Planning for Tomorrow

I’ve always been a planner. Part of the appeal of homesteading is the necessity of planning: weeks, months, even years in advance. In a time when making plans outside of the home is nearly impossible, homesteading provides an outlet, a sense of stability, and purpose. I’ve already drawn up plans for next year’s gardens. I know what grows well and what doesn’t. I know to start my seeds later than what my gut tells me, because sometimes it snows in May. I know to plant fewer peppers, since they take forever to fruit and that space could be better utilized by a higher yield crop. I’ll use my electric cultivator to get more plants in the ground next season. I’ll try out grow bags for potatoes. More beets and more kale.

But before we get to next spring, there’s a whole winter to prepare for. This will be our third winter in the North Country, so I know what to expect. I’ve got multiple contacts for plowing services, my trusty snowblower, and a small plow for my ATV. I know to expect most of the snowfall after the holidays. I’ve stocked up on merino wool sales this summer, knowing there will be days well below freezing. The new element this winter: chickens. I have yet to go through a winter with a flock, and their current accommodations aren’t quite ideal. There’s no power source out by their coop, so keeping water liquid becomes a challenge (there are tricks, but when it’s below zero, it’s just persistence). We regularly get storms that drift snow taller than even Morticia, and I rather not shovel another yard.

So! The flock will spend summer, fall, spring, and the milder portion of winter in the Hen Pen. When we dip into the dead of winter, and the snow piles up, and we barely break freezing, I’ll move the girls into the back stall of my barn. A spare dog crate with roosting bars and cover will make for a toasty coop.

Initially, I planned on putting up some fencing to keep the birds to one side of the barn, but I decided to just cover up my lawn equipment with tarps. Once winter rolls around, I’ll get a heater for their water and maybe even provide a heat source for the birds themselves, depending on how cold it gets. Like sled dogs, they’ll grow winter feathers to keep themselves warm, and I don’t want to mess with their natural insulation.

Their winter setup doubles as a secure enclosure for when I take (short) trips, which I tested out this past weekend. I have someone available to care for the flock if I go away for longer, but for two nights, closing them up in the barn with plenty of feed and water keeps them safe. It’s not as fun as being outside in their pen, but it’s definitely better than the inside of a fox.

I took the dogs down to New Jersey for the first time since January, which was a nice mini-escape in what has been an unusually sedentary year. I wanted to get down there before mushing season kicks into gear, and with the yearlings still recuperating from spay/neuter surgeries, it seemed like the best time for a visit. The ten hour (round trip) van ride was a good way to keep them calm, even if they went a little bit wild once we got there.

For now, we’re back in the North Country and eagerly awaiting the onset of fall. The pups should be ready to run again by Tuesday and it looks like cooler weather is serendipitously on its way. I still don’t quite know what this mushing season will look like for us, but I’m ready to get rolling.

Upswing

For the first time in a long time, it feels like things are on an upswing. We’ve made it through five (?) months of a pandemic. Cases are slowing down in the Northeast and restrictions are easing. I’ve hosted a few small gatherings for campouts on my land and will have a few more before summer is through. We hiked, boated, swam, BBQed, and talked around campfires. We wore masks and washed our hands and maintained distance on trails and in antique markets. There is a sense of guilt in spending time with folks outside my household, but the risks are lower out here, and mental health is a factor. I live alone and it’s very likely we’ll be in this mess for a long time. There’s nothing normal about this summer, but we’re trying to get by.

I’ve gone from cast to removable brace to a completely free hand again. You truly don’t appreciate your body until it’s broken, and two months later, I’m about 95% recovered. There’s still some stiffness to work out and strength to rebuild, but I expect to be normal again soon. 

The biggest news from the homestead this month: chickens are back! After my last blog post, I got to work with a new plan to safely keep a flock where they won’t cause drama with the dog pack. I picked out an area in the far, front corner of the property, out of view of the dogs’ yards and house. I mowed down a big space in the meadow and put up ~6’ fencing to keep the birds contained, since free-ranging was not going to work with the dogs (and as a bonus, protects the garden). I ordered a bigger coop from Urban Northern with an attached enclosed run–enough space to comfortably house six birds. I bought overalls and designated a specific pair of boots as the “chicken outfit”, to avoid carrying their scent in with the dogs. Shortly after finishing the coop, I found a homesteader selling starter flocks, and picked up a barnyard mix.

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The new crew consists of Morticia, the shimmery black Australorp; Jean, the Phoenix; Macaroni and Cheese, the twin ISA Browns; Frosty, the little white Leghorn; and PJ (short for Pajamas), the Belgian d’Uccle. In the week since they arrived, I’ve collected about a half dozen eggs, but I expect that to increase as they settle in and the younger birds mature. So far, the new setup seems to be working. The dogs don’t have any clue that the flock is here, which is what I was hoping would happen. 

