We woke late this morning to that face numbing, clear sky cold, that half Alaskans love, half hate. Some longjohns and a quick cup of hot chocolate each, and we were out the door towards our newest adventure.
Because of work and a business deal that took far too long, Porter and I haven't had the most active winter. No bonfires. No icefishing. No snowshoeing across frozen lakes. Nothing. I've been feeling cooped up in our little apartment, and so, when Jane the Musher (aka Cowgirl Jane, aka Nurse Jane- depending on the season) invited us out for the day, we jumped on the chance. And it turned into a perfect day for playing with dogs, (but cold enough to take toes if you stood still too long).
This is our second year mushing with Jane. Porter rode a few times last year and impressed us all with his instinct. I'm not sure what other 4 yr old kids look like on a sled, but he did ride well. He even fell off once, jumped up running, caught the dogs, and then passed Mindy riding in front of him.
We arrived a few minutes before the other kids, and Jane asked if I could get the snowmachines warmed up to start the trail. I am a man, but I have never owned, nor played with these winter toys. And, days prior, I had forgotten my gloves in Joshy's truck. My fingers dreaded leaving their warm holes.
Common sense told me to turn the key, pull the kill switch, choke it, and yank like never before. After my supply of energy was used up and the fingers on my right hand were white, I got one started. I was spent. I let it warm up, and figured it was cold enough that the track might be frozen. I picked up the machine... back, then front, and jumped behind the windshield.
I gave the beast some gas, and nothing moved. I gave the beast more, but he refused to budge. So I said screw it, and moved to the next.
Again, after draining the strength in both shoulders, and experiencing a new level of cold, I finally had him running. I picked up the back, then the front, and slid into the saddle. I gave beast #2 some gas, and nothing moved. I gave beast #2 more gas, and he showed he was just as stubborn as #1. I wondered if the two of them had discussed this as I walked up. I'm beginning to think there is a emergency brake set I don't know about.
More gas...
I hear lots of noise, I see clouds of exhaust big enough to hold water, but I can't force either machine to take flight. Damn, here come the girls... now I look bad. Inept. Incompetent. Unable to perform my masculine duties.
Jane jumps on #1, rocks him side to side, and off she goes. Jane makes me look like a girlscout.
So... I climb onto beast #2 like I own him, rock side to side, gas him, and nothing happens but more noise, and bigger rainclouds. Its gotta be a conspiracy. Dan (the only other man there) grabs one side, I grab the other, and we push, forcing the track to turn.
And I'm airborne.
Jane has a track thats close to 400 yards around. One lap, and I'm heading to the trunk of my car to see what I can find for the last couple fingers I have left. I feel like I have little wooden twigs stuck in stumps. I emerge with my trusty leather mittens. These mittens have protected me through fire, water, and chill cold enough to kill. I feel stronger just wearing them.
By now, Jane has the sled hooked behind the snowmachine. I saddle up and Porter (who hasn't muttered a whine yet) jumps on the sled. I look back to be sure he's ready, and the top of his hood is all I see, but he yells "GO!".
So we go...
I start slow, looking back to be sure he's still hanging on. Porter clings to the sled. He is the magnet, the sled is steel. Porter is squatted low, leaning into the turns, his eyes peering out of his big red hood. He is a flexible fluid mass that looks like he was conceived on the rails of a sled and born in the midst of huskies. He rides like it is his purpose... his reason for living.
I pick up speed, throwing powder behind me and into his little face. Around the next corner and Porter is leaning so hard, his little right knee lays in the snow. The sled fishtails a little, he hangs on. Two more corners and we pull into the dogyard. Porter steps off like he's just finished shopping. Like he's walking down the street. Like it was any other daily experience.
No one else wants to go? Hell, Porters already back on the sled.
We take off, this time faster. 15mph. 20 mph. 25 mph. I picture in my mind Porter holding on to the sled and his body flapping in the wind like a sheet on a clothesline. I glance back, sure that the fear in his eyes will force me to slow down, but the kid is crouched low, leaning right, straightening up, leaning right, straightening up... most of the time I can't even see him he's so low on the rails.
Hooking dogs on the sled only makes it difficult to stop. Porter only weighs 45 pounds, and it takes more than that to keep the brake dug into the trail. He did great though, then retired to the car to warm his toes.
This is a kid who whines when he has to clean his plate at dinner. Whines when I make him pick up his toys. But mushing in circles in the freezing cold? He doesn't say a word. All smiles. It may have had something to do with all the little girls present...
25mph might not sound very fast, but ride a sled and you may think different. Stand tall, and the sled goes top heavy. Stand stiff, and the sled goes top heavy. Don't lean into corners and the sled goes over. In a flash, the dogs could easily use you for a plow. Now imagine you are 5 years old. Imagine you can barely see over the handrail. Imagine doing it all alone...
I can honestly say mushing 400 yards is not difficult. Probably even say any grown human could do it. The difficulty lies in mushing for miles. The endurance. I see no joy in it personally, but Porter is a natural. Pulling into the dogyard, Jane roughs his head up and tells him he is a great musher. There is no way I will ever own 20 dogs... Hell no. I'll just take him to Janes now and then. She can mold him. She can fulfill his need to run.
I gotta tell you guys with kids. If you get a chance, ask Jane for a day of mushing. She's a great teacher. Eager to pass on the knowledge and very careful with your children. It is an experience few people get in a lifetime. Every Alaskan should try it once.
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