I also decided to take the one hundred and twenty pounds of dog food out my sled that I use to weigh it down, and start practicing with the real items that I’ll be using for  upcoming races.  An action packer filled with my Wiggy’s -40 sleeping bag and parka and a cooker was what I was able to fit into the sled; total weight, less that thirty pounds. I didn’t bring dog food, dog jackets (I don’t have any yet), or an ax and snow shoes (required item in races).  Even with those items, and some extra, I can’t imagine the weight of my sled adding up to one hundred and twenty pounds.

Hookup was a nightmare! Daniel figured out how to unclip the gate and was running around the yard saying “I want to go! Take me! Take me!” Ahab ate the harness he was wearing– the one that I just sewed. Capella chewed Shrek’s neckline and someone chewed Phanty’s neckline. Ahab chewed his tug line.  I replaced the chewed lines and put another harness on Ahab. In order to hook up Nikki I had to let Roo out of her pen and she said “Rah Rah Rah I’m going to put Nikki’s head in my mouth and run up and down the street for a while.” After catching, harnessing, and hooking up Nikki and caught Roo and put her in her pen. I was ready to go, and said so “Ready, let’s go.”

I guess it was the lack of weight in my sled, or perhaps how I packed it, but as soon as I released my snub line the sled and I tipped over.  I felt one of the hooks ( I carry two) hit my head. I felt blood run into my mouth. It didn’t hurt but I couldn’t see out of my eye. “Whoaaaaaa,” I said as the team dragged me and the tipped sled down the street, “whoaaaaaa.” They didn’t whoa. I tried putting the hook into snow, but since were were on the road there wasn’t any snow to hook into. I watched the  hook bounce around and pushed it away from my head. I didn’t want to get impaled by it.

“Whoaaaaa, I said as we rounded the ninety degree turn onto the trail (the turn that I’ve been regularly dumping on). Finally they stopped. The ice hook placed itself into the snow. Now the trick was to right the sled and reach down for the hook. I was using one of Greg’s hooks and the line is a little long. The dogs were crazy wanting to go. “Whoaaaaa!” I said, “F*ing whoaaaa. Chill out.” I inched the sled over to the hook and then righted the sled, took a quick picture to send to Greg so he knew that all was not okay, and pulled the hook out of the snow. We took the shortest route home, 7 miles. I thought about mushing thirty five– the amount I originally intended, but since I had blood dripping from my head thought perhaps I should go home to take a look.

On the way home, I looked for the flashlight that fell off my head after falling/dragging, but didn’t find it. I called Greg from my cell and told him I was injured. He said he’d leave work and would be home in around and hour. We arrived home without incident. I put all the dogs away, went inside, and washed the blood off my face. I was thankful that the 1.5″ long gash is thin enough that it didn’t need stitches, although it’s still bleeding six hours after getting cut.

Greg took a look at the photo I tried to send him and asked me if I wanted some brains to eat? “Huh?” I replied. “You look like a zombie!”

Ice hook gash to the eyebrow.

After partying the dogs, I decided to take the four wheeler to look for Sam. I was convinced that Sammie was caught in a trap. I knew there were some traps by the Pot-latch Bridge and by the Dyke. I headed out prepared…had my cell phone, GPS, and some tool thingies (pliers maybe?). Greg and I walked the trail yesterday, so knew where the bad spots were and my plan was to leave the ATV when it got really bad (meaning muddy, marshy, impassable).

Everything was going well, until I hit a bog. Since I had my phone, I called Greg (who is out of town). His suggestion was to tie eight or nine dogs to myself and go for a drag (that’s what I did the last time the 4 wheeler got stuck).  It was just about 9pm, so I decided to call my wonderful neighbors Scott and Maureen. As usual, they came out to rescue me. I thanked them and told them I was going to walk to the Pot-latch and Dyke.

They went home, I went on my extended walk/run, and I didn’t find Sam. I saw bear poop, wolf poop, lots of moose tracks (but surprisingly no moose poop), and unfortunately, no Sam poop.

Here are some pics of the 4 wheeler and flowers.

