Monday, January 2, 2012
Saturday, December 31, 2011
2012 Race Schedule
As 2011 comes to a close, and the 2012 racing season begins I've finally put together a race schedule which I'm really excited about.
Putting together a race schedule is one of my biggest challenges each year, and there are many factors which I look at before I decide to commit to a race.
Mother Nature is usually to blame for making racing decisions difficult. NOAA has a hard time predicting what the weather will do an hour from now, so trying to guess if some of the early races will actually go off, or if there will be enough snow to have a safe race is almost impossible for me to predetermine. This year Mother Nature has made almost all of us Alaskan mushers very happy by blessing the entire state with plenty of the white stuff. This is the first year that I've been racing in Alaska where weather wasn't a factor in determining where I would be going.
The next thing I look at is the quality of the event. What makes a quality event? One thing a race needs to have is a good trail, which is well marked. A good trail is one that is safe, and makes sense to negotiate with a dog team. I gave up adventure a long time ago and no longer feel that in order to prove myself worthy, I must do all the foolish things I used to do. As for a well marked trail, I live in one of the more remote locations on our road system so I'm very fortunate in that I can get lost at my own leisure without leaving home. Cool huh!
Next, I look at the rules. Most of our races have similar rules, but each race usually has at least one or two rules which may vary from the norm. What I'm looking for in the rules are things which I feel do not make sense to a dog team.
The most important consideration is are the distances, and mandatory rests appropriate for my team at each specific time of the year. As the winter progresses, the dogs' condition improves, and so each race should be challenging, but well within the abilities of the dogs on my team.
Putting together a race schedule is one of my biggest challenges each year, and there are many factors which I look at before I decide to commit to a race.
Mother Nature is usually to blame for making racing decisions difficult. NOAA has a hard time predicting what the weather will do an hour from now, so trying to guess if some of the early races will actually go off, or if there will be enough snow to have a safe race is almost impossible for me to predetermine. This year Mother Nature has made almost all of us Alaskan mushers very happy by blessing the entire state with plenty of the white stuff. This is the first year that I've been racing in Alaska where weather wasn't a factor in determining where I would be going.
The next thing I look at is the quality of the event. What makes a quality event? One thing a race needs to have is a good trail, which is well marked. A good trail is one that is safe, and makes sense to negotiate with a dog team. I gave up adventure a long time ago and no longer feel that in order to prove myself worthy, I must do all the foolish things I used to do. As for a well marked trail, I live in one of the more remote locations on our road system so I'm very fortunate in that I can get lost at my own leisure without leaving home. Cool huh!
Next, I look at the rules. Most of our races have similar rules, but each race usually has at least one or two rules which may vary from the norm. What I'm looking for in the rules are things which I feel do not make sense to a dog team.
The most important consideration is are the distances, and mandatory rests appropriate for my team at each specific time of the year. As the winter progresses, the dogs' condition improves, and so each race should be challenging, but well within the abilities of the dogs on my team.
Enough of my yapping, let's go to the races.
The Knik 200
January 7th + 8th
The Northern Lights 300
January 27th.
Paul Johnson Memorial Norton Sound 450
February 8th*
Iditarod
March 3rd
*dependent on whether or not I can convince 3,500
of my dearest friends to give me a buck.
Well that's all for now. Looking forward to seeing all my friends, and hoping to make a few new ones. Until the next time, I hope you're having as much fun with your dog or dogs as I am with mine.
I'm outta here, Mike
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Team Work
I had the privilege of listening to John Baker speak a little bit ago, and loved his description of what he calls Team Baker. In the most humble manner imaginable, from a man who is not only the reigning Iditarod champ, but who has the distinction of having the fastest Iditarod finish ever, he referred to himself as simply the driver of Team Baker.
I think that all too often, at least in the eyes of the general public, dog mushing is viewed as a solitary endeavor, because unlike in NASCAR, rarely does anyone ever see our pit crews. As the 2012 sled dog racing season approaches, I thought it appropriate to introduce you to our crew.
Introducing our handlers this year. These are the guys who are in the trenches day after day, night after night, doing the million little things right that allow us to succeed.
From Topeka Kansas, Nicholas Guy, with his favorite dog Nestor.
From Jericho Vermont, Christian Taylor, with his favorite dog Edison.
Handlers are the unsung heroes of the dog mushing world, without whose help it would be impossible for us to do what we do. Maintaining a large kennel is in many ways very similar to other forms of farming in that it's a 365 day a year job, which requires a lot of man power. I rely on these guys, even if you don't see them often, just like a NASCAR driver depends on his pit crew. The world's fastest driver can only get out of the pit as quickly as his crew can change his tires and fuel his car.
As I begin to look at putting together a race schedule that makes sense for our team and our team's goals, there is another group of folks who are vital members of this team that I would like to thank. They are our sponsors. They are the folks who make it possible for us to purchase the mountain of stuff a dog team requires on a yearly basis. Their financial support of our team cannot be overstated, but I'm also proud to be associated with them all on a personal level. They are our extended family.
