn’t it going to let it phase me. I tried to calm myself and get that mediative composure that seems so engrained to dog mushing. Max has given me some great training the past few months and now he is slowly trotting behind the fourwheeler.

“Go home,” I growl. He looks at me and then slinks off as if to say “I was only trying to help.” And he has helped. He comes out of the woods at random intervals and uses his moose-sized body to charge the team. One of two things inevitably happens when he does this: my team is well behaved, ignores him, and continues down the trail… or all hell breaks loose. Max likes mayhem. But today there is no mayhem, today there are only dogs who listen and who know their job and who know that no matter what the big orange dog does, they just keep running.

Good.

So we continue on our run. And it’s starting to shape up nicely. They settle into a fast steady trot quickly. We are probably averaging about 9 or 10mph and I’ve finally partnered all the dogs in a way that I can stand. My team is a  mess of gaits. Hardly anyone runs the same. I have the B-team, after all, but after several runs of moving dogs around, I’ve finally come up with some good pairs. Each dog matches their partner and they step in rhythm. I have the building blocks for a great team. Running with Travis for so many years though, I have caught on to some of his OCD about gaits, running, and rhythm and certain dogs, despite being great athletes, just don’t fit in. Finally though, I have matched them well:

Kermit* (m)– Bonnie (f)

Marlow (m) — Barkley*(m)

Sphinx (f) — Tamere*(f)

Dolly  (f) — Varden (f)

Ayla (f) — Havoc (f)

Ginzu*(m)– Teddy (m)

Bud (m)– Big Guy*(m)

That’s the team I have been running and they look good together. But I am still missing a few dogs from my training pool: Pinky (f), Weiser* (m), Ray* (m), Monroe* (m), Mary*(f), and Madori*(f).  I have 10 dogs who have run Iditarod*, 9 puppies, and 1 adult (Bud)who has never quite made it to race day.

We are starting to look really good and on this run, everyone is starting to finally gel. Yes. It’s happening. It’s hard not to get a little excited at how they work and move together.

So we keep running and we go by a neighbor’s house when all of a sudden —  YIP YIP YIP — a small, pint size dog comes tearing across it’s yard and starts to chase me.

Oh no. One of my leaders, Bonnie, turns her head for a second to see what the commotion is.  “Straight ahead!” I holler. The little dog keeps following me but isn’t gaining on me.

What do I do? I’m not sure if stopping is a good idea but I ams supposed to turn around in about 200 yards. I am terrified for the little dog. My dogs are well behaved. They are friendly. But this little dog wants to pick a fight with them. I have no idea what to expect from my own dogs — we routinely pass a Saint Bernard with gnashing teeth and a fat black labrador that likes to pretend its vicious, but these are big dogs and it’s become a game to my team. Those dogs have taught us how to speed up and run fast. They’ve taught the dogs discipline. So why would I expect my dogs to do anything but pass this little dog?

Because it weighed 15 lbs and it was wearing a sweater: my dogs had no idea what it was. Was it friend or foe?

We made the turn around and the little dog sat and watched us. My team picked up speed when they saw the small dog and the little dog began charging us head on.

Really? I asked in disbelief. You have to hand it to small dogs they are both brave and stupid. I don’t think this little dog quite knew the bargain it was trying to make with my team, so I stopped, got off my ATV, walked to the front of the team, and tried to get the little dog to go away. It just wouldn’t leave.

I could try to pass the dog — I am sure my team would pass it — but what if they didn’t? What if they thought this little dog was not a dog? What if they decided it was something like a porcupine? Sled dogs are famous for attacking porcupine out on the trail despite the fact that they get needle-nosed faces and then must spend hours having quills removed.  Or what if this little dog tried to attack them? If it tried to bite one of my dogs, which I wouldn’t put it past the dog, would my dogs retaliate?

So we sat. We waited. My dogs barked saying “What the hold up?” The little dog was still determined to get in the middle of my team.

“Go Home!” I told the dog.

I sit and stared at me. My leaders eyed it as if to ask “What is that?”

We played a game of back and forth that lasted 5 minutes.

With enough cajoling the dog finally got off the road and well back into the woods. I didn’t wait. I got on the ATV hit the gas and we roared past the little dog.

Phew! Glad that’s over!

I thought I was in for a quieter run after this but when we made our next turn I spied, with horror, a flock of loose chickens on the side of the road. We were almost upon them when I noticed.