The dogs are enjoying their off-season break, especially now that we’re through the hottest point of summer. I’m keeping an eye out for mornings in the 50ºF range, but we probably won’t start running in earnest until mid-September. Half of the team (Laika, Sagan, and Hopper) will be getting altered on September 1st, so there will be some recuperation time to deal with as well. Laika is in the middle of her first heat cycle, which adds another layer of complexity to the crate/gate-and-rotate situation I already have with Denali and Willow, but they’re all remarkably good at developing to routines. 

Besides dogs and chickens, the homestead’s gardens are producing a decent harvest. After a rough start, I’m relieved to be growing food and reducing my reliance on the grocery store. So far, I’ve had snap peas, green beans, kale, zucchini, lettuce, beets, carrots, radishes, turnips, parsley, and mustard seed. I’ve got celery, tomatoes, peppers, cabbage, corn, onions, and baby watermelons in progress. Not terrible for my first real growing season in the North Country, with a broken thumb no less. I’ll take what I’ve learned and apply it next spring. I really want to grow enough to share with neighbors and friends.

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Growing plants and raising animals fulfills something primal in me, something you can’t get from eight hours in front of a screen. If this pandemic teaches us anything, I hope it’s a return to the earth and some degree of self reliance. Positive thinking, right?

That’s all I’ve got for now. Stay safe out there.

Broken Bones

I guess it’s about time I update this blog. I could’ve sworn I wrote here more recently, but apparently three months flew by in an instant. I’ve also been making small but more frequent updates on Patreon, but I don’t expect (or want!) a ton of people to subscribe to that.

Where do I begin? I started my last entry with “The entire world has changed in the few weeks since I last wrote.” and this one is no different. The global pandemic seems to be trailing off in most places outside of the United States, and (thankfully) in the northeast. However, it seems to be thriving in the south and west, and as a country, we’re far from out of the woods. It’s hard to plan anything for the future, or to feel optimistic about it.

We’re also in the middle of a historical civil rights movement, which began in response to the killing of George Floyd by Minneapolis police. (Although police brutality and systematic racism Black people have faced goes well beyond Floyd’s murder) I’ve been trying to donate to as many organizations and funds as I can, but there’s still so much that needs to be done, and so much more I hope to do as an individual. For right now, I’d encourage you to find BIPOC leaders in your community and support them. Of course, vote, donate, educate, amplify Black voices, sign petitions, march, do everything in your power and use your privileges. But also, listen, and know when it is not your turn to hold the megaphone.

I know, this is a blog about a dog sled team, but human rights are incredibly important to me. If that bothers you, or if you prefer to bleat, “All lives matter”, you’re more than welcome to fuck off.

OK, so what else.

In my last post I wrote about chickens and gardens. Much has changed in the homestead since, unfortunately not for the better. To start, I killed almost all of my initial seedlings by planting outside prematurely. But that was only the beginning of my woes.

A few weeks into owning the chickens, they began free ranging a bit. I only let them roam when the dogs were inside, but I didn’t anticipate how much the sight (through the window), sounds, and smells of the birds would set them off.

The mayhem started after I had been kneeling in their coop, submerging my work pants in their scent. After tending to their needs, I went to the backyard with the dogs. Denali and Willow started sniffing my pant leg with great interest, and I didn’t think much of it. I wanted them to grow accustomed to the chickens’ presence, without putting them directly in their line of sight.

In a split second, the two girls were at each other’s faces, biting and snarling. I have no idea who started it, but my guess would be Denali, as she’s the more grumbly boss lady around here. The fight was gnarly, but I was able to get them apart by shoving one off the porch. I ended up bringing Willow to the vet for a 1” gash near her ear, but neither of their wounds were severe.

I’ll pause to mention that these two have fought maybe three times before, in the nearly five years I’ve had Willow. The last time was in Big Bear, and it was pretty mild by comparison. Aside from a quick crate break, I didn’t need to separate them afterwards; they both were over it fast.

I mistakenly assumed this fight would be no different. After the trip to the vet and several hours to calm down, I let the girls out together, and another fight happened almost immediately. I got it controlled quickly, but it was shocking to me. And, man, did I feel like an absolute asshole.