- Rick McMahan, and the boys that make fishing fun at Denali Fly Fishing Guides.
- James and Joy Wheeler, EMS K-9 Unit.
- Jayne Hempstead, Cantwell Veterinary Service for taking great care of our dogs.
- Frances Gray, dear friend and supporter.
- Kenny Dolenak, Josh Baltimore, and the gals in the office at Ringers Gloves
- Claude and Jennifer Bondy and the crew at Alpine Creek Lodge.
- Land officer James Smith and AHTNA Inc., our neighbors.
- Michelle Henderson Grainger Industrial Supply. Can't wait to take you mushing Michelle
- Mark Roberts, and the fellows from New Zealand for making the greatest dog food on the planet at K9 Natural.
- Scott Lee for making me feel at home at the Inlet Towers.
- Tom and EZ Farbo, long time friends and supporters. Love you.
- Maureen Regan, my Iditarod chef from Mighty Fine Kitchens.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
The Luckiest Day of my Life
The luckiest day of my life started out as what I'd call a fairly typical day. The crew and I had mushed our thirty-nine dogs out to our remote camp in front of the truck. There was a little more fresh snow than I expected, but we had a great run, and I was excited that even some of my young dogs, "teenagers," had figured out what this whole camping thing was all about.
We got all the dogs cared for and bedded down. We ate supper and turned in for a little shuteye. Since we were still in the truck I was using the cab as my portable office as well as my sleeping quarters, leaving the crew a little extra room in our shelter. At camp is usually where I do my best thinking so I like to stay up a bit after our arrival jotting down observations of our days activities, and working and reworking what we call the playbook which is a list basically of which dog is going to run where in the team. Before I turned in, I had noticed that it had started to snow again, and decided that our layover needed to be shortened in order to ensure we would be able to actually make it home.
I slept for an hour, and when I got up it had stopped snowing and there wasn't really any additional accumulation. I was a little relieved and felt confident that we would have another great run. We fed the dogs breakfast, packed up our stuff and prepared to leave.
Now in order for us to leave camp with the truck, I need to do a little three point turn to get us heading in the right direction. it's really no big deal, there is a small clearing which I use to back into, and I've done this same three point turn in this exact spot a hundred times. But today, on the luckiest day of my life, I missed the clearing slightly and slid just a bit sideways. Apparently the snow cover allowed me to float up and over a stump as I backed up. Unfortunately while backing up, the truck compressed the snow which no longer would float me back off of the stump. So there we were, 60 miles from home with a rope come-a-long an axe and one rather large truck whose transmission and drive shaft where now perched atop a two foot diameter stump.
Chop, chop, chop, crank, chop, chop crank, crank, crank, chop... For six hours. I'm hoping you get the picture. Now for those of you who do not believe that Mother Nature has an interesting sense of humor, after the first hour of chopping and cranking it started to snow lightly. After our second hour of chopping and cranking it started to snow heavily. Three hours of chopping and cranking and the snow was really starting to come down. Yup, I was starting to get a little worried, but as long as the wind didn't kick up I was sure we would still be able to get home.
The Alaska Range is notorious for strong winds, and there are many stretches of the Denali highway where the wind can magically take six inches of snow and pile it all up in one spot creating an impassible drift. Four hours into chopping and cranking, and a slight breeze started to bend the spruce tops, five hours into chopping and cranking and the wind was whistling. Finally, we got the truck freed after six hours of chopping and cranking, but now the wind was down right howling.
We hurried to get the dogs hooked up and off we went. The dogs apparently enjoyed their extra sleep and were easily plowing through drift after drift, the truck on the other hand was bogging down a little deeper with each. But, we were making good progress and the wind had died down and there was even a hint of blue in the sky which told me the snow would soon be letting up as well.
We made it a total of ten miles from camp when we hit an enormous drift which sent the rear end of the truck sideways off of the shoulder of the road. We started digging out the wheels, all the while trying to calm the dogs down who were really confused as to why we were stopped so long. Once I was confident that with the dogs help we should be able to get the truck back up onto the road, I walked up the line asking the dogs if they were ready. They responded with a resounding, "yup, we're ready," I hopped into the truck yelled out the window you boys ready, and they responded again enthusiastically. Alright then, they lurched, the truck began to creep forward, I let up the clutch, and just when I thought we were out of the ditch, "SNAP."
The nano second it took for the gangline to break seemed to happen in ultra slow motion, I swear I could see each individual fiber let go and I sharply remember having the urge to reach out and grab it as it was happening, but I couldn't. Not that it would have helped any. Once that last strand of rope let go there was an audible pop, the truck slipped back, and everything went from ultra slow speed to the speed of light instantly, as thirty nine dogs tore down the highway as if they had just been shot out of cannon.
My heart stopped beating.
But wait. "THUMP" Did they? "THUMP" They couldn't have. "THUMP... THUMP," But it really looks like they did. "THUMP... THUMP" If they did, I don't believe it. "THUMP... THUMP" They stopped. "THUMP" They stopped. "Thump" THEY STOPPED! THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMPITY THUMP. THEY STOPPED!!!
