“In order to be open to creativity, one must have the capacity for constructive use of solitude. One must overcome the fear of being alone.” ― Rollo May

Here’s what I’ve learned about myself as a writer and artist: my creative energies open up when I am in solitude. Perhaps this is why, whenever I have been in the U.P., my writing flows so easily.

Sometimes the silence here is almost deafening. It wakes me in the night; it reverberates inside my heart, shaking loose its secrets. The silence is a hum that bounces off my soul and allows me to better hear simple truths. My simple truths. 

There is never a time when I feel the fullness of solitude as when we run at night. Sometimes the only thing the U.P. has to offer is solitude and stillness.

As the dogs and I trekked through the woods last night, I stopped to water them and snapped this picture. Right after, I walked back down the line of dogs, 10 of them, all wagging and barking to go. I shut the engine of my four wheeler off and tried to imagine we were on snow and the team was hooked to my sled. 

Ruffian, my intense white leader, barked and called everyone to attention.

"Ready?" I asked, and Ruffian barked again in response.

"I was born ready!" she seemed to say.

The wind blew through the white pines and the dogs looked like dancing horses - all loping in perfect harmony. As we dipped down on the trail, the air seemed to cool and the dogs picked up their already swift pace, moving like a well-oiled machine. We reached 15 miles per hour on the cold stretch, winding in between the birch and spruce and aspen.

ghosts in the woods

Some don't like running at night, but I do. The darkness seems to magnify the solitude. I never feel afraid or alone when I'm out with a team in the night. Solitude is a place I visit often.

Tonight, I walked out of the tiny cabin under the stars. The moon was a hazy sliver in the sky. I looked up and thanked God for this opportunity - for helping me be true to myself. I am no longer living a lie.

Some may not like the words I have to say or the truths I have to speak, but I have spoken the hardest truths in the last six months, and I will always honor myself and those truths now.

"I have never found a companion that was so companionable as solitude."

Many probably think I'm a little odd in my need for solitude. For me, I need regular intervals of isolation, time to, in computer terms, "defragment." I guess that's what makes me a musher, as well as most who enjoy outdoor sports: a passion for solitude.

My spirit opens up every time I come to this place of solitude, locked away in the woods with a bunch of canine best friends. I couldn't be happier. The only thing that would make this perfect would be if my kids were with me, and if I could find a way to financially sustain myself here.

Doesn't anyone value a poetic female hermit with wanderlust?

Ah, I guess I ask too much.

I smile when I think back to five or six years ago when I first started coming up to the U.P. Then, I was baffled by the solitude, an observer, learning about this new area, about this sport, the people. And while I am still an observer learning, it is less about documentation now and more about having a job to do and feeling confident doing it. And the people feel like home to me.

I have a new appreciation every day of the intricacies and nuances of training for this sport. I am continually amazed at how in depth and multi-faceted training sled dogs is, and I learn so much from my dogs - about the sport, but also about life.

Doggy Update 
We arrived back in the great north woods very late Tuesday night (actually, very early Wednesday morning). Last night, we set out on our first 20 mile run of the season.


The dogs before our 20 mile run...


...the dogs, seventeen miles into our 20 mile run

The dogs were so happy to have new trails - hundreds of miles of trails. Today we completed 25 miles, and within about an hour or so of rest, the dogs looked as if they were ready to go again.

I am so proud of my team! Their enthusiasm, determination and drive is really something to behold. I am even more proud because it has taken me years of patience in building up this team from puppihood; five of my nine core dogs were raised and trained by me, so they have grown up with me and I am especially proud of them. Their work ethic is exemplary. When things get tough, even my smallest dog digs in deeper, pulls harder, strives for more. It seems that is something we all could learn from.

No matter where we place in our races this season, I am so proud to call them my teammates and be along on this beautiful journey with them.

It is late now, and the moon hangs in a cloudy black sky lazily. A few flakes of snow fall haphazardly from that black expanse, and I am sipping some 2006 Riesling and ready to nod off, satisfied.

Until next time, as always,

Gwennie back in harness

Today, I ventured out with Gwennie in harness for the first time since she had her litter of eight puppies on January 2, 2010. Snow began falling two days ago, and hasn't stopped since. It was rough slogging as we broke trail up and down hills in a foot of snow, but Gwennie was amazing as always. If I even stopped for a tiny split second, she'd whine and pound into her harness. She is 100% on the line and such a joy to run. I sure have missed having her in the team.

During the slow run breaking trail, I had more time than usual to enjoy the scenery. A train chugged down its track, parallel to the trail and the sled creaked and the collars jingled.

I reflected on the dogs' work ethic. As tough as that trail was, they were undaunted, unfazed. I am always impressed with the work ethic of sled dogs. They do not complain or stop, they just keep slogging, stay focused, work harder. Yeti, especially, is as honest a dog as they come. No matter what, he puts his head down and pulls with everything he's got.

I thought about this sport and my relationship with my dogs. It's about self-reliance and solitude. Native people who traveled and hunted via dog teams could live in harsh climates for unlimited amounts of time, the dogs becoming best friends, confidantes, even shelter. I'm re-reading Gary Paulsen's Dogsong right now, and he paints such a vivid picture of how mushers and their dogs are connected - to each other and the earth.

No pictures on tonight's blog. Tomorrow will find me back on the runners with my little team, dreaming of a timeless period long ago. Mush on.

Duck, duck, goose....goose!

A pair of Canada geese nesting with a pair of mallards behind

Everything is paired up for spring. Canada geese squawk if I come too near them; they're not thrilled about this photo opp. You see, they're expecting. And the mallards behind them (yes, back there. They blend well, don't they?) - they're expecting too, and they take cover under the protective hyper-vigilance of the geese.

There's a lot of action on land.


Karma the cattle dog runs super fast, trying to dry off and warm up after a cold dip in the lake

People seemed to be out every where today. Motorcycles roared, bicycles buzzed on the Towpath trail in the Cuyahoga Valley. But out on the water, solitude was still attainable.


Karma and Gracie cool off in Indigo lake



As my paddle tip touched the water for the first time this year, my hips fell into a familiar, easy sway with the rhythmic splash, splash paddling, and I remembered quickly why I feel at home and at ease here. The day was not bright; it wasn't even warm. But as the hull of my kayak hit the water, I officially embraced spring's return.