an extra set of hands

Temperatures remained below freezing, though just barely, all week. We got a few snow showers, so I was excited about the coming weekend. My EMT class was taking their state test on Saturday morning and I had made some tentative plans to take the dogs up to a friend's house for birthday sled rides for her son and his friends when we were done. I had given sled rides to this group of kids last winter and had really enjoyed sharing the dogs and the thrill of mushing with the group of five and six year olds. It was a good thing the plans were tentative, though. Unlike my last group of students, this group's test took a lot longer to complete and I wasn't headed home until after the sun was headed down and the kid's birthday was over.

I was sorely disappointed, knowing my days to run dogs were limited with an out-of-state trip coming up, but looking forward to Sunday's trails. I had promised a friend of mine a ride in exchange for helping wrangle the dogs, and my stress level regarding managing the team was reduced knowing I'd have an extra set of hands. I loaded the truck just after the sun came up at ten forty five, swung through town to get coffee and headed out to her cabin. She lives just down the street from the trailhead I've been using in Goldstream.

It turned out to be a good thing I had her with me. As I was hooking up dogs, Reese and Billie - who I had up front - decided we were taking too long and started looping back into the team to say hello to the dogs behind them. Billie - our only intact male - was particularly interested in checking out Pepper who we suspect is going into heat.  We got everyone untangled, and I left Toni up front to hold them in line while I clipped the last couple of dogs in. I had done just that and was walking back to grab my coat from the tailgate when the snub line - which I had attached to the back bumper of the truck - snapped and the team took off. Toni still had a hold of the two lead dogs, so all that happened was a giant ball of dogs and lines.

We got everyone sorted out, Toni in the sled with my coat hastily shoved under her knees, and we were off into the marshes. We were running with  Reese and Billie up front, Pepper and Xtra in swing, Norrin on his own in team and Devilfish and Parka in wheel. Reese did his slowing-and-looking-back routine after about half a mile, on a wide spot in the trail. I've learned this is a precursor to an unauthorized u-turn, and as soon as he started I told him "NO" and yipped to keep everyone going. The second he put tension on his tug again with his nose straight ahead, I praised the heck out of him and ran behind the sled for a minute to lessen the load. This seemed to work (this time) as he didn't try to u-turn again on the fly for the whole run.

We stopped to make some adjustments, and the second the sled came to a stop, Reese tried to pull the team around. With Toni available to stand on the sled, however, Reese never made it around past the swing dogs and he stayed lined out while I got things sorted out. As we kept going and the trails got narrower, I noticed that the sled was tracking hard to the left, running into the snow bank and any trees or bushes in that direction. Toni was getting faces full of snow on every corner and most straightaways.

After another mile or two, I stopped and went to check the line again. The problem was immediately apparent. The shock ring - a heavy-duty elastic ring that takes some of the jarring force of the sled bumping or braking or hitting a tree off of the dog's backs - was very messed up. It hadn't snapped, exactly, but the stretchy part had come apart somehow and escaped from the carabiner on one end (this is still a mystery to me) and lodged in a tiny space between the sled and the runners on the right side. The dogs were essentially pulling on one side of the sled instead of the middle, causing it to constantly veer to the left. Again, Toni was essential in getting some of the tension off the line so I could correct the problem and inspect the shock ring (which had come with the sled and was both old and a DIY job to start with) to make sure this malfunction wasn't a safety issue - at least for the rest of this run.

Soon we were on our way again. Over the next five miles, we passed skiers, walkers and fat-tire snow-bikers with perfect on-by manners and without out a single slacked tug line. My suspicions that Norrin's bad behavior on the lake was 100% influenced by Pico was proved out. He never even looked at the distractions as we passed them.

At about the five-mile point, on a little pond, I stopped the sled and asked Reese to perform his signature move. He did so enthusiastically and perfectly, swinging the team out over the pond and back behind the sled. With hardly a pause and without a single tangle we were on our way down our back trail and I was glowing with relief and pride. I let Toni ride the runners for a bit on this stretch of trail - a particularly smooth and straight bit perfect for a first try - and I got some video from the basket.

On the way back, at the bridge over Goldstream, Norrin balked fifty yards out and refused to cross - even though he'd crossed with just a little bit of tug-slacking on the way out. His bulk stopped the team, but with Toni there I was able to unclip him and calmly walk him across the bridge by himself, then clip him in once we were over. The whole Norrin melt-down went much more smoothly with that option available. I'm still not sure exactly how to address this bridge-balking he's developed, and I won't be able to start until we get back to Alaska after Christmas anyway. I posted a question about it to the mushing forum on Sled Dog Central, and have gotten a lot of advice back to pick and choose from. I have a strategy now, and Norrin's bridge phobia will be a nice project to return to in January.