Stuck in the Mud

Stuck in the Mud

Another 100 yards, and Nicki suddenly ran ahead. I saw a mother and baby moose cross the path, then the mother ran left and the baby ran right. Nicki ran after the baby. Immediately, I heard some sounds that were a little like goats, sort of “mmaaahhh, mmaaaahhhhh.” Another second or two, and I caught up with Nicki. She was just off the trail, and had grabbed the baby moose by the neck and was shaking it. I yelled “no,” and went to grab Nicki by the collar. She backed away, then bit the moose on the haunch. All the time, the baby was calling, “mmaaahhh, mmaaaahhhh” and was looking at me with big brown eyes full of fear. I heard the mother in the woods behind me, but she was (I think) afraid of me, and didn’t come close.

I caught Nicki’s collar and lifter her off the moose. The moose immediately ran away, and I hooked Nicki to the leash again. The baby was gone, though I could hear the mother moving around in the woods behind me. I yelled out an apology to the baby & mother, and we left. Total elapsed time was maybe 15 seconds.

Although the baby almost certainly got some puncture wounds, I did not see any blood or torn skin. I hope infection doesn’t set in, since otherwise there didn’t appear to be any life-threatening injuries. We passed the same spot on the way back, an hour later, and there was no sign of either moose.

Two days earlier, I had seen a mother and adolescent moose about a mile further up the trail. After the incident with the baby, maybe 15 minutes later, I saw at least one of the moose in the same area as the earlier day. So, there were at least three moose out that day. I think the baby was 3-5 weeks old. Not much bigger than one of our dogs (maybe 70 pounds?), it had a full coat of hair. It was standing fairly upright and had substantial legs, versus newborns that are very spindly, and seem to not be standing fully upright.

This was a nature encounter I would rather have not had. It looks like I’ll be keeping dogs on the leash, even when we’re in the deep woods. We did hear report of bear sightings in Chena Lakes, which is at the other end of my run if I do the fully 12-mile loop. Plus, there are wolf signs. Many pheasants, squirrels, and hare. Plenty of distraction, and some associated dangers.

Today was the first run with 12 dogs (versus 10) and on the RatStack/Mullen’s Slough route. We’ve been doing a 12 mile loop for two weeks. Sunday afternoon is a popular time to mush in our area, with lots of folks who don’t get out regularly during the week. It’s great to see the neighborhood, though not everyone knows some of the basic trail rules.

A case in point was that I came upon two people with an ATV and 6 or so dogs. They had driven their truck to the winter trail intersection from an access trail. It’s not my access trail, so I don’t know how far it is or over what conditions, but it was a surprising sight to see a truck there. I’ve never seen anything motorized on the winter trail except for snowmachines and ATVs.

My team was going fairly quickly (this is nearly 3 miles from our house, so they still had plenty of ya-yas at that point), and I needed to slow down to avoid overrunning the ATV team. They must have seen me when they started (when I was 50 yards from their truck), but went ahead. I called for trail, to pass them, but they didn’t hear or ignored me.

Neighbor and uber-musher Mike King pulled up behind me with his team. We were all waiting to pass. It was about 20 minutes — really — before they finally got a clue and pulled over. I asked them to hold their leaders, but instead they drove for another few minutes and tried again. This time, holding their leaders.

Trail passing etiquette for passing from behind is, essentially, that the team in front should pull over at first opportunity, set a brake, and hold their lead dogs to the side of the trail so the trailing team can pass. Then, to not pass again immediately, since being passed tends to energize dogs. Those folks didn’t seem to know about such things, and clearly weren’t keeping much of an eye on the trail behind them.

Anyway, I called out my thanks, and a warning that another team was behind me, and continued on. Another few miles and after crossing Pheasant Farm Road, my mush was going well. The team knows that section of trail, but hadn’t been there all season. After a steep downhill, we dropped onto the slough. This is a cross between a marsh and a river and a pond. Not a good place to try to get through in the summer, but during the winter there is a trail that drops on and off the ice, and crosses through some woods. Some TRDMA races go through there. Maybe the Yukon Quest does, too.

The trail was in, though not very well used. I followed it, and in an open field area Chester (my trusty loose leader) spun off and headed towards a cow & adolescent moose. Moose! No, it wasn’t too perilous. The team saw the moose, but they saw us and wandered off into the woods before we got there. We were within 200 feet or so, and Chester got close enough to say “hi,” but then we were past.

Another mile or so along the slough, towards the end where we get back onto Pheasant Farm Road (which at that point is more of a logging road), there was a tight right turn up a hill, and a small fallen tree across the trail. Suddenly, after following a trail all that way, there wasn’t any more trail. Maybe the main trail veered off without me noticing.

