Where's Winter Woes

If you're friends with me on any social media (or any mushers in general), you've probably heard how terrible this winter has been going, especially in the Northeast US. A week before Christmas, we did get over two feet of heavy, dense snow. Exciting, yes, but problematic. Grooming my home trail requires a bit of finesse, and with snow over two feet, the snowmobile kept tipping or getting stuck if I didn't go fast enough. So I mostly broke trail with dog power, which meant slow, exhausting runs. I also spent hours clearing snow from gates, garage doors, and the trailer. We only got a few sled runs in before our trip south (for Christmas) and a massive rain storm, which wrecked our snow anyway.

When I returned home, the trail was no longer safe to sled on. There were (and still are) trees and branches down all over. I've managed a few short runs with the ATV, but the ground is so saturated from snow melt and the near constant rain, every trip out deepens the already gnarly ruts.

The state forest received a bit more snow than we did, but after grooming, melt, freeze, and frequent use by snowmobilers, the base has gone down to only a few inches. A snow hook wouldn't hold a team by sled. I've been avoiding taking the ATV or rig there, fearing I would mess up what little base remained. It's also rough conditions for dogs' feet and joints during the early morning freezes.

Things aren't looking promising for our upcoming snow races. There's been little if any snow anywhere in this corner of the country. We did hit my target of 10 miles last month, but only once before the snow, the holidays, and the meltdown. I'm hopeful the state forest trail will be runnable with the ATV soon, so I can at least get us back to our pre-holiday mileage. There's no big snow in the long range forecast, only more rain and days in the 40s.

I wonder if the sled will see anymore action before spring. If this is the way things will be every winter, or if it’s just La Niña making things particularly bad. If I should move somewhere that’s strictly dryland, so I won’t have these frozen inbetween periods where I can’t run at all.

False Starts and Setting Expectations

I've been mushing for over a decade now (whoa), and it feels like each season starts a little bit later and ends a little bit earlier. Moving five hours north from where I started seemed like a safe bet for a longer season, but even the North Country is seeing milder weather in the few short years I've been here.

The past two months have been a rollercoaster of high and low temperatures (on top of surgeries, illness, and other things that delayed our training). It's been really hard to find a consistent groove when it's regularly above 60 degrees, even first thing in the morning.

The thing is, climate change isn't going away, so we'll have to adapt. It's also hunting season, so I'm sticking pretty close to home with the team and avoiding the trails on weekends. And on days it’s too warm, we spend lots of time free running in the play yard.

Luckily, there have been a few events to keep us busy while hunters are out taking care of the love-drunk deer. I managed to attend both the Pennsylvania Sled Dog Club and North Country Mushers' training campouts. These are great opportunities to get the dogs back into the swing of things: sleeping in the dog boxes, hanging out on the picket line, eating on the road, and passing other teams on the trail. Thus, "Campout Octobers" will henceforth be our thing.

Usually, by November, temperatures are well below freezing in the morning and stay cold enough to run throughout the day. Not true so far this year, but I have a plan. Several new (or re-branded) dryland races have popped up, so November through early December will be our dryland race circuit. In previous years, I'd be trying to build our mileage this time of year, but the temperatures haven't been conducive to it. Instead, we'll work on consistency and maintaining decent speeds for shorter distances, with a very conservative goal of only five miles by the first weekend of December.

All our dryland races (Inverhuron—which I scratched due to temps, Paws of Thunder, North East Dryland Challenge, and Jersey Devil Dryland Challenge) fall under the five mile distance mark. The main goal is to have smooth runs and happy experiences, especially since so many of my dogs are new to racing this year.

After the Jersey Devil race in early December, we've got a few weeks off from events. Serendipitously, hunting season ends that same weekend, so we'll regain access to trails any time of day. And hopefully, by then, it will be cold enough to run any time of day. This is when we'll start building miles.

My overall season goal is still modest because shit happens and I’m going in with padded expectations. Ideally, I can get the team running 15 miles. If the snow gods cooperate, we'll ease into sled races with the six mile Frost Mountain race in Maine, followed by Lamoille's 11 mile open class in Vermont. Our snow season should wrap up with the wonderful Tug Hill Challenge, which is expected to have an ~11 mile open class as well. Both Lamoille and Tug Hill have the option for a shorter, 6-dog class, so we should be covered either way.

