Two Rivers

I have been in Alaska only a summer and one week, and yet this is the place I feel I’m meant to be. Of course, ask me again when the temperatures hit -40 degrees and the sun barely rises above the horizon, and my opinion might have changed. Or I might have survived the bitter winter and, dare I say, enjoyed it, but still felt the need to move on due to my incessant wanderlust. Who’s to say? All I know is that right now, for this winter, Alaska is it. Why? I’ll tell you. For starters:

1. The Dogs-
The dogs here at SP Kennel are some of the happiest, most enjoyable dogs I’ve ever run. (You can check them out at http://spkenneldoglog.blogspot.com/) It is hard to believe that after dogs like Alaska, Ayn, Hoover, Greed, Prancer, Gimli, (I could keep naming dogs) Clark, Jekyll, Kar, and Arlo I could find dogs that I loved to run just as much, but I have. The SP Kennel dogs are all affectionate and hard workers, making every run a great experience. Of course, there are a few differences. Rather than the standard x-back harness with a tug line and neckline, these dogs use half harnesses and only a tug line, which means that the dogs are only attached to the gangline (main line) by one small piece of rope rather than two. They are not attached at the collar. So, when we’re hooking up dogs, the dogs can face forwards, stand backwards, twirl around, swing from side to side, and do just about anything. Add another enthusiastic dog next to the first, and one would think that the set up could only result in tangles. To an uninformed bystander, it would appear to be utter chaos, but in fact the whole situation is quite organized even without necklines. Now, that’s not to say that there aren’t small twists between the most animated pairs of dogs or the puppies, but overall, when you yell “Ready!” the dogs know to straighten out and run forward. The other difference between these dogs and my first group of canines is that the SP dogs have to be able to live comfortably in -20 to -40 degree nights, meaning that I don’t have any sleeping buddies since they’re all acclimating to the upcoming cold. Although for the time being, the ex-sled dog Stella is sleeping in my cabin until she flies down to her new home in Florida. Lucky for me, there is no use in Stella acclimating to -20 nights before her trip to Florida.
Not only are the sled dogs incredible, but also I have to mention another canine athlete, Tig. Tig is a small, two-year-old black lab that has been trained as a field dog. Aliy has taught Tig various voice, whistle, and hand commands so that she can direct her in retrieving game. In the summer, Aliy and Tig hunt and attend field trials to put all their training and hard work to the test. Yesterday evening, I watched Aliy direct Tig across a huge field in search of bumpers. I’ll forever be amazed while watching dogs work and seeing all for which they’re capable.

2. The Experiences-
With only a week under my belt, I’ve already experienced more ‘firsts’ than I could have imagined. Last weekend, I attended the sled dog symposium and listened to some of the mushing greats, both for long distance and sprint. It was very interesting hearing nutrition experts and meeting many of the big name mushers in the world of dog sledding. Later in the week, I helped to butcher a horse. Sled dogs eat a variety of meats, and one of their favorites happens to be one of my favorites… although for different reasons. When I first heard we were going to be receiving a horse for the dogs, I have to admit, I was slightly anxious. Growing up, I was the classic horse-lover, playing with Breyer horses, joining Pony Club, and begging my parents for a horse whenever I had the chance. However, the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Why try to bury a huge animal deep in the permafrost when there are fifty sled dogs who would gladly help with the circle of life. I decided that as long as Black Beauty didn’t step off that trailer, I’d be ok. Lo and behold, it wasn’t Black Beauty, and I came to realize that there is something satisfying about skinning an animal. And, the dogs will love it.
Ok, first barnyard lesson: B- (I wasn’t the fastest skinner, but I didn’t cry or poke a hole in the gut releasing the disgusting, potent innards….)
Two days later, I was to have my second barnyard lesson with chickens. Aliy and her friend, Leslie, kept around twenty chickens for the past five months for their eggs. With winter setting in, all the chickens just weren’t going to survive the frigid cold, so some would experience the toasty warm of our ovens. Rather than the standard chop off the chicken’s head or the South American swing the chicken, we utilized a much more humane and peaceful technique. I’ll spare everyone the details, except to say that dinner last night was quite tasty (or as good as a scrawny Alaskan chicken can be). Second barnyard lesson: B+ (I was a pretty effective plucker, but I had a bit of trouble catching a chicken)