More importantly, the dogs went under the branch, down the other side, and immediately fell through the ice over the slough. Yep, the stinkypups got another bath!! It was surprising to me to find this thin ice, since everything so far had been solid. (For those who remember my bath from 2006: I’ve crossed that section many times, and the ice is totally solid and well used.)

I was wrestling with the branch, the dogs were swimming and trying to get through. It was an opening about the size of a kitchen table, or a bit bigger. I was thinking of trying to drag everyone up and back the way we came, but as I wrestled with the branch they kept pulling me forward, and eventually I got free of the branch, they leapt forward out of the water, and I was pulled in. My sled got a little sideways, and I was up to my waist in very cold, muddy, stinky water. I got the dogs to keep going, although they fell through the ice again, in a smaller hole, 15 yards ahead.

I told them “lets go” and held onto the sled, getting it right side up, to let them drag me through. Rather than trying to stand on the thin ice, or get up on my runners, I let them drag me along the ice (spreading out my weight). This worked, and we made it through the other side. I needed to untangle a few dogs once we were on a small bit of land (just a 15 foot section between parts of the slough), but otherwise nobody seemed any worse for wear.

Ahead, I could see a much wider part of the slough with a trail on it, which we joined. The rest of the mush was without incident. I’m sure there are some locals who can tell me about a current, or hot spring, or something similar that keeps that small section from freezing as early as the rest, but it was a surprise to me and the stinkypups. I’ve been through there this time of year before, without any problem. It might be that we would have made it through, if we didn’t have the additional downward momentum created by stopping on the tree branch. Or maybe my sled would have broken through, but not the dogs.

We passed Mike again on the way home (he had taken a different route). While the dogs do OK after getting wet, especially in the balmy 10 degrees Fahrenheit, when this all happened, I was soaked completely in both boots/socks, all of my right side to my waist, and most of my left side. Also both hands/arms.

The cool part is that once I was out of the cold water, I did not get cold for quite some time. My Apocalypse Design snow suit, heavy weight Apocalypse fleece pants, Patagonia expedition weight mountaineering socks, Baffin Design boots all did a great job.

Special thanks to my mittens, made by our neighbor Maureen. These are fleece outside and in, and either fleece or foam interior. These were totally soaked. I squeezed them out, and put them on. And they kept me warm, the whole way home! Amazing stuff…completely wet, and literally freezing solid on the outside, and my fingers were reasonably toasty for 45 minutes or so.

Back home, my pants and boots had started to freeze solid, and were quite heavy. My frozen mitts, coupled with the frozen clips and harnesses on the dogs, meant I needed to use my bare hands to unclip the dogs. (A technique for a frozen brass clip is to hold them in your bare hand for a few seconds, to thaw them.) Since it was 10 degrees above zero, this wasn’t as bad as it might seem….below-zero temps would have made this whole exercise much more perilous.

Ilana came out and finished up the dog care, and I squeegeed myself and my gear off, to get ready for another day.

For the record, my team was: Chester as loose leader, leaders were Chevy & Decker, Nicki & Roo, Storm & Rocket, Luke & Spike, Ahab & Higgs, with Simba and Rattles in wheel.

Greg took the Z-team for a 12 mile mush on the South side– he was able to avoid the Quest mushers all together. He had a hard time getting the dogs to go haw out of the yard (we’ve only been going gee this year). Once he got them to go haw everything was fine.

Oh I almost forgot, my moose encounter. Right after Greg helped me across the street in the daylight (yeah, he helped me across on my way out, but I was too cool to radio him for help on the way back), we saw a moose on the trail. I yelled to it that we were coming and we basically chased it down the trail until it disappeared into the brush.

My second biggest personal fear is a moose encounter. On the night of Wednesday February 28, I had a moose encounter. This encounter ended without any injury, but had plenty of peril and almost-peril.

It was around 10:00 pm, with a temperature of about -25F. I was heading for the Jenny M. hill in the Two Rivers area, about a 19-mile loop that, with some variations, is one of our main winter excursions. Frankie and Storm were in the lead, followed by Nicki & Dekker, Monkey & Red, Higgs & Asa, Roo & Peetie, then Simba & Rattles. Chester was a loose leader (or follower, wherever inspiration took him).

