Christmas Eve Campout by Mandy

Any adventure with Ryne and the dogs is a great time—leaving under the auroras and spotting moose within the first hour are just bonuses!

Our day begins with me hooking up a little bit before Ryne. You might not know this about her, but she’s incredible and much faster at dog booting than me so I need the head start to keep pace. It also lets me sneak hellos/pets to the nearby dogs that aren’t on my team! All said and done, we mush out of the yard together at 7:05 am.

The first time I did the Angel Creek trail, I didn’t have enough snacks and became Hangry. I made sure that wouldn’t happen this time around and came well prepared: dark covered espresso beans, cliff bars, fig newtons, crackers and pretzels, two possible lunch options, and a large thermos of honey black tea. So tasty!

For away camp outs, a lot comes with us. Dogs need straw to sleep on, meat snacks, the cooker pot with an insulated bucket and kibble for their meal, and extra booties. We have gear backups and the usual essentials. Everything packs into the sled—which will be lighter on the return leg after the camp out break.

The sky is breathtaking and comes alive with color. It’s like being inside a robin’s egg; the blue only broken up by the pink poking through the mom’s wings draped over the shell. The temperature is lovely and the team looks great.

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We’re approaching over 45 miles when our trail ends in a tight turnaround of deep snow. Ryne’s team of 12 dogs is almost out of the turn around with my lead dogs half-way touching her sled runners. Her lead dogs are not even two leaps from touching my own sled runners! It takes careful maneuvering of the gang lines and dogs but we make it... and stop right out of it for our camp out break of four hours.

Snow begins to melt in the cooker pot while dog booties come off, straw down, and neck lines are unclipped. The more experienced dogs settle quickly while the newer ones flirt with their running mate or mark every snow spot within reach. Some eat moose poop too! Oops. Once the dogs have their soup meal of kibble, meat, and warm water, we work on our own camp fire.

We trade snacks and swap stories. The warmth feels amazing and the smoke made me cry a few times. Our topics range all over the place while our eyes peek at the sleeping dogs throughout it. Camping with someone definitely makes the time go by quicker and soon(ish) we’re on our way again.

The sun set during our camp out and once the extended dusk passes, headlamps click on. It’s the same path back and a smooth run overall. I love that even after a full day of mushing (it’s after 9 pm now!) we still pull into the dog yard with wagging tails and smiling faces. It’s a special way to spend Christmas Eve! And one of my favorite memories of the season.

Rosebud Adventure

Recently, the whole human crew (Kalyn, Mandy, Derek, and I) took a day adventure up to Rosebud summit. Accompanied by three dog teams, one snowmachine, and one crazy Griffon (Sasha) we climbed up to Rosebud, searching for caribou along the way.

The Fortymile Caribou

The Fortymile Caribou herd travels throughout eastern, Interior Alaska and crosses into Canada. During last year’s Quest, I shared videos of the dogs chasing caribou down the Yukon River, as the strange critters came hurtling right at the dog team (or in the video I joked it was because of my newfound ability to call in caribou after listening to our pet reindeer). See the video below. Portions of that same herd are now on the other end of the Yukon Quest trail, near Two Rivers and Rosebud Summit.

The Fortymile Caribou herd is one of the most important resources for many First Nations and Native Alaskan communities. In the early 1900s, it was one of the largest herds in the world and had a far-reaching habitat as shown by the graphic below. The herd has varied in size over the past 100 years with its peak in the early 1920s of 500,000+ animals to a low of an estimated 5000 in 1973. Biologists believe the changes in size are due to reduced nutrition from overgrazing, predation from wolves, and excessive harvest of caribou by humans (more roads made for easier harvesting combined with incorrect population estimates). With the herd at abysmal numbers, Alaskan and Yukon officials worked together to better manage the herd. By 2002, the herd had grown in size to 46,000 and for the first time in fifty years, the herd crossed the Yukon River by the Fortymile River, once again expanding its range into Canada. In 2017, the population reached almost 80,000 animals; however, biologists believe this is likely the herd’s peak based on current environmental conditions. In an effort to reduce long-term impacts to the environment from overgrazing, Alaska Fish and Game has increased the harvest quota for this year. Hunters must submit the lower jaw to ADF&G so biologists can reassess the herd’s nutritional condition.

