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AN ALASKAN DOG SLEDDING ADVENTURE

By Carole Herdegen 11/98

If you lived in Alaska you probably would not be trading baseball or football cards. You might have a collection of trading cards with pictures of sled dog drivers. Why? Because in Alaska, "Sled dog racing" is considered the state's most popular sport. These men and women drivers are called "Mushers".

Dogsled

In late Fall, when the long Alaskan winter begins so too does the sport of sled dog racing. There are basically 3 breeds of sled dogs: the Alaskan Malamute, the Siberian Husky and the Alaskan Husky, the native dog of Alaska. The dogs are fed a food that is high in protein and fat. The top, professional mushers in the most famous sled dog race in the world, the Iditarod, travel over a wilderness course in Alaska of 1,150 miles. The race takes 10 to 20 days to complete. The event is scheduled each March, beginning in Anchorage and ending in Nome. I always wanted to experience the thrill of being a musher. However, I knew that I would probably never qualify for the Iditarod. Fortunately, I had an opportunity to fulfill my wishes.

My personal dog sled adventure began when I arrived in the tiny snow covered village of Bettles in Alaska, just a bit north of the Arctic Circle. It would now be only a matter of time for me to know if I would be physically and mentally able to meet the challenges of the Arctic and to drive my own dog sled for eight days. Next, I met the 2 professional mushers who would teach me the world of mushing. I certainly hoped that the teachers would be patient. In fact, I had to even become familiar with a new vocabulary using words such as: "Haw". "Gee", "Mush", "Hike Up", "Whoa".

In the dining room of the lodge, my musher-trainer, Bill Mackey, conducted a lesson on everything

that I needed to know about dog sledding. It was now time to put on my special clothing a get ready for a one-hour "fun run" during which I would practice what I had been taught. There are many reasons why this is very important. First, I could evaluate the effectiveness of the layers of clothing that were new to me. Also, the practical experience I gained in this training run would help me understand what mushing is all about before I left the comforts of the village.

The next morning I packed my sled with all the gear I would need for the week. Barking dogs filled the air with their excitement. They couldn't wait to get started. I learned that all dogs are not leaders. Those that are selected are called "lead dogs". They are the ones that can establish a new trail. This is important because on the fresh snow there is no scent to follow. At the rear of the dog team are the "wheel dogs". These dogs are very strong and are placed directly in front of the sled. It is their job to pull the sled around corners and trees. All the other dogs are called "team dogs". I soon discovered that it is no easy task when it comes to carrying equipment, harnessing dogs and then hooking each one up to a tug line.

Dogsled

After the dogs are attached to the sled by the tug line, they are ready to go. What was even more important was for me to know how to stop them and to slow them down. There are two brakes on the sled itself. There is also a snow hook attached to a rope that can be used like an anchor. There is a saying that you haven't become a musher until you have experienced your team running off and leaving you behind. This is certainly not the best situation to be in; therefore, I did not want that happening to me. So I was determined to hold on to my sled should I fall. Unfortunately, this happens quite frequently when one is learning how to dogsled.

The dogs were ready to go. They run at lightning speed. I tried the directional commands. I shouted. "Gee!". The dogs obediently veered to the left. Then I cried, "Haw!". The sled straightened out again, as I turned them back to the right. At least the dogs seemed to know what they were doing.

After about 15 minutes, the dogs settled into a trot. We glided over the narrow path that had been carved in the beautiful Arctic countryside. The journey would take us up and down many hills. I soon learned when it was necessary to hop off my sled and push it to help the dogs on the steep hills. When we reached the top, I then used my brake to prevent us from speeding downward out of control. Sometimes we traveled through dense forests and across frozen lakes and rivers. At times, it was all I could do to not only keep my sled behind the dogs but to keep it upright as well. Hitting a rut or hard lump of ice can easily overturn a sled. Fortunately, this was not a frequent occurrence. However, I did fall off my sled at least 3 times each day. There were other times when I ploughed myself so deeply into the snow that I couldn't move and had to be rescued. During my journey, I rode over every imaginable type of terrain from soft, fluffy snow, ice, slush, small stones, and tundra grass.

Each day, late in the afternoon, we would stop to make camp. The tents we used were called Arctic ovens, probably because they were equipped with tiny potbelly wood burning stoves. The first order of business was to unharness the dogs and attach them to a stakeout line for the night. I then began the chores of camping. First, I gathered firewood for the stoves. When the sun went down, the temperature could drop to -25F degrees or more. Then the team leader began to prepare the food -- not for us, but for the dogs. The dogs always came first. I got water by melting snow or by drilling a hole in the ice on a lake. The boiled water is used for mixing dry food for the dogs as well as for our own needs such as cooking, drinking, washing and the cleaning up.

Once the tents were warm, I unpacked my sleeping bag. It was actually very comfortable in the tents. As for meals, it is typical to have only two large meals a day, one in the morning and one in the evening because there is only time for quick snacks while driving the dog sled. I also discovered that most mushers do not have a problem sleeping. The fresh air and hard work makes everyone tired and ready for an early bed.

Apart from the professional mushers who participate in the sport of sled dog racing at the Iditarod, the activity is probably better classified as an adventure. At least for those of us amateurs, who seek the experience of leading a team of dogs on snow-covered trails, it is truly an adventure. In the Iditarod, participants compete against each other. My competition was not other mushers, other dog teams or the time clock. My challenges were the conditions of the terrain, weather and trying to control a team of dogs pulling a sled. And, as with most adventures, meeting a challenge means to draw upon one's own abilities. Each of us had to posses an above average level of physical fitness, a sound mental attitude and good common sense. In addition, all participants should have the ability to face and endure unfavorable elements, a desire to compete and complete, a knowledge and understanding of the activity and most of all, an unconditional commitment to see a formidable task through to its completion. In the final analysis, my eight-day adventure was both a challenge and an experience and one that I am proud to count as one of my most difficult yet enjoyable accomplishments.

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