The Longest Day
or
The Day the Dogs Came to Canada
I guess it is probably appropriate to start with a little background
information. We have owned, raced and shown siberian huskies (all with
limited success) for about 8 years and have a kennel of 9, 10 or 12
dogs depending on whether you take this as the period I am writing
about, writing in or writing for.
I would imagine that everyone who has ever stood on the back of a rig
or sled has from thenceforth harboured a fantasy of running a dog team
across arctic wastes or through snowy forests, even possibly competing
in a race such as the Iditarod or Yukon Quest. When I learnt about 4
years ago that the Royal Navy had an exchange posting in Canada
(Vancouver, British Columbia I thought) a cog turned in my mind and a
piece of the fantasy jigsaw dropped into place. I guess that last
sentence would make a bit more sense if I explain that I am in fact
already an aircraft engineer in the Navy, fulfillment of this part of
the dream involved neither press-ganging nor a trip to the careers
office. Once I knew about the potential posting I then embarked upon a
remorseless campaign of harassing and haranguing the person who
appoints us to our posts until he got worn down to the extent that the
only way of ensuring his future peace and tranquility was in banishing
me to the colonies (sorry for the turn of phrase Angie and any other
members from the four corners of our Empire who are reading this).
From the point when he said “Please, please go” we had 12 months to
prepare to move ourselves and 7 dogs from Peterborough in the
south-east of England to Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada (only the
opposite coast to our initial thinking - it is always important to be
sure of your destination when you embark on these projects). This was
also the point when the enormity of the task rose up and slapped us
full in the face. Moving the dogs was going to be the easy bit, what
would we do about the house, the furniture, the van, Louise’s mum – not
that we had to move her or put her into storage but we would have to at
least tell her ... eventually.
To cut an extremely long story short we decided to sell up in England
and buy a house in Canada. For some reason when you tell people you
have 9 dogs (2 more appeared on the scene whilst all this was going on
– thanks Alan and Penny for not attempting to discourage us from having
more dogs and no you can’t have the Clampett twins back !!) they are
not too keen to rent you their pristine little cottage.
Keelut and Medea preparing for their great adventure
We also thought that if we sever our physical links with the UK then if
we decide to stay in Canada it will make the process easier. As an
aside please do not let this article anywhere near Louise’s mum, having
finally recovered from the shock of her only daughter moving across the
Atlantic she suffered a major relapse when news broke that we have
acquired 3 more dogs since arriving in country – if she knew we were
contemplating staying longer we would be cut from the inheritance for
ever!!
As well as sell up we also decided to ship our van across as we were
going to need suitable dog transport immediately. I had two weeks from
landing in Halifax to finalise the house sale and purchase, sort out
all the furniture and possessions and settle into a new job and way of
life before Louise and the dogs arrived – the last thing I wanted to do
was try to buy a new vehicle and build a dog box as well – my wood
working skills are not good at the best of times! How I now wish we had
decided to leave the van behind in the UK. Not only did it cost a fair
amount to ship, but the friendly Customs staff insisted I pay $350 to
have the wheel arches washed (something environmental but not in the
least bit connected to Kyoto), again thanks to Customs it took days to
register it as they couldn’t decide which bureaucratic form needed to
be rubber stamped at least 100 times. It is now sat in a garage just up
the road with a very sick engine as a collection of mechanics (would
that be a group, a grease or a fortune?) try to work out what a VW van
is and what is the slowest and most expensive way of fixing it without
parts.
Enough of these woes, back to the story. On 11 August 2005 (the very
same day the puppies were 12 weeks old) Louise dismantled the kennels
and sold the house in Peterborough, packed 9 dogs into a rented Luton
van and set off to the airport. We had hoped our agents would have
moved the dogs to the airport however their driver told us he was
planning on having all 9 dogs loose in the back of his escort van (2
puppies and one bitch in season!!) and was going to take them back to
his kennels for the evening. When he finally admitted that he had never
even seen a husky before we quickly reverted to Plan A – do it
ourselves.
