This is my attempt at describing what it’s like for me in Alaska. I’ll take a typical day and break it into separate posts, so you aren’t overwhelmed by text. This is the fifth post, covering the sled dogs. Don’t miss the other posts: Mornings, Afternoons, Evenings, and Nights!

We have a lot of dogs here. Thirty-nine, to be exact. Out of those thirty-nine, nine are retired and don’t run the sled, four are puppies and don’t run the sled yet, two have congenital defects that affect their breathing so they can’t run the sled, leaving twenty-four to run, with a range in age from 2 to 13 years old. They are all Alaskan Huskies, which really have no overarching visual characteristics, so they all tend to look different. Alaskan Huskies are bred more for physical traits (non-webbed toes, brains, strength, speed, etc), and sometimes other breeds are mixed in to add some variation or boost specific traits. We do have a neighbor that runs full-blooded, gigantic malamutes, which basically looks like a pack of bears pulling a sled.

As any pet owner knows, every animal has it’s own personality. Sled dogs are no different. Each individual dog has a distinct personality, with all the features that go along with that. Some dogs are easy-going and get along with any other dog, some are aggressive with only certain other dogs (usually other dogs of the same gender), some take commands better than others (we call those “lead” dogs), some are kind of dumb but are extremely strong (we call those “wheel” dogs), some just love to run but aren’t so beefy (we call those “team” dogs) and some are lazy and don’t pull the sled as much as the others (we call those “get your lazy butt up there!” dogs).

Having worked almost daily with these dogs for over 6 months now, I can easily rattle off any number of habits or hang-ups for each dog. Meadow is a little nervous, and barks at anything she doesn’t agree with, like me moving faster than a walk. Ace is dumb and happy, and tends to follow around any other dog placed in his pen, much to the other dog’s annoyance. Whistler does a happy dance every time I start to put food in his can. Ghost will stand up and wrap his forelegs around you, staring intently into your eyes, hoping you either have more food or time enough to scratch his ears. Lu ran the Iditarod for another musher, but had to be dropped from the race because she wouldn’t eat. Now, she eats anything she can find, and has to be on a perpetual diet so she won’t resemble a hairy sausage with legs. Yes, I could probably go on forever, or at least a lot longer than most of you are willing to read.

Many of the dogs are related, and a good number can trace their ancestry back to Iditarod racers. The sibling sets here are: Boogles, Ghost, and Gusty; Motley, Goblin, Monster, and Beauty; Hunky, Icky, Ringo, Alex, and Rocket; Iceworm, Whistler, Moose, Chopper, and Stinky; Skyler, Indigo, Redoubt, Underdog, and Cindy; Noodle, Ace, and Picard; Mouse and Tiger; Can Can and Pumpkin; Rosie and Meadow; Feather, Shaman, Diggity, and Farmer. Match them to the pictures below for fun and genealogy!

As I mentioned, there are nine retired dogs who don’t pull the sled now. They are Skyler’s sibling group, Noodle’s sibling group, and Hunky. Skyler’s group is the oldest in the yard, turning 16 this year. Noodle’s group is next, turning 15. Hunky is 13 this year, and just wasn’t into running much anymore. Since we’ve been here, age and its related sicknesses have claimed three dogs: two from Noodle’s group, Buffy and Xerox, and a dog we think was 17 or older, Sister (who, despite her name, wasn’t related to any of the other dogs in the yard). Alaskan huskies live anywhere from 14 to 17 years, like most dogs their size.

Our boss takes great care to socialize the dogs, which some kennels neglect to do. These dogs are all very friendly, though they get excited to see new people and tend to all bark at once at first, which I’m sure can be intimidating to anyone who is nervous around dogs. But they are all very well behaved, and only bark on a few occasions: 1. Feeding time, 2. Hookup time, 3. Neighbors taking their dog teams out, or 4. Something unusual is happening (moose near the yard! strange car coming up the drive! loose dog!).