I proceeded to rotate the girls for a week or two (at this point I don’t even remember), until I felt confident enough to let them loose together with heavy supervision. Things seemed to return to normal, until one day Knox caught sight of the chicken trio roaming and set off a group howl. The excitement lead to a series of fights: first Denali and Willow, then Dexter and Hubble, and finally Willow and Laika. Thankfully no one was hurt and they were all minor scuffles, but obviously this was not OK. That same day, I reached out to my NoCo friend circle about rehoming the chickens. The next day, I loaded everything up and brought them to my friend’s place where they’re now living happy lives. It’s heartbreaking for me, as I’ve dreamed of keeping chickens for so long, but I needed to reset.

Once the chickens were gone, things improved almost immediately. The fights stopped. I restarted the crate and rotate cycle with Denali and Willow, but soon found they could be loose together without issue. I was proud and relieved. For about a month.

But then they fought again. I almost predicted it. We get Amish horse buggies passing the house every so often, maybe once a week tops. On this particular day, multiple buggies went past, and this fired the dogs up. Denali and Willow fought again. I did finally have a pattern, though: excitement (Willow rushing around/barking) and Denali feeling cornered. Everyone came out of this one OK, and I adjusted accordingly. I’d have to be careful in hallways and the backdoor area, where Denali feels more defensive. If I could avoid having them in those spaces, things seemed to be OK. They never had any fights in the big, open play yard.

Another week and a half went by with things once again going back to “normal” (whatever that word means). As we got into June, the temperature was high and the dogs were much lazier. I was outside working on my laptop and all the dogs were loose in the small dog yard with me. Denali and Willow had been lounging in the sun all day together without a problem. I let my guard down, I guess.

Denali was asleep on the porch and the younger dogs were milling about the yard. A robin landed just outside the fence and Willow leapt across the porch to chase after it. Just as she made her dash, Denali sprung up and, expecting an attack, lunged at her. The two girls began their typical brawl, but this time Laika joined in, so it was two versus one. The younger girls had a grip on Denali’s neck that screamed “life or death” situation, and I dove into the brawl. Denali bit down on anything she could reach in self-defense. This mainly ended up being me; she broke my thumb with her first bite.

Despite my injuries, I managed to pull the three girls apart. I threw Willow into the garage, Laika in the house, and made sure Denali was OK before getting everybody safely crated and myself to urgent care. They cleaned me up, took X-rays which confirmed the break, and set my hand in a splint. They also set me up with an orthopedic surgeon, expecting I’d need surgery to fix the bone. I cleaned Denali up when I got back home and gave her antibiotics I had on hand. My vet handled a few staples the next day.

My parents came up from New Jersey to help me sort life out, but the streak of bad luck wasn’t over. Within 48 hours of breaking my thumb, my dad stumbled in my hallway and fell down the stairs, breaking his wrist. At this point, it’s hard not to laugh (through the pain).

It’s been almost a month now and I’m cautiously optimistic about the immediate future, at least. I’ve gone through three splints, surgery to insert pins, and a hard cast for another week and a half. Dad’s had surgery to insert a plate in his wrist. Denali healed and had her staples removed.

As far as Denali and Willow’s relationship is concerned, things are strained. I have been rotating them between crates, gates, and the two separate yards. The only time I’ve let them out loose together is when we’re sitting on the couch and I’m physically between them. Denali is very wary of Willow while Willow actively avoids Denali. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than having two dogs that are actively out to get one another. It’s a rather dramatic misunderstanding that I’m hoping they’ll eventually forget.

If they don’t, then we’ll live with these adjustments. As Denali gets older (along with Dexter and Knox), it makes sense to separate the team into smaller play groups, for everyone’s safety and happiness. I’ve also been applying a bit more structure and enforcing more rules, mainly more time in their crates to “cool down” after play or while I’m cooking/eating. It’s been going well—they all run straight to their crates after coming inside. In the Covid-19 era, I don’t leave the house much at all, so they got a bit too comfortable with 24/7 freedom. That said, they all seem to enjoy crate naps in their own quiet spaces.

Mushing has been an ongoing learning experience and this is all part of it. My thumb might end up weaker, but I hope my character comes out of this stronger.

Social Distance

The entire world has changed in the few weeks since I last wrote. Well, the world outside the bubble that is my home and land, at least. I’m sure you’re already aware, but the pandemic known as the Coronavirus has swept through nearly every continent. Much of the world is in lockdown, with officials recommending self-quarantine to stop the spread. Aside from the panic-buying at grocery stores and not being able to see my friends, my life hasn’t been too different (yet). Mushers tend to be socially distant by the nature of our lifestyle. Thankfully, I have a job that’s already remote and focuses on subscription based e-commerce, which hasn’t taken much of a hit (yet). Things are stable and I should be okay.