Maybe the dogs won’t notice. I told myself. I really hoped they didn’t. We slid by the chickens without the dogs noticing. I was so relieved. I did not want to see the chaos of having a chicken run through the team nor did I want to have to admit to my neighbor that one of my dogs ate her chickens. You see, getting one dog to go by chickens is easy but the more dogs you add to the equation the more dogs you have that could potentially be disobedient.  It only takes one to think its a good idea. If one thinks its a good idea, if you aren’t quick about it, they all will quickly think its a good idea.

At this point I was only about 3 miles into my run and left with a question: Do I continue my run or should I wait? In order to continue my run I would have to run past the small dog and past the chickens at least another 10 times in order to get the mileage I wanted. I knew, at the very least, I had to run by the little dog to get back home.

So I ran back by and fortunately at this point someone must have noticed the little dog was missing because he was no longer out to chase me. And then the second question: do I continue my run? Do I hope the chickens have been put away?

I decided I would give it a shot. I came around through the neighborhood the reverse of what I did before. When I initially passed the chicken we were on the same side of the road and they were about 3 feet from my team.  This time, I came from the other direction and called my team over so we would have the whole road between us. I eagerly scanned ahead to see if I could see the birds. I knew if I did see them I would simply call the dogs up and make them run faster. I figured that at faster speeds they would have to be more focused and would have less time to notice the birds.

But the chickens were gone.

Thank goodness.

We continued to have a great run. We ran about 14 miles before I decided that we should go home. Once in the yard the dogs were still eager so I decided to take them out for another quick loop and put on an additional 2 miles. What a mistake that turned out to be!

Dusk was settling in now and a woman was out walking her two small dogs on leashes. We see her frequently and pass without much hesitation. Today was different though. Today we passed and I got a small tangle with a dog so I stopped ahead of the woman. My leaders turned down a driveway and I went up to correct them. That was when the woman walking her dogs dropped the leash.

This small 10lbs dog came barreling through my parked team. Before I knew it my lead dogs (they are in training) were turned around looking at the little dog. My whole team just sat there staring at this dog, who kept barking at them.

I tried to get the little dog out of the middle but it was dodging my hands. I was calm. My dogs were calm. But this little dog was barking, darting back and forth, and trying to elicit excitement from my team. Fortunately, they stayed calm and inquisitive though they proceeded to dance around the little dog.

Eventually, I got it out of my team but we got massively tangled.

My lead dogs were next to my wheel dogs. My swing dogs were my lead dogs. There were tug lines wrapped around legs and the gangline had gotten tangled around my team. And my team just stood there. This would have been the opportune moment for a dog, or the whole team, to panic. It was a recipe for someone to get injured, but I remained calm and talked to them. “It’s ok, we’ll get you guys untangled” I undid tuglines and necklines and had a few dogs completely turned loose. They went over to the little dog, who was still there with its owner, wagged their tails at each other and came when I called them to get back to their place in the team.

I blocked the road and directed a few cars by as night settled in.  “It’s ok” I kept reassuring the dogs while working out the tangles. The woman, who was watching this all unfold, must have thought I was nuts as I never stopped talking to my dogs.

Then, when I was almost in the clear the  smaller of the two dogs got loose again. This time, my lead dogs  held the team out. They knew they had a job to do and that they hadn’t done it before so now they better. The little dog tried to stir up trouble but my dogs, frustrated at our lack of mobility, were patient and it grew bored and ran back to its owner. I was proud of my team.

Eventually, after about 15 minutes, we sorted everybody out and we continued down the trail with a little more trust in each other, a little more patience, and a little bit closer to the startling line.

On The Edge

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In the quiet moments between living I’ve been rewatching Ken Burns’ The National Parks: America’s Best Ideair?t=turnheadken08 20&l=as2&o=1&a=B002BO2R4K. It reminds me in many ways why our life is so blessed. We live in such a beautiful place — where mountains and ocean and ice meet. Right on the edge of a place so wondrous that we as a nation decided no matter what secrets were hidden there, they were not worth revealing. The mountains are enough. The oceans are enough. The rivers of ice, slowly melting away, are enough. The natural world does not need altering to have value.

Our house sits on the edge of Kenai Fjords National Park but is also just a 5 minute drive from downtown.We live carefully balancing life in society and life out in the wild, balancing past and present.  Often we go days without leaving home, lost in the quiet rhythms of our lifestyle that seem so antiquated compared to the fast paced of modern life.

We get wholly absorbed in work that fills our days and leaves our bodies aching. I don’t understand how you could or why you would want to live faster than this.