Okay, time to meet them. I’ve posted some pictures before, but consider this the high school yearbook of the sled dogs. All the dogs are pictured here, except Beauty, who was absent for picture day. I’ll add her in as soon as I get a make-up picture taken. Beauty has been photographed and added!

Next: Part 6, The End of the Beginning

I’ve started taking pictures again, after a couple weeks off. There have been too many good scenes to resist!

First, a moonset and sunrise. Both of these images were created using an HDR plugin for Aperture, made by HDRsoft. I take multiple exposures of the same scene, and use the plugin to combine them into one superphoto, and then tweak the settings until I get a satisfactory image.

Before sunrise, the crescent moon was hanging over the mountains, surrounded by purple sky. This photo consists of 3 separate exposures.

Then, the sunrise began. This photo was made from 6 separate exposures.

It was foggy most of the day Wednesday, and the resulting moisture froze overnight, leaving a coating of ice over everything.

As I was preparing to feed the dogs last night, the sky lit up with one of the most amazing sunsets I’ve seen here. We’re on the downward slope of an east-facing hill, so we missed the full effect, but here’s what I could capture.

Too bad we don’t have a more scenic foreground, but it’ll do for now.

This is my attempt at describing what it’s like for me in Alaska. I’ll take a typical day and break it into separate posts, so you aren’t overwhelmed by text. This is the fourth post, covering my nights. Don’t miss the first post, second post, and third post!

In the depths of winter, daylight begins around 10:30am, and ends around 4:30pm. That means both feedings take place in the dark, for about 2 months. I finish up the evening feeding around 6:30 to 7. On the occasion of a full moon, snow cover, and cloudless skies, it’s bright enough to walk around outside without a headlamp.

Socialization occurs on those rare days where we don’t feel like we’ve been hit by a truck. We’ve made a few good friends here, and enjoy their company, but seeing most of them requires a 30 minute drive into town, on questionable roads, in unpredictable weather (most forecasts for our elevation include phrases like “variable winds,” “gusts up to 50mph,” and “accumulation of 1 to 15 inches possible.” “Beware of drifting snow” is also popular). It’s not uncommon to pass one or three cars that have fallen into the massive ditches that, if you’re lucky, line the section of road you fall off of. If you’re unlucky, you fall off the side of the hill into a bunch of trees. I’ve been down a significant section of the road sideways in my car once already, after the first big snow, and am not keen on repeating the experience.

Only one of the bars here is non-smoking, and we definitely grew accustomed to not smelling like an ashtray after leaving the bars in Bloomington. Anchorage has a smoking ban, but that hasn’t made it’s way south to Homer yet. The two times we braved the smoky bar scene, we both ended up sick.

Homer does have a movie theater, which plays films a couple of months after they have been released. Movies usually run for 3 to 5 days, and we occasionally muster up the energy and cash to go to one.

Homer has a number of restaurants, some good, some bad. They’re all expensive. Some are very expensive. Pizzas that don’t come close to Avers or Pizza Express cost twice as much. Ethnic restaurants are: 2 Chinese, 1 Mexican, 1 Thai. We avoid most of them, fearing the cost or the gastric consequences or both.

There is a broomball league, which I initially thought I would join, but the reality of a 6-day manual labor work week brought that idea crashing down.

Another diversion is a weekly “game night” at one of the cafes in town. Mostly consisting of Scrabble players with electronic dictionaries crammed into a small room, it was nevertheless fun the one time we went. The cafe happens to also be one of our favorites in town, and the chef, Maura, always has a few game night special meals. Our budget for prepared meals being what it is ($0), and our self-control being what it is around Maura’s food (what is self-control? nom nom nom), we have decided to avoid the temptation altogether. Instead, we’ve instituted a monthly game night with some friends in town, and we all bring food.

So, most nights involve fixing dinner, watching whatever we’ve received from Netflix, stretching out sore muscles, and falling asleep.

Next: Part 5, The Dogs

This is my attempt at describing what it’s like for me in Alaska. I’ll take a typical day and break it into separate posts, so you aren’t overwhelmed by text. This is the third post, covering my evenings. Don’t miss the first post and second posts!

