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.
  

The crew, Christian Taylor and Nicholas Guy, making the magic happen.

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!!!
  

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  

Snowy Day

Twain

It's been a beautiful snowy day in Cantwell.  We have over a foot of snow already, which has been really nice for the dogs.  It makes the trails softer on their feet and a little less bumpy for us.  Mike, Christian, and Nicholas have gone out to our training camp on the Denali Highway with 39 dogs.  They are still training in the truck.  The dogs will run 52 miles to camp, sleep for 6-8 hours and then run home.  I know that Mike is really impressed with all the dogs this year, but sometimes he mentions one or two who really stand out.  Last trip he reported that Bandit and Boone, both 2 year olds gave him the impression they could run forever effortlessly.  Their brother Bruiser tried to keep running down the highway when they let him loose after running 100 miles.

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.

Angus the champ

This is How We Roll

Summer in Denali

     Now that the snow has finally melted I've decide to spend my free time this summer helping those who have helped me, and to do what I can to get you all to visit Denali this summer.  

     

     Rick McMahan of Denali Fly Fishing http://www.denaliflyfishing.com was the first person to come on board when I signed up for last year's Iditarod.  Rick was not only instrumental in helping us with the substantial cost, he also was a big part in helping us acquire other sponsors, and he has gone out of his way to introduce us to the business community of the Denali Borough. The moral support he provided cannot be understated.  

     On a totally different note, for the past several years Rick has been involved with a program called Dine Out for Life. http://www.diningoutforlfe.com It's a program in which all of the proceeds from the meals sold at a participating restaurant on a specific evening are donated to the Alaska Interior Aids Association http://www.interioraids.org  This past spring Rick brought the first ever Dine Out for Life event to the Denali Borough, which was held at the 49th State Brewing CO. http://www.49statebrewing.com  It was well attended and I'm sure it will be bigger and better next year.  I'll post dates for next year's event as it approaches.  

     What I really enjoyed the most about my time with DFFG, which may not come across in the video, is how passionate this crew is about fishing.  Fishing is what these guys do, regardless of whether or not they are guiding.  Jared, who was my guide and instructor for the day and also one of my neighbors, is hardly ever seen without his waders on.  If you are in the Denali area this summer and you are looking for an authentic Alaskan experience give these guys a call.  I promise you won't regret it.                                                                                                                                              

 

    

A great day of fishing might have been exactly what I needed to concentrate on finishing my recount of this past year's Iditarod.

    

 Guest appearance by Wilson, Rick's dog

     Another great reason to visit Denali this summer, is the Cantwell Bluegrass festival, July 8th, 9th, + 10th, http://www.cantwellodgeak.com Mike and the crew at the Lodge have worked really hard this summer, to make this year's Bluegrass festival a big success.  They've built a brand new stage, and removed the old hotel off of the property opening up the viewing area a ton.  Hope to see you there!

Got to go play with my puppies, until the next time I hope you are having as much fun with your dog as I am with mine.  

     Mike

Down the Avenue and On Our Way to Yentna Station

       Over night, 4th Avenue relinquishes its familiar habits, and awakes as center stage for what many consider the greatest drama of the modern world, Iditarod.  Adventure, history, sport, challenge, spectacle, excitement, fear, thrill, accomplishment, sacrifice, attainment, controversy, relevance, love and hate.  Iditarod leaves no element of humanity untouched.  It is impossible for me driving to the staging area downtown, not to think of the personal journeys of everyone we encounter on our way, not only the mushers, but their spouses as well, their families and supporters, their handlers, the volunteers, the fans, the media, everyone who participates, imagine the story that could be told if only it were possible to chronicle how we all ended up here.

   Unfortunately, the only story I know is my own.  So, how did I end up here?  Well, I don’t have a very interesting answer to that question, but my mother does.  She has said all along that when I was young I fell off a horse, hit my head and haven’t been right since.  Don’t remember the event, but that might explain my dislike of horses, just can’t trust a prey species.