Concurrently in Canada I was having such a relaxing day. I was closing
down the rental house I had been forced to live in for a week. As the
movers were packing up the government owned furniture at that house,
the real estate agent phoned to say that Customs had relented, released
our gear and the shippers had turned up at the new house with our
possessions from England (rig, sled, harnesses, lines, husky/wolf
pictures and ornaments but not cutlery, plates, pots and pans or other
of life’s essentials which we didn’t consider packing). They were
threatening to dump the lot in the lane and drive off, the realtor was
scared stiff because she felt that they had driven straight out of
‘Deliverance’ and were about to attack her, (having met them later I
think she was right – I hid their banjo) and the house sale had not
gone through yet so they couldn’t get in the house. Apparently it takes
about 8 hours for some clerk sat in a nice warm office in England to
push the big button marked SEND thus transferring funds across the
Atlantic – and people say that globalisation is a bad thing. I decided
to insult the packers at the rental house by saying too loudly into the
phone that they were the slowest movers I had ever come across, as they
decided this was the signal for a ‘go even slower’ I jumped into the
van and drove the 50 miles to the new house to try and stall the
disaster there.
Fortunately the panels for the dog kennel which I had paid a princely
sum to have delivered to the new house at 10 am had not turned up so I
didn’t have to worry about trying to assemble an emergency dog run. The
panels finally turned up at 1530 with the driver muttering to his
assistant – “He’ll never have these kennels up today, don’t know why he
was so insistent on having it delivered this morning eh!”
The kennels in an early stage of development
As darkness drew in I was sat in our new house, furniture scattered in
every room but where it belonged, my suit cases strewn over the kitchen
floor, our essential, and most expensive possessions ‘stored’ in a very
rickety shed and dog run panels spread all over the field no closer to
being assembled than they had been when delivered. All this and Louise
and the dogs were still in the UK and not even in the air yet – I
retired to bed too tired to do anything else.
At 3 am I awoke with a start. The only explanation was that my second
sight had alerted me to the plane crashing, killing all on board -
canine and human. I struggled to put on the radio to get the latest
news. North American FM – both types of music, country and western, but
never any news. I finally managed to tune to an AM talk station and lay
in bed for the next 2 hours listening to the traffic problems around
New Jersey and the Bronx but no news. At 0530 I decided enough was
enough, I would drive to the airport and join the other anxious friends
and relatives awaiting news of the recently departed. On reaching the
airport I noticed that despite the horrors I had imagined the
Authorities were still predicting the arrival of the Gatwick flight so
it looked like my intuition and sixth sense had failed again. Oh well,
time to do battle with Canadian Customs for about the tenth time since
arriving in country. I walked into the Customs Office...
“Excuse me Madam but my wife is arriving from London with 9 dogs, is
there any chance I could go through to the baggage area to help her
through immigration?”
“9 dogs? You have 9 dogs? Jeez!”
You would not believe how many times I have heard that phrase over the
last 3 months, it has surpassed the old favourite “Is that a wolf?” and
is on a par with “You have huskies in the UK, what on earth for?”
“Yes Madam, 9 dogs. Can I please go through?”
“No!”
“But…”
“No, wait in the arrivals lounge like everyone else!”
“But 9 …”
“Have a nice day!”
Bitch, sorry bitches, 7 dogs and 2 bitches (did I mention one was in season) and the nice customs lady wouldn’t let me help.
So I sat in Arrivals, the flight was late but did arrive even though it
suffered an emergency howling on landing that resonated through the
passenger cabin (nice one Nero) and everyone came through into the
Arrivals lounge. Everyone that is apart from Louise and the dogs, of
course she had to speak to the friendly Customs officers in
immigration. I recalled with fondness my own arrival at Immigration in
Ottawa two weeks previously where the only thing I wasn’t subjected to
by Customs was a full body search - shame. Anyway Louise emerged half
an hour later to be greeted by her loving but slightly frantic husband.
