FORT KENT, Maine — Earlier this summer I had cause to pause and reflect on A) why, after earlier this year saying otherwise, I was staying in mushing, and B) what on earth possessed me to get into the insanity that is dogsledding in the first place.
These questions were posed as part of an interview conducted by Steve Inskeep of National Public Radio’s Morning Edition that aired last month.
As I have said before, there is kibble where my brains should be. At some point last winter I decided I wanted to run the 2015 Can Am Crown 30-mile sled dog race which, in turn, meant some new blood was needed for the Rusty Metal Kennel team.
Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to introduce my newest leader, Mars, and team dogs, Pi and Torus.
All three are Alaskan Huskies from Lone Wolf Guiding Services outside of Greenville and will form the core of my Can Am team.
The veteran Rusty Metal dogs welcomed the newcomers with excited barks and wagging tails and the introductions were enthusiastic.
Perhaps a bit too enthusiastic.
After being here just two days, Torus managed to slip free for a little one-on-one time with all the other dogs.
Now, a loose sled dog is a musher’s nightmare, especially if it’s a new dog who really has not had time to learn this is its new home.
Luckily Torus was far more interested in the meet and greets than running off, but it still took a bit of time to capture him given a sled dog’s uncanny ability to somehow have every part of its body pressed against you for petting, but manage to keep the part with the collar just out of reach.
Eventually, I was able to grab the collar and was just congratulating myself when Torus decided he wanted to go for a walk and thus gave me an inkling of what I was in for when I harnessed these new dogs up.
He whipped his head around and that motion alone pulled me off both feet and I suddenly found myself face down, being dragged across the driveway.
Yes, I thought, I am definitely getting too old for this.
Eventually I got us stopped, myself back on two feet and Torus back to his spot in the kennel.
The rest of the summer was spent hanging out with the dogs, getting to know them and talking about the upcoming race training strategy.
Finally, last week the temperatures in northern Maine were cool enough to hook up a team for the first run of the season.
Not unlike a parent laying out their child’s clothes and supplies the night before the first day of school, I organized all the harnesses, untangled the gangline and made sure the ATV was gassed up and ready to go.
Six of the 10 Rusty Metal dogs were selected for this maiden run and, after having all summer off, there was a lot of doggy energy to control.
One by one I took the dogs to the picket line, harnessed them and attached them to the gangline connected to the ATV.
The process this early in the season was really slightly controlled bedlam, as the dogs jumped, pulled and lunged their way from the dog yard to the picket line.
Eventually, as I add more and more runs, they will calm down. At least, that’s my hope. For the time being, I’m just happy if my arm stays in the shoulder socket after each dog drags me from the kennel.
The barks were deafening as I started the ATV’s engine, took a deep breath, offered up a silent prayer to whatever gods protect fools and mushers and gave the command, “All right, let’s go!”
We were off on our big 3.5-mile start-of-the-season training run, which lasted roughly 25 minutes, about a third of the time it took us to get ready.
But it’s a start.
To date we are up to about 20 total training miles on our way to the roughly 650 miles I’d like to have on the team when we take off down Main Street in Fort Kent at the start of the Can Am just under six months from now.
This translates into months of early mornings in frigid temperatures making sure the dogs are properly hydrated for running. It also means countless hours spent being bounced around on an ATV with next-to-no suspension and then, when the snows come, standing on the dog sled runners or hanging on for dear life those times it flips over and I find myself being dragged face down. This is when ibuprofen becomes one of my main food groups.
My fingers will start to crack and bleed from working gloveless with cold, metal clips on gangline.
I will obsess about the dogs’ feet and their overall conditioning as I count every kilocalorie they eat while calculating percentages of protein to fat in their daily diets.
Hours will be spent first tapping down the training trails on snowshoes and then grooming them with a snowmobile and praying I don’t get it stuck in a snowdrift.
I’ll watch my bank account go down as dog food is delivered by the pallet and required gear is repaired or replaced.
Why do all this?
Honestly, I’ve not the foggiest idea.
Julia Bayly of Fort Kent is an award-winning writer and photographer who writes part time for Bangor Daily News. Her column appears here every other Friday. She can be reached by email at jbayly@bangordailynews.com.