The wind is blowing fiercely outside and a cold front is coming in. Let’s hope it lasts.

And Then There Were Ten (Again)

On July 13, 2022, I lost my boy, Knox to cancer. It was sudden and aggressive and terrible.

On July 13, 2022, Fate was born.

I had already been in touch with Lisa of Glacial Lake Kennel about potentially getting a puppy from one of her 2023 litters. It was mostly just putting feelers out—nothing set in stone. She already had a 2022 litter in the works with Bekka of Team Untamed, but they were all spoken for—at least, seven were.

And then eight puppies were born.

The theme was “The End is Ny” (mother’s name is Nymeria). Lisa and Bekka gave the pups apocalyptic names: Doom, Hellfire, Heathen, Brimstone, Prophecy, Inferno, Rapture, and… Fate. Unlike most breeders, Lisa doesn’t have folks pick their pups based on any order. Instead, she takes down details about the person and their goals for the pup, and she chooses who she thinks will be the best fit.

At around 8-weeks-old, Lisa and Bekka chose Fate to be my girl. Enter, Glacial Lake’s Untamed Fate: our newest team member. I will be calling her “Faye” for short and to stick with my science/space theme (Faye was a French astronomer and a crater on the moon is named for him).

I don’t particularly believe in fate, but I do think this girl is something special. Knox left a huge hole in my heart and this little black void might be able to help fill it.

Knoxville

Owning sled dogs has taught me a lot, as owning any pet does, but I'd make the argument that sled dogs teach a little more. There's a different bond when you rely on these animals to carry you through the woods, to listen to your commands, and to safely bring you home. You are teammates. You see miles of trails together. In my case, you see almost the whole country together.

That was the way of Knoxville's life, as he was part of this mushing journey from the start. He and Denali were the start, really. For awhile, it was just us (and Dexter), figuring out this thing called dog sledding.

Knox wasn't a "real" sled dog. Back in the beginning, I thought that I would alternate between buying from mushing kennels and adopting rescues to build my little team. It quickly became evident that random rescue pooches don't make the best sled dogs (duh), but I'll never regret choosing Knox.

As a tiny puppy, Knox was absurdly cute. He was, in fact, the cutest thing I have ever seen. And it's a good thing, because he was an absolute terror. He peed with reckless abandon and screamed every night in his crate. I still think the rescue group messed up his age and he was likely closer to six weeks when I got him, so I'll excuse his chaotic puppyhood. And again, he was really, ridiculously cute.

Knox was an asset to my ramshackle team, kind of. I needed more power. He was never too great at passing other teams, he had terrible feet, and his woolly coat always balled up with snow and ice. But we made it work for almost a decade.

Despite being pure mayhem as a puppy, Knox grew into a stoic and (mostly) chill adult. He acquired a literal fan club (#knoxappreciationsociety on Twitter) devoted to his majestic floofiness and a moderately viral video where he eats a pea from a fork. He was an aloof guy, who would happily greet company but then preferred to hangout under a table or away from commotion. He was the softest dog I've ever touched but mostly avoided cuddling. He had the most fur to shed but hated being brushed. So it goes.

My heart is heavy because I wanted more time. He was oldish, not old old. He was a few months shy of 11 when cancer quickly took him. But I have no regrets. From his first day with me until his last, he lived the best life I could give him. 

Knox saw the tallest mountain in California and the multi-foot snowstorms in New York. We camped all over the Northeast. He waded in New Jersey lakes and hiked in the Catskills. He hung out in a bungalow in Venice Beach. He got loose in the Hudson Valley and ended up on a duck farm. He ate countless pizza crusts and cleaned peanut butter from infinite Kongs. His best friend was Willow, but he was happy to playfully terrorize every new puppy that joined the pack.

I don't know his exact date of birth, but I've always celebrated it on September 5th. When that date comes around, have a slice of pizza or a peanut butter sandwich, if you can. Go outside and sniff the air. It probably won't be chilly yet, but enjoy the onset of Autumn, since he won't be here to appreciate the cold. If you want to donate to your local animal shelter or rescue org, I'd appreciate that, too.

