2007 Mannsville Quest
Louise's team out on the
trail
Louise prepares for her first sled race
The Race
Site
The Start
Having started to get withdrawal symptoms from missing purebred racing
we were pleased when we read on SDC in the Fall of 2006 that Bob Florek
was planning on arranging a pure breed race to be staged in the Upper
New York area towards the end of February 2007. Although we knew this
was only going to be a relatively short distance race (10 and 16 mile
classes) and was going to be staged just before the Can Am, nonetheless
we thought it would be a good experience to go out and compete against
Siberians again. After all New York State is only just a bit further
than New England so another relatively local race right?
The race start was scheduled for the Saturday morning and as we figured
it would take about one day to get there (just over a 1000 miles drive)
we packed up the van and left early on the Friday morning. Being only a
1 1/2 sled family, and this being Louise's first sled race, we had
arranged to stop off in Maine to visit Alex and Lucille at Maine Made
Sleds and pick up a new sled; as we already had, and were very happy
with, a Maine Made mid distance sled, we decided we would mix things up
and get a sprint sled this time out. Hospitality from Alex and Lucille
is always the best and so we ended up getting back on the road slightly
later than planned and still not half way to the race site but
nonetheless in good spirits for the long drive ahead.
Anyway to cut another very long drive very short, at midnight that
night we were still driving though the mountains of Massachusetts and
decided that as we weren't going to get near the race site we would
find a hotel for the night. After much driving around trying to find
somewhere that was suitable so that we wouldn't have to worry about
either the security or the noise of the dogs, we eventually pulled off
the interstate at the small community of **. Having filled up with
diesel at a small all night gas station we proceeded to pull into a
hotel that had a nice secluded parking area that as it turned out was
overlooked by our room. Perfect. We walked the dogs, had a quick beer
and headed to bed all prepared for a 0530 rise - we estimated that we
had at least one more hour of driving before we even got near to the
race site.
After a short and seemingly quiet night we rose to find all the dogs
still in the van and in good cheer. As it turns out the drug dealers
who had been using the room opposite us, and had actually just recently
jumped bail and were now on the run, had for some reason got up and
left even earlier than us, but had done so without disturbing either us
or the dogs. Ironically enough they had left behind a number of
important and treasured possessions in their room (syringes, spoons,
wallets, drugs, that sort of paraphernalia) and had phoned back to the
hotel saying they were coming back to collect them and could the
receptionist hold on to their items. The receptionist diligently
informed them that she would hold on to the items at least until the
police turned up in about 15 minutes - we are guessing that the two
weary travelers never returned.
As the temperatures over night had dipped below -15ºC it was with some
relief that the van started (almost) first time, and with a grunt of
acknowledgement to the cheery toll booth operator who charged us back
onto the highway and reminded us that it was only just over 5 hours
since we had pulled off the highway, we were on the road again.
Obviously conscious of the relative hassle free journey to date, within
5 minutes of being back on the highway the van started juddering and
losing power. Then it cut out completely and just as the van was about
to stall the engine misfired again and the revs started picking up.
This continued for mile after painful mile and as we started to climb
back into the mountains and the odometer registered that we were now
exactly 1000 miles from home, desperation started to set in as the van
got slower and slower and cut out more and more frequently. To make
matters worse we were carrying a dog for Scott and Corina Alexander
that we were supposed to be returning to them at the race site. We had
absolutely no way to get hold of either them or the race organisers and
I started to imagine the 1000 mile return journey on the back of a tow
truck, returning home without racing and worse than that, carrying
Orion back to Nova Scotia when he should have been settling back into
his old kennel in New Hampshire.
Eventually the van coughed and spluttered off the mountain highway and
onto the narrow road leading away into the forest. By now 30mph was our
maximum speed before the engine cut out but still the van kept going;
hit 30, the engine dies, speed drops to about 10 mph, engine kicks back
into life, speed increases to 30,engine dies, driver swears and curses,
hits the steering wheel, hurts his hand, swears and curses, speed drops
to 10 mph... you get the idea. Following this repetitious and
occasionally painful pattern it was with a fair deal of relief when we
finally eased into the race site. Oh well we may be over 1000 miles
from home and the van may well never run again but at least we will get
to race and also return Orion to his grateful owners.
Relieved beyond measure, I got out, kicked the van, put some diesel
conditioner into the fuel tank, kicked the van and started preparing
the sleds whilst Louise sorted the dogs out. Everything else seemed to
go pretty smoothly, the checkers who were going around confirming that
all canine entrants were indeed registered with the AKA, CKC or UKKC
(we were very proud of getting an extension to the original rules just
to allow us to run our UK dogs) were slightly bemused by the UK
registration papers but still accepted our guys as pure bred, the
mushers meeting was quick but comprehensive, everyone we met, including
the inimitable organiser Bob 'Big Toe' Florek, were all extremely
friendly and helpful and even Louise, who I expected to be
exceptionally nervous and anxious ahead of her first sled race was
(almost) calm and collected.