“Where are the dogs? Are they alright? What has happened to the dogs?” I enquired lovingly.
“Hello Dear, I am fine thanks for asking, I have had a good but
exhausting flight. I missed you too. Oh the dogs are over in the cargo
holding area, the government vet will inspect them and release them to
us. We just have to wait in … the Customs Office.”
There was no urgency at all – despite the fact that 9 dogs had been
caged for nearly 10 hours (did I mention the fact that 2 were only 12
weeks old).
Eventually the vet came back in followed by two very surly looking Customs officers.
“Jeez, you have 9 dogs” said a stern faced officer.
“Oh how very perceptive of you, so very well spotted, that is obviously
why you are the Customs Officer and I am the Customer. I could have
told you that if you had bothered to ask you officious idiot! Are any
of them still alive?” I thought
“Yes Sir.” I said.
“Quite thin” said the vet.
My god either he is hitting on me or they are going to arrest me for maltreating dogs.
“They are racing huskies” I croaked trying to draw a distinction in his
mind between our dogs and the North American Show huskies.
“They are beautiful and in such good condition and so happy” said the
vet who, it turned out, owned a Malamute/Wolf cross – no wonder he
thought our dogs were quite thin.
“Yea, thanks for letting us look at them!” said the two cheery faced
and ever so pleasant Customs officers as they wandered off to harass
someone else.
“Great” I said “can we collect them now?”
“Sure you can. Just gotta complete this mountain of paperwork, charge
you a fortune for your inconvenience and leave you sitting around for
another 30 minutes and they are all yours!”
An hour later we pulled into the cargo bay to be greeted by a cacophony
of howling and a wary looking individual who clearly wanted 9 huskies
out of his cargo area at the earliest opportunity.
There’s not much more to say about our own Longest Day. Louise saw the
house for the first time and loved it (much to my relief and future
harmony), the dogs were in excellent condition (even the pups), they
loved their new kennels especially the way it resembled a load of
panels lying around a field which meant they were living in the
basement for the foreseeable future. Oh and the bat flying around the
house that night and the following morning (inside not outside,
including in our bedroom) isn’t even worth mentioning – that being the
case I do wonder why Louise never shuts up about it.
What else can I say? Trails. There are trails running straight from the
kennels into the forest, there are trails just across the road, 2
minutes down the road, 10 minutes up the road, 20 minutes across the
valley (although that one is only 10 miles long before you have to turn
around and head back). In fact there are so many trails that I have
nearly, but not quite, stopped saying “God did you see that trail”
every 2 minutes. What is more some of the trails are so flat and well
groomed that even the other organisation that must not be named would
run a rally on them - if only they were in the South East of England of
course!
Charlie (The Non-Runner) – not amused that we found a trail right next to the house
Having said all this we have been somewhat tortured in that Nova Scotia
has been in the grip of about the warmest summer and autumn (not fall
colonial brethren, autumn) on record so whilst all of you have been
diligently training for ages we sit here at the end of October having
only been out 6 times.
What about wildlife? Apart from the incessant chirping of the crickets,
sitting on the balcony listening to the evening calls of the coyotes
from all across the valley and the occasional deer that wanders out of
the forest and elicits great excitement in the kennels there isn’t much
to say. The raccoon shaped dent in the front of the van - not worth
talking about. The bat in the house – ask Louise, she’ll gleefully tell
you all about it. The toads that make the dogs foam at the mouth when
they lick them and the snakes that share the kennels – totally harmless
so who cares. The porcupines, skunks and great big green, horrible,
large fanged spiders that build the webs that wrap around your face
every time you walk through a door – I laugh at them all, from a
distance. The bear scat on the trails either side of the house – well
they do don’t they, in the woods I mean. There was the bird with the
10ft wingspan that hovered very low over the kennel as I stood down by
the forest watching. A very tranquil scene until I realised that he
might have a different, more carnivorous opinion of the 2 little
puppies stood on their own to the one I held. It is hunting season at
the moment so I should also mention the Shorter Sighted Canuck –
another challenge we didn’t have to consider whilst training at
Fineshades. There they told you which day of the year they would be
shooting on, here you are fair game unless you are wearing a bright
orange jacket – and that includes the leads dogs as well – cute and
practical.