Training, Life, & Sled Dogs

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The weather has started turning. We’ve seen snow once or twice now, brief flurries but it doesn’t really get our hopes up just yet. It’s still early for snow, especially in Seward. Although our friends further north in Fairbanks are on sleds, we wait and take the ATVS out with the sled dogs. We’ve continued finishing projects from around the house and kennel. It’s amazing how much work there always seems to be: building dog houses, fixing things, putting things away. The days seem both long and short, we look forward to bed but never seem to have accomplished all we have hoped to complete. Everything is always ending too soon.

My cellphone went missing earlier in the week. We have a thief in our midst – a cute two year old part sled dog dog named Max who, by now, I know was the culprit. He’s taken many things from us over the past two years we’ve had him: balls of yarn, our house phones, knives, kitchen plates, empty beer bottles… and now my cellphone. It hasn’t been that big of a deal: I am not a huge talker anyways, but I do miss being able to take pictures and videos — especially because we have Pippa, a young 6 week old sled dog puppy, living inside and she is always doing something adorable like falling asleep on my slippers or curling up next to Betty. On more than one occasion Pippa’s gone “missing” only to be found in the dirty laundry pile or under a heap of blankets.

Things continue to go well and we are slowly heading in the right direction. Today I went for a walk and discovered that there were 24 salmon in the small drainage ditch by our house. Considering that the ditch is less than 2 feet wide and less than 2 feet deep in most places, I was fairly impressed. There were also lots of other fish, which I am assuming were fry (young salmon). We pass by this area frequently with the dogs but the dogs usually scare most of the fish away — with good reason too. Last year, our dogs Bud and Weiser (the Clydesdales) both caught themselves fish on a few different occasions. I’ve seen a young pup look at the fish with a tempted eye but we no longer stop our teams near the fish as we want to promote the run — even if it is in  a ditch.

Our house dogs are also doing well. They seem to be getting older and we are reminded that the only fault our dog’s possess is that their lives are far too short. We watch Archie struggle to get on the couch more and more frequently. Still, he seems undeterred. Any action, of course, is surmountable if there is plenty of kibble involved. He is an old dog though, 13 or 14 by now, and well travelled too having run in numerous Iditarod’s and Junior Iditarods and countless 200 & 300 mile races. Often, we find that he will go in the dog lot and steal another sled dog’s house and make them curl up outside. When we run, he is always there. He barks at the dog team while we hook up and chases us when we leave — never far — but enough. I’ve watched Perry, his partner, shiver with excitement when the dog team rounds the corner into the yard and gives him the opportunity to chase. Old sled dogs, perhaps, but always young at heart.

October, with the cold air blowing down off the mountains and the leaves fallen off the trees, is a month that leads to wistful thinking. I’ve thought a lot about my dog Chena, who will have been gone three years at the end of the month. She was with me for such a short time but impacted my life in such a profound way. Dogs, I suppose, will do that.

We leave now on another adventure… a story, perhaps, for later on in the week.

 

 

Gearing Up The Dog Team

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This week has been full of projects. We end our days tired with movies and puppies playing at our feet. We’ve been working on our enclosed trailer. It’s a 24 foot trailer we are going to use to transport our dog team and will hopefully allow us enough room where we can bunk in it if needed. We started by putting a fresh coat of paint on the floor and are now building the dog boxes to go in it.  We are hoping to have 24 boxes in total in our trailer. Because we live in Seward, we spend a lot of time on the road training our dogs. On the plus side, our dogs love to travel, can all run loose outside the truck, and get to experience tons of trails all around Alaska.

Training runs are starting to take up more and more time. I’m running 12 dogs per team and have been working on finding good partners for each dog. Great chemistry makes a great team.

We’ve both been trying to work with leaders who haven’t had as much experience at the front of the team. We’ve had a few surprises early on with dogs. Bud is a 4 year old male who has never made the race team but this year is showing incredibly potential. It seems like his gait has really changed and he’s finally found his feet.

 

When not running dogs, we’ve relaxed watching netflix and hanging out with our younger pups. They run around inside, crawl and climb over everything, and, in general, have way too much energy. We enjoy watching them learn and play together. It will only be a few months before they are running too — a good reminder of how quickly time flies. Nothing is permanent, our life is always evolving.

Today Seward saw heavy sheets of rain slipping from the sky. The dogs sat outside their houses looking up at the sky as if to ask, “Where is the snow?” Our friends, further to the north have posted about snow flakes and flurries. Some are even on sleds! For us, the snow remains up high, coating the mountains that peer down at our house and kennel.

All too soon we will see snow of our own.