"The big question is whether you are going to be able to say a hearty yes to your adventure." Joseph Campbell

The dogs and I headed out yesterday for what I intended to be a routine 35 mile run/camp out. I had planned to run 17 1/2 miles over to a neighboring sled dog cabin owned by Jim Warren, let the dogs rest for an hour or two, and then head back. It had been six years since I had run the trails that lead to Jim's cabin, however, and last summer, a huge fire, known as the Duck Lake Fire, wiped out much of the wildlife on the trails between the cabin I stay at on M-407 and Jim's, transforming the landscape into something almost totally unrecognizable to me.

A good musher is a prepared musher, and I have learned to always pack in case of an emergency. Before any long run, my sled bag always has the following in it: sleeping bag, camp pillow, fire starter, waterproof matches, emergency blanket, axe, bolt cutters, compass, map of the area, water, one meal/snack, one cup per dog of dry kibble plus chopped meat blocks and dog bowls for the dogs. I also never leave without my cell phone (even though I very rarely get reception anywhere up here), and GPS. I also always travel with a multi-tool, two snow hooks (anchors that stop the sled), a snub line (a rope to secure the sled to a tree or other stationary object), extra booties and necklines/tuglines for the dogs and my sled, just in case.

As I headed out yesterday, I was packed for an emergency, but have never actually considered I would ever be in an emergency. I had a hand-drawn map a friend had given me the day before to help guide me to Jim's cabin, and the first ten miles of the route is a system of trails the dogs and I are quite familiar with and have traveled all fall and winter. It all seemed very simple. Right?

I turned left onto M-414 and headed toward M-435. All was going as planned. But somehow, I missed a very subtle turn off about 12 miles into our run. I ended up on M-423 toward the Rainbow Lodge, a main site of decimation from the Duck Lake Fire last summer.

This is not where I needed or intended to be.

It is exceedingly easy to become disoriented in the labyrinth of trails along the Lake Superior shores. This particular day, it was even more so. The wind was blowing fiercely from the northwest off of Lake Superior in 25-35 mile per hour gusts. The temperature was about 10 degrees, and with the wind, it was below 0. And it was snowing heavily - so heavily, that my tracks were all but covered by drifting snow shortly after passing through an area of trail, and at times I couldn't see for the snow.

I found myself in the middle of the area that had been burned in the Duck Lake fire, on M-423, a dirt-based, seasonal road that was a solid sheet of ice. The juxtaposition of the ice next to the barren landscape that had been charred only six months prior was eerie; I felt like I had entered an entirely different country.

I had turned off on several trails and roads, and realized I had completely disorientated my sense of direction. The wind was blowing across the barren and desolate landscape in a way I had never experienced. It was already 3:30 p.m. I had to consider my options. If I continued on, I would undoubtedly become more lost. I decided the best thing would be to turn around. Most lead dogs are excellent and following a scent trail, especially when it leads back the way they came, and my leaders are no exception.

The only problem was, I was on a solid sheet of ice, in a barren land. There was nothing to either hook a snow hook into or tie a snub line to in order to turn the team around.

I came to an area beside a large pile of stacked lumber. This provided a little break from the wind and I stopped the team and searched for something to hook to briefly. I took my big over mitts off, threw my snow hook in between two giant logs in the wood pile, said a quick prayer, and headed up to the front of my team toward my leaders.

Just then, Big Brown and Yeti, my two lead dogs, saw me and, on their own, turned the team around and headed toward me! Quickly, I ran back toward my sled so the force of their turn wouldn't snap my hook, but before I could get back on the runners, the hook popped and the team started back down the road of ice. I hooked my left arm into the handlebar of the sled, catching it just in time, and rode on my knees down the ice for a few seconds before righting myself on the runners.

So we were headed back, but without my favorite Outdoor Research over mitten - the left one. I had dropped it on the quick about face my leaders managed. My cheeks burned in the blowing snow and wind, and my left hand, which was now exposed, burned as well.

As we headed back, my trail already covered by blowing snow, I thought to myself about why it is I live for this.

This is fun to me. This is what gets my blood pumping: to be outside in the elements, far, far away from "civilization" and "society," in solitude where anything can happen and to be self-reliant. I am thankful for what my dogs have taught me, for even in the blowing snow and bone-chilling wind, they never faltered; they simply leaned into their harnesses, put their heads down and trudged on. They do not wonder why, even as their faces are covered with an icy mask of snow.

