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.

Glacier to Alaska Excursions

It is hard to believe that last Sunday I took my final helicopter ride of the season. Four months ago, I began my summer on the Herbert Glacier, and rather abruptly, the season is over. The last two weeks were filled with their own highs and lows as well as beautiful days and stagnant whiteouts. I continued my marathon reading, totaling my book list to a healthy twenty novels. However, as the end came closer, we had little time to relax, using every spare moment to break down camp instead. We took apart every tent and tent platform, packed away all seventy-five doghouses, and sorted all the gear. Every single returning helicopter was full not only with tourists but all our extra gear as well. The cheeks and aft of the helicopters bugled with tents, tools, stoves, paint, buckets, spare sled parts, empty propane bottles, and much more. End of the season tours were also slightly different, as there was neither dining tent nor doghouses with which to model and fill time on the tours. The trail itself brought new challenges. Clear blue standing water covered sections of the trail, and crevasses criss-crossed our path. Unfortunately, one guest actually fractured her ankle while crossing one of the crevasses. Five pages of statements later, it was concluded that the guest was ultimately responsible since she had signed the waiver stating she understood the risks involved.
About two hours after I flew down, the dogs landed after their second, and last, helicopter flight of the season. It was the first time the dogs had seen solid ground in four months. As each one animatedly leapt to the ground, I had an image in my head of lost sailors washing onto shore after months at sea, kissing the ground and thanking god. Whether the dogs were thrilled to finally return to solid ground or they were just happy to be out of the helicopter, it’s safe to say that they were ecstatic. I loaded all 39 into the trailer, and John Fink picked us up and drove us out to Alaska Excursions. Alaska Excursions is a ground operation where teams of 16 dogs pull a cart on a mile loop. For the next week, the dogs will relax and let their pads toughen up before they begin working again. If only I was so lucky. I had two days off, spent Wednesday storing the last of the glacier gear, and then on Thursday I started working for Alaska Excursions giving a combination of cart tours, doggie demos, and musher talks. Overall, it has been an easy transition. I’ve moved from a tent with a propane heater on the glacier to a four-wall tent with a wood stove on Douglas Island. I’ve switched from real sleds to 1,000-pound carts (which I might add don’t steer at all like sleds, as I discovered when I almost ran my cart into the embankment). One of the perks of living on the ground is that I can free run the dogs. This morning, I took groups of four dogs for short hikes in the Tongass National Forest around camp. I’ve never seen dogs so happy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wM-5P24PiJA

Helicopter Ride, Herbert Glacier, and Winter 2010-2011

First, to explain the videos:
My last flight down from the glacier was one I’ll never forget. Occasionally, the helicopters will fly up or down from the glacier without tourists. My flight down was one such case, which meant that I had a private flight down into Juneau with one of my favorite pilots, Melinda. Melinda is an athletic, spunky 24 year-old who can fly with the best of them. When I loaded into the helicopter, Melinda looked over, and said, “Ok Ryne. It’s just you and me, where do you want to go? We can fly anywhere.” Instead of taking the normal route back down the glacier, we turned north and flew up over the icefalls and over to the Eagle Glacier one valley over. It was PHENOMENAL. I played tourist and took two short videos of parts of the flight, but they just didn’t do the scenery justice. It was absolutely stunning. I think I could get used to having a private pilot chauffeur.

Otherwise, life on the glacier this past week has been either one of two extremes: overwhelmingly busy or at a stand still. One of the days, we had 88 people visit the glacier, which means I gave eight one-hour tours in a row. Let’s just say that I started to sound like a tape recording. On the bright side, the day flew by. All the rest of the days were completely weathered. Four days of whiteouts, while relaxing can become a bit monotonous, especially when you run out of books. I had to resort to reading poetry… I know- I was desperate. As the pictures show, Alaska and Prancer lucked out and got to spend some time lounging in my tent and keeping me company.

The big news in the life of Ryne is that I’ve decided to postpone the Iditarod for another year and move up here to Alaska! I did not feel that I would be prepared for the “Last Great Race” by only giving tours in Michigan, so I accepted a job handling for Aliy Zirkle (the first woman to win the 1000 mile Yukon Quest) and Allen Moore up in Two Rivers, outside of Fairbanks. This way, I’ll get some more time on the runners and spend a winter with a true racing kennel. Not to mention, I will live in a cabin with running water! What a concept. I’ll fly up to Fairbanks on October 10th, which means I’ll have a week at home to visit the family! I can’t wait! (And yes, Vanessa, you’re included under the ‘family’ category, so I’ll be visiting you too!)

