MY FIRST and LAST RACE by B.M. February 1987
“Aaaar, rruuff, urrr, aauurru….” 33 dog teams yelping, howling, dare I say crying, begging to go; sounding like they were being choked to death. BUT – these were happy sounds albeit somewhat frustrated for they had come to race, not stand and wait. The veterans had seen it all before. The novices found the excitement contagious. The ingredients were all there. Lots of teams, drivers, handlers and crowds of onlookers. Some teams were chained, others still in their trailers waiting, impatiently. Handlers were mixing dog food in the water to entice them to take one last drink before the race. Watch your step! No, you need not fear the dogs; it’s the doggy-do.
The race organizers, sometimes referred to as ‘agonizers’, are behind schedule. Drivers are getting restless. Like their canines. Sixteen teams are from the U.S. This is the last middle distance race, approximately 88 km or 54.6 miles, of their schedule. The drivers seem to know each other. They’ve raced before in Pennsylvania, Marmora ..
This was to be my FIRST race. Was dog sledding for me? Most would be satisfied with a ride around the block. Me, I had to try an 88 km race. Perhaps Ted Francis Sr. was just as adventuresome. Ted’s RACE is 240 km plus or 149 miles to the non-metric crowd. Taking me today would be a lark. We couldn’t possibly win. What could we lose?
We picked starting position 5. Ted Francis Jr., aged 14, picked last, number 33. With everyone’s permission we traded with Francis Jr. We would be one less team for everyone to pass. Each team raced against ‘the clock’. Each would start at one minute intervals.
“5, 4, 3 …the handler steps aside, 2, 1, GO!” shouts the starter and the dogs leap into action. Mostly. Some dogs turn to look at the driver. In turn the rest of the team turns to look and suddenly the driver has a terrible tangle of traces to undo. The resultant confusion reminds me of a race some years previous. A Minnesotan had a lead bitch in heat. Every dog in the country wanted to chase that team down the trail. But none wanted to pass.
I had gone ahead, afoot, to take photos. Francis stopped to pick me up.
Our first downhill run was hacked out of alders. It cut sharply to the left and dipped dramatically to the frozen pond below. Some drivers attacked this portion with a ‘hell bent for leather attitude’. Others were more cautious, more controlled. To my surprise – remember we started last – no one wiped out.
Had I known how relatively unchallenging that first hill was I now wonder if I would have been so eager to climb aboard when Francis stopped to pick me up. For starters I sat on a pillow. This was the life. Only 88 km to go.
After a few km Francis invited me to stand. The sled was not built for two. He stood on one runner, I on t’other. Following the rail part of the trail was rosy but soon, before us, loomed the hills.
The first hills were spread out. We would run up holding on to the sled and recuperate riding to the next. This technique paid off. Before Little Mullett Lake we overtook a team of Siberians. Shortly after we passed the only team of white Samoyeds in the race. Not bad for a team with excess baggage.
I was still looking through rose coloured glasses. With the next hill reality hit home. Like a punch to the solar plexus. I swear the Mayo Lake hills are more like mountains. And all uphill. As usual we ran up the first hill. But these hills came in quick succession, one right after the other. No time for in between recovery. I’d walk up the next hill and stagger up yet another. And there were more. It was a case of me putting one foot in front of another and leaning forward.
Climbing these hills was akin to walking in sand. The harder I tried the deeper I sank. I was sure that I would be climbing these hills in my sleep. Ted and the team would wait for me at the summit. With legs the consistency of rubber I’d hop (stagger) onto my runner and off we’d go. My hips ached and lungs begged for air. Surely going downhill I would find some rest and recuperation?
Beautiful dreamer.
Standing on a mid-way roller coaster ride would have been tame by comparison. Imagine skiing downhill with both feet on ONE cross country ski winding among trees with the dogs running flat out. On one descent Francis asked if I wanted to ride or bail out. My brain was numb. Oxygen deficiency? By the time I could reply he yelled: “Too late. Hang on!”