P.S. All thirty nine dogs are one hundred percent safe and sound. Albeit they were awfully confused as to why we wanted to load them in the truck after only a ten mile run. As for the three of us, other then being really tired that evening, we're already back at it.
Until the next time I hope you're enjoying your dog or dogs as much as I am mine, Mike
We got all the dogs cared for and bedded down. We ate supper and turned in for a little shuteye. Since we were still in the truck I was using the cab as my portable office as well as my sleeping quarters, leaving the crew a little extra room in our shelter. At camp is usually where I do my best thinking so I like to stay up a bit after our arrival jotting down observations of our days activities, and working and reworking what we call the playbook which is a list basically of which dog is going to run where in the team. Before I turned in, I had noticed that it had started to snow again, and decided that our layover needed to be shortened in order to ensure we would be able to actually make it home.
I slept for an hour, and when I got up it had stopped snowing and there wasn't really any additional accumulation. I was a little relieved and felt confident that we would have another great run. We fed the dogs breakfast, packed up our stuff and prepared to leave.
Now in order for us to leave camp with the truck, I need to do a little three point turn to get us heading in the right direction. it's really no big deal, there is a small clearing which I use to back into, and I've done this same three point turn in this exact spot a hundred times. But today, on the luckiest day of my life, I missed the clearing slightly and slid just a bit sideways. Apparently the snow cover allowed me to float up and over a stump as I backed up. Unfortunately while backing up, the truck compressed the snow which no longer would float me back off of the stump. So there we were, 60 miles from home with a rope come-a-long an axe and one rather large truck whose transmission and drive shaft where now perched atop a two foot diameter stump.
Chop, chop, chop, crank, chop, chop crank, crank, crank, chop... For six hours. I'm hoping you get the picture. Now for those of you who do not believe that Mother Nature has an interesting sense of humor, after the first hour of chopping and cranking it started to snow lightly. After our second hour of chopping and cranking it started to snow heavily. Three hours of chopping and cranking and the snow was really starting to come down. Yup, I was starting to get a little worried, but as long as the wind didn't kick up I was sure we would still be able to get home.
The Alaska Range is notorious for strong winds, and there are many stretches of the Denali highway where the wind can magically take six inches of snow and pile it all up in one spot creating an impassible drift. Four hours into chopping and cranking, and a slight breeze started to bend the spruce tops, five hours into chopping and cranking and the wind was whistling. Finally, we got the truck freed after six hours of chopping and cranking, but now the wind was down right howling.
We hurried to get the dogs hooked up and off we went. The dogs apparently enjoyed their extra sleep and were easily plowing through drift after drift, the truck on the other hand was bogging down a little deeper with each. But, we were making good progress and the wind had died down and there was even a hint of blue in the sky which told me the snow would soon be letting up as well.
We made it a total of ten miles from camp when we hit an enormous drift which sent the rear end of the truck sideways off of the shoulder of the road. We started digging out the wheels, all the while trying to calm the dogs down who were really confused as to why we were stopped so long. Once I was confident that with the dogs help we should be able to get the truck back up onto the road, I walked up the line asking the dogs if they were ready. They responded with a resounding, "yup, we're ready," I hopped into the truck yelled out the window you boys ready, and they responded again enthusiastically. Alright then, they lurched, the truck began to creep forward, I let up the clutch, and just when I thought we were out of the ditch, "SNAP."
The nano second it took for the gangline to break seemed to happen in ultra slow motion, I swear I could see each individual fiber let go and I sharply remember having the urge to reach out and grab it as it was happening, but I couldn't. Not that it would have helped any. Once that last strand of rope let go there was an audible pop, the truck slipped back, and everything went from ultra slow speed to the speed of light instantly, as thirty nine dogs tore down the highway as if they had just been shot out of cannon.
My heart stopped beating.
But wait. "THUMP" Did they? "THUMP" They couldn't have. "THUMP... THUMP," But it really looks like they did. "THUMP... THUMP" If they did, I don't believe it. "THUMP... THUMP" They stopped. "THUMP" They stopped. "Thump" THEY STOPPED! THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMPITY THUMP. THEY STOPPED!!!
Because they just stopped.
That is why this day was the luckiest day of my life.
P.S. All thirty nine dogs are one hundred percent safe and sound. Albeit they were awfully confused as to why we wanted to load them in the truck after only a ten mile run. As for the three of us, other then being really tired that evening, we're already back at it.
Until the next time I hope you're enjoying your dog or dogs as much as I am mine, Mike
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Snowy Day
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| Twain |
Here at the Den I got to walk puppies in the snow. We are having a bunch of fun, except they are getting faster than me. Last week one of them ran all the way home from the top of the hill without stopping. That was when I decided I was better off taking them in two groups rather than all at once. Angus has moved inside for the winter. I really think he would have preferred to retire to Florida.
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| Angus the champ |
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