People Watching

It’s hard to believe that it is already August, meaning that a new blog posting is beyond overdue. But where to start…

At the moment, I’m sitting at a window on the top floor of the Juneau Public Library, looking out over the meandering mayhem of cruise ship life, and roasting myself in the sun’s extreme, but welcomed, rays. Yes, it’s so bright that I’m even wearing my sunglasses inside, which attests to the fact that I’ve adapted to the lack of sunlight in this region of the country. But weather and sunshine aside, the real interest is of the tourists down below. Currently there are four cruise ships docked in Juneau, meaning that no less than 8,000 people have been unleashed in the town. Shops are filled to the brim, traffic has been slowed to five or ten miles per hour, tourist-packed sea planes are landing and taking off every five minutes, restaurants are overflowing, and everywhere I look there are people strolling and milling about aimlessly. Whoever said that airports are the best place for people watching has never spent a warm afternoon at a cruise ship port town. There are enough people, languages, and characters out to keep even an ADHD child occupied. This is the real reality TV. Earlier, two groups of sports fanatics began badgering each other from either sides of the road about the upcoming football season and the promise of their respective rivaled teams. Later, I walked behind a couple who where communicating via walkie-talkie with their children who had run ahead in search of an ice cream shop. I don’t purposefully eavesdrop on others’ conversations, but when someone is loudly yelling into a walkie-talkie about their desire for MOOSETRACK ICECREAM, it’s hard not to overhear. Of course, there are so many other conversations in Spanish, Mandarin, Hebrew, Hindi, and other languages that often I have no idea what is being discussed. I do find it interesting, however, that upon docking, some people flock to the restaurants. This is a mystery for two reasons: 1. Cruise ships are structured around meals and eating and 2. Many popular Juneau restaurants are not that good. While I cannot assume that the tourists are aware of the overpriced, mediocre food at popular spots like the Red Dog Saloon and the Twisted Fish, I can question why upon arrival, some cruiser’s first reaction is to eat. I’ve heard from many reputable sources that on the ships, there is breakfast, brunch, lunch, afternoon tea, dinner, and midnight snack, not to mention the always-open pizza parlors and ice cream stands. I must admit, it sounds wonderful. All of the meals overlap and provide ample opportunity to eat the entire trip, so why would their first stop be for food, especially when Juneau has so much more to offer? Being a grazer (someone who doesn’t often eat large meals but rather eats lots of snacks here and there), I would probably never stop eating on a cruise. Sign me up. Of course, regardless of what people choose to do upon arrival in Juneau, the overall point I’m trying to make is this: Juneau has world-class people watching.

One of the great things about my job on the glacier is that I have the opportunity to interact with many of aforementioned characters off the ship. The friendly Indian couple that I mentioned in a previous blog recently sent me an email with pictures from their trip. Another group left me their email and insisted that I come and visit them in Mexico City. An absolutely wonderful family from Texas (whose aunt actually works with my mom at Purg) sent me an email about potentially dog sledding in Michigan this winter. The guests themselves are often so enjoyable and fun that the hour-long tour is over before I know it. However, I have started to notice a strange trend. I’ve found that I am more apt to be tipped if I appear to not overly enjoy my job. Now, that’s not to say that I should be inconsiderate or angry, but people want to ride with a slightly calloused, rough and tough musher who has Jack London-like stories of the trail and a very dry, though amicable demeanor. My hypothesis is not proven, but I’m guessing that if I’m too happy, they believe that I simply enjoy my job and a tip is not necessary.

But enough about people. On to the nature and the outdoors. Recently, the weather has been phenomenal and the salmon are running in the nearby streams. It’s the first time I’ve ever watched or experienced the famous salmon run, and it really is a sight to be seen. I posted a short video below, so you’ll have to check it out. I think I was particularly excited to watch the migration of fish because on the glacier, there is little to no wildlife. Other than the occasional raven, the glacier is a world of rock and ice (and dogs) although, I did see a hummingbird trying to feed out of our orange flags the other day. The pictures from the previous blog depict the incredible scenery around Juneau and Douglas Island. I went camping with my housemate, Crissy, and her two dogs, Lucy and Bo as well as did some exploring up a nearby valley. By the time the hike was over, Crissy and I were both completely soaked from the dew and water on the surrounding brush. The views and copious amounts of salmon berries and blueberries made the hike more than worth the chill. I’ve also posted some pictures of the ground layer of fog that hung directly below camp, preventing the arrival of a day’s worth of tours.