Finland Wilderness Training, New Year's Day, part 2 - furry friends and off-road in the snow

My team is made up of five dogs each tied, via its harness, to a central line which runs back to the sled.  They make up a two, one, two formation with the brightest ones at the front and the grunts at the back.    A bit like a rugby team really.  The dogs are tied to the central line with blue plastic string in what looks like an incredibly complicated system but I come to realize how ingenious it. The aim when maneuvering the sled is to keep the lines to the dogs taut so that they can feel the weight they are pulling and this keeps the sled at a nice, controlled distance behind them.  Allow the line to slack and catch up with dogs and the sled can overtake them.  This isn’t good for the dogs whom can end up in a tangled heap being pulled sideways or backwards and not good for the driver who losing control of the sled usually ends up hugging a tree.  Injuries follow.  The way the dogs are tied looks complicated but in fact allows the dogs to rotate in their harnesses or to hop over the top of the string when they have to.  Which, as I get to grips with the correct level of braking is fairly often. Never have I seen dogs running at speed on three legs. 

Running the sled and distributing my weight correctly as we take the corners doesn’t take too long to master.  On steep downward slopes the dogs run faster and there’s a decision to be made between pressing the brake and instead letting the dogs have their heads and feeling adrenaline streak around your system.  On upward slopes you get off and push.  But now, we are rushing out of the trees and are suddenly in the open, the snow lies deep on each side of the narrow track and the dogs, warm already, snatch mouthfuls of snow as they run. With the line of the route running out into the distance there’s time to relax a bit and just enjoy the ride.

The wind is bitingly cold on the narrow line of exposed skin between my scarf and my hat and my feet are chilled despite the two pairs of socks and insulated boots.  My eyes narrow as my vision is obscured by tiny ice crystals which slam into my face as I am propelled forward into gathering darkness.  Behind the hill to my left the sun is beginning to set and throws an orange glow across the sky.   All I can hear is the music-like rush of the runners across the snow and the sound of the dog’s feet as they run.  I feel entirely at home.

We make a long steady curve at the halfway point and head back.  It’s dark enough now to need a head-torch and there is a precarious moment when I lift one hand to find the switch and the dogs, nearing a corner, decide to take the most direct route.  I find myself and the sled in two and a half feet of virgin snow.  The dogs stop, the sleds stops and both the sled and I begin to gently tip.  But I’ve not lost control of my sled and team yet and I don’t intend to start now so I transfer all my weight to the left runner and stick my right foot in the deep snow and, I know it isn’t cool, but I yell “mush” to the dogs .  They surge forward, we rock and pitch, I manage to regain my balance and then we break through the lip and are back onto the track. The dogs don’t slow down to check the state of their driver, they are on the homeward stretch and the pace has picked up again. And as we streak off I look back and see the destruction I have wrought.  The dog team behind me does the very same thing.   

It is the third and last run of the day for these dogs who will have belted around the track a total of sixty kilometers.  We see lights in the distance through the trees and hit camp but the guide doesn’t stop which confuses me slightly.  The smell of something heating on the fire tantalizes my olfactory senses as I whip by the tent which is almost close enough to touch.  Out on a frozen lake just beyond the trees we make a wide loop and for the first time I see the convoy in full and then a moment later we are back in the clearing, stood hard on the brakes waiting for someone to rope up the sled.  Forced to stop, the dogs jump and pitch for a moment and then settle quietly down in the snow.  I expect at heart, glad of a rest.  Inside the teepee I am still buzzing from the experience and my hands are  shaking as I take the cup of gluwein.  The drink is warm and scented with spices and holding it carefully I sink onto the comfort of the bench, wrap myself in reindeer skins and think about the last few hours.  I know I want to do this again. 

See the husky driving photos on the gallery.