The Road to Alaska

The racing team is headed to Alaska! 19 dogs piled into the dog truck yesterday morning. It is a long journey, requiring several stops, but the dogs were more excited than I had ever seen them.
Instead of running them, I woke up early to feed, since they needed a couple hours to digest before we packed them into the truck. I spent five minutes with each dog, saying goodbye. There were a lot of tummy rubs, head cuddles, and low howls. They were just happy to get the extra love. They didn't know what was really happening until the dog boxes opened. As soon as Bill, Jodi, and I opened those boxes, the yard went wild. Usually, when the dogs are that enthusiastic, we hold onto their collars so they don't evade a quick harness. In this instance however, every dog went free.

With the anticipation of a trip in the dog truck and a run on snow, the dogs made a beeline for the truck. The veterans most likely knew that the truck was going to Alaska, based on the four sleds packed on top. The young dogs just fed off of that excitement. Each dog has a designated spot, based on who they get along with and their size. The veterans knew exactly where to go. They ran up to the truck and jumped up to place their front paws on their box. Then it's an easy task for us to pick up their back ends and place them into their box. They all took a second to arrange the straw into a perfect bed and then settled down.
Juno was the only one that evaded us. She came down to the truck, checked it out for a second and decided she'd rather go see Maverick. For the next half hour we tried every trick in the book, but as a lead dog, she's smart and quick. Finally, we ignored her. Obviously, we should have tried that first.
With all the dogs loaded, Bill headed out. The plan is to drive north through Wyoming and Montana and straight up into Alberta, Canada. They drove straight through the night, so within 16 hours they were able to make it to the border. Every few hours, a "dog drop" is required. The dogs are hooked to the side of the truck to do their business, get some water, and stretch out. Inevitably, dog drops usually lead to tourists taking pictures as well.
So, for the next week, Bill will be driving and making dog drops. It's a long haul to Homer, Alaska, but the benefits of training there will be worth it. Even though I can't be there with them, I can't wait to hear about how they're all doing.
I'll have to make do with my puppies and retirees. All 18 of them...

Preparations

The time has come for the racers to leave for Alaska. Bill will be taking 19 dogs to Homer, Alaska where they will begin long distance training. The week leading up to this departure has been frought with anxiety and excitement.
The dogs weren't quite sure what was up until yesterday when we packed four sleds onto the top of the dog truck. The dog truck is a massive structure containing twenty cubbies for the racers. In between the cubbies, we have packed food, meat, harnesses, rope, plastic sled runners, lead lines, ice hooks, and all manners of other gear. The amount of equipment that goes into sledding is boggling. For instance, for the past three nights, I have been wrapping booties. The dogs wear booties on their feet to prevent ice cuts and to help keep them warm. Thousands upon thousands of booties are needed, as they can quickly get torn up or wet. Therefore, I have spent countless hours packaging them into sets of four. The small details can go a long way in the Iditarod.
Along with packing, we have been training at an accelerated pace. We are going longer distances, in shorter amounts of time, and at twice a day. The dogs need to get used to running 125 miles a day, so might as well start now. Unfortunately, since we've upped the training, we've also increased the room for error.
Running the ATV a few days ago, I had a large tangle that required a lot of work to get loose; thankfully, no one got hurt. On my next lap, the ATV shifted out of gear and refused to go back in, so I was forced to help push it back the mile home. With all of the running, it is also inevitable that we're getting some sore doggies. Osiris has a tense left shoulder muscle that has required us to give him a few days off; likewise, Oly has had some chafing from his harness that requires a few days rest. Thankfully, it's still the beginning of the season and nothing serious has happened. They're all still crazy about running and it'll only get better once they get to Alaska!
The preparations continue. We have to strap down the sleds tonight and put fresh straw in all the dog boxes. Then, tomorrow morning, they'll hit the road! Au revoir, mes chiens!

