SHAYTAAN SIBERIAN HUSKIES       

Happy are those that dream dreams and are ready to 

pay the price to make them come true - Leon J. Suenes

  Click here for full Mannsville results                                                                                                            Click here to view teams

                          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