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In homestead news, I was able to secure three 8-month-old Barred Rock pullets from a farm about an hour away. Right now, chicks are available almost everywhere, but hens about to lay are much harder to find. As it turns out, people have begun panic-buying them, too. The three new girls have been acclimating to their surroundings and seem pleased with their Eglu coop. They’ve lived their entire lives in a stall inside a barn, so the outside world is certainly overwhelming them at this point. I’m hoping in another week they’ll be more at ease and maybe I’ll have some fresh eggs soon.

Along with the chickens for future eggs, I’ve planted lots and lots of seeds for future vegetables. My windowsills are beginning to overflow with squash, zucchini, peppers, tomatoes, and various other little sprouts. I spent a Saturday assembling four raised beds to be the seedlings’ home in a few weeks. I’d like to eventually rip up a portion of the front yard, till the soil, and plant directly into the ground, but I’m not quite there yet. I also ordered some fruit trees and berry bushes from the Arbor Day Foundation—I wonder when they’ll show up.

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Another big addition to the homestead has been my ATV. I was debating whether or not I’d actually need one, especially after learning my mortgage and property taxes would be increasing, adding a bit of pressure to my monthly budget. I lucked out and found a machine in mint condition being sold by a friend of a friend (thanks, Tim!) just a few miles down the road. Part of my trepidation in buying was not really knowing much about ATVs, but purchasing one from someone I can easily reach out to eased my nerves.

So far, I’ve used the ATV to move the raised beds into their spots, run the dog team, and clean up trails after a wind storm. We even got another quick blast of snow, which was a perfect opportunity to test the ATV with the dogs, as there wasn’t enough snow to safely use the sled, but too much to run with the Arctis cart. The ATV also came with a giant plow, which should come in handy next winter!

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The dogs have been doing excellent with the ATV. I was worried the “softer” dogs would be spooked by the motor, but everybody is just happy to run, as usual. The ATV is going to be really useful for keeping the team at a steady pace, which will be important for mid-distance training this fall. For now, we’re just working on short, fun runs with the puppies. Temperatures have been mostly cold as of late, but I’m splitting time between running the dogs (usually three times a week) and spring projects.

Hoping things will get better soon, but for now, stay busy and stay home, friends.

Warmer Days

I write this as warm temperatures and rain begin eating away at our snowpack. We’re nearing 300 miles for this season, which is good compared to last year’s 175, but no where near the 500 miles I had hoped for. It’s frustrating. Mid-distance and distance kennels run that distance over the course of a week. They run races as long as my entire training season. 

There are a lot of factors that limit what we do. I’m running this team on my own while working a full-time job. The weather has sucked. It’s not as easy to build up miles in the northeast compared to the midwest and Alaska. Don’t get me wrong, I have some amazing trail systems here, but they require repeating loops to get more miles. The dogs get bored.

This season also saw Denali and Knox slowing down slightly, while Laika picked up speed. I don’t want to push the older dogs beyond their comfort zone, so we stayed at their pace. Now that our racing season is over, I’m focusing on training Sagan and Hopper to run with the team. Since they’re still young, we’ve been doing short, slow runs. They’re mainly learning the hookup procedure, how to maneuver around the lines, and what commands mean. This works well for the older dogs, too, but it also means I’m no longer building up miles for the core team (Willow, Laika, Blitz, Hubble). If I had more time, I’d run the older dogs and puppies, and then do longer runs with the other four. But, ah, time is flying.

Next season I will push for longer miles. The older dogs can join us for short runs around the property, but I’ll be taking the younger six out to Winona as much as possible. The goal is our first mid-distance race (a modest 30-miler), so we’ll need the practice. But the sights I had been setting for 50 or even 100 milers seem less possible with my current location, resources, time, and energy.  Oh, and climate change doesn’t help.

You know though? That’s OK. I don’t think I need it.

I realized while out on a short, trail-breaking run this weekend—I don’t have to justify having a sled team by going certain distances or competing in prestigious races. We were traveling slow and I wasn’t looking at the speedometer or checking our distance. I was smelling the pines and watching the dogs working together. They were happy and so was I. That’s the reason for all of this. That’s more than enough. 

March means springtime, my least favorite time of year. Mushing season dwindles down. The beautiful snow melts into endless mud. Everything is cold, but not too cold, and forever damp. The awful, biting flies return. 

Instead of moping, I’m filling my time with more projects. Last season’s focus was getting up the play yard. This year I can zero in on turning this property into the homestead I’ve always wanted. I’ve got a chicken coop in my garage waiting to be assembled. There’s materials for four large raised gardens on the way.

Then there’s the usual end-of-season chores. The dog carts need to be power washed and brake pads replaced. The sled needs to be tidied up. The dog truck and van need deep cleaning, inside and out. There’s a season’s worth of dirt and debris that needs to be blown and swept from the barn and garage. The snowmobile and snowblower will be “summer-ized”, the ride-on mower will be prepped for duty. 