I celebrate the ability to deal with adversity and patience necessary to think fast here. I have a healthy respect for this landscape. It is harsh and indifferent, and so remote, there is a real threat of becoming lost here.

Perhaps I am a thrill seeker.

Here is one of my main leaders, Big Brown, who is neither big nor brown, enjoying some much deserved rest in the cabin after a hard day's run!

Here is a video clip of the wind and my team trudging along M-423.

As always...

Winter?

The cabin is like a sauna.

Outside, it's as if spring has come in January. The beautiful snow we had for the Tahquamenon race has all but melted. It was 42 degrees and raining here today. I was quite down yesterday when the snow began melting for numerous reasons, and not just mushing dogs. It seems like winter is getting harder and harder to come by. Those who depend on winter for their livelihood in places like this are suffering.

I've learned so much these last three months.

I landed a job at a local restaurant/bar waiting tables and tending bar the week before last. But without snow (and snowmobilers) I only worked three days before receiving a text that the owner didn't need the extra help after all.

As I type, rain falls on the tin roof of the cabin. The trails have turned to pure ice. The dogs have been off for four days because of risk of injury when running on the icy trails.

I spent some time during these mild days traveling up to Grand Marais with a couple dogs to watch the sun set over Lake Superior.

Miles (right) and his girlfriend, Cinder

So much depends on the weather, still, for some people and ways of life.

"O Mistress mine, where are you roaming?" William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night

It is pouring rain as my headlights part the darkness along county road 407, a small paved road that snakes through miles of Jack Pine forests and connects Newberry to Grand Marais, Michigan in the eastern Upper Peninsula. I am still in shorts and a t-shirt from an unseasonably warm Ohio day when I arrive at the cabin, and I curse myself for my lack of forethought. I've already broken one cardinal rule of the great north woods: always be prepared.

I scramble onto the porch of the cabin in a futile attempt to evade the cold rain. The wooden door squeaks open, and I peer inside, flicking on the light switch but nothing happens. The power has been knocked out by the storm. Along with my warm clothes, my headlamp is also lost somewhere inside the labyrinth of boxes in the back of the Uhaul trailer. Along with the rest of my life. Luckily, I find a smaller headlamp in the console of my truck, strap it to my head and dart back onto the porch.

The small cabin smells like a familiar mix of burning wood and propane. It is only one room, 16x20, and made entirely of giant logs pulled from Hiawatha National Forest. The rain falls steadily on the tin roof, making the darkness feel even more lonely. There is a bed, a small wood stove, a simple table and chair set, a stove and fridge and a tiny bathroom. I sit down on the naked mattress, happy to have arrived after the ten hour drive.

This will be my home for the next five months.

I think of my children who are back in Ohio. What is it that makes a person feel at home in such a remote place? What is it that led me here to this tiny cabin near Lake Superior?

The wind picks up outside as the rain falls more intently on the tin roof. I snuggle up with my small spaniel/lab mix, Gracie, and try to sleep, but I am haunted by the things and people I've left behind and those yet to come.

O Mistress mine, where are you roaming?  
O stay and hear! your true-love’s coming  
That can sing both high and low;  
Trip no further, pretty sweeting,  
Journeys end in lovers’ meeting—          
Every wise man’s son doth know.  
  
What is love? ’tis not hereafter;  
Present mirth hath present laughter;  
What’s to come is still unsure:  
In delay there lies no plenty,—          
Then come kiss me, Sweet-and-twenty,  
Youth’s a stuff will not endure.

Out with the puppies, in with the puppies: a word about puppy brain development and socialization

Tak's puppies are getting so big! They're super fuzzy and feisty already. 

Puppy brains learn and develop most within the first four weeks of life. The more exposure puppies have to different environments, sounds, people and things, the more socialized they are to these changes. Because of this, we have begun working on a puppy pen, and shortly, Tak and her babies will move outside. They were three weeks old yesterday - it's amazing how fast those three weeks have gone by!

Toots (right, female) kissing her brother Tosh (left)

With the puppies moving outside, it was time for Mr. Miles, who is now eight months old, to move to his "big boy" house with the other boys in the dog yard.