Poppy and Nero – Dressed for the Season (The Hunting Season)
What else? Well we did travel 16 hours to attend a very enlightening
sled dog trade fair in New Hampshire. (I am aware that New Hampshire
should not be 16 hours from Nova Scotia but it was the first time I had
used the GPS). This was a very interesting weekend because not only did
we add our new puppy Caligula (Cal - Kelim’s Divine Emperor) to our
growing numbers but also got to go out training with the Kelim and
Sibersong Kennels. Fya and Nero even got to run as part of their 14 dog
team which was a sight to warm Louise’s heart after spending 16 hours
sat in a van with me discussing the joys of being very, very lost.
Caligula
We also listened to Dee Dee Jonrowe extol the virtues of dog sledding,
bought a new sled because it is essential that we have 2 sleds (?!),
drank a few beers with other mushers and came to the realisation that
we husky people are the same the world over – MAD as a box of frogs!
Ask us sometime about the husky owning livestock handler we met, very
inseminating and I would imagine quite a handful of a job but possibly
just a load of bull.
Fya and Nero with the Kelim Team –
They are back there somewhere, honest
Racing? Racing is going to prove quite interesting this winter and I
hope we’ll have something to report on in future letters. Distance is
proving to be an issue for a couple of reasons. First off we have
decided to try our hand at mid-distance so are having to revise our
training schedule from:
Get on the rig and go as fast as you can.
To
Get on the rig/sled and go a little slower but do it for longer (Welch
and Fishback eat your hearts out. My new book should be out soon I just
can’t decide on the title; either The Microcosm of Sled Dogs or I Know
Nothing about Training and Racing Sled Dogs).
The second factor? Last winter we sat and deliberated for weeks over
whether or not to make the 9 hour drive up to Fort William for our
final opportunity (for a couple of years of course) to run the
Leanachan Lope. I have recently entered the Can Am 30 and this is going
to be just about our closest race - a mere 8 hours away. Some of the
others we are contemplating entering are in Minnesota and Michigan,
over 30 hours drive away. Madness? Possibly but we have the opportunity
of a lifetime. I would hate to think of us back in the UK in a few
years time. Sorry I had better finish off that sentence, I would hate
to think of us back in the UK in a few years time thinking I wish we
had done that race, after all what is a 2 day drive in the grand scheme
of things. To get to where we are today, sat in the middle of a forest
in Nova Scotia as 2005 draws to a close, has meant a massive personal
and financial commitment (the Navy paid for my flight across and little
else). It would have been so easy at any stage to say forget it, let’s
stay in England and just dream the dream.
Does the view on a Saturday morning get any better?
However I am so glad that we have battled through all the stresses and
strains (only a fraction of which are detailed here), made the most of
what started out as a very limited opportunity and here we are starting
to live the dream. It may be that this is the closest we ever get to
either Alaska or long distance racing and in 2 years time we’ll be back
enjoying Fineshades and Aviemore and Sherwood Pines and all the other
rallies and people that we will genuinely miss this winter. (I’ll leave
Louise to talk about the dog shows at a later date. I will not pretend
I am missing any of those although, and apologies for being a traitor
Alan, I have handled a dog in a group line up since being over here –
they are not pressing charges though so that’s good). But for this
winter and the next we will make the most of the trails, the snow and
all that Canada and the USA have to offer.
As they say in the Canadian Air Force – more to follow eh!