The cycle continues. And we’ll keep on rolling on.

The Tug Hill Challenge

The dogs and I had a hell of a weekend out in the forest! We attended the PSDC’s Tug Hill Challenge race, which is held about 20 minutes north in the Winona State Forest. Here’s the play by play, from what I can remember.

Friday

I took off work to give myself ample time to prepare our gear and the house for the weekend. My sister, Brianna, and her fiancé, Seth made their way up from New Jersey to help me out at the race, so that also meant picking up some groceries and making sure the guest room was tidy. There was also about 3” of snow on the driveway to clear, laundry to wash, and other weekend chores I wouldn’t have time for. Everything got done and we were ready for an anxious night of sleep around midnight. 

Saturday

On day one, conditions were basically perfect for a race. I believe the truck temperature gauge read about -2°F as we made our way to CCC Camp, where the race was being held. I had prepared a giant thermos full of coffee, which I poured out into one of my Best Made camp mugs. Within a few minutes it was frozen solid, so that was a short-lived plan. Thankfully my gear did its job and I stayed mostly warm.

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First up was the 8 AM driver’s meeting, where the club went over rules and what to expect out on the trail. I peaked around the room and saw lots of familiar faces, which is really one of the main reasons to attend these races. There aren’t many people doing this weird hobby, especially in the northeast, so it’s invigorating to have others around who are as passionate about the sport as I am. I’m especially grateful for the group of women mushers I’ve found, the support they give one another, and the caliber of care they provide their dogs. Truly an inspiring bunch and I’m honored to call them friends.

After the driver’s meeting, I collected my bib. We were number 30, first out the chute in the 6-dog class. My class (along with 8-dog and skijor) would run a 6.4 mile course each day of the race, the longest trail out of all the classes, but still considered a sprint distance. The class itself was broken up into three other classes: registered breed (purebred dogs with papers), all breed, and sportsman/woman (lower entry fee/no prize money). Five out of my six (Denali, Willow, Blitz, Hubble, and Laika) are registered purebred Siberian Huskies, but Knox is a rescue with no papers, so we ran in all breed. This has pros and cons—we’re up against the super speedy Eurohound mixes, which we really have no chance of beating. However, in this race, there were only three teams in the all breed, so we were guaranteed placement. In total, there were 15 entries between the three classes within 6-dog. A really awesome turnout!

Our chute time was 10:45 AM and it was in the teens, which tends to be my dogs’ favorite temperature. My “handlers” (Brianna and Seth), along with other mushers and spectating friends made sure we got to the starting chute right on time. First out meant we weren’t chasing anybody, but the dogs could definitely smell the previous class and were amped regardless. 

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The trail was hard and fast, and the dogs exploded out the chute. I had a professional team of hounds starting a minute behind me, and my first goal was to get the dogs through the first leg of trail (which culminates in a downhill into a sharp turn—right where spectators can see the action) before the other team caught us. It took longer than I anticipated for the hounds to reach us, and when they did, my gang handled the pass very well. The only thing they could’ve improved was moving to the right of the trail a bit more, but they all had good manners as the other dogs made their way by. After the pass, we chased the speedy team a bit, which definitely contributed to the dogs’ speed for the day. I looked down at our speedometer and the dogs were clocking 14-16 MPH for the first four or five miles, which is spectacular for them. 

We got passed by another speedy team, and the dogs were fairly amped up until the last mile or so. We hit a wide trail that was exposed to the sun, and I could tell they were getting warm. Laika got her neckline wrapped around her leg, so I stopped to untangle her, which the team seemed to appreciate and took the opportunity to eat snow. I let them go slow, knowing the last bit of trail had some uphills that they’d need energy for.

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By the last half mile, Knox was definitely running out of steam and Denali was trotting, which caused Laika to tangle in her tugline. I let the dogs pause in a shady spot and soaked up the moment with them, knowing in a few minutes they’d be running towards a crowded finish line.

Our first day finish wasn’t the cleanest, as Laika got spooked by the crowd. In her defense, there were kids spilling into the trail that shouldn’t have been there, which caused her to go over the center line and shove Knox over. Despite her shyness, we made it through, into the crowd, and back to the truck without any problems.

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We completed the 6.4 mile trail in 27 minutes, 55 seconds on day one. This put us in 7th out of 15 teams, a very respectable run for the gang.

The rest of the day was a blur of helping other mushers, talking to friends who came to spectate, shoveling a hot dog into my face, and tending to the dogs. Later, we met up with a wonderful crew at the Ponderosa for dinner, and reveled in our successful runs.

