Training

Stuck in a Rut – Denali Highway Camping Trip Part 1

Sarah · January 1, 2016 ·

This is the first blog post in a 3 part series.

Well, our camping trip stared off in the most exciting of ways. After an uneventful drive to Cantwell we headed towards the Denali Highway. It was about 10:30 and we figured we’d be hooked up and on the trail by 11:30 or 11:45 at the latest.

But, like always, what can go wrong will go wrong.

Neither Wade or myself are particularly familiar with the Denali Highway. Wade’s previous trip up with Travis ended being somewhat exciting after the DOT plowed the last 10 miles from where they had parked making it an eventful mush to the truck.

Well, we headed down the road and this time Wade knew where the parking lot was. Or, at least, that’s what we thought.

The road looked plowed and Wade knew were they had plowed to the last time, so we figured we were golden.

Wrong.

So we continued down the road in the truck as it didn’t look ideal to mush on and the parking lot where they had plowed to the last time was still up ahead.

It was smooth going on the icy road until, of course, it wasn’t. We had known the forecast for the area had called for high winds. It was part of the draw. Nothing better than training in adverse conditions. We also knew that we should anticipate fresh snow.

What we didn’t know is that DOT reversed it’s decision and was now no longer plowing the 10 further miles. There was a sign somewhere but neither of us being familiar had thought that was wrong. But of course it wasn’t.

Things were smooth sailing for the first 6 or 7 miles. Then, the nemesis of our fun arrived. It was a small, wind-drifted snow birm. From the truck, it looked like a small no-frills give your truck just a tad more gas sort of bump. It didn’t look intimidating and surely this small mound of snow couldn’t get us stuck.

But it did.

The wind had drifted the snow in such a way that the snow was rock-solid. We plowed through it and realized quickly that this was an oh shit moment and we had to be careful not to get stuck. So we rocked the truck gently back and forth at first and had good enough traction that we could free ourselves but Wade’s trailer, loaded with 6 heavy dog boxes, 33 dogs, and two sleds wasn’t having it. We got a little bit backwards but the trailer started to jack-knife. We pulled a little more forward and risked getting more stuck.

Back and forth and back and forth. Minute movements of touching the wheel and giving gas. Eventually, however, we had to concede that we were stuck.

Wade Marrs uses a ratchet strap to try and left the trailer up high enough to grt it hitched back on to the truck — unfortunately getting the truck unstuck was easy, getting the broken trailer back onto the truck proved to be more challenging

We put on gear and went outside to assess just how badly we had screwed ourselves. Overhead the northern lights danced in whimsical patterns. Despite being stuck, we stopped and watched them for a bit. Reds and pinks darted once or twice in small segments across the sky. At least if we were stuck, we told ourselves, this wasn’t a bad place to be.

We decided the best thing to do was to unhook the trailer which was no longer lined up straight with the truck so that we could focus on one problem at a time. We got the trailer off and then had to power through the drift. We used a combination of digging, packing snow down, and laying down straw we had for traction. The poor truck had to work hard, and so did we, but eventually we got it unstuck.

We high-fived our minor success.

The trailer was somewhat perpendicular to the road. Hooking the truck up as-is with no real ability to pull forward would almost certainly land us in the position we’d just spent the better part of an hour getting ourselves out of.

The trailer conveniently had some spots that it was conceivably for us to tie the truck into besides using the ball hitch. It was not an ideal option but given our situation seemed like the best option. We only needed to go far enough to straighten the trailer out and from the angle we were pulling from that shouldn’t have taken much.

We carefully concocted a way to rig things up that would help us achieve our desired goal. We got the trailer straightened out but, somehow in the process, had managed to seperate the trailer from its welded jack. So now we had a 20 foot trailer with 6 heavy dog boxes, 33 dogs, and two sleds with the receiving hitch on the ground and no jack to be able to lift it up.

We had to lighten the load which meant dropping dogs and removing 2 of the dog boxes from the trailer

What followed was several hours of good natured oh this sucks and we’ll what if we tried this and so on and so on. We tried all sorts of things but in the end had to unload 20 dogs and take off two of the heavier dog boxes. We made a picket for our dogs out of gangline and unloaded them, two by two, to sit in the snow and stare at us as we tried to get ourselves out of our self-created mess.

2am trying to figure out how to reattach the trailer after the jack broke off.

Then, we took an industrial strength ratchet strap and had it going up over the tailgate and attaching back in to the framing of the truck to give us leverage. Slowly, we ratcheted the trailer up into the air. We got the trailer at the right height and tried to shove the trailer onto the ball hitch, but given how the whole thing was rigged we weren’t strong enough.