Powder Day

Winter in Colorado has officially arrived. A surprise storm hit Saturday morning, dropping 7" of snow on the dogs. I don't know who was more excited, me or the sled dogs. The entire world seemed silent and white. The feeling only intensified when I arrived at my new job at Sunlight Mountain Resort.
Sunlight is a relatively small, family ski area. We have 67 trails and boast the steepest grade in the lower 48. We also have the longest trail in the U.S. at two and a half miles.
None of that really mattered though, when 7" of dry, fluffy powder hit the slopes. As a part of my position at the mountain, I am encouraged to take an hour break every day to ski. I cannot really help guests if I do not know the mountain myself. And so, when ski patrol called in to say they had just opened a new trail, I jumped on the opportunity. In ten minutes I was on the lift and headed to the top. My first Colorado powder experience consisted of first tracks down Rebel Trail with snow up to my knees. It doesn't get much better than that.
The only problem with snow up to my knees is that I don't know how to ski it. I'm used to the sheer ice of Vermont. I may be proud of skiing that ice, but it isn't helping me now. I quickly learned that digging in an edge doesn't really help, nor does lifting your uphill ski. Even with these fallbacks, I was smiling the entire way down. At one point, I hit a rock buried under the snow and fell; that was the softest landing I have ever experienced while skiing. It was most relaxing just laying in the powder and taking in the silent world around me.
This winter is going to be good. Powder good.

The Basics

After all this time, I have yet to go over the basic commands of dogsledding. The commands are subtle and change according to mushers, but they are a key part to the process. Without them, the lead dogs would run where they please, when they please.
I have adopted Bill's language when talking to the dogs. Mushers vary from using short, brusk demands to using baby talk with their dogs. I believe that Bill lies somewhere in between. Off harness, we coddle the dogs. We tell them that we love them and how wonderful they are. I confess that a little baby talk squeezes out every so often, but who hasn't given in to that. As soon as we pull out a harness however, the tone changes to that of business (Side note: the dog's barks change while working as well. There is more excitement and less communication involved in their barks).
One of the first things I say every morning to the runners is "easy". This is Bill's word to get them to calm down. My second word is usually "wait". The dogs have learned that 'easy' and 'wait' mean "please don't bark quite so loud or jump on me or trip me". It is amazing how these words take instant effect on the dogs. For instance, Oly can be very difficult to harness due to his high levels of excitement; as soon as I tell him to "wait", though, he sits patiently until I have hooked him into the lines. 
When all the dogs are harnessed, they start to yelp and lunge forward. We probably don't have to ask this, but it is customary to say, "ready?" As soon as they hear that word, it is as if a whole new pitch to their barking has been discovered. I don't think they've ever said no, so it is always followed by a quick, "let's go". For the next few miles, the dogs could be at a full sprint if they wanted to. It is up to the musher to say "easy" again and to set the pace.
Then there are the famous words: "Haw" and "Gee". These are some of these most important words to a musher. "Haw" translates as 'left' and "Gee" translates as 'right'. Without them, the dogs would run wherever they wanted. It is up to a seasoned runner to understand these words. Most of the dogs have never learned their meaning, as they just follow the leaders; however, the leaders learn from each other to understand the meaning.
Even with these commands, if a leader decides to 'haw' when you want them to 'gee', there's little you can do to stop them. In this situation, all you can say is 'whoa' and run up to the lead dog to walk them towards the proper path. It might take a few tries, but they'll get it eventually.
The rest of the time is taken up with calling their names and giving them praise. Bill is a firm believer in positive reinforcement. He has experienced the differences in dogs when you yell at them versus encouraging them. They want to please the musher and they will work their hardest to accomplish what is asked of them. Whenever you say a dog's name on the line, they will look back with a happy grin.
 These commands are just a small portion of racing a team. Without those words though, it would be impossible. Without the positive encouragement, it would be impossible.
"Haw over! Good dog": it's easy to say, but it means oh so much.