Dog Sled Diary 2: Powder

Saturday, 21 January 2023, Sushana River cabin

I didn't expect to walk out the door and see my rental car covered in 3-4" of fresh, light snow. Would it prove capable of covering the six miles to Earth Song Lodge, where JJ waited for me? It did, and I arrived only a few minutes late.

With a day of training under my belt, I looked forward to the challenge of my own sled. Perhaps I felt a little cocky, ready to handle the eight dogs he'd harnessed for my team. It took all of 50 yards before I took my first spill, blasting any cocky attitude to smithereens. A few minutes later, I tipped the sled again. After a third fall soon after, JJ gave me good advice (no, he didn't say I should consider an adventure other than mushing): "If you feel the sled tilting left, push your body off to the right of the sled, using your weight to balance it and get it back on track."

That seemed to work for me. "See," he continued, "the new snow has made the trail slightly crowned, curving off on either side. Unless you can get in the center, you'll start to tip."

For another change, JJ disabled the pad brake.

"With all this fresh snow, it would just collect on the pad and get in the way. You'll have to rely on the bar brake today."

One thing I noticed - the kind of thing you don't normally think about. What does a dog do when the team is underway, the lead dogs setting the pace, and one of the others has just finished, err, processing breakfast? Tied into the team, they can't stop and squat. Instead, they adopt a waddling sort of squat-stride as they discharge their trail apples while moving along, then take to loping again.

We quickly found ourselves gliding across the winter wonderland, and I went miles with no mishaps.

The snow flurries quickly died, leaving gray light with clouds smothering the foothills. We made progress across the bleak plains and through forested passageways. JJ led the way, with me trailing. However, I spent much of the time stomping on the bar brake to keep from overtaking JJ. In a Marvel Universe, it was as if JJ had Antman and Spiderman while I had Captain America and the Hulk. After half an hour of this, JJ called a stop and switched a few dogs with my team. That worked better, and we made good time to the Savage River.

Sixteen miles down, ten more to go!

As we crossed the river and climbed the other side, we encountered ice as we zig-zagged through the trees. That combination, along with the first vestiges of fatigue, proved beyond my still-developing skills. In short order, I found myself falling from the sled another four times. So training day resembled a high-school track meet, and today is the Olympics. And I'm Eddie the Eagle.

At the top - only eight miles to go! - we stopped for a short, restorative break.

"It's basically downhill from here to the cabin," JJ promised, "but be sure to keep your hood on, since we have to cross a wide-open expanse and will get some wind chill."

Before we got there, we crossed another lightly-wooded area. The clouds had risen, opening small patches of blue sky. Ahead of us, we saw the growing, dusky colors of an extended sunset. For the first time today, shadows appeared!

As JJ had warned, soon the white expanse - no trees! - opened up. (I found out later we had crossed the frozen Big Lake.) Once beyond the lake's shores, I could see how the wind had scoured the land, exposing grasses and brush. At other points, drifts had piled up. The dogs had to work doubly hard to cut though snow piled as tall as they were!

As the sun sunk further, the light flattened, making it difficult to discern any features in the white land. Still the dogs pressed on. When I took my final fall of the day, it took me a few moments to summon the energy to stand up and mount the runners again. But a few minutes later, the cabin hove into view.

I'd survived!

The cabin was spartan but comfortable. No bigger than 20'x20', it featured a bunk bed, a couch on one side, a table beneath the window opposite the door, kitchen shelves and a propane stove against the other wall, and a wood-burning stove for heat. Hooks and clothespins on a line allowed us to hang gear to dry.

The cabin door didn't even reach my shoulder, forcing us to bend deeply to get in or out. But it warmed up quickly once JJ got the wood-burning stove blazing.

It had taken us five-and-a-half hours (11:15-4:45) to travel the 26 miles to the cabin. JJ explained, "The conditions really made it difficult today, having to break trails through the snow. On a normal day, it'd take only three-and-a-half hours. But I'm very pleased with how the dogs handled it." He showed me the map of the terrain we'd covered, courtesy of his GPS watch.

JJ kept busy attending to the dogs (he let Liger sleep in the cabin both nights), and cutting ice from the river twenty yards away for our drinking water,

then whipped up a delicious pasta dinner. Later, after returning from his rounds, he announced that the skies had cleared and the Northern Lights were showing. I grabbed my jacket and camera and headed out into the -20° night to see for myself.

Not one of the stupendous displays you see pictures of, but a faint glow on the northern horizon, as if city lights were reflecting in the sky. But here - no city to shine!

Interview Part II: on the cabin...

This cabin - does Jon (the owner of the dogsled company) own it? Yes, he does. Another cabin near here is owned by another guide; one cabin on the park boundary is used by the park patrol; yet another is owned by a private party.

How often is the cabin used? I'd guess we bring 15 people max in here in a typical winter - not as much as we used to.

Is it only used for dogsledding trips? We have used them during the summer - but it's an arduous hike to get in here. From the National Park, it starts with a 2000' climb before dropping down to the river. All put, the hike runs a dozen miles or more. So it's quite a challenge.

Who keeps this place up and running? The guides do. We'll come in to cut and stack firewood, so it's available when we have guests. A couple of days ago, I used the snowmobile to bring in that couch you're sitting on, and hauled the old one out.

What happens if you have two or three guests plus a guide or two? Where would everyone sleep? I would let the guests have the cabin. I have a sleeping bag rated to 50 below, and I would roll it out on the porch. On colder nights, two or three of my dogs will cuddle next to me for warmth. Yeah, that's where the phrase 'three-dog night' comes from.