Diamond Dogs Racing

The howling awakens me at sunrise. I’m at Nature’s Kennel, home of Tasha and Ed Stielstra and over 100 Alaskan Huskies. By seven-thirty, the dog yards break out into full blown chaos as the teams start to hook up. One by one, they’re harnessed and hooked to the gangline. The morning is bright blue and crisp. I don't have a thermometer, but if I'd have to guess, I'd say it's about 36 degrees.

When they come back an hour later, the dogs are all tongues and tail wags. The yard is quiet, and the dogs are unharnessed and returned back to their homes: blue or white barrels fashioned on wooden platforms.

Inside the Stielstra’s cozy home are pictures and trophies galore. Tasha’s 1st place U.P. 200 trophy is strategically placed in the corner between two sofas, and Ed’s statues sit in window sills from the John Beargrease. They range from “best kept team” to “7th place.” Smiling pictures of Ed’s Iditarod team hang on the wall collage, and pictures of "Nature" -- the kennel namesake, hang proudly on the wall above a bookshelf with appropro titles like "Yukon Alone," and "Back of the Pack."

I wander into the yard while Mariah Smyth is preparing her 12 dog team to leave. I hop on just as she flies by and, after brief introductions, I realize she is the sister of Cim Smyth. Before I know it, we're off the trail going about 13 miles and hour buzzing past tree branches and hitting bumps that send me flying around on the back of the quad. I'm glad I didn't bring Sophie on this ride!

She says she's been mushing all her life. Growing up in Big Lake, Alaska with a family of mushers, what else is there? She's staying with the Stielstra's for the winter, running the racers and living currently in the dog trailer.

A funny conversation mushers have is about poop. Jan Shaw laughed when we started talking about my Jack and how he had the runs. She said, "whenever mushers get together, the conversation is always about poop!" It's true: while sitting around a campfire last evening, the conversation eventually found its way to the topic.

Mushers are not squeamish either. They'll talk about poop over dinner or ice cream, and would just as soon scoop it than anything.

I am dirty. I have not had a shower for two days. The temperature hovered around thirty last night, and the cover of Tasha's big tent and my arctic rated sleeping bag did little to keep me warm. Tonight, Sophie and I are staying at the aptly named "Generic Motel" in McMillian. We're stopping by Carp Lake on the way home to check out a couple gee/haw leaders who are potential additions to my own kennel. We'll see...

Until next time...see ya. I can't wait to take a shower and sleep in a real bed tonight.