I had suggested earlier that we should cut a tree and use it as a lever. Wade got his ax out and picked a good sized spruce. With his new lever, he began pushing the truck in place. When I said it was lined up from my position standing in the back of the tailgate, my job was to undo the ratchet. I undid the ratchet but we were a fraction of center so it wouldn’t couple. Wade continued to use the tree lever to keep things in place and I hopped in the truck and moved the smallest bit forward.

The trailer hitched in. Sweet, sweet, sweet, success.

Then came the realization that, well, this was not really a parking spot, the road was too narrow, and Wade was going to have to go in reverse the 6 or 8 miles we’d come in.

Leaving the truck where it was, wasn’t an option. It was starting to snow and, if we didn’t get it out now, we might not be able to get it out at all of we just went on a dog run.

Fine. We laughed about how this was probably the worst start to a mushing adventure pretty much ever. We joked. We both took it in stride. We knew getting pissed or frustrated would only make the situation worse so we chose not to.

So then we started backing up. It was slow going, the trailer was not reversing well straight, we were tired, and we just wanted to be done. We’d gotten to the highway around 10:30pm and it was now nearing 4am.

Backing up was slow and frequently Wade had to put the truck in drive. Then, at one point, the truck decided to quit working all together. We shut it off, unsure of how to proceed, shot the shit and then decided to see if we could get it to go again. It wouldn’t. We repeated the cycle and eventually through what must have been some sort of divine intervention, the truck decided it was going to work again. This, of course, was completely beyond our control but we celebrated nonetheless.

Then it happened again. We repeated the cycle and found success once again. Then it happen again. It was nearing 5am at this point and we’d been up all night. I grabbed my parka from the back seat, curled up into a tiny ball in the passenger chair, and fell asleep.

We woke up around 8 and continued driving backwards. It was slow going and we didn’t cover much ground. I wa grateful I wasn’t someone who struggled with car sicknesses. Between going backwards and all our zig zagging, it would have been easy to get sick.

Wade Marrs patiently reversing the truck and trailer

We spent another two hours slowly backing up. We have officially been at the highway and the closet we have gotten to mushing is dropping our dogs.

Well, happy trails and look forward to part 2 when we actually get out on the trail to mush!

Continue to Part 2…

The Ups and Downs of Dog Mushing

Sarah · December 13, 2015 ·

A few day ago my run was, to put mildly, a disaster. I didn’t have a good day to begin with. I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and in one of those funks that you just can’t seem to shake. So I decided to drive into town and be productive. We were out of meat for the dogs, so I decided that I would go to the feed store and pick up what we needed. I decided that I would get 500 pounds of chicken, 500 pounds of turkey skin, and 500 pounds of beef. I wanted to have a lot and be able to choose back at the kennel what to feed and when.

Different foods are better for different occasions. Beef is a good fatty meal for cold weather and the dogs always love it. Often, we will use it to broth the dogs — meaning that we will put 5 pounds of beef in a bucket and let it thaw and add water. Then we will feed this mixture to the dogs so that they will stay hydrated.
Chicken doesn’t have as much fat to it as beef, but it is cheaper and is great for snacking as it has a high water content. Turkey skins are fatty and are good for a snack along the trail or when it gets very cold out. The last couple of days temperatures have been ranging from about -10 to -25 so it is important that we have a good quality source of fat for the dogs.

On a normal day, we will feed about a pound to a pound and a half of meat per dog. The amount varies based on the temperature and how much the dogs are running. We don’t want to feed too much if they are running too far or if it is warm because The extra protein and fat can actually cause problems in the dogs if their bodies aren’t using it all.

So I picked up the 1500 pounds of meat and also decided to get 10 new harnesses. I feel like I buy more dog harnesses than any other musher. I don’t know why but we seem to go through them quickly. The dogs may bite them but more often than not they tear or just get worn out. I need to get better at learning how to sew so we can start repairing our broken harnesses but I guess that is going to be a summertime project.

So then I got home, and decided that even though it was getting dark I was going to hook up a Team. Now, what are the biggest problems I seem to have that when I am in a funk and not having the best day Is that I tend to make bad decisions. This of course, results in a snowball effect. And then, my bad day spirals out of control.

My bad decision wasn’t hooking up dogs, it was just my ability to choose what dogs

Bs what team I was going to run. Rather than stick with a tried-and-true combination, I decided that I would go out on a limb and try milliliters new swing dogs and have no back ups in my team.I left the yard with Tamere and Coda In lead.