3. The People (perhaps, I should have this farther up…)
Everyone I have met thus far has been incredibly friendly and welcoming. At each errand stop in Two Rivers, Allen and Aliy knew at least one person, and on the drive into Fairbanks, they pointed out lots of driveways and said, “so and so lives here, and so and so lives there). Basically, Two Rivers is a town (if you can even call it a town) of dog people. Perfect. I’ve also really enjoyed working with Allen and Aliy. I know I’ll learn a lot this winter and look forward to every minute of it!


I forgot to mention- by golly those Northern Lights!!!

Finally- Alaska!

After two weeks of driving, flying, visiting, and mingling, I’ve made it back up to the ever-exciting state of Alaska. Thirteen hours after I left Durango, I finally landed in Fairbanks, Alaska along with the perhaps ten other passengers on my flight. But before I describe the marvels of my new home, I’ll rewind one week and pick up where my last blog post left off.

One week ago, I left Birmingham and flew to Durango to spend some time with my Durango friends and family. Not 15 hours since I’d arrived in Durango, Nick, my dad, Vanessa, Vanessa’s father Mike, and I left for Canyon de Chelly down in Arizona for a night of camping and hiking. Vanessa and Mike were beginning their trek across the West, so Nick, my dad, and I had decided to accompany them on their first leg of the trip. When you first arrive at the park, the park appears to be just a flat wasteland of pinon pine and scrub oak. It’s not until your toes are hanging over the edge of the canyon that you realize the enormity of the oasis thousands of feet down from your feet. The majority of the canyon is parceled off for over seventy Navajo families, so in order to explore the canyon floor, we had to hire a guide. For four hours the following morning, we meandered down the bottom of the canyon, which was full of petraglyphs and pictographs, hoogans and farms, and Hopi and Anasazi ruins. Our guide also pointed out shapes in the rocks but rather than seeing “the bear poking his head out of a cave,” my analytical mind would see two triangles (if anything at all). I have to admit, by the fourth rock shape, I’d lost interest in trying to find the dinosaur or eagle and would just nod my head and smile, exclaiming “oh yeah, I can see it.” After our hike and a good bye to Vanessa and Mike, we drove back to Durango. Thursday and Friday morning were a blur of greetings and appointments, and next thing I know, I’m touching down in Fairbanks to begin my new job handling for Allen Moore and Aliy Zirkle.



My current home of Two Rivers, while not necessarily mountainous, is a beautiful area of rolling hills. Aliy and Allen own SP Kennels, which is the home of around fifty top-notch racing dogs. They’ve converted their workout cabin into a cozy little cabin for me equipped with electricity, a heater, microwave, and television! What can I say, I’m moving up in the world. The cabin even comes with a bed warmer: the ex-sled dog Stella. Combine that with the Northern Lights show and my accommodations couldn’t be better!
In the next couple of days, I’ll add another posting about all the recent dog activities!

Richard, I've found you a new challenge:

Find Yourself a Comfy Spot: It's a Long One

After three and a half straight days of driving, I have safely made it to the Outside (as Alaskans call the lower 48). Not only that but I’ve survived my 3-layover, around the world flight to Birmingham from Marquette, Michigan. But first, let’s start with the drive.