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Before the word got out that the herd was so close to Chena Hot Springs Road, we decided to try our luck hunting by running the dogs up to Rosebud. I would call it a 80% mushing trip, 20% hunting trip. While we would be opportunistic should the caribou cross our path, we were more interested in just getting outside, mushing with the dogs, and seeing Rosebud in the daylight. I’ve mushed this section of the Yukon Quest trail SEVEN times and never once seen it in the daylight!

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Smoky and Etta

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Climbing UP!

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Goblin and Bull leading Kalyn up to the saddle.

As I was looking for the video of running with the caribou during the 2020 Quest, I passed over this Rosebud view from the plane. So I guess I have seen it in the daylight! Ha!

The caribou stayed just out of reach during our mushing adventure, so we didn’t bring any meat home for the freezer, but wouldn’t you know, we had to slam on the brakes as a couple caribou crossed the road on our way home! More than anything, I love seeing all the tracks and sign left by the caribou. I’m not a biologist, but it seems like life and diversity follow the caribou wherever they go. Whether we’re in the Brooks Range with the Porcupine Herd or in Two Rivers with the Fortymile Herd, there is SO MUCH LIFE. In addition to the caribou tracks, wolf, lynx, fox, and moose tracks crisscossed the trail. And for a few moments, as we held onto our sleds behind beautiful huskies, our faces wrapped in fur of wolf and wolverine, our hands toasty inside mitts made of beaver fur, smelling the musky odor of caribou hiding in the black spruce, I can imagine myself living in a bygone era, at one with nature, traversing the Arctic.

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DISCLAIMER- I tried to get all this info from reputable sources (government sites and research papers). That being said, I am not an expert on the Fortymile Herd. This info was researched to the best of my ability, but I’m just a girl blogging about things I like.

"Meat" the Bandsaw by Mandy

Cutting meat is one task out of the large ocean of tasks required to keep a race kennel running smoothly and happily. But it’s a fun one!! At least to this handler. The job has two goals: meat blocks used for dog breakfast and meat snacks for long runs.

Starting with a 50lb block of frozen beef, it gets cut down into five pieces. One piece will thaw inside for about 24 hours before hot water is added, creating meat soup that will be served for dog breakfast. How many buckets it takes to feed 45 dogs depends on the amount of mileage they are averaging. The higher the distance, the more meat soup they get. Currently, Ryno Kennel is at 30lbs per day!

Meat snacks are the extra fun ones to cut! They can come from the frozen 50lb beef/chicken blocks, whole salmon, bundles of smelt, and so forth. The blocks are more straightforward: cut into thin 1/2 inch strips that are breakable. Frozen whole fish are cut into slightly thicker length-wise strips. Don’t forgot to cut off the head and tail first!! The fish head can be used as a push block... meaning, it can push the fish against the blade when there’s not much left to cut (protects your fingers from the blade). The long strips are then cut in half or thirds for more manageable eating size.

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At Ryno Kennel, we use a bandsaw machine to cut the meat. It’s set up outside under a Shelter Logic tent and runs off a generator. The tent is the same temperature as the outside air (cold), which is good because it keeps the frozen meat frozen. No one wants raw meat to start melting and clogging up the blade. Ew!
The meat snacks are stored in empty dog food bags while the meat blocks are stacked under a tarp. The entire setup (uncut and cut meat, bandsaw, and tent) is surrounded by a fence to keep the Assistant Coaches/ off-leash dogs from eating all the goodies. Don’t tell Ryne, but if Cartel sneaks in with me I always give her a bite of frozen meat before kicking her out. After all, it is hard work to be so cute!

