Little by Little

In the blink of an eye, our season is already at the halfway mark. So far, we’ve only attended one dryland race back in November (Paws of Thunder). We’ve only scratched one planned race due to warm temperatures. There’s a lull in events over the holidays, so we’re just now ramping back up into snow race season.

Speaking of snow—there hasn’t been much. A few small bursts over the past few weeks. Enough to get on the sled, but not with the full 8-dog team. So, instead, I’ve been splitting the dogs into two 4-dog teams and running them back to back. The challenge is finding enough time to run both teams the distance they need to prepare for our races. We’re still not quite there.

Each snowstorm has been accompanied by heavy winds and rain. I’ve spent just as much time maintaining the trail as I have mushing it. After the first snow, I took the snowmobile out to pack the base and check for downed trees. Even though temperatures had been below freezing, the trail on the far side of my neighbor’s land was still pretty soft underneath the snow. Combine that with a snowmobile that’s too big for me, and a bit too long for the complicated, winding trail, and you end up with a stuck machine.

It might look like I crashed into a tree, but it was more of a slow-motion slide into one. The snowmobile’s left ski caught the tree and I couldn’t manage to reverse in the soft mud. Luckily, I wasn’t far from home, so I left the machine overnight with no real plan, but the universe provided one. A town plow driver saw me struggling and managed to find me on Facebook to see if I needed help. He went out later that evening and pulled the machine away from the tree. I couldn’t believe it! What kindness, out of no where.

The next morning I set back out to get the machine home, but immediately got stuck again. The trail tilts left in this area and I didn’t have time to build momentum and get away from the trees. I also don’t weigh enough to effectively lean the machine towards the trail. Neil, the plow driver, was nice enough to come back out and rescue me yet again. He ended up driving the snowmobile back home for me, which was an enormous relief.

After a second wind and rain storm, I knew better than to take the snowmobile out and instead did trail cleanup by snowshoe. I quickly hit another snag—my chainsaw wouldn’t run. It had gotten pretty gunked up after cutting through rotted logs and hitting mud, but no amount of cleaning could get it running. I ended up buying a second, bigger chainsaw, since my current one was a bit too small for the trees I needed to tackle. The new one worked wonders and I took care of six trees in twenty minutes.

We only got a few (glorious) runs in before a final rainstorm took out most of our snow. Now we’re in for a week of below freezing temperatures, leaving us with an icy trail that isn’t safe for anything unless we get more snow. The meteorologists amped us up for lake effect this past weekend, but it hit north and west of us while we got a dusting. Our next shot is Tuesday through Thursday. Cross your fingers!

Here We Go!

A new season is upon us! It’s been a slow start, but that’s nothing new in the warm and humid northeast. I’ve got modest race plans for the team this fall and winter, with a bigger focus on just enjoying the trails with my dogs and loved ones.

Before dryland training even started, a number of races I had on the docket were canceled. I was hoping to finally attend Bristol in Canada, but it’s not happening this season (perhaps indefinitely?). The fall race in the NJ Pine Barrens was canceled due to park staffing problems. I really hope they get that sorted for the spring race—I love returning to where this all began.

There’s a few snow races I’d like to try and they inevitably choose the same weekend. If the past few winters taught me anything, it’s to keep options open, because more than half end up canceled anyway.

Our first event of the season will (hopefully!) be the Paws of Thunder dryland race in November, hosted by the Siberian Husky Club of the Niagara Frontier. We attended this one day, 2-heat race last fall and had a really fun time. I expect to be running in the 6-dog rig and 2-dog bikejor classes again. See you on the trails!

Megavan

One of the most frequently asked questions I get is, “How do you transport so many dogs!?” And in my years of mushing, I’ve tried just about every method and wasn’t super pleased with any of them. I decided it was time to upgrade the dog-hauler. Well, I decided this last year, but it took exactly that long to come to fruition.

When I only had a small team, a regular SUV did the trick. I briefly tried a camper van conversion, but the van itself was old and unreliable. My next choice was the Ford Transit Connect—a little van with a big amount of space inside. I crammed eight crates into it and for a long time, it was ideal. I liked having the dogs inside with me while we made long trips (across the country and back!) and I could carry my Arctis cart on the hitch or my sled on the roof rack.