In my previous entry, I had said that Jennifer and I would be leaving on the night of the 24th of September; however, the weather gods decided to bless us with snow on the passes. I say ‘bless’ because typically I’m praying for snow, though this is one instance when I could have skipped the nasty weather. Rather than chance another driving disaster like we had on the drive up to Alaska, we decided to postpone our departure until the following morning when at least we could tackle the snow in the daylight. So on Saturday September 25th, we awoke early, loaded the 60 dogs and 5 puppies into the truck and trailer in darkness and rain, and hit the road by 7:00 AM. I was hoping to wear one set of pants and t-shirt for the whole drive back, but lifting 60 muddy, overly excited dogs right from the get-go didn’t help my cause. No amount of Tide pens or Oxi-clean could have saved my clothes. Dirty but excited, Jennifer and I (and our puppy copilot Tag) began our trek back to Michigan.

Not ten minutes outside of Skagway, Jennifer and I passed a snowplow heading down from the pass. Can’t say it was the most reassuring sight, but we continued on and hoped for clear roads. Farther up, the roads did indeed become snow-covered. Luckily, we made it safely over the pass and into Canada without any hang-ups or delays. Once down into Canada, autumn was in full swing with entire mountainsides blanketed in yellow brush. None of our photos could accurately portray the beauty of the Yukon. I could see how so many miners became entranced by the landscape and squandered their lives away tramping around the Yukon. At one point, as we were driving along and enjoying the scenery, a helicopter landed a quarter mile ahead, and the passengers jumped out and started flagging us down. My first thought was, boy I guess they really do check our speeds with radars- we’re busted. Then I realized we could barely drive over 55 mph with our loaded down trailer. Guilty conscious I guess. Jennifer thought that perhaps they needed assistance with a rescue of some sort. Her assumption was slightly more accurate because as we stopped, a man in an orange jumpsuit came jogging up to our car and asked for a ride to town. He said that he had to report in to the Canadian Search and Rescue in five minutes or else they would send out assistance to look for him. Apparently, once a year all the Canadian SAR participate in training exercises that last up to four days long. On this particular day, the clouds sunk so low they hindered the helicopter’s return. Our passenger explained that he was the equivalent to a United States rescue swimmer (like Ashton Kutcher played in The Guardian) except better. He was a paramedic, mountaineer, and rescue swimmer all rolled into one. Perhaps he wasn’t the most modest person I’ve ever met, but after hearing his stories, I’d be a tad confident too. At the very least, he made the next half hour of driving fly by.

My memory of the next forty-eight hours is a jumble of passing cars, bluegrass music, energy shots and gas stations. Four times a day, Jennifer and I would drop dogs, which means we would take every single dog out of the truck or trailer and then lift them all back into the truck or trailer. This might not sound like a chore, but with two people and sixty-five dogs, it could take a good hour to an hour and a half. Dropping dogs four times a day means that for five hours each day, we were lifting dogs in and out of boxes. I’ll just say that we didn’t smell like roses for long. As time passed, I began to live for the next gas station. At each gas station, I’d treat myself to a hot tea, peanut M&Ms (or the Canadian equivalent, Smarties), fruit, or one of those five-hour energy shots (they work wonders!). At one filling station I even found cottage cheese. Score! The only problem was that few Canadian gas stations are open throughout the night. It was a gamble every time we passed on by an open gas station with diesel fuel.

Finally, we crossed back into the lower-48 and met Sam. Sam was a fellow Nature’s Kennel guide last winter, and he had purchased two dogs, Hemi and Gandhi. The two dogs had accompanied Jennifer in Skagway while Sam arranged for a house in Denver. Now that Sam was all settled, he was picking up his dogs. It was great to see Sam and catch up on his whereabouts and new adventures.

From Montana, we crossed North Dakota (where we were pulled over for our lack of running lights; the dogs had chewed them), Minnesota, Wisconsin, and finally Michigan. As if we were a free highway sideshow, crowds of people would stop and mill about whenever we dropped dogs. Luckily, Jennifer was more patient than me and entertained the same questions that we had heard all summer long. Many of you might have heard Kate McLachlan’s famous Olson quote: “Nick and Ryne are like the same person, except Nick likes people, and Ryne does sometimes.” Well, our stops were prime examples of when I liked people sometimes.