Now, Coda is a young dog who hasn’t done much leading. Tamere, on the other hand is a tried-and-true Iditarod veteran. Her problem, however, is that she is a little princess. Yesterday, it was cold out. Tamere had spent the last two days sleeping inside because she loves to cuddle and I was trying to be nice to her.

Big mistake.

We didn’t even leave the yard before I had my first problem. Tamere, probably grumpy about leaving her warm palace started fighting with Coda, who happens to be her son. I got that sorted out, pulled my hook and left the yard only to find out that my big fat dog Max, had decided to chase after me.

I had hooked this team up to a different Sled thinking that anything had to be better than the sledI went out with that didn’t have the foot boards on it. Boy, was I wrong! This sled was extremely light, and very Squirrley. As we careened down the hill out of our yard, Max chasing after us, the sled was much lighter and more flexible then anything I’d been on recently and my boot was getting stuck between the break bar and the bed of the sled: not good.

As I tried to pull my foot out, I tipped. I somehow managed to grab the snow hook while getting drug down the trail, Max now nipping at my ankles, perhaps trying to stop me, and jam the snow hook into the snow. The team came to an abrupt halt.

I hadn’t even gone 100 yards and I had already wiped out once. The team was amped, pulling hard against my set hook. I shook myself off and got ready to go again, sending Max back home with Justin who had run after the team when he had noticed that Max was chasing us. But as I was getting ready to leave, Travis came zooming by me with his 18 dog tea and our neighbor in tow, yelling about how the trail had been plowed in. Great, I thought to myself, just great.

With no other choice, I pulled my hook and head forward down the trail. My sled continued to bounce down the trail like a pinball off of snowbanks and trees as I tried my best to steer it. It didn’t matter that I had a 50 pound block of chicken inside my Sled acting as weight, the thing may as well have been empty. I managed to stay upright and felt as though I had some control over the team as we merged off of our out trail and onto the main trail that goes alongside the Parks Highway. Still, I noticed that my brake was not as effective as it should’ve been and I struggled with keeping the team at a comfortable speed. As I got anxious, the dogs got more rowdy. That’s what happens, when you run dogs. They play off of your fear and off of your anxiety. That is why it is always important to project control and confidence. Easier said than done.

As I continued down the trail I told myself that I was going to have a great run, building up my confidence and doing my best to project it. I settled in to the pace of the dogs and got them under control at a nice steady pace. But, unfortunately it doesn’t last for long. Tamere does not want to run today and she makes it abundantly clear in every way possible. She turns the team around, she deliberately ignores commands, and the more I try to assert my role as team leader the more she gives me the middle finger. Now, Tamere and I have a long history of not getting along together. It’s why, I don’t usually run her. But, unfortunately for Tamere, she has been demoted and will not be on Travis’s race team this year. So although she pines for Travis, the love of her life, she is stuck with me. And she isn’t very shy about telling me how much she hates it. This is why I was determined to run her. But I digress.

The trail continued to deteriorate and I quickly Found the large snow berms that had been plowed onto the trail that Travis had shouted about while running past. They were Frozen solid and hard to steer around but equally difficult to try and go over. At one point,Tamere decided that she thought the correct trail to take, due to all the berms, was the Parks Highway. And for a few terrifying second I thought I was going to be running down the road.

Fortunately, Travis had alerted Wyatt to the deteriorating trail conditions.Wyatt had driven out in his car to come lend me a hand in getting around the berms. He helped me get my team back on the trail and then out of a good sense of judgment decided to stay and watch how the team faired.

We did not fair well. I tipped the sled once. No biggie, I got it up right. Then, my goal was to take the team onto a lake where we hadn’t been before. Tamere used this opportunity to show how much she wanted to go home by turning the entire team around. I was having none of it. I kept trying to line her out. I would get her back in front of the sled pointed in the direction we needed to go, only to have her turn back around as soon as I got to the sled.

Now dripping with sweat, I was growing frustrated. The thing about dog mushing is, the dogs are never supposed to be in charge. So here I was out on the trail with this leader who didn’t want to listen and no real alternative as to who to put upfront. To make matters worse, I didn’t have great control over my sled. The break wasn’t digging in enough and my snow hook ropes were too long. This resulted in a very frustrating pattern. Either I would get the team going and then the snow hooks would bounce out of my sled, catching on the trail the whole team would come to abrupt stop or I would set my snow hook and then have to awkwardly reach behind me to get it out of the snow.

I really was mad at myself because as much as I preach about setting yourself up for success and the importance of doing it in dog mushing, I had done everything but. In my haste to get out on the trail and put my bad day behind me, I had forgotten the basics. That’s why they are the basics I’ve told myself since: if the basics aren’t done properly then your run is going to inevitably deteriorate into a shit show, which mine had.

