Probably.
It didn't take much to decide on taking the four DewClaw dogs - Reese & Xtra have been running great together in lead, and Parka & Devilfish are a solid, hardworking pair that have only caused some minor trouble at hook-up with tangles but never on the trail. I had Peter stand on the drag-mat while I clipped my chosen four in, trying to ignore the insistent voice in the back of my head noting how very thin the snow was in the yard.
Norrin screeched with indignation at being left behind, but there was no way I was going to risk dealing with a melt-down without enough snow to set the hook. Peter commented yesterday that he is very much like the character Terry on True Blood - a really nice, capable, stand-up kind of guy who's been so traumatized by his past that he could lose it at any time. You really want to count on him, but you just can't. And today was not a good day for an episode of doggie-PTSD.
The team surged out of the yard while I stood on the drag mat, bracing hard for the ninety degree turn at the bottom of the hill. Our speed stayed reasonable, much to the chagrin of Xtra and Parka who kept looking back at me. Their message to "get your foot off the brake" seemed quite clear. We made the turn without incident. The trail out to the road was rough. The deep, frozen-in ruts from some summer ATV rider had me jumping from runner to runner, trying to keep the sled from bottoming out or lodging altogether while keeping one foot on the mat to keep our overall speed down.
The berm onto the road is still steep and mostly exposed rock. I jumped off and ran up with the sled to keep it from flipping or tearing up the runners. The dogs made the left turn and then took off at a dead run the second they had the open road in front of them. My arms nearly came out of their sockets as I jumped to hit the runners again. The road had enough packed snow that the drag mat wasn't hitting too much rock and gravel. I still had a foot down hard, trying to keep our speed down between eight and nine miles an hour. It was hard. Without the heavy ATV behind them, I could feel the dogs pulling for more speed, and I wanted badly to let them stretch out. But not today.
My plan was to run down the road to a new-to-me trail-head I had found out about just past the farm. This new trail requires running further on the road, but bypasses the need to cross Rosie Creek, whose ice is still a bit thin for my taste. I figured we would head down this trail for a mile or so and see what it was like, then turn around. This would keep us at about five miles, which is what we'd been running before we lost the ATV. I wanted to get a feel for these four dogs, the sled and this new trail, while keeping the speed and miles low.
I was surprised that I still had a foot solidly on the drag mat two miles after we started. Last year, with my little proto-team of four (with three solidly geriatric members) the drag-mat was put away after a quarter mile, and I was kicking or running with the team up anything resembling a slope. If I didn't contribute, we weren't going to go anywhere. The old dogs were very clear about this rule from day one. I was shocked when we hit the first little hill and the DewClaw crew hardly slowed down, much less looked back to see why I was still on the runners.
We got to the trail and Reese figured out the turn without my having to come to a complete stop even though he's run past it without batting an eye on every other run over the last month. There was a fork just a few yards down and since I had no idea where either headed I let Reese have his pick. He took the straighter shot and were were quickly on badly rutted jeep-trail through frozen marsh. I let them go for about a half mile, keeping our speed at nearly a crawl to prevent injuries, before calling it. I stopped the sled, and within thirty seconds Reese had pulled off a perfect around-haw and we were headed home. I was so delighted by this that I tried not to think too much about the fact that I hadn't asked for it. On the way home we did a reprise of that little right-turn jag off the road that runs with the power lines for about a quarter mile before rejoining. Reese took the right nearly on the fly!
On the way home, a woman and three loose dogs appeared on the road ahead of us. I braced myself for the tangles and screeching and drama I've come to expect with Pico. To my surprise, even though I knew the team saw the loose dogs ahead, they didn't pick up their speed. We continued to trot like the road was empty. Two of the three dogs were smart enough to back off the headlong progress of my pack (the other was being held by its person) though all of them were barking and yelping in earnest. The DewClaw crew ran right past the circus like they weren't even there. I smiled at the woman and wished her a good walk, grinning from ear to ear with (unearned) pride and relief. This was the first pass of dogs - loose or otherwise - I've ever made without having to stop and untangle and resort before moving on.
Overall, we certainly didn't have enough snow to be running the sled. The drag mat did give me the control I needed, but it was dicey and just one more dog would have been too many. I felt every rock on the road and I really dodged a bullet that my runners came out alright. There isn't enough of a base for the bar brake, and if anything had gone wrong there were a lot of places I would have been hard-pressed to find something to tie a snub-line to.
But this won't last forever. We got two inches this morning with more on the way, and I bet the White Mountains have plenty of pack already. Now we just need to get the dog box on the truck. That sounds like a good project for a lazy Sunday afternoon.
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