The last thing Knox taught me was how to say goodbye. He was a good boy. I'll miss him always.

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That's a Wrap

The 2021 to 2022 season has been sort of a bust. We had warm temperatures into November, we didn't get much snow, we didn't get to any races, we didn't meet any big mileage accomplishments. Much of it was out of my control, but it's still frustrating, especially after a disappointing 2020-2021 season (covid cancellations and overcoming anxiety after Blitz's seizure). I know I'm not the only one who has had an anticlimactic winter.

So, for now, I'm going to celebrate what we did achieve these past few months:

1. Atlas joined the team. Raising a new puppy and seeing their first few steps in harness might be my favorite thing about mushing. Atlas has gone from slightly hesitant 10-month-old (only on his first hook-up) to a loud, boisterous yearling.

2. We attended a training campout. While we didn't make it to any races, we at least got to share the trail with other North Country Mushers for a weekend in New Hampshire.

3. New snowmobile is a blast! And possibly what cursed me to have a low snow year. That said, I spent this season learning how to ride, groom trails, and run the team with the new (to me) Polaris Switchback. It's a LOT of fun and offers a safe way to train the team when trails are a little dicey and I need more control. It will also help with pacing and setting a steady speed as we train for longer distances.

4. Meat soup is a go! After Blitz had his seizure, I knew I had to start getting food into these dogs before our runs. Many mushers will feed meat soup (meatorade!) to help with hydration along with getting calories in before they get to work. My dogs have never, ever wanted to eat soupy food. This season, I somehow found the right combination of beef, supplements, and water over kibble—at just the right temperature—to get them to clean bowls. I am really hopeful this trend continues when we're on the road. Getting them to eat well when we travel is another big hurdle to overcome for future races.

5. Scouted new trails. A little late, but I've found more trails directly from the house that I intend to maintain throughout the summer and use next season. I did run one of these trails before, but it had been blocked by fallen trees and flooding. I only recently realized it's runnable again (with the sled, at least). I'm also hopeful I can find a trail that connects to the state forest a few miles behind my house. Summer may be full of bushwhacking and trail work, but I'm ready for it.

6. Nothing bad happened? Knock on wood... we still have spring training left. The mushing community has been hit by a tremendous number of accidents, mishaps, and straight up tragedies this season. It hasn't helped my pre-existing anxiety to know all the different ways things have gone wrong for other mushers. The silver-lining has been seeing the community come together to offer support (both with words and finances) to get through these disasters.

As the seasons change and the snow melts, we'll be transitioning back to short ATV runs until things get too hot. There may be a spring training campout to attend; not sure just yet, but it would be nice to end the season with one more event. I have high hopes for next season and maybe, finally, hitting some mid-distance races. Cross your fingers for big snow .

It's Been a Minute

A new year is upon us, so it’s about time for another entry. I don’t have a lot to report between our last post and now—November and December were muddy months spent on the ATV. Temperatures were above normal and we didn’t really see much snow at all. At least, nothing we could safely sled on.

Around the holidays, I took the dogs to New Jersey where we accidentally entered into a COVID quarantine bubble with my parents. Only my dad ended up testing positive and, thankfully, his symptoms were very mild. (We’re all very grateful for our vaccines and boosters.) Since we had to avoid other humans, I took my parents out to the pine barrens for some dryland rides. It was a lot of work to bring the dog truck and cart all the way down there, but it was worth it. It felt nice to be back where this whole adventure began.

Similar to last season, the first half of January was a waiting game for snow. We finally got some good storms and after a few shaky runs, we’re getting into the swing of things again.

Training on the ATV means I have complete control over the dogs’ speed. This helps keep them at a conservative pace while we increase the miles. Our first few sled runs were the complete opposite—fast as heck and short. There wasn’t a good base yet, so the drag mat and claw brake were merely suggestions. 225 pounds of dog food, gear, and me are no match for seven hyped sled dogs. We hit around 20 miles per hour, which is exhilarating, but not something my gang can maintain for very long. And since our ultimate goal is to run mid-distance, I don’t want them burning out early.