We were moving at a reasonable pace, around 12 mph. The moon wasn’t up in the sky yet. We were heading along the winter trail (part of the Yukon Quest trail), and I had just crossed Pheasant Farm Road. There’s a little access trail that leads to a large field. Heading straight across the field gets on Baseline Road and towards the Pleasant Valley area. Our usual route is to cross the field, then bear right just before Baseline Road. Past a fellow’s house with several airplanes, then down a steep hill, to a slough that leads towards the back side of Jenny M. hill.

Just before the field, I saw four deep orange reflectors ahead of me — maybe 50 feet ahead. I was thinking it was another team, then some snow machines, then some of those orange reflectors that mark several trails in the area. I jumped on the drag pad while thinking all of these thoughts. My thought process arrived at “moose” around the same time the lead dogs arrived. It only took an instant, while I was stopping, for the dogs to reach the moose. Mooses. Alces alces gigas, to be precise.

It was a mother cow moose and her baby, probably a yearling, standing right in the middle of the trail. The mom was typical moose size: big. The baby was nearly as big. They were both straight ahead of me, and staring at me and the team. I had stopped so that Frankie & Storm were mere inches from the mom’s front legs.

Without thinking or planning to, I yelled at the top of my lungs, “F*CKING WORST CASE SCENARIO!!! DOGS!!! IT’S A F*CKING MOOSE!!!” I might have yelled a few other things after that.

By the time I had yelled the first word or two, my vision was obscured from the big breath cloud from the dog team. This is a phenomenon I’d noticed many times…stopping on the trail results in a cloud of collective dog breath. The team had bunched up a bit, and maybe some moose breath contributed to the cloud. Suddenly I couldn’t really see the moose, or my lead dogs! It was like a thick fog rolled in.

I had a few seconds to think of setting my ice hook and running up to try to do something. Some piece of my mind was wondering whether I had an axe in my sled bag (we never carry a gun — or even own one). As the fog cleared, the cow moose had moved closer. The baby had moved off to the side, out of the immediate picture.

The cow sort of snorted (not quite a bellow) a few times, and jumped / walked / stomped forward, up between Nicki/Dekker and Monkey/Pumpkin. The dogs were not barking, but were definitely paying attention. It had all happened so quickly that they were just starting to form a curious circle around the moose.

Was the moose stomping the dogs? That’s the biggest danger with a dog team. Moose are known to be cranky, especially later in the winter when food is scarce. Wolves are their only natural predator in the winter (bears are predators on moose, but hibernate during the winter. People and automobiles might also be included as predators). To a moose, a dog probably looks a whole lot like a wolf. And a team of dogs must seem similar to a pack of wolves.

The moose missed. None of the dogs got stomped, and the cow moose sort of shuffled off to the side rather than staying in the middle of the team. I could hear its hooves and its breath, maybe 20 feet in front of me. As soon as it was out of the way, I yelled some more. “Frankie, Storm: Ready, let’s go!!” The dogs went. It hadn’t even been 30 seconds. I actually ducked as I went by the cow moose, five feet to my right. If it were upset, it could have done something to me as I passed (according to the encyclopedia, female moose aggressive behaviors include kicking).

We were past! I looked back to see whether there was pursuit, and to check on Chester. I went forward about 200 feet, to the start of the open field, and stopped the team. At that point, I didn’t know whether dogs were stomped or otherwise injured or in trouble.

The whole team started looking and moving to the right, with Frankie & Storm actually starting to take a 90 degree right turn. ANOTHER F*CKING MOOSE!!! I couldn’t believe it.

This must have been the twin of the prior baby, or maybe it was offspring from the prior year. The team decided they wanted to investigate. This time, the moose was about 20 feet to the right, and like its other family members seemed more surprised than anything else. It didn’t make any move towards or away from us, and with a little more yelling I got the team to start moving in the right direction (away from these oversize deer creatures!).

Another few hundred feet and I stopped, fully in the open field. I looked around several times while I tended to the team, keeping an eye out for more moose family members (cousins, uncles…). Nobody was hurt at all, or even touched as far as I could see. Two necklines were unclipped (how did that happen?) and a couple of dogs needed their tuglines untangled, but no harm was done. Chester came running up from behind. All was well.

I have a few theories about the moose family. First is that they are a family. Young moose are born around May, and stay with their mothers for a year. Prior years’ offspring might also hang around. Twinning is fairly common if nutrition is good.