Around 4:30-5 (or later, now that we’re getting more light than 10am-3pm), I head back out and scoop the yard again, while the puppies run around. If it’s really cold, before I scoop I’ll carry around an old kitty litter bucket full of frozen beef fat scraps, and give all the dogs a snack. Then, I fill those three 5-gallon buckets with food, and carry them around the yard to feed. Finally, I take a small bucket of water around to the older dogs and give them extra water for the night, even though it will probably freeze before they drink much of it.

The morning and evening dog feeding shifts happen no matter what. Dogs don’t care if you’re sick, if the weather is crappy, or if you’re just feeling really tired. I’ve been out feeding in pouring rain, impenetrable fog, sleet with high winds (summary: “OW MY EYES”), blizzards with total whiteout conditions, temps nearing -20&degF, everything. Sometimes there are several feet of new snow to wade through, or freeze/thaw ice covering everything like an ice rink, or ankle deep mud during melt-out in the spring. Every shift of the wind means going out and rotating the dog houses so the wind doesn’t blow in them, no matter what time it is. Watch the video below…I was out in that, turning dog houses out of the snow, at 5:30am in the dark, with fogged up glasses and a headlamp that only highlighted the snow whipping around my face. It’s like this every few weeks, and apparently this winter we haven’t had nearly as much snow as usual. I wonder if it will all fall in March.

Actually, the weather keeps it pretty interesting, and I have enjoyed some of the challenges it presents. Most of the time it’s clear and beautiful, but sometimes it’s a fight just to stay upright and pointed in the right direction.

Back at the cabin, it’s probably time to empty the sink bucket. We usually have it drain under the floor and out the side of the cabin’s skirting, but the pipe that does that froze up a few weeks ago, so now we have the sink emptying into what was a former water hauling bucket, but got converted to a slop bucket after an unfortunate New Years Eve accident where Skippy and I drank three bottles of champagne in one night.

Anyway, I take the sink bucket and toss it outside. We use biodegradable dish soap, fortunately. By this time, Skippy is home from work (a desk job. Sallie Mae needs her money back no matter what), so we catch up and start to make dinner. Last week, we ran out of cooking propane, so we have to use a single electric burner, because the propane tank is 5 feet tall and is frozen to the ground so I can’t take it out to get it refilled until the weather warms up some.

Twice a week, we make our way up the path, towels and soap in hand, to take much needed showers in the boss’s bathroom. We don’t sweat much at all, but that doesn’t stop the funk. Plus, with our heads covered by hats most of the time, our hair gets a little oily. We also do laundry at the boss’s house every couple of weeks. Her dryer isn’t working, so we have to take the wet clothes back to our cabin and hang them up in front of the heater to dry. The increased humidity sometimes collects around the door and freezes, trapping us until we kick and yank on the door enough to break the ice. It’s always fun to be literally trapped in your own home, especially when you’re late for something like work.

Next: Part 4, Nights

This is my attempt at describing what it’s like for me in Alaska. I’ll take a typical day and break it into separate posts, so you aren’t overwhelmed by text. This is the second post, covering my afternoons. Don’t miss the first post!

If you’ve never had the pleasure of working with fuel oil, let me tell you about it. It’s oily (yeah, surprise), smells terrible, and instantly permeates any fabric it touches. It’s like dunking yourself in motor oil and then trying to rinse off with gasoline. I usually end up coated in the stuff. I then have to spend a good hour scrubbing myself and my clothes with oil soap, so our cabin won’t smell like a truck stop.

Eventually, the sled dogs start barking excitedly, and I know that the boss is prepping to take out a team. I suit up (typical uniform for the usual below 20° temps: long underwear base layer top and bottom, sweatpants, waterproof pants, long sleeve shirt, sweatshirt, Carhartt jacket, thick socks, boot socks, Muck boots, buff, windstopper hat, mittens) and head out to the yard. If I make it out there before the boss, I uncover the sled and lay out the line. Then I start pulling harnesses out of the gear box in the middle of the yard while she secures the sled to a post and sets the snow hook. We then harness each of the day’s 8 to 12 team dogs.