Luckily, we now have the base needed to slow the team down and even hold a snow hook, should I need to get off the sled. This is in part due to my wonderful, new (to me) snowmobile that I’ve been using to groom trails this season. Compared to my old Arctic Cat, this Polaris ‘beel is an absolute game changer. It starts up easy, runs smooth, and even has reverse—what a luxury! I have some ideas for additional trail loops I can add in, now that I’m not afraid of getting stuck out in the woods.

Today we ran six miles, which isn’t much, but we’re at least back to our ATV distance. We’ll continue to up our miles as the dogs get steadier at pacing themselves with less resistance behind them.

As for races, I can say for sure I’m ready for the Tug Hill Challenge in late February. There are a few other races I’ve been eyeing, but still waiting on details. In the meantime, we’re savoring every moment of North Country winter.

New Hampshire

After a long summer and a season without races, the dogs and I made it out to our first mushing event since, well, last year's campout. It's a fairly long trip east, through the entirety of New York and Vermont into New Hampshire. From the amount of gear I packed, you'd think we were about spend months on the road, but we were only gone for the weekend. That's just how it goes when you're camping with ten sled dogs.

We left on Friday in the late morning, since the campground wouldn't be ready for us until 3 PM. My plan was to load eight dogs in their boxes on the truck, and have Dexter and Atlas ride in the cab with me. Dexter is too old to maneuver in and out of the dog boxes, and while I did try to lure Atlas into a box, he's not quite ready for it yet. I also didn't want his first box trip to be 6+ hours. I did not anticipate Sagan going full starfish when I tried to put her into a box. She had no problem riding in the dog box all of last season, so this was a frustrating new development. I ended up piling her into the cab with Dex and Atlas, and the three of them awkwardly squished each other the whole ride.

It was over 60ºF when we arrived at Branch Brook campground, so we couldn't hit the trails right away. I used the last of the daylight to set up camp with my sleeping tent, a potty tent (the bathrooms at this campground are far), table, and chair. I cooked dinner (can o' soup) over my propane stove and fed the dogs their evening meal. The first night was relatively quiet, though a few other teams did appear. Around 9 PM, I got everyone in their boxes for the night—even Sagan, after some coaxing. I set up a crate inside the tent for Atlas (who I'm certain would blast through a tent given the opportunity) and Dex slept beside me on a thick comforter.

I woke up early Saturday morning to crisp temperatures (around 38ºF) and excited dogs. My plan for the day was similar to how we ran last year: two teams of four, practicing commands and passing with other teams. I brought my Fritz Dyck cart, since I need to get used to running it, and because it's smaller and more maneuverable than the ATV (it also can't break down, or run out of gas, etc.). My first run was with Willow and Sagan in lead, Atlas and Laika in wheel. The hardest part was taking off, as the dogs had to maneuver through the open field, past other dog trucks, to the trail. They eventually got the hang of it and they had a great time zipping around the woods—going much faster than they've been on our ATV runs. Atlas ran wonderfully even with all the distractions, and his very first passes with other dog teams were flawless. He's such a good natured guy.

While I had the first team out, Hubble managed to cause some of his usual Hubble-trouble. I had positioned him on the drop line where the trailer meets the truck; a mistake I even considered correcting but it slipped my mind in the chaos of hooking up the first team. Well, as we took off (and likely as other teams passed by), he got fired up and decided to tear into the trailer's wiring. When I got back, I saw that he had bitten clean through. It's a small trailer, and the hookup doesn't control any extra braking elements, but it's of course nice and important to have brake lights and blinkers. Especially for 6+ hour road trips. An unofficial alert went out, and other mushers stopped over to offer their support and advice. Turns out, many folks have dealt with this before (at least it wasn't my brake lines). Even better, a friend's boyfriend happened to have the knowledge and tools to completely fix the wiring for me. The mushing community really does come through. (Thanks Rachel and Chris!)