In the end, I cut the run short. I was miserable and I needed to regroup. It’s not something I’ll be able to do on race day, and I’m keenly aware of that, but sometimes you just have to listen to your gut.

So, the next day it was all about doing everything right. Checking and double-checking and making sure all the basics were covered. It was all about getting back on the horse, and going back at it.

I went out with Travis, Justin and Wyatt. We all had clean runs. We had fun. We ran dogs and came back and played Uno. We went to bed happy and succesful, waiting for tomorrow so we could do it all again.

The Runaway Team

Sarah · December 13, 2015 ·

Somedays, we start slow. Breakfast occurs at noon and chores go by, one, then another, not quickly but quick enough. We enjoy ourselves, stopping for coffee or cards when we so choose. We change gears slowly.

Days like this are usually warm. Warm for us is anything above 10 degrees because the heat can start affecting how our dogs perform. That’s why we go slow; day light, on these days, is something to avoid.

We hook up close to dark with our head lamps on, preparing for a short camping trip with the dogs as we try a new trail to us that goes to our friends, Wade & Sophie’s cabin.

We head out on the trail, the last of the light sinking around us. Hues of gold and orange and pink linger on the horizon above the swamps as we mush across. The light is so soft this time of year and the color takes a long time to fade, first into sea greens then into egg robin blues and then, gently, into that deep black of night. The stars shine fiercely through it all. It is wonderously beautiful.

Mostly, however, we stare at dog butts. The more I run my team the more I want to look at them. I watch their gait and how they change throughout the run, noting each the subtleties of each dog’s movements. Penny is just a hair smoother on the left. Varden doesn’t settle into a trot when she is in wheel. Benson’s tug goes slack a few minutes before he has to poop. Thunder likes to pace in wheel but he prefers to lope when he’s in other positions. And then other things like at what speed dogs transition into different gaits.
I also watch the smoothness of each dogs movements. Some dogs have fluid movements and others are, well, not as graceful. We learn to define each dog’s normal by their gait and so spend a good deal of time learning the subtleties of their movements. You could balance a glass of water on the back of the smooth dog.

I listen to the radio while I mush, ocassionally having to change the station due to static. Christmas carols are in abundance so I listen to those. We don’t have room for a Christmas tree in our cabin or a way to play music so it’s s refreshing way to get in the holiday spirit.

We stop occasionally, checking in with one another, to make sure everyone is warm and the dogs sound. Mostly, we just mush.

As we come around the corner in a swamp, I see the green glow of eyes as a dog team approach. In a split second, I notice that the sled had no driver. Before I can react Travis is already off his sled and at the front of his team to catch the team.

“They looked so relieved,” he said later. “I mean, they must have been going full tilt and they were grateful to stop.” You see, without a musher on the back of the sled the dogs can work themselves into a frenzy. They did a human on back to tame their wild energy and keep them in control.

I set my hooks and run up to help Travis. He is leading the team off of the trail. We tie the sled to the tree and tip it over for good measure. Then, I give the dogs our straw hoping that it will get them to camp. We lookethe dogs over and look through the sled to see if there was anything we could feed to the team.

“Nothing in here,” Travis said shaking his head. “No weight at all.” Not one to miss a teachable moment, Travis reminded us why weight is so helpful to have. We usually carry bags of kibble or blocks of meat so that should a problem arise we have extra food for the dogs. Weight can solve a lot of problems with a strong team at the start of the run. Food allows you to take care of your dogs if other problems arise — like getting lost or taking longer than expected. We always carry snacks, but carrying food as weight gives us a reserve. Our teams were too rowdy to get rid of our weigt and we were already 20 miles in to what was going to be a 60 mile trip. We didn’t have food to spare. I felt bad.

So we got the team squared away and then had a debate: do we stay with the team or go off looking for the musher? We didn’t consider splitting up because we didn’t know the trails and were not interested in getting lost. We figured the dogs were camped and that if someone lost their team they could be hurt, so we decided to continue down the trail.

Minutes passed and we saw no one. It was an eery feeling waiting to see a musher without a team walking the trail in the dark. I hoped they were ok. In my head I went over medical training I’d had in the past. What if they were unconscious?

With each twist and turn of the trail my stomach tightened. Where was the musher? Had we somehow missed them, hurt in the snow? There were many trails going off the one we were on and we didn’t know, exactly, know where we were going, trusting the dogs and our vague recollection from last year more than anything else to lead us to our destination. We had assumed we would run into the musher.

We quickly realized that there were several other trails the team could have come from and wondered if we had made the right decision. We’d never run into this situation before and weren’t sure what our priority should have been.

