The Winter of the Dog Sled

I look at the forecast, 50 degrees and rain coming Friday.  This is New England and right now we have a very deep snow base.  It won’t all melt this weekend.  Add some fresh snow on top and I’ll be off on my sled again.  But it is late February, few runs left at best for this winter.

Driving a dog sled is something I’ve wanted to do for years, much like working dogs on stock.  I’ve always been one to go ahead and do what I want, mostly for the better.  Certainly buying that sled last year turned out well for me.  There were hours of work refinishing and re-lashing it, entertainment for the long winter evenings as the sled spent over a month on saw horses in the living room.  Finally complete I knew nothing on training the dogs.  I asked a friend if I could park at his place so I had room to work out the kinks of driving the dogs.  Once we got rolling we could run right up into town forest from there.  Hah, not so easy.  Failed start after failed start, rearranging dogs, finally some 50 tangles later they all started in the same direction.  Shusshhhh, I urged them on and we flew!  Not far, but enough to get the adrenaline racing and give me a high.  It rained the next day.  It was March and that was my one run of the winter. 

This year I started with the first snow.  It was a great year for snow.  Again the sled spent time as the centerpiece of the living room while I installed new brakes, re-oiled the wood, altered a used sled bag to fit, made a glove bag, learned to splice rope and made a new bridle so it would turn better.  Again dark winter evenings were enjoyed working on my sled.  But this year we were always ready to go. 

And go we did.  Little by little my team came together.  My nerves were jangled every time I hitched them, bucking, barking, and screaming like rabid apes at the start.  I learned to tie the gangline off to the van or a tree while hitching the dogs, then pull the release and feel the snap as the sled takes off down the trail.  At first the runs were barely a mile, stopping frequently to untangle the lines.  As winter progressed we’ve gone from 1 to 2 to 3 to 6 mile runs.  As the runs got longer the dogs settled and learned to travel as a team.  Good advice from experienced mushers helped me teach them to work as a unit.  I’ve learned to steer the sled better, work the brakes, ride the trails more smoothly.    The dogs still start out like cheetahs.  Indeed we’ve gone as fast as 24mph, though mostly we travel at a quiet lope and sometimes I can ease them back to a steady trot.  We’ve gone from short runs pieced together from bursts of speed between tangles to long runs that open with a mile of strong gallop and settle to a quiet lope.   I still begin with an adrenaline drenched high as I let them open out and run at the start.  Now I move to the relaxed enjoyment of sliding through the snowy woods, working the turns, feeling the flex of my sled as it slips around a curve, watching the dogs stride along smoothly together, looking down the snowy path as we sweep along in relative silence.  We still have to stop at most intersections so I can lead the team to the correct trail.  I don’t mind.  It gives me a chance to give each dog a rub behind the ears and word of appreciation as I walk back to the sled. 

Who knows what next winter will bring.  Maybe good conditions for our trails, maybe not.  I am not about to start filling my house with Alaskan huskies and give up the stock work.  The few opportunities for my dogs to work sheep this snowy winter have given me and them great enjoyment, though only pushing the stock back into the drifts so I can put out feed.  Regardless I will always remember this winter as the winter of the dog sled.  The winter my dogs and I learned to run together as a team, flying through the snowy woods with unabashed euphoria.