Back to the mushing. My second team was Hopper and Denali in lead, with Blitz and Hubble in wheel. They also did quite well out on the trail, with some nice passes with other teams and distractions. For the second set of runs, I swapped pairs—Willow/Sagan with Hubble/Blitz and Hopper/Denali with Atlas/Laika. After four runs (two per team) it was around noon and temperatures were a bit too hot for anything more. I ate a sandwich while the dogs were content to nap in the sunshine.

By evening, temperatures had fallen and we got a final set of runs in before dark. I went back to the original team setups (Sagan/Willow with Atlas/Laika, Denali/Hopper with Hubble/Blitz). I could tell the dogs didn't really need this final run, but I wanted to make the most of our time and knew we'd be leaving early the next morning. The first team out ran just fine, but the second team had some troubles. On the final stretch towards camp, the dogs tried to turn into the wrong field (in their defense, we did park there last year). When I got them to turn back to the trail, they had a sloppy head-on pass with a 2-dog bikejor team. No one got hurt, they just slowed down and were a bit too interested in the other dogs. During this little mishap, Denali's harness got twisted. Rather than stop and fix it, I opted to keep them moving as another bikejor team was approaching. They had another sloppy pass, and I could tell they were mentally tired at this point. Eventually, they got their shit together and made it back to our campsite. (Sorry Alison and Megan!) Five flawless runs out of six isn't bad, and even the "bad" run wasn't awful. I'll take it.

Back at camp, I took off everyone's harnesses and fed myself and the dogs by headlamp. The team was tired even though they technically didn't run all that far. Training isn't just about running; it's about traveling and sleeping in the boxes, hanging out on the drop line, watching other teams pass, and so forth. After dinner, the dogs curled up in their spots while I sat by a fire with other mushers.

Sunday morning was a blur of cleaning mud, breaking down frosty gear, and throwing some food into myself and the dogs. I also had ten bags of Inukshuk to drop off with another musher, which helped offset the cost of the pallet I ordered over the summer. Once everything was squared away, and the dogs were nestled back in their boxes (including Sagan), and Dex and Atlas were secured in the cab, we were ready to make the long trek back home.

Where We've Been

There was still snow on the ground for my last blog entry, so I guess it's time for some updates. Summer has arrived to the North Country, and this year, it doesn't want to leave. Along with warm temperatures, we've had more rain than I've ever experienced anywhere, I think. It rained so much, I didn't water my garden for most of July and August. The mosquitoes are absolutely thriving, which makes being outside almost intolerable—unless you're covered head to toe. Not ideal for hot and muggy days.

Back in May, the dog van's transmission started giving me trouble on a visit to New Jersey. I brought it to a local specialist (shout out to Robbin's Transmission) and while it took a few months, I have it back now and it's driving great. I didn't get to take as many trips down to New Jersey, like I had hoped, but I did manage to spend Labor Day weekend with friends and family there.

My garden was a big success this year. I somehow ended up with about a dozen squash and zucchini plants (I swear I planted cucumbers, too, but none materialized) which spawned my "free veggie cart" idea. Growing my own food and sharing it has brought me a sense of community that was sorely needed, especially in these "Trying Times". I'm still getting tomatoes, peppers, and kale almost every day, but the bulk of the garden has run its course.

Last Christmas, I received a better canning system from my sister and her fiance, along with a vacuum sealer and a food dehydrator from my parents. Even with giving away a bunch of vegetables, I still have a surplus, so preservation is in full swing. My freezer is stocked with vacuum sealed  zucchini, squash, carrots, string beans, snap peas, and sweet corn. I've got canned beets, peppers, and pickles in the pantry. I've dehydrated some peppers and tomatoes with varying degrees of success.

I only got a handful of potatoes from my grow bag experiment; I think next year I'll try another method. I grew six lovely pumpkins and a bunch of bird house gourds. It always seems when I plant a variety pack, I ultimately end up with mostly one thing, but I did get a single speckled swan neck gourd and some other weird green thing. Next year, I need to stagger my planting so I have the pumpkins and gourds later. I'm hoping they'll last until October, though. The wild blackberries didn't do well this year, it seems they preferred last year's drought to this summer's monsoon weather. When my parents visited, we picked about a jar full that I'll use for pancakes and smoothies.