Sunday

Stepping outside the morning of day two was like stepping into an entirely different season. Temperatures were already nearing 30 degrees before dawn, which would mean softer trail and slower dogs. My main concern was Knox. If he was sore from day one, or if temperatures were too warm for him to enjoy himself, I was prepared to drop him. Luckily, the day remained overcast and snowy, which kept things feeling fairly cold. Our chute time was 40 minutes earlier than the previous day, which helped us get out while things were still below freezing. 

Knox seemed excited and didn’t show any signs of soreness, so he stayed on the team for day two. The only change I made was to swap Laika and Denali, since Laika is faster and could use the experience leading in a race. She’s also unlikely to tangle in lead with Willow. My only concern was whether she’d be confident enough to run through the crowded finish line.

We were the seventh team out this time, since our starting order was the order we placed on day one. The speedy hounds were down the trail long before us, and we were nestled among other mostly Siberian teams from what I could tell. My strategy for day two was to keep the dogs at a slower pace, not wanting them to get too warm or to expel all their energy too early. They still went fast—my speedometer read about 12-14 MPH—but I didn’t let them go all out. We caught up to the team ahead of us a few miles in, and I decided not to try and overtake them. We’d have to maintain a faster speed to stay ahead of them, and I figured the dogs would benefit from a team to chase.

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Midway through the race, another team came up and passed us, which the dogs handled perfectly. Laika kept the team pinned to the right of the trail, which gave the other team plenty of room to get by us. We watched the two teams ahead leap frog each other a few times, but we didn’t get close enough to pass them at any point. They also appeared to get in a small tangle, so we kept a healthy distance to avoid adding to the problem. 

The last leg of the trail went similarly to the previous day. The snow was softer and the uphills were tough, but Laika and Willow kept us moving forward. Again, I paused a few times to take in our surroundings and to thank the dogs for being perfect. Knox and Denali, despite turning nine later this year, kept up with the youngsters. Blitz and Willow were flawless. Laika, though nervous, shines in harness. Hubble, who I worried about being reactive with other dogs, watched three teams pass, and even stop alongside us briefly, without batting an eye. They did exactly what they were supposed to do and I couldn’t be happier with their performance.

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Little Laika powered through her shyness and brought us into the finish line with Willow, 31 minutes and 27 seconds after we started. In total, we ran 12.8 miles in 59 minutes, 22 seconds and placed 8th out of 15 teams. We received third in all breed and even a bit of prize money (basically earning back our entry fee). But it’s not about money or the ranking, it’s about putting my trust in these dogs, their heritage, and our training. 

My goal this weekend was to give the dogs race experience, both on the trail and at the truck. I hoped for clean runs and finishing each day in under 40 minutes, which we managed to smash. Compared to other teams comprised of purebred Siberians, we held our own. I can’t wait to see what next season brings and what we’ll be accomplishing a year from now. 

Dwindling Down

We’ve made it to February, which usually means two more solid months of mushing (if we’re lucky) before spring takes hold. Time is flying by, probably because we haven’t been hit with major snowstorms all winter. About half a foot has fallen today, though, so there’s still hope for the remainder of the season.

Sagan had her first hookups, first with a small team (all the girls!) and then with the active 6-dog team. I’ve never run a string with seven before. It’s been fun and challenging during these first short runs together. Our first time out was flawless and immediately got me thinking about an 8-dog team instead of focusing on just six.

Thankfully, the proceeding runs knocked me back to reality. Every dog adds a level of complexity and a new potential point of failure for the team. There’s another set of paws to booty or tangle in lines. There’s another mouth to bite a neckline or their running mate. There’s more length on the gangline to turn around at dead-ends. There’s more power to consider when holding the team back. Since I’m training and caring for these dogs alone, a team of six is plenty to focus on for the foreseeable future.

That said, I’ll definitely continue running Sagan with the big team for short runs. At the end of this month, I’ll add Hopper in as well, but we’ll keep things easy going. As for the main team, our sights are set on Tug Hill next weekend. We managed to get a very cold (-7°F), seven mile run in at the Winona trails, so the dogs should be ready for the race. I have my usual pre-sprint race anxiety to deal with, but I’ll get over it. The goal isn’t to win, I just want clean runs and happy dogs. 

Tug Hill will be the conclusion of our races for this season. I would’ve liked to get the dogs more experience, but the northeast is an increasingly tricky place to run dogs. With Knox and Denali slowing down and new pups to train up, this season didn’t get us quite as far as I had hoped. Still, three races is better than zero. We probably won’t reach my goal of 500 miles, but we’re already 75 miles beyond what we ran all of last season. By this time next year, we will hopefully be preparing to compete in the Can-Am Crown 30. We’re well on our way.

