Most of us are aware that dogs have an incredible sense of smell, estimated to be 1,000 to 10,000 times more powerful than that of humans. A much larger part of the dog’s brain is devoted to smells, and, in fact, dogs have a special tool called the Jacobsen’s organ that is designed specifically for chemical communication.
An unfamiliar dog can come up to me and smell 30 different dogs on my pant leg. They know what we ate for dinner and if we are sick. It should have come as no surprise to me, then, that taking three females “in heat” on my Beargrease team would be a really bad idea.
A female in heat in the kennel is always a disruption. Her raging pheromones become a fixation for any nearby males. If they can’t reach each other, there will be barking, tail wagging, howling, and other flirtatious activities. If a female isn’t spayed, she lives near males that are neutered, and vice versa. But even those neutered males know a “hot” dog when they smell one.
I should have traded some of these females for other dogs that wouldn’t be such a disruption. But I have rarely dealt with this problem in a race, at least not to this extent. Even before the race started, we had to be careful on the truck about not dropping intact dogs next to each other lest an unwanted breeding occur.
That was mistake number one. Mistake number two was a little overconfidence and misunderstanding on my part that because I drew a bib with my lucky number 7, I was probably going to do really well here. So, I ran the first leg too fast.
I’ve always said it’s not good to have the fastest time on leg one of any race. I would prefer to go out a little slower, conserve the team’s energy, and then finish strong. But despite having both of my feet on the drag brake for more than 30 miles, I apparently didn’t slow down the team enough. I should have paid closer attention to my GPS, but instead I just enjoyed the fast, easy trail and flew toward Two Harbors. I was so fast that my handlers weren’t even there when I arrived. Fortunately, some nearby handlers helped us get across the parking lot to the truck.
As the race went on, my problem girls became a distraction on the team. My main leading boys, Che’ and Temper, wouldn’t lead. They just couldn’t ignore the girls further back in the team. I put Georgia and Oreo up in the lead, and they were good together, but then I was having a hard time finding boys that could run together. I tried to leave Finland with Che’ in lead, but that was a no-go. The doggy merry-go-round began.
I stopped multiple times to move dogs around. Now, two weeks post-race, and even the day after my race ended, I can’t exactly remember why I had to keep switching dogs, but generally it was a problem of the team bunching up, a male trying to jump a female, dogs snarling with jealousy, and hormones running amuck, me running up to stop that situation, and then moving the dogs around. I was passed by several teams while I sorted out my debacles on the way to Sawbill.
At Sawbill, I didn’t sleep during my 4.5-hour break. Back pain was really setting in, and I chose to sit on a chair in the warm “bacon” tent, a tent run by volunteers to feed the mushers and volunteers bacon, hot drinks, and other goodies. When it was time to go, I moved almost every dog around on the gangline, trying to find good combinations that would allow a smooth run to Trail Center.
The run was cold—20 below and colder with wind chill—and though I ate some food at Sawbill, maybe it wasn’t enough. We cruised pretty well for the first 25 miles, and then I saw Nathan Schroeder ahead. As we neared Nathan, I slowed and followed his team for a while, but then I decided to pass. Not long after passing, my team balled up, dogs tried to fight or mount each other, and Nathan passed me again. I sorted out my problems and we kept on, again approaching Nathan and passing. Again, we balled up.
I was beginning to feel a little embarrassed. Nathan has won the Beargrease multiple times and has run the Iditarod several times as well. The guy is a really good musher. I should have just followed him, but once we got rolling, I thought we could maybe pass successfully, so I would try again.
Finally, about 5 miles from Trail Center, Nathan passed me as I sorted out yet another tangle. No matter where I moved dogs around, I couldn’t seem to get the team to go. Leaders wouldn’t lead, and then dogs, one-by-one, started lying down. The final insult was when I put my girl Andi (in heat) next to neutered Chip, and the next thing I knew, they had tied.
We had to wait for 15 minutes until they untied. Monster had laid down by then, and I put him in my sled bag. He was looking at me with the “I just don’t want to do this anymore” eyes. As I tried to get the team moving, it became clear Andi needed to go into the sled bag as well. Finally, we rolled toward Trail Center with Temper and Georgia in lead. I had firmly decided at that point that upon reaching Trail Center, I would scratch.
Those with extensive racing experience will tell rookies to never scratch without a nap and a full belly. Sleep deprivation and a tough run can be detrimental to a musher’s judgment. I kept this in mind, but I felt firm about my decision. Leaving Trail Center with this team would only be a disaster. I had no leaders, and the team dynamics were just not going to work. Plus, I could see that the hard-packed trail was beginning to take a toll on the dogs. There were several with sore wrists, and one had a minor sore shoulder. I felt relieved that my decision came easy. We packed up and went home.
The lowest of lows in mushing are when all falls apart. I sat there on the Lima Grade, feeling like I never wanted to race long distance again. The toll racing takes on our family, our finances, and my own physical well-being is extreme. But within a few days, I brushed off that feeling and looked ahead to the Mail Run and beyond.
There isn’t time here to recap the Mail Run, but I will say it was another fast race, but with the much shorter distance, we needed to maintain that speed to do well. At the half-point rest, I was in seventh place, with the three mushers ahead of me all within one minute. This time, I had held my team back appropriately, and I passed these teams, one of whom flipped her sled in front of me and lost her team. I watched as the driverless team made a perfect turn off a plowed road and then passed another team in front of us. I chased them down for several miles before they finally became tangled, and I was able to tie them off so the musher could catch up.
The final highlight of the race came as we ran onto Poplar Lake for the final time. Far ahead, I saw something running on the trail. The light was waning, but I could see that it wasn’t human. It had to be a wolf. The leaders caught sight and sped up. The wolf veered off into the shore. Then the dogs caught its smell, and soon there was an eruption of barking and speed. Several miles later, we cruised into the finish, the team looking spectacular in fourth place. Onward.