We lost the other ISA Brown chicken (Cheese, of the Macaroni and Cheese duo) this summer. I noticed she stopped laying and had a few symptoms of various possible issues. I attempted to treat her and she was still eating and evading me up until her last day. I suspect she may have had cancer, which is common in high egg producing breeds. Since her sister died of heart failure (best guess) before reaching maturity, I suspect that whole brood was genetically compromised.

Oh, that reminds me, I don't think I mentioned the two new chickens that joined the flock this spring. I picked up Bread and Butter, a pair of Easter Eggers, from a farm about an hour away. After losing Macaroni, I knew I wanted another big-sized egg layer to join the flock (PJ and Jean lay tiny eggs and not very often). It's recommended to introduce at least two birds, as a singleton may get harassed, so I got two cream colored ladies who lay beautiful green and blue eggs. They integrated with the flock without much fuss, and have been happy and healthy ever since. Morticia and Frosty have been reliable layers, PJ is as cute as ever, and Jean has been "broody"; she needs to be moved from the nesting boxes pretty regularly. Poor thing just wants to be a mom!

As for the dogs, it’s been a long off season. Atlas, fitting his namesake, has grown to be my biggest Siberian—and he’s only 9-months-old. So far he’s been a delightful pup, able to keep up with my more dominant dogs but doesn’t start trouble and knows when to surrender. He had his first few runs in harness last month, and as expected, he’s a total natural.

Willow has had an interesting summer. I noticed she was losing chunks of hair (more than the usual summer coat blow), mainly around her neck and shoulders. Upon further investigation, I found skin irritation right where I had applied Advantix a day prior. I took her to the vet, and the best we could figure was that she developed a new allergy to the topical preventative and from there, developed a little infection. I’m sure her thick fur and the humid weather made a perfect breeding ground for whatever was going on, though it never seemed to bother her.

I spent the next two weeks or so giving her topical and oral antibiotics, along with a few medicated baths which she tolerated but very much loathed. Her skin cleared up, but then a new weird thing started happening. She would have these little episodes, usually at bed time, where she’d pant heavily and wouldn’t settle. They freaked me out, which seemed to only make her worse. One night I almost brought her to the emergency vet all the way in Ithaca, I was so worried. Except the moment I got the leash out, she became her usual happy-go-lucky, perky self. After a midnight walk around our trail, she did finally relax.

My vet ran lots of tests on her, but everything came back perfectly healthy and normal. Diagnosis was another guess, but we think it was a combination of anxiety (she had these episodes when we went upstairs, where the bath is) along with some gastric distress. She’s a notoriously fussy eater, and while on the antibiotic, she was even less enthusiastic about meals. I now have her on one or two Famotidine (Pepcid) pills a day, which seems to be helping with her acid belly issues.

I’ve also dealt with a couple fights between the dogs this off season. Everyone is luckily OK, but I’ve learned that adding more dogs means scaling and changing our existing procedures (this is a very project manager-y way to explain it). For example, I won’t release all ten dogs into the large play yard anymore. There are too many personality dynamics and opportunities for problems to pop up. I’m also enforcing strict crate rules whenever there’s food around (human or dog), to avoid resource related aggression. The learning continues.

Looking forward, our 2021-2022 season is just now beginning, and there are still a lot of unknowns. We’re still in a pandemic, but with vaccines available, races and events are being scheduled. There are some other challenges we’ll be working around as well, but I’ll write more on that later.

For now, happy end of summer, and cheers to the best time of year.

Marching Forward

Winter arrived late this year, but she came with snow-filled fury. Almost as dramatically as she entered, it appears she may be checking out. The past week has been above freezing almost every day, with rain and extensive melt. There is still a good deal of snow out there—probably at least a foot of hard-packed, rock solid base. As of today’s temperature plunge, everything is punchy and feels like you're walking on piles of broken pottery. Other areas are an ice luge, especially the down hill sections where melting snow flows into little streams. Our last run was midway through the warmup, and maneuvering the narrow, technical trails proved to be challenging with crummy footing. I imagine it's only gotten worse since then.