How Covid is Like a Runaway Dog Team

I lost my team a couple of weeks ago. Everyone is ok. I just had to write that down before I continued. Losing your team is every musher’s worst nightmare. A lot of books or blogs that are written by novice mushers joke about losing a team, but there’s absolutely nothing funny about it. It’s exceptionally dangerous for the dogs. A small team might stop with just a verbal “WHOA!” but most larger teams will not. And my team was no exception. I’ve been mushing for 11 years now, and I knew it would happen some day. I always figured it would be more dramatic, like I was skewered on a branch and let go of the sled only because I had a stick through my gut. But it wasn’t anything nearly that dramatic. We stopped to snack. I walked up the team petting the dogs and feeding everyone a chunk of beef. They got excited and popped the snowhook. I leapt on the sled and rode briefly on the bag. Then I tried to set the hook from the sled bag and fell off in the process. The moment of seeing the team run away as I yelled whoa…I wanted to vomit. I immediately began yelling for Mandy (who was running a team behind me). She mushed up, jumped in her sled bag, I hopped on the runners, and we mushed as fast as we could after my team. I handed my phone to Mandy and she began calling. Within minutes, Kalyn, Derek, Matt, and Will were on snowmachines racing towards us. I was on the phone with Aliy as she was firing up her snowmachine when I came around the corner, and there was the team in a big, tangled ball. Miraculously, everyone was ok. My body trembled as all the anxiety and stress of those few minutes came surging out. As Derek says, it was a cheap lesson. And one that I’ll never forget or take for granted.

The reason a loose team is so dangerous is because it’s exceptionally hard for them to stop. All 10 or 12 dogs have to consciously decide to stop at the exact same moment, and even then, the sled will probably slide into the back of the wheel dogs if a tree or deep snow doesn’t slow the sled first. And as we all know, sled dogs love to pull, so the pressure of the tugline is their happy place. It’s how they feel secure and at peace. That’s why Covid is like a loose dog team. We’re all running along, working, but we’re out of control. Sure the fast and healthy dogs can sprint all the way home. The dogs who don’t need to poop, they’re good to go. But the older dogs or the dogs who really need to use the bathroom or the dogs who accidentally misstep- they’re about to get tangled and be seriously injured or killed, but we’re all still running along. The leaders could decide we need to stop and slam on the brakes. It’d result in a massive mess of tangles and lines. Dogs might get grumpy with each other, but at least we’d stop. And everyone would be ok. But here I am in team, running along, pulling. Giving tours to people from out-of-state. Planning to compete in races that will bring together large groups of people and travel to remote communities. And I’m doing it because this is what I know and love and feel comfortable doing (and we are taking precautions like masks and congregating outside). But is it the right thing? Maybe I need to put on the brakes and stop pulling. I might not be able to stop the team, but maybe I can slow us down enough so that one more dog can keep up. Alaska’s Covid-19 case count has hit an all-time high. We had a record 933 new cases reported Saturday. Our ICU beds are more than 75% full, with only 30 beds remaining of the 128 in the state. And while I love Alaskans, the “you can’t tell me how to live my life” mentality makes it really difficult for the general populous to support a mask mandate. Even though my job (tourism and racing) is essential to me and feeding our pack, is it essential to society? Probably not.

But our decisions in these next few months will have many repercussions. Repercussions for our business, Chena Outdoor Collective, a major way we support ourselves. If we close down, how will we remain financially stable? Repercussions for our kennel and sponsorships, the main way we support the dogs and our mushing lifestyle. If we don’t race, will we loose sponsors for future years? This winter is probably the last season of racing for some of our older all-stars; would we miss out on what promises to be one incredible race team? And repercussions, most importantly, for the health of the people in Alaska. If we keep giving tours and racing, will our health care system become overwhelmed and people die unnecessarily? Would we be contributing to the problem?

I’m writing this blog post not as an announcement of what we’re going to do but just as a window into what’s going on in our lives and how Covid-19 has impacted us. It’s a way for me to look back in several years and remember the winter of 2020-2021 for Ryno Kennel.

I try to keep Ryno Kennel from ever having an opinion on topics that aren’t mushing related, so I hope this post doesn’t upset sponsors or discourage fans from following, but also we live in crazy times.

In the meantime, we’re training for the races and enjoying the Two Rivers trails with this rockstar team of dogs.

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