Eventually, we made it to our friends and Sophie made a few phone calls trying to alert folks to the team we had found. Still, it never sat well with us

We camped our teams and visited with our friends for a few hours while our dogs rested. Then, we headed back out. We anxiously got to where we had left the runaway team and were relieved to see that they had been recovered.

The night was more enjoyable after that, knowing that musher and team had been reunited. We were all able to relax more and sink back into the rhythm of quiet breathing and the pitter par of sled dog feet as we slid down the trail through the glorious night.

Denali Highway with Wade Marrs

Sarah · December 2, 2015 ·

Got back from a 160 mile camping trip to beautiful Alpine Creek Lodge with fellow musher Wade Marrs. We always enjoy the hospitality there.
I drove a 20 dog team and they looked great. Very smooth, very speedy. As you can see in the photo everyone is straight as an arrow. That’s what we like to see.

Wade and I have trained together since we were kids. It’s always fun getting out on the trail with him and I like how we both always push each other to do better. Wade really inspired me during last year’s Iditarod. I saw how well he was doing and knew that my team could compete with his so we started putting the pedal to the floor. Everything is better with friends, even mushing.

Sad to get a phone call while I was out there from our handlers that Faraday, our pet Siberian Husky, had unexpectedly passed. Dogs never live long enough.

Sarah gets back from visiting her family tomorrow. We are looking forward to running dogs together again and training. Here’s a picture she sent to me with her family. She painted the photo in the background. Neat, huh?

I’m glad she was able to go home and spend time with her family. Now everyone will be back to training. Sarah has her rookie Iditarod meeting this weekend. Very excited for her and all the dogs.

Keep following along.a

Moonlight Mushing

Sarah · January 7, 2015 ·

The endless rain and warm temperatures at home in Seward were making us wonder if winter was ever going to show her face, so we piled in the dog truck and headed north. Traveling feels so natural to me that after long miserable weeks stuck in a rainy house, when I found myself in the passenger seat of the dog truck the only thing I could think was that I finally felt at home. So much of my life has been spent riding shotgun on long car trips. Before searching for dog trails and hunting down races, my poor parents carted me around New England and the entire eastern seaboard playing soccer for the Boston Renegades. I was a goalkeeper, twice playing in the national tournament for my age bracket and once winning my own bid to try out for the national team. But my dream was always dogs.

The quiet hum of the truck as we ride north relaxes me. We listen to the country station, singing along whether we know the words or not, grateful to be on the road together. We arrive late at Stump Jumpin Kennel and help Wade Marrs as he gets his last drop bags ready for the Gin Gin 200. He leaves early the next morning for the race. The first race of the season always brings excitement for dogs, mushers, and spectators. We’re sad to stay behind — not used to missing out on races but grateful for an opportunity to train.

In the morning, we get ready to gear up. Layering up is a slow process. First thermals, then fleece, then our own coats. The temperature hovers around -15 for the most part, our cheeks rosy from winters cold kisses.

The dogs are excited. We run, mostly at night, each day going further than before. Snow is so foreign to us that we forget how it dresses up the night. It shimmers beautifully in the cold glow of our headlamps. The moon, when it rises full, is so bright that we don’t need to use our headlamps to see so we shut them off and enjoy the peace of night. Our runners scratch over the icy trail and our dogs tongues hang out of their mouths. We can see each exhalation. In those quiet moments of dogs and stars and snow we forget about everything and as long as our dogs are running in front of us, the world is perfect.

It’s hard to tell who is having more fun out in the trail; us or the dogs. They thrive in the cold and even though the temperatures continued to plummet, their attitudes continued to sore. We stop occasionally to check in.

“Are you staying warm?” Travis asks.
“Yes,” I say somewhat surprised. Our runs are mostly at -15 or -20 and last anywhere from 3 to 6 hours but I never get cold. “My dogs are doing great,” I tell him.
“Switch for a bit?”
“Sure.” I say and so we swap teams for a few miles, happy to see how all the dogs have progressed.

One time we stop for cocoa only to find that the hot water we’ve brought out smells funny. “Do you think we can drink it?” Travis asks.
I take a whiff. “Eww. No.” I tell him, embarrassed that I packed a dirty thermos.
“Ya that’s definitely moldy.” He throws the hot water out and it freezes before it hits the ground into a fine powder — a cold weather magic trick. It was Probably too cold to be sitting around drinking cocoa anyways.

We keep mushing. The dogs have jackets on and at times we have to stop and check to make sure everyone is staying warm. Our smiles are big and our hearts are full. The dogs bark and jump and we, dogs and people, are all so happy.

This is it, I tell myself. These are the moments we live for.