        For those of you who don’t know me well I’ll confess, I absolutely love the whole downtown thing.  I even love saying downtown, (sounds so Rat Packish. Question to self, why do I love Dean Martin so much?)  Maybe it’s because I live in a village of only a hundred people, (need to get out more.)  Or just maybe, it’s because my little brother is taller then me, was also a better athlete and a better student, or perhaps I’m just a big ham, but I love, love, love the attention, I love meeting new people, I love talking to people, and perhaps most importantly I love seeing people excited about something I’m passionate about, (even if they don’t get it.)  I’m also addicted to the way Caitlin looks at me when I’m about to step on the runners at the beginning of a race, (my baby really, really likes cowboys, but she LOVES me.)

    I’ve been on the Avenue every year since 2006, as a part of Jeff King’s entourage.  And although he never gave me the opportunity to drive the tag sled, (can you believe he actually made me run.) I cannot say that I didn’t get a first class education in regards to how this whole downtown thing works.  I felt right at home now that it was finally my turn, and enjoyed the experience all the more because of my past involvement.  Shades?  Check!  Sharpie? Check!  SHOW TIME!

        I’m a very visual individual, and stuff like dreams, visions, and memories usually come to me in high-definition 3D surround sound clarity, but as we worked our way up to the start line all I was receiving on the old brain wave station were still images.  Nothing but snap shots, glimpses of people I’d known or met over the years, places I had visited, dogs I’d driven, and a plethora of the more ridiculous situations I’d been in with dogs.  (book on that one coming, need another lifetime.)

        What would it take to get to Nome?  I didn’t know and as it turns out I guess I still don’t, but I do know what it has taken me to get here.  I can remember with crystal clarity the many, many sacrifices I’ve made over the years.  But, right here, right now, I wouldn’t change a thing.  Even all the dark cold morning trips to the outhouse seem worth it.     

       3, 2, 1, lift off.  I quickly glanced over my shoulder to verify if Lindsay was up right.  She was, relief.  Her million-dollar smile however wasn’t as fluid as it usually is.  It seemed to have a nervous rigidity to it with a slight twist of excitement.  Problem, she was driving my very new hardly tested Iditarod sled, which she had never driven, and I really wanted her to make it around with my sled remaining very new and untested.  Solution, what she needs is a distraction.  A hot dog?  Perfect!  I grabbed the wiener out of the spectator’s hand as we sped by.  I asked Lindsay if she was ready, she nodded.

      Now passing something, anything, from one sled to a second sled both moving forward at eleven miles an hour attached with an eight foot rope requires a rudimentary understanding of physics, (before you start assuming that I might be more learned then you would’ve thought, I’ll confess that I’ve never taken physics, but I have passed many objects, successfully and otherwise, from one sled to the other.)  All you really gotta do is have a little faith in a well respected phenomena known as gravity.  It’s all really simple, and much like a good golf shot, one must calculate wind speed, mass, force, and trajectory.  Having made my calculations, I lobbed the magic wiener, (bun ketchup and all,) straight up into the air with enough force to propel it’s mass, launching it on a trajectory, which would hopefully give it just enough hang time to allow her to basically, “catch up to it.”  She made a spectacular grab.  
  
    Whether or not she actually ate the hotdog I do not know, maybe, simply making the catch was all that was required, but her smile was now flowing as easily as the Jack River in July, and more importantly, her knees and elbows suddenly re-realized that they could bend and we were now a seriously cohesive unit.      

    My Iditarider Mike Smith was a lot more knowledgeable about sled dogs and the Iditarod then I would have guessed, I thoroughly enjoyed his company. We talked dogs, while tossing out gloves, ball caps, and ear bands supplied to me for the occasion from my sponsors, Ringer Gloves, http://ringersgloves.com  and Grainger Industrial supply http://www.grainger.com to the fans lining the trail.     

    To say that I was having a blast would be an understatement, but I’m confident that if anyone in Anchorage was having more fun then I was it was the twelve dogs I was driving.  The dogs I’m privileged to own all possess a certain, “joie de vie,” which is expressed whenever they encounter something new.  Anything, a loose dog, a dog team in front of us, a car, a pink elephant with it’s tail on fire, everything that is new is exciting.  The number of fans was enough to get them fired up.  When the crowd cheered, the dogs barked, the crowd cheered louder, they barked louder, the barking, (I call it trash talking,) can usually be attributed to a couple of individuals within the team, but it is contagious, and when one dog barks, the others feel like they have no choice but to join in.  The barking itself is now the new thing which needs to be celebrated.  How do a pack of half crazed sled dogs in peak physical condition celebrate?  They go like the devil’s horse hell bent on home.  That’s how.