Harnessing involves approaching a very excited dog with the harness (basically two padded rings with webbing between them and a loop for pulling the sled at the end), getting the dog to jump on its house, slipping the harness over the dog’s head, pulling the dog’s collar through the harness loops so the collar sits higher on the dog’s neck than the harness, unhooking the dog’s chain and pulling it through the harness, rehooking the dog’s chain, getting the dog to slip its legs through the first harness ring, unhooking the dog’s chain again, walking the very excited and sometimes screaming dog (out of excitement!) over to the hookup line. The hookup line is a chain strung along several posts, with tie-outs coming off at intervals long enough to prevent fights and/or matings while dogs are being brought to the line.

Once all the dogs are harnessed and on the hookup line, we begin adding them to the sled line, first attaching their collars to a short neckline, then the back loop of their harness to the tug line, both of which are attached to the sled line. After all but the lead dogs are hooked up, I go jump on the sled and hold down the brake and snow hook, just in case the rope tied to the post fails. Every dog on the line is barking at the top of their lungs (so are the rest of the dogs in the yard, actually), all are trying to pull the sled, and some are springing high into the air every couple of seconds. All communication with the boss at this point is done by hand signals.

Some things I’ve learned about hooking up dogs:

1. Some of the dogs like to show their excitement by trying to shove their paws in your face. Their paws have claws attached to them. Claws > the skin on your face. These dogs are best harnessed on the ground, and not on their houses, where they would have the benefit of being at eye level with you.
2. Never, under any circumstances, try to control the biggest, squirmiest dog (pictured above) with a single index finger hooked through the loop of said dog’s collar. He will invariably launch himself off his house between your arm and your body, nearly ripping off your index finger until you let go at the last second, and take off down the trail until he gets distracted by a shiny object or a female sled dog in heat, and you can catch him.
3. Some dogs get so excited, they poop themselves while being harnessed. Don’t laugh at them, they can still claw your face off.
4. Some male dogs show their excitement by humping anything they can get their paws around, be it a female dog (even spayed females), other male dogs, a post, or your leg. It’s okay to make them stop.

Once she gets the leaders hooked up and pointed down the trail, she takes over on the sled, unties the rope, preps herself, pulls the snow hook, and takes off!

As they leave the yard and turn out on the trail, all the dogs left in the yard slowly stop barking, and eventually they begin to howl mournfully. This lasts a few minutes, and then all is quiet again. I head up to the house and dump more raw meat in a bucket, add hot water, and bring it back out to the gear box. I also scoop up anything left by the dogs at the hookup line. Then I go inside and wait. Every time the sled dogs start barking, I have to go to the window to see if the boss is on her way back yet (she’s usually gone for one to two hours), so it’s pretty hard to concentrate on anything important for that time.

Once I see the team headed back across the field behind our cabin, I pull on my jacket, hat, and mittens, and head out to the hookup line. As the team comes into the yard, I coax the leaders to keep the dogs pulling up to the last post, and then unhook one leader from the line so I can attach the line to the secure hookup line, preventing the dogs from veering around with a long length of knee-level rope. We detach the tug lines, unharness the dogs, and put them back on the hookup line. Then I go around and dish out broth from the bucket I prepared earlier. We coil up the line, push the sled back up to the starting position, and cover it back up.

Now it’s time for lunch, which is usually a PB and J. I love peanut butter and jelly, and I have no problem eating one every day. And I basically have eaten one every day, for about 2 years now. Love love LOVE PB and J.

Right, so the next hour or so is spent working on whatever projects I have given myself, usually editing photos or looking to see if anyone has downloaded any of my pictures.

I take our two dogs out again, and if it’s not too cold, we play fetch. The “too cold” line seems to hover around 12°F. Any colder than that, and they start lifting their cold cold paws and hobble around trying to pee and poop as quickly as possible so they can get back inside and back on the couch.

Next:Part 3, Evenings