Over three, nonstop days since the day we started driving, we arrived in Marquette where I had to say goodbye to my beloved dogs. I tried not to have favorites, but inevitably I’ll always remember a few better than the others. Hoover, Prancer, Greed, and of course, Alaska will always bring back wonderful memories. It was hard to say goodbye (to Alaska in particular), and I’ll never forget those amazing dogs. Yes, Alaska is the Alaska from the Durango school presentations. Before I turn mushy and start to cry, I’ll continue on with my story:

So now you know: I get so attached to my dogs that they are one of the few things in life that can make me cry. For others, like my newfound friend from the Atlanta airport, tears come much easier. I’ll explain: after a fun dinner with Maliko and Mallory and a fantastic stay with Caitlin, I flew down to Birmingham to see my family. My longest layover was in Atlanta, where I decided to pass the time watching the movie Gladiator. Although it’s rather bloody, gory, and manly, I’ve always enjoyed the movie. At the risk of ruining the ending of Gladiator for those of you who haven’t seen it, both Maximus and Commodus die in an epic final scene. I only had about twenty minutes left in the movie when I had this eerie feeling that someone was watching over my shoulder. The terminal was empty, and turning around, I saw a fiftish- year-old businessman sitting directly behind me watching Gladiator through the seats. I took out my earphones, and he said, “I love this movie. I must have watched it dozens of times and the ending always gets me.” “Yeah, it’s a tearjerker,” I agreed although I thought he was just exaggerating. Well, I reinserted my earphones, and right after Maximus died, I heard a soft sniffling noise. Discreetly, I peered over my shoulder only to find the mature, educated businessman balling his eyes out. Ok, perhaps that’s a slight exaggeration. At the very least he had red eyes and tears rolling down his cheeks. Might I remind you that the movie evoked this reaction without him even hearing the music or dialogue! I had my headphones on the whole time! I can understand crying during a chick flick or when Shadow tells Sassy and Chance to leave him in Homeward Bound… but Gladiator? Really? To each his own I guess.

Wednesday evening, I arrived in Birmingham and was welcomed by Mom and Tom. I was so excited to see both of them and as always, shocked to see that Tom continues to grow. While here in Birmingham, I’ve had the chance to see many of my Southern relatives, watch a couple of Tom’s soccer games, visit the lake house, eat to my heart’s desire, and catch up on some much needed sleep. I ate my fill of bar-b-que, meat ‘n three’s, and sweet tea. Only in Alabama is blackberry cobbler found with the vegetables and not the desserts. After visiting all my relatives and being addressed as sugah, honey, and even Ma’am (boy did I feel old) by everyone I met, I feel thoroughly loved. One trip to the South is enough to remind even the most pessimistic person that there truly are people out there that mean it when they say, “Have a blessed day.”