The moose I think was the mom was definitely larger than the others. Alaskan moose are the largest type in the world, with females easily over 800 pounds and 2 meters at the shoulder. When I went by it on the sled, it was looking down at me (aided by my ducking). The young moose I encountered first was still big, but not as big as mom (I’d say about 2/3 the height). I didn’t get close enough to the second offspring to tell whether it was the same size (a twin) or full-sized (a prior year’s offspring). Moose bulls and cows tend not to travel together, so I don’t think it was dad.

My reasoning for why the moose didn’t attack is as follows. First, it was quite surprised, and the whole encounter was over in just a few seconds. It didn’t have much time to start an attack, and the dogs weren’t showing any aggressive behaviors (like snarling, barking, and posturing).

Second, there was a young moose there, and the dogs were not paying much attention to it. Moose, like many other creatures, are known to attack when their young are threatened.

Third, this was basically a neighborhood moose (the natural range for a moose is only a few square miles. I’ve probably seen the same moose on other occasions, and passed it without seeing it at times, too). One of its most common everyday experiences, no doubt, is browsing for food near dog yards. In the dog yards of Two Rivers, Alaska, you’ll find any number of dogs (from a few to over a hundred), all chained and/or fenced. These dogs might get loud, but they have no opportunity to attack a moose.

If it were a cranky solitary bull moose, a little later in the season, the outcome might have been different. Deeper snow can lead moose to follow the trails, which they typically don’t do very much otherwise (trails might be convenient for a moose, but aren’t useful if there’s no food left on the trees and brush along the trails).

What could I have done if the moose started to attack the dogs? The plan forming in my mind when I first saw the moose directly in front of my lead dogs was to run to the front of the team, and try to use the gangline to pull the team forward, away from the moose. I was also ready to try to challenge the moose, to try to scare it away. These were, no doubt, stupid and futile ideas.

The final piece of my theory about the positive outcome is that the moose noticed the dogs, but also had a loud human, with a bright light, heading towards it. Maybe my first instinct, to yell loudly, served to give the moose second thoughts about any sort of aggression.

We finished the run without further encounters, and I made another check of the dogs when we got home. Everyone was fine, and we all slept soundly, with only a few scary visions of huge moose feet, the sound of the moose snorting and shuffling, and the thump of those feet hitting the packed snow of the trail.

Ilana was busy with something else, so we didn’t have a detailed discussion about the plans. Greg headed out to the winter trail, went east (towards the Pleasant Valley store), and kept going. Other than a bit puddle, the trail was in good shape, and there were four-wheeler tracks and a few sled tracks everywhere. Lots of other mushers had decided to hit the trails that day.

Greg decided to do a 12-mile loop. It’s a little long for early training, but everyone except Rattles was pulling fine and full of energy. This loop heads straight east for about 6 miles, then goes southward for a few miles, then heads back west down some nice loop-de-loo hills on a trail between two lakes.

About 10.5 miles along the loop, headed toward the home stretch, the dogs led Greg across some ice between the two lakes. About 3/4 miles before, the last pre-existing tracks ended — Greg was the first one through. The reason became obvious when all 8 dogs and the four-wheeler, with Greg on it, fell through some ice into the water.

It turns out the area between the lakes, which was basically a pond, hadn’t really frozen, and in addition to thin ice there was open water. The four-wheeler fell in quite close to the shore, in nearly four feet of water (up to Greg’s hips). The ice was over three inches thick where the four-wheeler fell through, but thinner where the dogs fell through (further out in to the pond).

All the dogs were over their heads and swimming (still attached to their tug lines), and the four-wheeler was nearly entirely underwater, and quickly stalled.

Peril was imminent! After just a few seconds of trying to run the four-wheeler, Greg unhitched all of the dogs, throwing them up on the bank, out of the water. He then tried to pull the four-wheeler out (while up to his waist in icy water), but after a few minutes pulled himself out of the water to assess the situation.

The situation was not good. Six out of eight dogs were running around, wet and happy (they thought this little bath was all part of the plan). Air temperature was about 30 degrees (F), so there was not serious danger of immediate icing over for Greg or the dogs, but it was still wet and uncomfortable. Also very, very heavy — Sorel “Glacier” boots and insulated Carharts, our typical early-season winter-wear, can absorb many pounds of cold water.

For over an hour, Greg alternated between going back into the water to try to get the four-wheeler out, and exploring possible forward trails to get the dogs home by going 1.5 miles forward, rather than 10.5 miles backward.

Neither quest was successful.

