Husky News

THE DOGS glided into town quietly. One minute everyone waited for them, the next minute they paced smoothly down Front Street and across the finish line.

No yelping, no pounding of feet, no scrape of sled runners on the snow heralded their arrival.

Only a siren warned Dawson City that the first competitor in the 25th annual Yukon Quest International Sled Dog Race had left the river ice to climb the short bank into town.

“He’s here!” someone yelled into the visitors’ centre, packed since early morning with mushers’ supporters, fans from all over the world, race officials and volunteers, and media. The crowd poured into the street to watch the arrival of Alaskan Lance Mackey’s team.

It’s hard to make a clapping noise with mitten-covered hands, but the shouts of welcome made up for it.

The dogs, perhaps best described as carefully bred and selected mutts, accept the applause with alert ears and wagging tails. If ever dogs could be described as smiling, these would be the ones.

Mackey, who went on to win the 2008 Quest on Feb. 18 for a record fourth time in a row, along with the Golden Harness Award for exemplary dog care, arrived with a “dog in a basket,” musher-talk for an injured canine riding the sled. As the dogs still in the traces chewed on special snacks, Mackey explained that Willy had “a little bit of a hamstring issue,” likely from stepping in the cracks in the river ice.

“The ice is pretty bad,” he said. “That was a very demanding trail from the start to here. Yeah, I’m tired.”

As the first driver into Dawson City, Mackey earned a prize of gold — and a chance to sleep. Willy was handed into the care of veterinarians, to be picked up later by Mackey’s handlers.

The rest of the team, which would have to continue the 725 kilometres to Whitehorse without Willy or any replacement, drove off to a doggie rest camp across the Yukon River from Dawson City.

The mandatory 36-hour layover in Dawson City allows time for veterinarians to examine each dog, and for the drivers to rest while handlers care for the dogs. On the 1,600-kilometre trail from Fairbanks, Alaska, to Whitehorse, the mushers don’t fit in much sleep between caring for their dogs and setting up camp at the stops, and they aren’t allowed any help except at Dawson.

That’s because the Yukon Quest was designed to simulate, as much as possible, the historic interdependence of humans and dogs in the North. The trail follows the ancient highway of the north, the rivers and valleys that connect the various communities in the region.

Veteran musher Leroy Shank and historian Roger Williams founded the Quest in 1984 as a rugged event that would test the dogs and drivers over the traditional gold rush and mail delivery routes. The trail crosses four mountain ranges and the Canada-U.S. international boundary, and places mostly unheard-of in the rest of Canada: Forty Mile, Scroggie Creek, Pelly Crossing, McCabe Creek, and Braeburn.

On even-numbered years the race runs from Fairbanks to Whitehorse, and the opposite way in odd-numbered years.

The historic significance of the route is part of the attraction, along with a love of dogs and the outdoors, said 2008 race marshal Doug Grilliot, a calm, smiling man who is a commercial pilot with Northwest Airlines when he’s not a dog musher.

“There’s nothing more fun than a little trip with the dogs. It really gets into your blood,” he said, adding that the Quest’s focus on excellent dog care earns it strong support.

“To travel this kind of distance you need to take care of the dogs,” Grilliot said. “You put the dogs first. That is what’s going to make you a champion, to go a thousand miles with happy, healthy dogs.”

Mushers have to curb the dogs’ exuberance as much as they encourage performance, so the animals won’t overdo it and injure themselves, he said.

“It’s like coaching a bunch of five-year-olds.”

The dogs, usually smaller than the popular notion of sled dogs, are selected for their desire to run and pull, said rookie musher Ann Ledwidge of Dawson City. In 2008 she took over running the team when her veteran musher husband, Peter, was injured and the dogs, a major investment of time and money, needed exercise.

“They get excited when the harness is brought out,” she said. “They start leaping and yelping.”

On the other hand, some of the Ledwidges’ 35 dogs don’t want to pull, and “you can’t make them,” she said.

Ledwidge finished 13th out of the 15 mushers who completed the race, almost against all odds. She had to drop seven of the mandatory 14 dogs before reaching Dawson, and to drop one more would have taken her out of the running. Blowing snow hid the trail from her on her way to Dawson, but after a brief bout of self-pity she returned to Forty Mile and human companionship before tackling the route again with determination.

“I want to do it to say I’ve done it,” she said after she reached Dawson.

Raising and training the dogs, acquiring the sled and race equipment, and mushers’ and handlers’ travel expenses between Fairbanks and Whitehorse, all put a dent in one’s income. The winner’s purse varies annually between $15,000 and $40,000, with a total of US$125,000 awarded in 2008 to the winner and for sportsmanship, the last musher across the finish, rookie of the year, and other awards.

With the prizes barely covering expenses, “the lifestyle itself is the attraction,” Grilliot said.

’That was a very demanding trail from the start to here.’ LANCE MACKEY