Vice grips couldn’t have tightened my grip. And those rubber legs? Isn’t it amazing what fear can do? Adrenalin fired through my system readying it for the next assault. By day’s end I had a new body and a new attitude, minus 3 pounds.
Francis suggested that I would be sore the next day. Forget the next day. I was sore now. Surely there must be an easier way to get in shape?
We came upon some fishermen at Dovetail Lake. They complimented us on our quiet snowmachine. Passing through Detlor a red squirrel crossed our path. And I thought the dogs might be tired. Fortunately the team zoomed down the trail and not after the squirrel. I had visions of taking out a white picket fence.
Returning to the rail bed it was smooth sailing once again. Francis and I pedaled and pumped in rhythm more resembling runners in a 3-legged race. The dogs loped along and we seized the opportunity to enjoy the scenery. I could feel some strength returning.
As the sun set and the stars appeared I started to taste the deliciously cool wintry air. Dehydration can have that affect. Finally we could see the clubhouse lights at the finish in the distance. Sensing home the dogs picked up their pace. Suddenly the team cut to the left and we plunged into absolute darkness as the trail broke downwards through the bush. What a dramatic way to end a race!
At the finish line I felt immensely satisfied. The agony of those mini mountains, the thrills of hair raising downhill runs on a sled designed for one, the aches, pains and feelings of exhaustion were all behind. A hot meal and bath lay ahead.
For Francis it was probably like that jog around the block previously mentioned. For me? Well, I had persevered, met my challenge. After 7.5 hours on the trail life was looking pretty good.
Of 33 teams we placed 29th. Francis Jr. was 3rd.
Will I race again?
All l need is a team. “And perhaps,” added my better half, “a new wife.”
SLED DOG RACING SIDEBARS
Commands
“Take off, hike, get up, move out …are used to start the team. Not “mush.”
“Haw” means go left; “Gee” go right. “Whoa,” stop. Some drivers simply yell “left, right, go, stop.” When Francis started racing over a decade ago he got his “haws and gees” confused.
Starting a Team
Francis said starting with three is a good idea. You can train and travel with three dogs. Then as you and the dogs learn you can add more dogs to your team. Sometimes a driver will cull good dogs. If you know what you want and know the driver you might get a good dog for a fair price if not free.
Quel Enthusiasm
One American competitor tried to excuse himself from work the Friday before the race. When his boss rejected that request he sent his wife ahead with the team. After work Friday he chartered a plane to Boston, flew to Toronto and drove three hours to Bancroft. He finished in 13th place.
Clothing
Like most outdoor activities layering is best. Much of the time we didn’t need mitts or a hat and we could travel much of the time with coats unzipped. If we cooled down there was no problem zipping up while travelling.
Dehydration
I should have started drinking – water- earlier. The combination of cold and exercise resulted in excessive sweating. Food was unnecessary. There was no desire to eat. But to drink ….
Dog Care
At the check points we watered the dogs and fed them as need be. Flavouring the water can entice the dogs to drink. One driver added chicken flavour. Vaseline or booties protect paws. Francis says that if the dogs’ ears are erect they are OK. But if they lay their ears flat to the head they may be too pooped to participate. We stopped now and then the give them a break.
Equal Opportunity
There were 8 women in this race. Men and women compete on an equal basis. Gloria McEwan placed second. She has won this race in the past.
The Iditarod
Susan Butcher won the 1157 mile race in a record 11 days in 1986 and in record time again in 1987. In 1985 she was leading the race when a moose charged her team on the trail killing two dogs and injuring 13 of 17 dogs.
Equipment
The drivers make the most of their equipment. One person who makes and sells the equipment says that a sled starts at $275. Francis made his for $50. The sled joints are lashed, not permanent. This creates greater flexibility for sled ride and control. Like the sapling and the mighty oak the former gives and the latter breaks. More people seem to be taking up dog sledding recreationaly.