Forward, the trail went to an even larger expanse of open water. Funny how, during the winter, it’s not even obvious that the trail goes across so much water. After exploring some alternate paths, doing some bushwacking, Greg found some stream crossings of only a few feet of open water. But the six remaining dogs weren’t falling for that trick again — they didn’t want to cross. Nicki and Rattles had already left, either to go home or to find a quiet place to curl up and nap.

The four-wheeler had fallen down a short bank, and Greg couldn’t pull it back up onto shore. He got it into “only” 2.5 feet of water, but that was all.

The only thing left was to take the six dogs home, the way they had come in: 10.5 miles back along the loop. Greg squeegeed his pants and boots as best he was able, and began the long trudge home. Eating snow constantly to stay hydrated, he trotted part of the time, and managed to keep quite warm.

Meanwhile, back at Stinkypup Kennel, Ilana had raised the neighbors to look for Greg. Greg left at 5:30 pm, and Rattles and Nicki came back alone at 8:30 pm, soaking wet. Clearly not a good sign. Ilana went out for a ski, but didn’t really know which way to go, and didn’t suspect that Greg had taken such a long mush. The turn to the end of the loop, which was less than one mile from the main trail, had unbroken snow. Ilana didn’t go that way, and didn’t go the extra miles around the long way.

The neighbors helped in the search with their four-wheeler, but also never quite went far enough. Finally, Greg arrived home, exhausted, at 1:30 am. Bad timing had him crossing paths with Ilana and the neighbors just 1/2 mile from home, but when they were looking up a side trail.

Simba and Decker, meanwhile, gave up on Greg’s slow trudging home, and ran on ahead. He arrived with Frankie, Roo, Monkey and Pumpkin. Everyone had a good dinner, tried to warm up, and went to bed.

The next day, Greg went back with the neighbor to pull out the four-wheeler, using a winch. It didn’t start, probably due to a wet starter. We’ll go back and rescue it another time, once the ice freezes sufficiently to tow it home the short way.

The race was a ‘mass start.’ This meant that there wasn’t a fixed order of racers; instead, when the race marshal dropped his hat the musher and passenger were allowed to harness the dogs, put them on the gang line, and go. Greg and I weren’t in a rush to leave first– we took our time and we ended up being the last ones out.

It was a beautiful day. A little warm for the dogs (20+ ?), but a great day to be out and about. The trail was a little soft, but the dogs didn’t mind. Pretty soon we got to the Colorado Creek overflow. An overflow is when water is on top of ice, due to melting, or pressure from the ice moving downward. This particular overflow was pretty bad– cold and slushy and wet! I jumped out of the sled before crossing, so my entire body didn’t get wet. The dogs hesitantly ran through the slushy water which came up to their bellies. Greg pushed the sled and I caught up with him. The water had totally soaked our feet (note to self: wear bunny boots and not sorrels!). But overall, it wasn’t too bad and it was a good learning experience for us and the dogs.

We traveled on, and eventually crossed an open stream and then arrived at Angel Creek. We rested and fed the dogs. Unfortunately, our dogs are still green and don’t know how to rest.

Our trip back was uneventful, until we got to the overflow, which had opened up. The plan was I would push the sled and Greg would meet me at the other side. I told the dogs “ready, let’s go” and they ran into the overflow. The sled was submerged in icy water, as were the dogs. Greg ran in to pull the dogs out and he ended up sinking down; the water was up to his waist! I paused because I couldn’t push the sled and I wasn’t sure if the dogs were okay. We all got very very wet and cold. At one point, Greg was pushing the sled and I was leading the dogs and the dogs knocked me over face first into the overflow! Luckily, it was pretty warm (15+), and our Apocalypse Design snow suits kept us warm and 98% dry. The only cold spots we had were our feet.

We stopped to ring out our socks and Sorrel insoles. My feet felt like I was wearing blocks of ice. We took turns running behind the sled to keep warm and eventually I sat in the sled, took off my boots and socks, and put my feet in a comfy sleeping bag.

We were a little concerned about the dogs being soaking wet– but they all seemed to do fine. Greg’s wish finally came true, the StinkyPups got a bath!

• Lead: Decker and Roo
• Point: Stormy and Frankie
• Swing: Asa and Higgs
• Wheel: Rattles and Simba

As soon as I got to our access trail I saw another team ahead of me. I slowed down, stopped the team, and hooked in. I didn’t want to be on the other team’s ass while going down an icy hill. I waited several minutes and then…”ready, let’s go”…we were off.

