Dog mushing in Yukon Territory, Canada
I have wanted to write about my experience in the Yukon Territory for some time now, but I guess I needed time to let the whole experience sink in. Running dogs in rural Yukon and checking out some of Alaska in winter. Seriously, sometimes I wonder how any of this happened…
It was late 2016 and life in the city had become pretty routine. Christmas and the New Year were fast approaching and I knew I was due an adventure of some sort. I turned to HelpX. My goal? To find that most Canadian of things — a husky kennel.
In truth, I hardly knew anything about the Yukon. I had seen pictures and I’d seen the same reaction from people time and time again. It was that longing sigh. Like their time there was magical and the mere mention of the place, evocative.
Quick facts: the Yukon is larger than California, or for my European friends, larger than Belgium, Denmark, the Netherlands AND Germany put together. What’s more, there’s only about 39,000 people living there. Take a minute to get your head around that one.
The wilderness and sparsity was just fine with me. It was what I needed.
Finding a kennel…
My first enquiry was to an off-grid kennel in Tagish. They wanted at least a three month commitment so I continued my search. Eventually I found a kennel in Mendenhall — a small community west of Whitehorse on the Alaska Highway.
There was very little information on the advert — just a short write-up and a name, Cindy. Still, it sounded like what I was looking forward, so I fired off a message and waited.
On January 4th, 2017, I took a direct flight to Whitehorse from Vancouver. Two and a bit hours later, I touched down. It was dark, cold, snowy and I was trepidatious. How was this going to go?
Cindy and Chris met me at the terminal and I was put at ease straight away. Cindy was super friendly, smiley and very chatty. Soon we sped off, heading for the Alaska Highway and their log cabin. The car journey was like a bizarre, video game-like ride. I couldn’t see anything in the darkness but I was assured that there were mountains all around.
A lone street lamp indicated that we had reached the community of Mendenhall. We took a right, then another, passing Irene’s cafe/bar/store. We headed up the road for about five minutes before pulling into the cabin. From what I could see it was very cute — a Swiss style chalet built by a German family. Stepping out of the car, some of the dogs stirred. Just the sound of them made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, but it was pitch dark and I could barely see them.
First day on the job…
I recall rising fairly early on my first day. It was still dark outside even though it was 8:30am. It wouldn’t get fully light until around 10am at this time of year. I was awoken by the dogs, but I didn’t mind. I couldn’t wait to get out there and greet them.
Cindy and I headed out. I can still remember the first time the back door was opened and I was greeted by Abbi and her pups; Trapper, Billie, Jesse, Bella and Pearl. “Wow!”, I said.
I was also greeted by the cold, about -16c on that day.
Cindy and I set about greeting many of the dogs in the main pen. We had let them out so they could have a run. Cindy instinctively knew who could be let out to roam with who, but we would later learn the hard way that the pack didn’t all get along.
Some of the dogs gave me a wide berth, some would come up for a sniff then would leave, indifferent, whilst some would jump all over me. It was very interesting to observe the different personalities and approaches of the dogs.
First job was to shovel poop. Not the most glamorous of jobs but something I would have to get used to doing daily. To be honest, it was a pleasure to do. The freezing cold would freeze the poop, so it wasn’t as grim as you might think. Plus, you got to say hello to all of the dogs, which more than made up for it. What a pleasure to walk around the pens and hang out with these gorgeous animals.
Cindy wanted to take the dogs out for a run that day, so that afternoon, we set about gathering the ten dogs that would head out. To give you a bit of background, Cindy would race periodically throughout the season in both the Yukon and Alaska. This was her passion. And boy did it show.
I was tasked with gathering some of the dogs into the shute. Not quite as easy as it sounds! Gilbert, or “Gilby” as I’d affectionately refer to him as, was a nuisance to catch.
Cindy would show me the harnessing process. Doing this wasn’t so bad because the dogs would be fairly calm at this stage. The fun began when we would start to add the dogs to the gang line. Cindy would always run the dogs in a certain order, which is to say, some dogs were good lead dogs, whereas other dogs were good powerhouses for the rear of the line. Others with stamina and discipline, perhaps better suited for the mid spots.
I can’t for one second describe the cacophony of noise before Cindy would release the snow hooks and snubline. It was wild. The dogs acted like they were possessed, such was their instinct to run and pull. This was what they were bread to do. But once she released them, silence. Here’s a video from the very first time I witnessed a takeoff:
My first outing as a musher…
Soon after returning with the dogs, and after we had fed them and put them back in their pens, Cindy asked if I wanted to run them the following day. I was quite surprised at how soon she was willing to let me pilot a team of her dogs, and naturally quite nervous about it too. It was what I was here to do however, so of course I accepted.
I spent that night thinking about it — would I be any good? What’s the worse that could happen?!