We really need just a few inches of snow to make things safer for both me and the dogs. We might get some tomorrow, but it doesn't look too promising. The extended forecast shows another warmup next week. This time, temperatures might climb into the 50's, which would be too warm to run this time of year. Luckily, mornings and evenings should remain cool enough to continue training. At this point, I'd accept a full meltdown, so we could at least get back to training with wheels. We're stuck in limbo right now and it's making me crazier than the dogs.

I have a list of spring projects waiting once the snow melts. The play yard fence took a beating this winter and several sections will need to be replaced. I'll be rotating the hens' enclosure and using the old space for a new garden plot. This means taking down the (now collapsed) fencing and putting in new posts so the chickens can leave the barn and return to the outdoors. Once the ground is thawed, I'll be tilling and cultivating in preparation for this year's crops. My seed order arrived today and I'll be starting them indoors in a few weeks. I learned last winter to start later, otherwise they'll outgrow their pots and die if I plant them outside too early.

As for the dogs, they're handling the down time pretty well. They have each other and the large play yard to run around in. Atlas has settled in without a hitch and has become just another celestial body in this large, hairy solar system that surrounds me every day. The snow has melted enough to reveal some of their favorite mud holes, a sure sign that spring is on its way. Despite a weird and emotionally challenging season (and, uh, year), we've hit the 300 mile mark and will hopefully continue to add miles for another month or two.

Time keeps marching forward and, somehow, it's already March again.

Another One

Someone asked when (and maybe, subconsciously, why) I decided to add another dog (Atlas!) to the team. While it might not seem like it, especially not to the average pet-owner, I have always been extremely strategic when increasing my numbers. I always tell non-mushers: comparatively, I actually have a very small team! It has also taken me more than ten years to get to ten dogs, so I consider my expansion pretty slow.

To answer the question, I started thinking back to how I got started in this sport (and hobby... and lifestyle). I had always wanted a Siberian Husky, but as a 20-year-old college student living in an apartment with a tiny, unfenced yard, no rescue would let me adopt one. My then-boyfriend (hi Rob) and I ended up adopting Dexter from a foster family that could tell we were more prepared than your average idiot kids. At this point, I was aware of mushing, but it was not part of my plan. I just wanted a dog that could accompany me on hikes and other outdoor adventures.

A few years later, and after volunteering for both a husky rescue and a wolf/wolfdog rescue, I finally had the credentials for husky ownership. I still had a hard time finding the right dog through adoption organizations, so I ended up looking into reputable breeders. One of them invited me to the Pine Barrens to attend a training meetup and "see the dogs in action". I was intrigued; this was New Jersey, where our winters weren’t known for their snow. It was also autumn, so there definitely wasn't snow on the ground. This is where it all began.

I met folks with only a few dogs and some with over a dozen. They used bikes, scooters, and non-motorized carts that looked like a mix between a shopping cart and a horse chariot. I started biking with Dexter and I was even able to hook him up with some borrowed dogs to see what true dog propulsion felt like. I was hooked before I even had my husky.

Denali was my first true sled dog and she paved the way for us. I started biking with her and Dexter, but I knew I wanted to get a third to pull a cart and, eventually, a sled. I adopted Knox six months after Denali came home. I remember everyone being shocked at this point. Three dogs? Wild.

For a time, the trio met my needs. I started a new job that required me to go into NYC a few times a week. I hung out with friends a lot. I traveled often. We mushed, too, but it wasn't all encompassing. Then Dexter started slowing down a bit. After all, he wasn't really built to keep up with two athletic young huskies. I started thinking about an eventual replacement for him. Denali's littermate, Mia, was due to have a litter, and I was quick to jump on the opportunity. Willow joined us in 2015, and shortly thereafter, I made my first "mistake".

When Willow was old enough to join the team, I kept Dexter on the line, since we were doing short and relatively easy runs that he could still handle. I was surprised to see him get a sort of second wind once he had a consistent running partner. In fact, the entire team seemed to do better in pairs. Eventually I had the girls leading with the boys in wheel, and Dex lasted through the whole season. And I realized, shit, I want to run a team of four.

