Off to the (Sled Dog) Races

Last weekend, I attended the tail end of the ADMA's Annamaet Challenge #3 in the yearly series of four races here in Fairbanks. There are several classes, based on how many dogs are pulling and what they are pulling. There are 1, 2 & 3 dog skijoring classes (dogs pull a person on skis) and 4, 6, 8 & open (unlimited) dog classes for sleds. The races run from four to fifteen miles, depending on the size of the team. A big team (eight dogs, say) usually runs this ten mile course in under half an hour.

I watched the eight and open class leave, and some of the six and eight class runs come in. The first thing I noticed about mushing is that it is not a spectator sport. There is nothing to see. The teams are out of sight in less than 30 seconds, and they aren't seen again until about a minute before they hit the finish. Those who run these do it for the love of the sport & their dogs, because there are no cheering crowds at the finish line. The only thing to see is the drama of take off, with a team of people struggling to keep the lunging dogs in one places through the countdown. Those at the start line are generally the support team of the musher (it takes a lot of people to get a team of sixteen dogs harnessed, hooked up, untangled and to the start in time) and family memebers.

[A sidelined dog keeps an eye on the action]

[a small team rests in their mushers pickup bed]

One interesting tidbit I've learned about dog sledding, is that huskies, the traditional dog of the arctic, are rarely used in racing teams. The dogs that run these races are usually hound-husky mixes. There has even been a famous champion team made up entirely of redbone coonhounds from the south. Although huskies are well suited working dogs for a traditional Inuit hunting lifestyle in the far north, they aren't built for speed. When it comes to groomed trails and stopwatches, barrel chested hounds take the cake. But (as Nyssa could tell you) those thick husky coats sure help.

[line out and ready for dogs...]

[... who wait impatiently by the dogbox]

[men pull apart tangled dogs]

[the dogs are so powerful & excited, they have to be brought
to the line on two legs to keep them under control]

[several powerful men are needed to slow the dogs down
as they head towards the starting line]

The whole event had a farm-show feel to it. Most people knew one another, small knots of kids threw snowballs, climbed on trucks and were pulled out of trees by fathers or uncles. Toddlers in puffy snow suits waddled around in circles of chatting adults. Some trucks belonged to huge kennels with three levels of dog-boxes, room for six sleds and a person to walk around inside. Some people just had their dogs in the back of their station wagon with the sled strapped down on top.

[boys, snowballs hidden, act nonchalant]

[girl calms waiting hounds]

[a good view of the finish line]

[checking on the dogs]

[child powered dog sled]



[kid watches dad's sled while the dogs are hooked up]


[they are being held back by a huge anchor pipe
driven deep into the ground]

The most striking part for me wasn't the speed or power of the take off, but the sound. At the start line, the dogs are jumping, yelping, howling, barking and in general making an insane racket while a team of helpers tries hard to hold the sled back. Over it all, the loud speaker counts down a deafening FIVE ... FOUR ... THREE ... TWO ... ONE. At one, the handlers stand back, the musher kicks up the brake and yells for the dogs go GO GO GO. And then ...

Total, perfect silence. The dogs know they are finally free to do what they do. Run. Fast. And that is exactly what they do. There is no more barking or yelping or carrying on. In unison, throw themselves into their harnesses and run with every ounce of muscle and spirit they have. The crowd is still. The loudspeakers click off. The only noise is the runners whispering over the snow and around the corner.

[people hold back the dogs, listening to the count ...]

[... the countdown ends, the humans stand back
the lead dog turns for the command from his musher ... ]

[the dogs lean into their harnesses and dig into the snow]

[and settle into their pace for the sixteen miles of powdery trail ahead]

[ ... going ... ]

[... going ...]

[... gone ...]

As soon as a dog team is off, the people team heads back to the truck to prepare for the return of the dogs. Water is heated and mixed with bricks of frozen protein meal to make gruel. Extraneous harnesses and ropes and tools left scattered from the rush to the start are put away.

[untangling lines]

[chopping frozen food bricks]

[hot water & a dipper to thaw things out]

On returning, the dogs cross the line and head for their truck. They are panting and under control. They flop down in the snow for a congratulatory belly rub, shake out of their harness and head for that warm gruel.

[heading back to the truck & a hot meal]

[praising a dog, well run!]

Tomorrow is the start of the Yukon Quest. Its tag line is "The Toughest Sled-Dog Race in the World." Although the famous Iditarod is longer, the Quest goes over more mountains, crosses rougher terrain through much harsher and more remote wilderness with less daylight and more cold and fewer checkpoints. At this writing, eighty six dog teams are signed up for the Iditarod. Tomorrow, only twenty eight will brave the trek from Whitehorse to Fairbanks.

Compare the Iditarod Description from Wikipedia:

Frequently teams race through blizzards causing whiteout conditions, and sub-zero weather and gale-force winds which can cause the wind chill to reach -100 °F (-75 °C).

With that of the Quest:

The mushers, who must pack up to 250 lbs of equipment and provisions for themselves and the sled dogs, are permitted to drop the sled dogs for a rest, are not allowed to replace the sled, and cannot accept any help except when they reach Dawson City, Yukon, the halfway mark of the race. Ten checkpoints, some more than 200 miles apart, and 4 dogdrops lie along the trail.

The race route runs on frozen rivers, across open water and bad ice; over four mountain ranges, reaching an elevation of 3,800 feet; and through isolated, northern villages. Racers cover 1,000 miles, as temperatures commonly can drop to −40 to −60 F on the rivers, and winds can reach 100 miles per hour (160 km/h) on the mountain summits.

Not that the Iditarod is anything to turn your nose up at, but seriously. Four mountain ranges? In February?

I hope I can make it to the finish line when they start coming into town ten or so days from now.

[a musher kicks hard for the finish
under that cold winter sun]

More photos from race day are posted at Solar Aperture.