I feel like my journal notes best sum up my first experience on the sled:
Cindy and I got the dogs ready at about 11ish. I trailed behind her on the ski-doo whilst Cindy negotiated the two roads. Then it was my turn! I had no idea what to expect. Cindy had given me the basics but to be honest, not much sank in. Learn on the job!
Anyway — it was thrilling! So fun counterbalancing the sled and getting up to speed. Chuck in the awesome dogs and scenery and it was just magic. MAGIC! One of the thrills of my life, let alone Canada! What a privilege.
What I didn’t mention was that I fell off twice! Cindy would say “You’re not a real musher until you fall off.” This made me feel a whole lot better about things!
Several more outings would follow during my time at the kennel. One run that sticks out to me was a long, 50km run. We travelled adjacent to the Alaska Hwy, then took a right on to the frozen river. It is memorable for two reasons: the first was that I got the counterbalancing and turning down. This was where you would “dance” on the sled rails and step off to drag the sled around tight corners, as the dogs had a penchant for cutting them…
The second reason was the river ice had cracked due to melt water and expansion. I forget the term Cindy used to describe this process, but basically we were sledding through a foot of water. I thought it was mad at first — this couldn’t be safe. But I had faith in Cindy’s knowledge, and the dogs careered forwards, not caring one bit.
Alaska — Part 1
Cindy was a wonderful host, and knew what the bigger picture was when it came to my overall experience. Indeed, I think it may have been she who suggested popping down to Juneau, AK.
I drove myself and our two French helpers, Max and Angela, down to Skagway, AK. The driving conditions were terrible and visibility was very poor but we made it in one piece. Skagway was one of the gateway towns in the gold rush era. Prospectors would land and traverse the Chilkoot Trail in a bid to get to the gold in the Yukon. Prospectors of a different kind arrived in their droves these days…. Since the cruise ships pulled in during the summer, the downtown was well kept, with many gift shops.
My boat set sail at around 3pm. It would take 5–6 hours to get to Juneau and waiting for me the other end would be my Couchsurf hosts Mark and his wife, Elaine.
The scenery from the boat was stunning. We sailed past Haines through a corridor of jagged peaks, past remote islands; one of them long and thin with an attractive looking lighthouse. We docked at about 8pm and sure enough, there was Mark at the top of the ramp to greet me. Super.
Mark and I did a fabulous hike on my first day with a group he belonged to. The weather was very poor but everyone was stoic and in good spirits. The hike was up to the Juneau dam and began from the hospital car park. The hospital was encircled by thick forest and Bald Eagles circled above. I realised then just how close to nature Juneau was. Humans were the guests here.
Day two would take me to the stunning Mendenhall Glacier. A mere thirty minute walk from Mark’s place, this 50 mile giant was a treat for the eyes. I took a hike here and breathed it all in. Sublime.
My last day was spent exploring the quaint Juneau downtown before returning home for food and a movie night. I hit the jackpot with Mark and Elaine. They were wonderful, kind and genuine people. I enjoyed the chats we had immensely and enjoyed learning about their family history and how they came to be in Juneau, which still to this day is only accessible by air.
The Yukon Quest, 2017
My return to Mendenhall would coincide neatly with the The Yukon Quest, 2017 kicking off. A 1,000 mile sled dog race, about twenty teams would take on this gruelling expedition and that year it would depart from Whitehorse; conveniently just an hour down the road from us. It would end in Fairbanks, AK, with the top teams completing it in just ten days.
Teams were allowed a maximum of sixteen dogs, but had to finish with at least six pups. The route would cross open terrain, frozen rivers, and negotiate mountain passes. Unsurprisingly, the guys and girls that took part were made of stern stuff.
Our neighbour, Gaetan, a Belgian-Canadian, would be taking part in his second Quest with his team of Alaskan Huskies. They were gorgeous — some were jet black with piecing blue eyes. So, so beautiful. There were checkpoints all along the route up to Dawson City and we would follow the route (by car) and hopefully see many of the mushers (including Gaetan) arrive into Dawson.
We watched many of the mushers depart from Whitehorse. Many of the locals were there cheering them on and it was a real treat to watch. I should also say it was very cold! The mushers would have the best of the best gear but they would still have to cope with -50c at times. Retirements and frost bite were commonplace. Less common were accidents and dog fatalities, but on rare occasions, they did happen.
Indeed, one of the mushers lost a dog on the way to Dawson City. The news quickly spread around the community and ‘paddock’ . This really goes without saying, but the death of a dog hits these men and women very, very hard. One of the French competitors, the wonderful Sébastien Dos Santos Borges, was visibly upset at the checkpoint in Dawson City over the loss of his competitor’s dog. Whilst sad, I felt very honoured to have acquired this kind of close insight.
The eventual winner was Matt Hall, 26, of Alaska.