Louise was out first running four of the older dogs in the 10 mile
class and so it was with some trepidation that I stood on the start
line watching her head off into the forest. I worried that she would
fall off (although she was running the more stable mid distance sled),
I worried that older dogs wouldn't run for 10 miles, I worried that she
didn't really have a leader in the team, I worried that I would catch
her on the trail and wouldn't be able to pass her (quiet a conceited
worry as it turned out). Not too much time to worry however, I had my
own team to sort out and then elicit help to get me to the start line.
Being of slightly selfish mind, I had selected what I thought were
probably the best 6 dogs to run in my team, including Poppy the main
lead dog and the other 2 dogs, Paris and Medea, who we had been
training for lead but were still young and inexperienced. Poppy had
been struggling with a shoulder injury since our first sled run of the
year back at the start of January but had just come off a complete rest
for three weeks. I was confident she was fully recovered and would be
raring to go; and so she was. We flew out of the start chute, covered
the first few 100 yards easily and bore down on the first turn, a 90º
left hand turn that although well populated with marshals should have
been a straight forward turn - it wasn't, Poppy just wanted to go
straight on into the barriers. No matter what I tried she wouldn't take
the turn, she backed away from an approaching marshal (Bob the
organiser - what a good impression I was making with my lack of dog
driving ability) and began to tangle herself and the rest of the team.
Eventually someone stood on the brake whilst I went forward, untangled
the team and led them round the corner. With a word of apology/thanks I
jumped back on the sled and off we went - slowly. Very soon afterwards
I heard the call for trail and Scott came thundering past me. I knew
before the start he was going to beat me but I hadn't expected to be
overtaken so soon, however even the possibility of the chase didn't
lift the team; once again Poppy did not want to run, or at least not
lead. The trail was extremely narrow over this first couple of miles
and so I really did not want to snub down and mess around changing
leaders for fear of blocking the trail and impeding someone else's
progress. However Poppy's desire to be out in front was so obviously
lacking that in the end I had to stop and I very quickly moved Paris up
alongside Medea - I had no choice but to run the two inexperienced
yearlings at lead. In books and fairy tales I would now have the most
perfect run, we would fly around the course, we would take every turn
with consummate ease, proving what outstanding leaders these two would
be for years to come, we would catch and pass Scott and seize victory
from the jaws of defeat. It was not however to be; the desire to lead
was there, the wish to cover the trail as quickly as possible was
there, the ability to take each and every turn most certainly was not.
Every turn we came to, especially those that involved turning off the
trail onto a side trail, we had to stop, discuss the pros and cons of
that particular trail at length and then normally wait for a marshal to
start walking towards us before we decided we would indeed go the right
way. Add into this the fact that my belief that the mid distance sled
was more stable proved correct and it made for a complete comedy run. I
discovered the ability to fall off the sled whilst going along a
straight, flat trail - normally right in front of spectators. Going
down hill through a steep, narrow and very windy trail I discovered
that I could travel quite a distance on my knees whilst holding on for
dear life to the base of the uprights and with my eyes either shut or
full of snow - either way I couldn't see. I most certainly didn't catch
Scott nor indeed did I see Louise on the trail (meaning either she was
hopelessly lost or more likely had completed the race in reasonable
time), I was however passed once more just as we were approaching the
finish line - so even second place was a distant dream. In fact I
finished 5th overall, not the best run of the year but not the worst
either and it had been a most enjoyable and beautiful trail. I also
crossed the finish line to be greeted by a beaming Louise, she had
indeed finished, had really enjoyed an uneventful run and was not in
last place - all round a good result.
To improve the day even more the van started first time, purring into
life like a rattly old diesel van that breaks down every 500 miles or
so and has the knack of draining my wallet at the most inopportune
moments. However I couldn't complain as it did start and there was hope
in my heart that we would have an uneventful 1000 mile return journey.
We delayed our departure sufficiently to attend the awards meal in the
evening, and we were very pleased that we did too. The volunteers put
on a fantastic spread at the Fire Hall, the company for the evening was
excellent, Bob proving to be a most pleasant and amusing host and all
in all the day finished off a lot better than it started. And in fact
to cap it all off the return journey was pretty uneventful. The
Massachusetts State certainly earned their coin from us - I think the
Massachusetts Turnpike must have more toll booths per mile than any
other stretch of road in the world but we did indeed speed to our
destination arriving home early Sunday afternoon after another all
night drive (OK drive 100 miles, pull into a lay by in a state of near
slumber, sleep the uncomfortable sleep for a couple of hours, wake,
drive, stop, sleep, wake, drive, stop, sleep...
Oh well only the Can Am to go for this winter and as that is only an 8
hour drive away what could possibly go wrong that weekend...
Rob