Skagway

The time for travel has begun. Currently, I’m in Skagway with Jennifer and all the dogs, and we are planning on leaving this evening to begin the drive back to Michigan. Already there is a dusting of snow on the surrounding hills, so I wouldn’t be surprised if we hit snow in the passes on the way back. To start off the long trek back to Michigan, John, Justin, Brian, and I packed up the 39 NK dogs plus a couple of canine hitchhikers and drove to the ferry terminal on Wednesday night. The dogs and I would be taking the slow ferry through Haines and over to Skagway. Around midnight, John and Justin drove us onto the ferry, dropped the trailer, and then said final goodbyes. The dogs and I spent the night on the ferry and arrived in Haines at five the following morning. While the dogs slept soundly down in the car terminal, I joined the masses of ferry backpackers in the solarium. The solarium is essentially a large covered porch on the top deck with rows of reclining lawn chairs beneath individual heat lamps. I claimed a lawn chair, pulled out my sleeping bag, and peacefully slept until our arrival in Haines. After a brief, one-hour stop in Haines, the ferry continued on to Skagway where Jennifer met us with the truck. Jennifer had already had an exciting morning, blowing out a tire on the drive to the terminal. Hopefully, the flat tire isn’t an indication of the upcoming drive.
Jen and I dropped off the dogs at the Skagway Alaska Excursions camp then rushed out to Whitehorse, YT to have the truck serviced. Two new tires and a mechanic’s warning later, Jen and I were back on the road to Skagway and crossing our fingers that all is in tip-top shape for the long haul ahead. Right now, the leaves are changing and the nights are cold, which made the drive absolutely beautiful (and visions of sled dogs dance in my head).
This morning, while Jen is at work, I’ve been busy bopping around town and running errands. Since today is the last day the cruise ships are in town, all the stores are having huge bargain sales. As many of you know, I’ve never been much of a shopper, but get me out there with great sales and I have trouble holding back. I caught myself almost buying a 2009 calendar just because it was 80% off. Rein it in Ryne. I’m proud to say that I only bought $6 worth of chocolate (go figure). I must note that the chocolate had cute names like Bear Turds and Crab Crap. I’m hoping to bring it all the way back to the Outside (aka the lower 48 states- I’m trying to be Alaskan), but it will all depend on my self-control. Hi, my name is Ryne, and I’m a recovering chocoholic. Wait… perhaps not recovering.

John Muir Cabin

How glorious a greeting the sun gives the mountains! – John Muir

At the risk of jinxing the good weather, I must say, the weather has been incredible! For the past week the sun has been shining, and the temperature has been perfect: warm enough for humans, cool enough for dogs. Yesterday, I had the chance to fully appreciate and enjoy the good weather when Chrissy, Brian, Tim, Mike, Amanda, Heath Prancer and I hiked up to the John Muir cabin for a night of camping. The John Muir cabin is one of the many Forest Service cabins throughout the Tongass National Park available for rent. Nestled on the side of a hill, next to the top of a rise, smack dab in the middle of the muskeg fields sits the John Muir cabin, overlooking the sea and many small islands off the coast of Juneau. From the back, one can see the surrounding peaks and glaciers. The cabin itself is a quaint little structure with a south-facing porch, wood stove, bunk beds, and spiral staircase that accesses the loft. It’s slightly ironic that the cabin that we camped in was nicer than all my summer lodgings.
At eight o’clock on Friday night, after a day of tours and a quick stop at the convenience store for dinner, Mike, Chrissy, Brian, Tim, Prancer and I began our hike up to the John Muir cabin. We were a vagabond crew as we marched up with sleeping bags, a guitar, and gear in our hands and dangling from our school bags. The start of the three and a half mile trail climbed up from Auke Bay through dense spruce and hemlock for approximately one mile. By eight o’clock it was dark, so the few with headlamps graciously shared the much-needed light with the rest of us. However, as we turned off the main trail and started to gradually ascend up towards the cabin, the trail traversed meadows of muskeg. Muskeg is a marshy land with smaller, sicklier trees, and open fields with shallow, muddy ponds. For the entire two miles through the muskeg, a trail crew had constructed a series of boards and planks to cover the spongy ground. Since the night was clear and the trees were thin, the moonlight reflected off the planks and allowed us to hike without our headlamps. At the risk of sounding ‘granola’, it was magical. Of course, that’s not to say that we didn’t occasionally fall off the boardwalk only to be sucked into the surrounding muddy ground.
After an hour and a half of rapid hiking (we had a drill sergeant in lead), we finally arrived at the cabin and were welcomed by two of our friends. For the rest of the night we played Jenga, talked, and relaxed around the campfire. Mike, who had hauled his guitar all the way up, even serenaded us for a couple hours. It was a classic camping scene. Being such a clear night, we’d hoped to catch a glimpse of the aurora borealis but by two and three in the morning, we gave up and went to bed. We probably should have just checked beforehand to see if the northern lights were even scheduled to make an appearance (which we later found out, they weren’t).
The next morning, we woke up early, enjoyed a warm sunrise, and then basked in sun, soaking up the rays in our translucent, Vitamin D deprived bodies. I’m surprised that none of the helicopters landed, mistaking the sun’s reflection off our skin for a distress signal. Since, as many know, I don’t last long sunbathing, I took off for a short hike around the cabin. Prancer and I tromped through the muskeg meadows, climbing small rises, and trying to find the best viewpoint. After an hour, all the small fields started to look the same, and I realized that I wasn’t quite sure of my location. Luckily, due to the sponginess of the marsh, evidence of our passage was still visible to lead us back.
Around noon, we decided that we couldn’t postpone reality any longer, and left the solitude and quiet of the cabin (it’s amazing how well you sleep when there aren’t 150 dogs nearby). I’d have to say, the campout was a highlight of the summer. There’s a reason John Muir said, “To the lover of wilderness, Alaska is one of the most wonderful countries in the world.”

