Termination Dust
Wednesday, September 8, 2010 at 11:29AM Tear down of camp began this past week after an eventful conclusion of our tours. We awoke on our last day of tours with termination dust signifying the end of summer on the surrounding mountains (I took pictures, I really ought to post them soon!). The past few days of summer has been wonderful, a pleasant end to a cloudy but amazing summer. On our last tour day, we awoke to the frozen ground, happy for fast trails on our last day. But, during the tours, ominous clouds began growing, no longer allowing helicopters to land at camp. A typical solution is to snow cat our guests down to a lower site on the glacier, but the hydraulics on the big snow cat decided that the last day would be a good day to die... Resourcefully, we strung together all of our sleds to the back of the snowmachines and headed down the glacier, tourist in tow, in a most unusual way. But, it was a fun! The whole season was. Bittersweet was our last tour, definitely excited for the prospects of winter, but sad to be leaving all of the wonderful friends and experiences. And sad to be leaving Jessie Royer's dogs who I had the pleasure of working with all summer. I miss them terribly. And I miss my little sister, and the amazing times we had. It was a good summer. Probably the best.
After the helicopters eventually landed, we snowmachined back up the glacier, mindful of crevasses and snow cracks, and began the great dismantle. Quonset huts came down, dog houses came apart. Taking apart all of the lines for the sled, and repairing and making new lines for next year. Gathering harnesses and equipment, and packing up all of our personal gear. It happened fast. Before I was ready, I was loading the last of my dogs into the helicopter and heading down to Skagway.
The dogs do surprisingly well in helicopters, they love when they come into camp, barking and howling in anticipation of the run they are soon to go on. The trip down to the ground is fast, 6 minutes at most. The back seats of the helicopter are removed, and a modified dog box, with room for 8 singles, or up to 12 doubled dogs is loaded into it for the transport down. All of my dogs did well, though Harley was a bit nervous about the whole thing. But they were SOOOOO incredibly happy to see the ground and all the colors of fall and grass!
The afternoon on the ground was full of goodbyes and packing. That evening, a whole caravan of dogs and mushers headed past the US border to no-mans-land, where we camped for the night near International Falls. We grilled hotdogs and hamburgers, and reminisced on the season, and talked of winter plans. The next morning the group divided, with some heading back to Skagway to help on the ground with tear down, some headed to the lower 48, and Thomas, Therese, 70 some dogs and I headed back to Alaska.
Driving through the Yukon was incredible. We were lucky to have beautiful blue skies reflecting off the lakes, and golden birch and red fireweed lining the way. It was one of the most incredible drives I've been on. My truck was much happier on this leg of the dog migration. 12 dogs was much kinder than 60. Therese was pulling a trailer with her and Pete's 60 pups. And Thomas was following along as support crew in his truck. For the most part, the drive was slow but without problems.
The first night, exhausted after a full day of driving, we camped somewhere past Beaver Creek. Dropping the dogs and feeding them, and howling with them for a goodnight serenade. The next morning though, began rather eventfully as Therese blew out a tire on her trailer! Fortunately a passerby was able to lend us a handy man jack to change the tire, thus allowing it to be a speedy transition. We were then on our way to breakfast at Fast Eddies in Tok. From there, Therese and Thomas headed south, and I continuing west to Fairbanks.
The dogs and I arrived unceremoniously that evening. I dropped and fed the dogs at mushers hall, and then snuck over to the University for a shower. Dropped by my old landlords and good friends Pauline and Robin's place for dinner and conversation. The dogs were picketed out on the grass, happy to be free of the dog box, and I ended up sleeping at my friend Bessie's place the Hobbit Hole.
It feels good to be home.