Then I moved to the north country, where AWD or 4WD is somewhat a necessity in the winter months. The team also grew and suddenly I had gear to tow. My little FTC wasn’t cut out for all this, so I (very quickly) purchased an F-150 and stuck a used wooden dog box on the back of it. In the United States, this is the standard method of dog transport for larger teams. I felt like a “real” musher, finally!

Except, if I’m honest, I didn’t love it. I felt disconnected from the dogs when we made long trips. The dogs themselves were apprehensive. Most of them never learned to jump out of the boxes into my arms—or onto ramps or step stools. I don’t blame them—pick-up trucks are freakin’ HUGE these days and with the box up on the bed rails, it was a heck of a leap. So, I solved the problem (and saved myself some backaches) by hauling around above-ground pool steps everywhere we went. Silly, yea, but it worked.

So I had the FTC for warm weather trips and the truck for mushing season travel. It worked OK, for a time, but then the dog box started to rot. Atlas also refused to be boxed. I had seven usable boxes, which left three dogs riding in the cab with me. At one point, Sagan pulled the wire grating off her box’s window and stuck her head out (thankfully while we were parked in my driveway). A lot of winter races would require the dogs to sleep unattended in parking lots. I didn’t trust my setup and it held me back from making trips to snow races last season.

After considering all my options, I took a hint from Euro mushers and started searching for full-sized, AWD vans. Spoiler alert, there aren’t many on the market. America is full of truck nuts, literally and figuratively. COVID also lead to global supply chain shortages, yada yada yada, and it was apparently cheaper to order a custom model directly from Ford than to buy a used one that didn’t quite fit my requirements. Game plan: build myself the mother of all dog-haulers that had all the things I liked about my FTC with the capabilities of the F-150.

A year later, the dealership who routed my order to Ford told me, “better luck next year” and I said fuck that. A van that nearly fit my specs, for roughly what I was expecting to pay, hit the market in Ohio. I sprung on it. It was finally happening.

Once the Megavan arrived, I yoinked out the second row seats (with some local help) and put down sound-dampening insulation. The ten Ruff Land crates that had been sitting in my barn finally found their permanent home, leaving plenty of space for gear and for a human to snooze. While it sat in my driveway awaiting registration paperwork, I found window covers, a bluetooth temperature gauge, all sorts of magnetic hooks, crate fans, and other little conveniences to make the van our home away from home.

I’m sure there will be more optimizations to come (I’m already thinking about a rear AC unit and a ladder) but for now, the Megavan is ready to roll. We took our first journey down to New Jersey earlier this month and I’m pretty damn pleased with my decision.

Another Season in the Books

It feels like I was just writing last season’s wrap up post, probably because this season flew by without much snow and few steps towards our big goals. Looking on the bright side, there were some things we improved upon.

1. We attended two training campouts this season. I returned to New Hampshire to run dogs with the North Country Mushers and we also camped here in NY with the Pennsylvania Sled Dog Club. Both events were great opportunities for the dogs to practice getting back into the swing of things: traveling in the truck, hanging out on the drop line, camping in the dog boxes, and most importantly, sharing the trails with other teams of dogs. Faye got acclimated to the experiences and she fit right in.

2. We attended three races! After two seasons off from racing (COVID, lack of snow, and other complications), I was finally back in a bib behind the team. Our first race was a dryland fun run (Paws of Thunder) in western NY with the Siberian Husky Club of the Niagara Frontier. Next, we returned to the NJ Pine Barrens, where I first learned to mush, for the PSDC’s Jersey Devil Dryland Challenge. January and February rolled by with a disappointing lack of snow and an abundance of feeling crappy (I caught mono)—so we didn’t get any snow races in. We did return to NJ for the spring edition of the Jersey Devil Dryland Challenge and even managed a podium spot: 2nd place in the six dog pro class (and overall)! While it wasn’t the season I was hoping for, I’m proud of these dogs.

3. Faye joined the team. Just as we welcomed Atlas last season, this season we had little Faye start running with us. She even ran in the short fun run class with Denali at the last race of our season. Although she’s the smallest member of the team, she’s very confident and smart, so I expect great things from her.

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Photos by Andrew Comoletti

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.