Later that evening, we celebrated Chrissy’s birthday with a massive cupcake from the Booyah Grill, which you have to order two days in advance due to its enormity. I’d say it was a good day.

Hillbillies

For the past week, the NK dogs and I have been giving tours at the Juneau branch of Alaska Excursions on Douglas Island. Running on solid ground has definitely rejuvenated the dogs, and their energy is infectious; however, I think we’re all ready to wrap up the season. During the tours, sixteen dogs pull a cart twice around a ½ mile loop. Since dog camp is located in the thick rainforest of Tongass National Park, the guests don’t seem to realize that we repeat the same loop, but the dogs sure do. Within one tour slot, we can cycle as many as 48 guests through the many demonstrations and stations involved in the tour. The tour often bears a strange resemblance to herding cattle.

Currently, I’m living right in dog camp in a little four-wall canvas tent complete with a small, square-bellied wood stove. The tent is imprinted with a smell of must and wet harness (it was used to dry harnesses before I moved in). Though it is outfitted with a wooden floor and base siding, the tent still mysteriously leaks from some unknown crack and all my gear needs to be in totes or lifted off the ground. A broken green bucket, bicycle helmet, lines of black pipe, and a fire pit filled with nails, cans, and beer bottles are littered in my front “lawn”. Combine that with the crooked stove pipe and missing porch tarp and even hillbillies would be embarrassed to call my little tent their home. What I can say for the little structure is that it sure does heat up when I get the stove going. And, I am proud to have made the place somewhat comfortable with a small carpet, table, real bed, and makeshift dresser. Living the dream. It’s a good thing I love dogs and the outdoors.

Yesterday, I explained my living situation to my dad, and he came up with a great idea to make my next million. A TLC special series: Life Swap. My cousin, Catie, is currently living a successful life in Mountain Brook, Alabama working as the recruiting coordinator for a law firm. Now imagine, Catie living in my humble abode, scooping dog poop, and wearing the same pair of Carhartts for days at time. Perhaps even better, imagine me living in the South, showering once a day, entertaining business folk, and dressing….dare I say…stylishly? And I must note, I only brought two sets of street clothes with me to Alaska, a point most of my friends noticed surprisingly quickly and find incredibly funny. Anyway, if anyone knows a producer, shoot this idea by them. Catie doesn’t know it yet, but we’re going to be stars.

Ok, back to real life. Last Friday, my good friend Chrissy arranged for John, Brian, and me to board the Sea Princess cruise ship and watch Libby Riddles Iditarod performance. Libby Riddles is the first woman to have won the Iditarod in 1985, and she now makes her money giving talks on Princess cruise ships and selling her books. One of the most popular is the children book, Danger the Dog Yard Cat. Before we watched her performance, we were treated to the all you can eat buffet, which I must say was a highlight. It was German night, so meat and schnitzels filled every station. DE-lish. After my third round of desserts, we somehow managed to navigate through the layers and corridors of the ship to the lecture hall. Libby did a phenomenal job and was incredibly inspirational. I have to watch myself or I’ll end up buying a kennel and signing over my life to dog sledding.