The eleven mile trip from 4th Avenue over to the Campbell Airstrip provided my crew plenty of reasons to get excited.  A culvert, boom, fourth gear.  A pedestrian overpass, boom boom, fifth gear.  A  Martin Buser banner, kablam, wait a second, where did that gear come from?  I didn’t bother to time our trip, but we must have been really hauling a**, we passed three teams and beat my rig to the staging area by ten minutes.

In Willow on Sunday morning, I was feeling confident (some who were there might even say I was overly confident) however there are two reasons why I felt the way I did.  One,  well I never met a dog musher who ins’t confident, and two, the dogs were in great shape.  I’m positive that we had prepared (or conditioned) this team for the upcoming event remarkably well.  We had worked tirelessly over the past couple of weeks tending to their feet, and we also managed to get an extra pound on them while maintaining their appetites.

One of the absolute highlights of my Iditarod was the short trip from my truck up to the starting chute.  Caitlin had informed me that Brandon Lee, one of my neighbor’s boys, who we rely on throughout the season to cover dog chores and odd jobs around the kennel when we are away, was going to be at the restart.  Brandon is a great kid and an excellent worker, and I was really excited to be able to provide him with an armband that would grant him access to the staging area.  I initially thought that he’d get a kick out of helping us get the team to the start line.

As our time to go nearer I became a little worried about Brandon running up with our team.  He had never done this and he had never even been to a sled dog race.  Also, I had plenty of handlers and friends there who knew how this all worked.  What to do?  I told Brandon that I thought that we had plenty of folks to help with the team, but what I really needed was someone to ride the sled with me to help keep it under control.  His eyes lit up like a Vegas slot machine.  I had him stand on one runner, I on the other.  The wows started the second I pulled the hook and we began moving.  I’d bet that he managed to get in at least a hundred wows during our short trip, perforated with other expressions of excitement like “They’re crazy”  “This is sick”  (I think sick is good) and he even let a holy crap slip (don’t tell his parents please).  We got to the line and I thanked him for his help and off we went.

If there was one thing I was worried about it was getting lost on this first stretch.  There is a spiderweb of trails stemming from the surrounding communities of Big Lake, Wasilla, and Knik that access the river and I have gotten myself turned around on this particular trail system a couple of times over the years.  As it turns out I had nothing to worry about, because the party that started down in Anchorage was apparently just the warm up for today’s festivities.  Practically the entire trail from the start all the way up to Yentna and beyond was lined with people.  The trail was wide and, due to all the traffic, it was well put in which made for really easy going.  A great way to start the race.

We checked into Yentna station, where I turned in my bib, grabbed a bail of straw and off we went.  There were a few teams parked there.  There was anther team who had come in just in front of me also preparing to leave and another team approaching the checkpoint from behind.  I thought I had recognized a couple of teams around me, but it was too early to be concerned about the grand scheme of things.  However, I cannot say that I didn’t secretly wish to have access to my Iditarod Insider account.  Now that would’ve been cool, wouldn’t it?

The sun started to set soon after leaving Yentna, and the glow of the numerous bonfires could be seen for miles making it impossible to get lost.  I passed one bonfire, and a spectator yelled out, “Ten miles to Skwentna.”  I found a quiet spot off the trail a ways and camped.  I had planned all along to stop shy of the Skwentna checkpoint and then blow through it and head straight over to Finger Lake.

I felt that it was imperative not to put a long run on them straight out of the gate.  The dogs devoured their first meal of the race, which reaffirmed my race plan thus far.  The dogs, knowing the drill well, settled down for a nap.  I cooked a second meal that I would feed them just before we were ready to continue.  I prepared snacks for the next leg, then sprawled out on top of my sled for a little rest.  I had a hard time sleeping though, watching the headlamps of the many teams silently slipping up the trail.  Were they the teams I had seen parked earlier, now rested enough to skip Skwentna and camp somewhere shy of Finger?  Or were they the teams that started behind me making their initial run longer, planning to spend some time in Skwentna?  Impossible to know really, and practically impossible not to think about.  Just enough ways to slice this pie to make it interesting.

Until next time, WOOF.