When I got to the bottom of the hill it was time to pass. The musher in front of me didn’t know I was behind them. I started to pass them and half way through Rattles attacked the leader of the other team. Shit! Rattles and Simba and Frankie were all attacking my neighbor’s new dog, Starving Marvin. My neighbor and I got everyone to stop fighting. We then had to untangle everyone. Actually she only had four well behaved dogs, it was my team that needed untangling. While she was tending to her team, I tended to mine. Each time I got Decker and Roo untangled and I went to untangle the next set of dogs, Decker and Roo turned around and got everyone tangled again. This happened at least 4 times before I switched Decker with Storm. The problem was that my lead dogs weren’t “lining out” (holding their line tight and staying up front). I thought Storm would be better at lining out than Decker. I was wrong. Finally, my neighbor was finished fixing her team and was nice enough to hold my lead dogs while I untangled the rest of the team, then…”ready, let’s go.”

We were off…only to run into a big truck in the middle of the trail. Yes, a huge pickup truck. The owner of the property was out cutting wood. His three dogs were loose ready to pounce my team. Luckily, the dude saw me, pulled over so I could get by, and waved. I waved back. It’s nice to have friendly neighbors.

So, now we’re really ready to go…until I saw another musher coming towards me. This is usually no big deal, but we ended up passing on a narrow bridge. I was telling my leaders to go onby when the other musher said, “wait, my dog is attacking one of yours.” Sure enough, her dog had his teeth sunk into Frankie’s neck. All I could think of was Rattles and Simba joining the fight, and I pushed them away. The other musher (my other neighbor) got her dog off of Frankie. By then all of my dogs were totally tangled. Sigh. I wanted her to go onby so the dogs wouldn’t fight (they were still right next to each other), but I think she was untangling my dogs, so I pushed my sled off of the bridge. Higgs and Sima had already fallen off the bridge. My neighbor helped untangle the dogs and I tried pushing the sled out of the frozen creek. I couldn’t push the sled myself, I needed my dogs to pull. I ran up to Storm and Roo and said, “Girls, I know you’re tangled, but you need to pull, ready, let’s go.” The girls and the rest of the team pulled and I pushed the sled and we popped the sled out of the ditch. Yippie. My drag pad broke and my neighbor gave me a wrench to fix things while she untangled the rest of my team and held my leaders. Note: her team was lined out the entire time.

When everything was sorted out and we were ready to go guess who comes along? Greg! He had a team of ten. He saw us and stopped ahead. My neighbor had run up to her team to get going. I was ready to go, but Storm and Roo and the gang turned the team around again. Sigh. We were once again in a big tangle.

While I was untangling dogs, my neighbors dogs attacked Duke, Greg’s lead dog. When the fight was over, my neighbor went on her way and Greg came to help me untangle. Finally, we were ready to go again.

The dogs were really fast. We took the first gee (right) and I stayed low. We went through the small turns on the base line trail. Then came an intersection. I wanted to go onby, but Roo dragged the team to the left. I fell off the sled and went for a short drag. I was able to stop the team and get back on.

The rest of the run was uneventful. I decided to cut my run short because Higgs wasn’t keeping up with the rest of the team.

When we got home Greg was soaking in the hot tub. Even though most of the dogs had run today, I had a puppy party. Everything was just swell. Then Levi wanted to eat a frozen poopsicle. It happend to be Red’s poopsicle. Red attacked Levi; and so did Rattles, Simba, Duke, Frankie, and Peetie. I was screaming at the dogs, but they wouldn’t stop attacking Levi. Greg heroically jumped out of the tub, ran into the dog yard, and broke up the fight while he was garbed in slippers and a towel at minus 10 degrees. He carried Levi into the house.

Levi ended up going to the after hours vet and getting lots of stitches. He’s in pretty bad shape, so he’ll get to stay inside for a while.

Oh, I called the neighbor of the first fight, the one my dogs started, and her dogs were fine. Turns out she got Starving Marvin from the other neighbor (the one whose dogs attacked mine).

So, is this Karma?

A. Frankie (Simba and Rattles) => attack Starving Marvin (owned by Neighbor 1; previously owned by Neighbor 2)

B. Neighbor 2′s dog => attack Frankie

and poor Levi got his ass kicked by everyone. Levi’s karma is that he’ll be a permanent house dog…if he wants to stay inside.