The Time We Drove a 24 Dog Team

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After the winter storm, all our trails had been completely obliterated by the heavy, wet snow, so on the first sunny day all week, I decided to take the snowmachine out to break open some trails before guests arrived. Snowmachines and I have a rough history given that they tend to not start, break down, or get stuck and leave me to walk back home, cursing and berating the untrustworthy iron dog. Due to this, I normally just stick to dog power. This particular day, I opted for the snowmachine, and told Maliko to come rescue me with the dogs if I’m not back in a couple hours. Sure enough, I managed to get the machine stuck in knee-deep overflow just a mile out of camp. Since I was still within sight of camp, I hollered and waved my arms until Maliko took notice and came to the rescue. She hooked up a ten dog team and slowly slogged her way through the deep snow. We attached the ten dogs to the snowmachine, but as the dogs hit their harnesses with all their strength, it didn’t budge an inch. Ok Plan B.

We mushed back to camp, and I looked at all 25 happy excited dogs, begging to have a go at pulling the snowmachine out, screaming “Pick me, pick me!” So I said to Maliko, “Let’s take everybody.” My theory- hook up 18 dogs by their necklines, 6 by their tuglines, and 1 free running because I couldn’t leave one dog at camp by themselves. That’d just be mean. Maliko was immediately skeptical (rightfully so), but I figured we could hook everyone (except for six dogs) up by their necklines until we reached the snowmachine, then attach the tuglines. This should be enough of a handicap right? Wrong. We tied off the sled to the cable drop chains screwed into the lake ice, and as we were hooking up the last dog- POP! From my vantage point in the middle of the team, I remember seeing Maliko clinging to the side of the sled, dragging as a freight train of 24 dogs bulldozed their way past me. I launched for the sled, holding the stanchion just above Maliko until I realized that not only did I not have a firm grip, but I was pulling Maliko off with me, so I let go. Leaping up from the ground, I watched Maliko boldly hold on, getting whitewashed through the fresh powder for about 1/2 mile around the lake. She righted the sled, looked back at me running as fast as I could (which was painfully slow in the deep snow), and laughed.

Side note- normally, almost losing a dog team is no laughing matter. In fact I get very angry when people joke about losing their team. Dogs can be seriously injured when no one is controlling the sled, but in this instance, had we lost the team, they would have dutifully run the one mile around the lake to the machine where they would have balled up in overflow. The snow was too deep for them to have busted out on their own across the open country.

Once I finally made it to Maliko and the 24 dog team (25 if you count Katy Canine running loose in front), we looped them around the snowmachine, tied them off, gave the signal and out came the machine. Looking back, we probably only needed 16-18 dogs to get the job done, but where’s the fun in that? And now Maliko can say she single-handedly drove, and partially was drug, by a 24 dog team. And that’s the story.

Alaska Range Adventures

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I apologize for the radio silence recently, but we’ve been out tromping around in the gorgeous Alaska Range for the past month! This spring for the first time, we offered week-long mushing trips in the heart of the Alaska Range. Not only was this a way for me to postpone going back to real life and continue to spend time in the wilderness with the dogs, but it was a great way to share the thrill of dog mushing with people who would prefer not to have 30 Alaskan Huskies living in their backyard (understandably).

Like any new endeavor, we had some exceptional times and some not so exceptional times. Due to a winter storm, the first group was unable to fly into base camp. For several days, Maliko and I hunkered down in our arctic oven waiting for the strong winds and heavy, wet snowfall to let up. It was as if we lived in a cloud. We were plagued by overflow and cement-like snow that kept both snowmachines and dog teams from covering much ground. We became so frustrated with the snowmachine that we wrote a children’s story about the snowgo that couldn’t go in the snow. It rhymes and everything.  I’ll share it with you sometime. Combining that with the avalanches all around us, and we didn’t venture too far from base camp.

Tessa and team

Wombat trying to be a lap dog. 

Luckily, our patience was rewarded and the next two weeks were INCREDIBLE. Stunning views, bright sunlight that burned my face, gorgeous sunsets and sunrises, and northern lights- it was paradise. Nearby, a family of beavers worked diligently climbing the hillside for willows then playfully sliding down with their branches. A curious fox visited the camp several times. We crossed otter tracks, wolf tracks, and bear tracks. The world was coming alive around us with the warming temperatures, and we were so privileged to be a part of it.

These incredible adventures required the help of lots of people, so a big thank you to Maliko, Tessa, Derek, Andy, Mike, Brian, Jeff, and Evan for making this an experience I’ll always remember. If you’re interested in participating in a week-long adventure next spring, send me an email at ryneolson@gmail.com.

 

Sunbathing pups

Fez and Brant cuddling up. 

Maliko and team