Trying

It’s been hard to find the motivation to write about mushing lately, because mushing itself has been less than perfect this season. It’s January and we should be (consistently) on sleds here in the north country. Instead, there’s been frequent warmups, unfrozen ground, and partially-frozen ponds across our trails. We can only go so far on our home trail with the dryland cart, so we’ve been repeating loops to try and gain miles. This is boring for the dogs and for the musher. 

Right now, we’re focusing on the Tug Hill Challenge in February as our final race goal for this season. As much as I wanted to try mid-distance, I know it’s not within reach for us yet. Instead, I rather make sure to end Knox and Denali’s racing careers on a high note. While I’m sure they’ll continue running to some degree next season, I expect their younger teammates to handle the bulk of our big goals.

Tug Hill will be a poetic bookend in a lot of ways. I attended this race a decade ago, before I even had my first husky. It’s what brought me to the north country. It’s where I saw friends and mentors race their teams, back when I just had Dexter and a dream. I’ve wanted to run six dogs since the very beginning. It took some time, but here I am. I’ll have Denali, my first husky, lead us through Winona Forest in our first snow race. Knox, my second husky and a rescue dog, will be right behind her.

If all goes well, this will give the younger dogs more race experience and it’ll be a thank you to my older dogs, for seeing this whole adventure through.

Okay, enough sappiness for now. Aside from races, I’ll be pushing to reach 500 miles for the season. The fact that we somehow managed 400 miles on the rocky, miserable trails in SoCal is weighing on me. Of course, it’s about quality and not quantity, and the dogs and I are much happier here. It’ll take work to get another 300 miles before spring, but I’m hopeful we can do it. Just keep on trying.

Goals

Somehow, it’s already late November. We’ve had lows in the single digits and a little bit of snow. It’s cliche to say, but I feel like just yesterday I was swimming in Lake Ontario and kayaking in the Salmon River reservoir. Around this time last year, we were recovering from our second major snowfall in the North Country. After that storm, things were relatively calm until the new year. Temperatures right now have been hovering just above freezing, with warm days ahead.

The team is doing well, but I’m apprehensive about sending in a Can-Am Crown 30 entry. Our goal for this season is a mid-distance race. We need to put on more miles and pick up our pace a bit. My home trail is full of sections that aren’t safe for fast speeds on the rig, due to rocks, roots, and tight corners around trees. Once there’s a nice base layer of snow, we’ll be able to cut loose with the sled.

In the mean time, we have plenty of other things to work on. We finally did some passing training with other mushers this past weekend. Roy Smith ran a few teams of his sporty stag hounds and Jordan Rode joined us with his solo husky for some bikejoring. It’s been so long since my dogs have had time out with other teams, I really didn’t know what to expect. I figured most of them would be fine, but Hubble has been my wildcard, Knox can be rude, and Denali has a habit of turning around to watch other teams approaching.

The main trail we started on was a sheet of ice, so brakes weren’t really an option unless we kept the teams all the way on the shoulder. Once we made it onto side trails, things shaped up and we did some leap-frog style passing. I kept a Baskerville muzzle on Hubble just in case he was snappy, but he showed very little interest in interacting with the other teams—ideal! Knox, on the other hand, shoved himself towards Roy’s dogs a couple times and barked. Luckily, he didn’t make contact or start any fights. Denali turned around to watch the teams when they were coming up behind us, but only for the first few minutes. After awhile, she got over it, and seemed eager to stay in the lead. It’s funny how the younger dogs (Laika, Hubble, Blitz, and Willow) were all perfect. I didn’t have to worry or correct them at all. It’s a good sign for the future of my team. I just have to hope that when Sagan and Hopper take over for Denali and Knox, they continue the good-behavior trend.

All in all, we did a handful of passes with Roy’s 6-dog teams and his ATV, as well as one pass with Jordan on his bike. Exposure to other teams also means other training tools—carts, ATVs, bikes, etc.—so I’m happy to see my dogs weren’t spooked by the ATV’s noise. Roy and I also stopped our teams side by side for a few seconds, and the dogs were mostly good. We avoided a potential squabble and kept moving, and the dogs ran very close together without a problem.

The only downside of the day came from an angry hunter. When we set out, there was a truck parked directly at the opening of the side trail we were planning to return on. We assessed and figured we could make our way around it without any issue, so we mushed on. When we made it back, another truck was parked perpendicular to it. We had enough room to pass on the right, but when we did, one of the hunters asked me something. I couldn’t quite hear and with Roy’s team coming up behind me, I tried to slow down enough to hear her without stopping, and the team pulled the rig up against one of their trucks. We didn’t crash into it or scrape it, but we did push against the bottom plastic part of the bumper. I kept moving and the truck’s owner came out in a huff.