Dexter's second wind was short lived, which I expected, and it wasn't long before I started thinking about another dog to take his place (for real this time). So a year after Willow, I added Blitz to the team. Ok, good, great, I should have been satisfied at this point, right? I wanted a team of four and I had it. Except there was a thought creeping in the back of my mind, almost since the beginning of this whole crazy journey. A friend had told me that you probably want at least six dogs to carry a passenger. I also really liked the idea of having leaders, team dogs, and wheel dogs. So I got to work.

I secured a fully remote job and found myself easing into a life more centered around mushing. Hubble joined the pack in 2017, a year after Blitz, and right before I moved to California. I thought, hell, let's make five work and see what comes next.

In 2018 I moved back to the Northeast, and finally had the space and setup to complete the six pack. Laika joined us in early 2019 and the following season was my first time competing in 6-dog classes. So now, certainly, I should be all set—right? Except...

Except it had taken me so long to build my six dog team that my oldest, Denali and Knox, were starting to show their age. Knox, a rescue with less than ideal structure, was having trouble keeping up with the younger dogs. Denali could still hold her own, but she seemed to be getting bored with the repetitive training we do at home. If I wanted to keep this whole thing going, I knew I had to start thinking about filling their places on the line.

So, later on in 2019, I found Sagan and Hopper to join the pack. I wanted to "try out" some Alaskan Huskies (mixed breeds specifically bred for mushing, not to adhere to a specific standard) and their lines synced up nicely with my existing dogs. Hopper is even half related to my existing crew, so I knew he’d fit well.

If you're keeping count, this brought me to nine dogs: one fully retired, two semi-retired, and six active team members. At this point in the journey, I'd been saying that my limit was ten. Mainly, I'm constrained by vehicle space: the dog van fits eight crates, two of which are big enough to be doubled up in. The dog truck has eight boxes with two dogs fitting in the cab. So, ten is possible, but was it really necessary?

When the pandemic first hit, and I knew I wouldn't be traveling for awhile, the thought of raising a pup crossed my mind. Then came the chaos of the Denali/Willow fights and my broken thumb, which quickly squashed the idea of adding more dogs to the mix. I didn't think about it again until the fall, when some exciting litters were planned, and my favorite breeder mentioned plans of moving to Alaska. I was training for my first mid-distance race with the 6-dog team. I knew I had room for one more, but I wasn't sure I had the justification for it.

Then Blitz had a seizure. This rocked me to my core and I'm still dealing with the shockwaves of PTSD it caused. Blitz has since been 100% fine and we've figured out a schedule that ensures his blood sugar levels stay in a safe range. All the races we were aiming for ended up canceled due to Covid, but I'm not sure we would've been ready to run them given how slow we got back on track with training.

Most "real" mushers have a larger pool of dogs than those they run in races. Many train an A team and a B team, or run larger strings than necessary for the class they intend to compete in. Then, when race day comes, they select the dogs who are running their best. If a dog gets a sore paw, or is more sensitive to warm temperatures, or refuses to eat, or just generally isn't enthusiastic, they can get "benched" without impacting the team's race. It felt like a gamble to train all season for some big (to me) races, only to have the possibility of being at a disadvantage (with a 5-dog team, if one dog couldn't run—most 6-dog classes allow as few as five) or not able to compete at all (if two couldn't run).

A seventh, active team member adds a bit of buffer, so I can more confidently chase after my goals. And yes, I also made the same mistake of running the semi-retirees with their yearling replacements. An 8-dog team is awesome to behold, but I didn't let myself get too comfortable with it. That's not to say things won't change as my goals and situation changes. If you couldn't tell, that's been the theme of this whole wild ride.

To conclude, I guess I should more specifically answer "why Atlas?", since he's the pup I chose. Atlas comes from some of my very favorite lines. Knowing that his breeder, Jaye, will be leaving the area to compete in Iditarod 2022 (go Jaye!!), I figured this might be my last opportunity for a pup from Sibersong. And of course, I’m still grounded from travel for several more months, making now an ideal time for puppy raising.

So, there you have it. A very long-winded explanation that nobody really asked for, but I hope it gives you some insight behind the decisions I've made.