Miles tethered out at his own dog house with his buddy, Yeti, in the distance. He's adjusting well to his circle.

We are all trying to lay low during these very hot days of summer. We had a bit of a reprieve from the heat, though, with a quick five-day mini-vacation up to our favorite place: the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, last week.

I went up initially for a talk I had in Tecumseh, Michigan. But, I figured, why not turn it into a little trip. It ended up being a fantastic socialization adventure for Mr. Miles.

We started our photo journey of the U.P. with a picture of the infamous wolf in the U.P. welcome center right after entering the Upper Peninsula.  Elise was not thrilled about this photo. :)

Sophie (left) and Elise (right) in front of the wolf at the UP welcome center

We then ventured up Route 2 where Miles' puppy socialization really began: we stopped to let Miles experience the beautiful shores of the crystal blue Lake Michigan.

This was all new to Miles, and he was a little afraid at first...

but soon, he felt at ease and loved playing and running full-throttle down the beach!

Miles loved watching Elise playing on the beach. I wonder what he was thinking?

Every opportunity for new experiences, smells, sights, people and places creates new connections in a young dog's brain, just like children learning about their world. Miles had plenty of experiences on this trip to forge lots of new pathways of socialization and experience, and he reacted beautifully to all the changes.

We hopped back in the truck and headed along Route 2 all the way through Manistique ... and visited the biggest, deepest, coldest of the Great Lakes: Lake Superior

Elise blissing out along a walkway to an old lighthouse on the Lake Superior coastline in Manistique, Michigan. Elise hasn't always taken changes in her own environment with ease, but she blossomed along the gorgeous deep blue waters of this vast great lake.

We finally arrived on Friday afternoon for our long-awaited visit to the home of Pete and Sharon Curtice and Ridge Runner Kennel in Rumley. Don't try to find Rumley on Google Maps: it's not listed. Elise and Sophie were super excited to play with Emily Curtice, who is the most mature, adventurous and capable nine year old I've ever known!

Emily Curtice plays chauffeur on a quad ride to pick raspberries with Elise

We picked up Daisy and Mace, two dogs from the Curtices kennel, in order to transport them all the way to Ohio where they would be picked up by their new owners and travel all the way to up state New York! After a wonderful night's sleep at the Curtice's, we were on our way again: this time to Newberry, the home of some of our favorite people, including Jan Shaw, and the Oswald Bear Ranch!

Elise (left) and Sophie (right bottom) got to pet a baby bear at the Oswald's Bear Ranch outside of Newberry, Michigan. That's me behind them :)

We spent some time visiting Jan and Bob Shaw and their Yooper-famous sled dogs at Arctic Wind Sled Dog Kennel.We love visiting Jan & Bob and all their dogs. Miles got to experience being in a strange, larger kennel and meeting more new people.

How many UP friends can one person squeeze into a five day visit? My friend Stan arrived at the Shaw's kennel and offered to take the girls and I out on his boat on Lake Superior. Unfortunately, it became chilly and windy, so we opted for pizza in Grand Marais instead. There, we hung out with Stan and his daughter, Laura, and I had the opportunity for more photos...

Once again, Miles went to new places and met new people, and did beautifully!

Finally, we left the U.P. and began the trek back down I-75 to Tecumseh, Michigan where I would be presenting our dogsledding talk, Backyard Iditarod, to the library. We had some time to kill, so spent the night in a hotel in Bay City, and Miles got to spend the night in a hotel room for the first time (and again, did beautifully).

The next day, our friend Anne Schneider Keller, the teen librarian at the library, sent me directions to a great sprinkler park/dog park for the kids AND Miles to let off some steam and get cool. By the time we arrived at the library, Miles was pooped!

Miles catching some ZZZs at our talk at the Tecumseh District Library. Photo courtesy of Anne Schneider Keller

Ultimately, the experiences Miles had last weekend will help him become a well-socialized, well-mannered educational dog for our programs. He's already become a perfect replacement for our original educational ambassador dog, Foxy, who is 15 1/2 and needs to retire fully.

What's more, we had the opportunity to forge our own memories of the U.P. and our favorite place. My only regret is that I wasn't here when Miles' brother, Theo, passed away unexpectedly. I can't help but think that if I had been here, he'd still be alive...

Until the next adventure...