Once I got the dogs settled at my own truck, I went back over to apologize for the chaos and made sure I didn’t do any damage (I knew I hadn't). It was abundantly clear that this particular hunter was pissed off at us for being there and not for touching his truck. I get it—it is hunting season. This is why I generally avoid running in the state lands this time of year, and especially on weekends. We very intentionally planned our run for late morning, knowing most hunters are out around dawn and dusk. My own neighbor politely asked that I run midday on our land so he can hunt, which I’m happy to oblige. What I don’t like is the implication that I shouldn’t be in the forest at all. I should note that the other hunters I spoke to were kind and actually interested in seeing the Tug Hill Challenge in February.

Despite this one bad interaction, the people of the North Country have taken me in as one of their own. Roy and his friend, Tom, came by and helped get my snowmobile running. My Twitter friends, Amanda and Jennifer, are planning a weekend in Saranac Lake this winter and I can’t wait. Niki, my fellow North Country newbie, has extended her ever-growing friend circle to me, and now I have plans for Thanksgiving. There’s a lot to be grateful for in this weird and wild place.

Mud Mush

This weekend marked the first ever NY State Dryland Challenge—a winding, 2.2 mile sprint race held by the Pennsylvania Sled Dog Club in musher Steven Davis’s backyard. While I’m trying to move away from sprint races, I still need to give the dogs race experience and exposure if we’re going to be attending longer races in the future. This event was less than two hours from me, so I figured I better give it a shot.

Photo by Niki English

I debated running Hubble right up to the night before the race. ISDRA rules state that dogs cannot wear muzzles, so that option was out for him. My start time was towards the middle of the class, with speedier teams both in front and directly behind me. There was a good chance I’d get passed, and it would be the first time Hubble would be in that scenario. Since he’s been defensive around dogs he doesn’t know, I figured this wasn’t the best way to introduce him to races. The game day decision was to leave him in the van and run five (Denali, Willow, Knox, Laika, and Blitz) in the 6-dog class.

Photo by Niki English

Photo by Niki English

Day one of the race was pretty smooth-sailing for my little team. We had a solid run, although by our start time (around 11:30 AM), it was sunny and nearing 50°F. Knox was definitely feeling it, so I didn’t push them too hard. Thankfully (?) there was plenty of mud and water on the trail, so that helped cool them off. No one passed us on day one, but there were some sections of trail where you could see a team on another part of the course, which definitely peaked my gang’s interest.

Photo by Donna Quante

The second day was a bit colder, but I think the mud got… muddier? A day of bikes, rigs, scooters, and ATVs definitely didn’t help the situation. Our start time was a bit later, but we still had a speedy team positioned behind us out the chute. The run itself was mostly fine, though Knox did take a brief second to poop. We got passed a few minutes into running, and the dogs were pretty shocked to see another team suddenly appear. Knox did a scary bark and nobody listened when I called to “gee-over” (move to the right of the trail), but the team got by us without a tangle or altercation, so I’m mostly relieved. I knew we needed passing training for Hubble, but the entire team could use a refresher.

Photo by Niki English

Photo by Niki English

We finished in 10 minutes, 48 seconds on day one and 10 minutes, 27 seconds on day two. That works out to roughly 12 mph, which is awesome, since we’ve been training to run at a sustained 10 mph pace. Our combined time put us at 9th place out of 11 teams, which isn’t very impressive, but that’s just fine with me. This race was all about gaining positive experiences. Besides, I don’t really expect to place when competing in sprint against speedy hound teams.

Photo by Niki English

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Photo by Niki English

Speaking of positive experiences—my favorite part of the weekend was hanging out with other dog-loving humans. Along with fellow mushers, several central NY friends I’ve made through Bumble BFF and Twitter came to spectate each day, which was a delightful surprise. I’ve grown so used to pursuing this hobby alone. It’s comforting to find a sense of community here, especially if I plan on staying in the North Country for the long haul. (Which I do!)

Photo by Niki English

We don’t have any races planned until the Tug Hill Challenge in February, but there’s a ton of work to be done between now and then. Hopefully starting soon, we’ll be working on passing training with Roy Smith’s team of hounds. I’ll be visiting New Jersey for Christmas and New Years, and plan to do the New Year’s Day training meetup in the Pine Barrens, my old stomping grounds. Along with gaining experience with other teams on the trail, I want to boost our runs to 20 miles or so by January. Fingers crossed for steady but manageable snow storms, patient dogs, and a season unlike anything we’ve done before.