Zeus, what are you doing?!
The dog you see in the banner image is Zeus. Father to many of pups in the Cindy’s kennel, semi-retired sled dog and all round sweetheart. He was loud too — you could always hear him in the kennel.
Earlier I mentioned that some of the dogs didn’t mix. Whilst I’m no expert on doggy dynamics, quite clearly some of the younger males couldn’t mix with their elders. Cindy knew this — she was a skilled handler and was very sensitive to the dog’s needs. Yet, accidents happen and due to a mix up with a new helper, Zeus managed to mix with two of the younger males. A scuffle occurred and Zeus was bitten. He was rushed to the vet at midnight and we would later learn that the bite could so nearly have been fatal.
As luck would have it, he was soon home and was brought inside to rest and recuperate. Of course, once the drugs and pain subsided, he didn’t mind this one bit. As I eluded to earlier, the dogs loved humans and always wanted to be in with us to hang out, cause trouble, or both!
I for one bonded very closely with Zeus, which was funny because he wasn’t a pup I was drawn to on arrival. But in time, Zeus’s character really shone through. Like many of the huskies, he liked attention, but after a while would want to keep his own council. I noticed this was a common trait with the dogs. I would take him out for daily walks and always made a fuss of him. I felt like he deserved it after all that he’d been through.
Two and a half months into my stay, I had decided that it was time to move on. I had organised a ride share to Anchorage and would have a couple weeks there before flying back to Vancouver.
My ride share captain, Ralph, was arriving very early in the morning — 4:30am the clock said when I rose. The house was silent and only Zeus and Tonka stirred. I couldn’t hang around long, I couldn’t do the long goodbye, so I left quite hastily, using my phone as a makeshift torch. It was spooky taking the mile walk down to the highway where I’d meet Ralph.
About two thirds of the way there, I heard something approaching me, fast. I heard panting, I saw a shadow creep up behind me and spun round to see… Zeus! I was shocked and worried — had I left the door open?! What if Tonka got out? How could I return Zeus yet not be late for my ride? In any case, my heart melted. My favourite boy couldn’t let me go without one last goodbye!
I took a moment to compose myself and then came to the conclusion that I could walk Zeus down to meet Ralph, give him the low down on the situation, take Zeus back, then return. Thankfully Ralph was cool with this. So off I went, Zeus, collar in hand.
All the way back, I was nervous. I would have been mortified if anything happened to the dogs. I got back and deposited Zeus. I would quickly learn that Chris had let him out for a pee and he had chased me down the road.
After that stressful, yet very touching start to the day, it was time to hit the road to Anchorage…
Alaska — Part 2
The ride to Anchorage was beautiful but took soooo long. I was so glad to roll into Anchorage, some 24hrs post departure. I couldn’t really blame Ralph — he was towing an RV and couldn’t exactly floor it. That being said, he did drive very slow…
My host in Anchorage was the wonderful Margaret — a seasoned Couchsurf host and school councillor. She kindly met me at a local cafe and we headed back to her and her partner’s home. I really warmed to Margaret — she was talkative and we saw eye to eye on many topics. Including America’s crazy gun culture, but that’s another story…
My time in Anchorage was interesting. I was so very exhausting from my two and half months of working with the dogs, hiking, skiing, chopping wood, driving lots, visiting Juneau — the list goes on. I was so grateful for everything but the tank was on empty. Thankfully, Margaret and her pad came to the rescue. I took a few days out to recuperate, doing very little other than cook tasty food and play guitar. Perfect.
The Iditarod — “The last great race on earth” — even departed from Anchorage during my stay there, and what did I do? I watched it on TV! Did I feel any guilt for not attending to watch them depart Anchorage? Not one bit!
Later in the week I had organised a trip to Seward down on the Kenai Peninsula. This was mountain, whale, glacier and salmon territory at its finest. The drive there was gorgeous. My host on this occasion were Steph and Ryan. They had a quaint home with their dog, Oliver. I was very pleased to be in the company of another pup!
I enjoyed hanging out in Seward. The hiking and scenery were fabulous and the downtown was also cute. Next though, it was back to Anchorage for a few days before might flight. Another day, another Couchsurf host. I had been super fortunate with my hosts and Will and his family were no different. A credit to the community, he had welcomed literally hundreds of surfers from all over the world into his home. Indeed, it felt like my second home whilst I was there.
And then it was time to fly. My winter adventure was over. I was keen to get back to Vancouver and return to a “normal” life. To start work again and reconnect with my friends.
The Canadian north has left a profound mark on me. The community spirit in the Yukon is truly alive and well, and the dogs, well, where do I start? I catch myself thinking about them from time to time. It’s both sad and humbling to think I got to work in a kennel, so closely with these special animals.
Man’s best friend.
