ALASKA
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| "High on Ice: Mushing on Godwin Glacier" from Highroads (AAA Arizona) July/August 2003 Versions of this story also appeared in MENZ, no. 28 and in Restless Tribes text + photos by Stephen Ausherman |
excerpt:
The huskies are brawling. Snarling and barking and gnashing
their fangs, they drown out Dario Daniels’ every word. That’s
unfortunate because Dario, an Iditarod veteran, is instructing me
how to mush. It seems like something I should hear before
stepping on the rails of a dogsled for the first time.
He pauses for a break in the clamor, but there are about a
hundred Alaskan huskies up here on top of Godwin Glacier, and
they’re all riled. The dog team I’m about to drive lunges
forward, ripping their anchor from the ice, and piles over the
team on Dario’s sled.
He says, in his German accent, “We got some females in heat, so
obviously it gets everybody a little excited.”
While his assistants break up the fracas and secure the sleds,
Dario explains the most important thing to remember: “Rule
number one, two and three of dog mushing is...”
Apparently, the dogs don’t want me to hear it.
Then he says something about leaning and something about
brakes. I can’t hear that either. The ASTAR helicopter that
whisked me up here is taking off, adding much percussion to the
husky chorus.
Still, I find my place on the sled. It’s tethered behind another sled
with Max Warren at the helm to drive twelve dogs. That’s about
600 pounds of dog under the direction of one 17-year-old Junior
Iditarod musher. My job, it seems, is to keep the rear sled from
tipping over or crashing into his sled.
Max yanks up the anchor and commands the dogs to run. They
bolt out over the ice. Rule number one, two and three suddenly
becomes clear: Hang on. ...
The huskies are brawling. Snarling and barking and gnashing
their fangs, they drown out Dario Daniels’ every word. That’s
unfortunate because Dario, an Iditarod veteran, is instructing me
how to mush. It seems like something I should hear before
stepping on the rails of a dogsled for the first time.
He pauses for a break in the clamor, but there are about a
hundred Alaskan huskies up here on top of Godwin Glacier, and
they’re all riled. The dog team I’m about to drive lunges
forward, ripping their anchor from the ice, and piles over the
team on Dario’s sled.
He says, in his German accent, “We got some females in heat, so
obviously it gets everybody a little excited.”
While his assistants break up the fracas and secure the sleds,
Dario explains the most important thing to remember: “Rule
number one, two and three of dog mushing is...”
Apparently, the dogs don’t want me to hear it.
Then he says something about leaning and something about
brakes. I can’t hear that either. The ASTAR helicopter that
whisked me up here is taking off, adding much percussion to the
husky chorus.
Still, I find my place on the sled. It’s tethered behind another sled
with Max Warren at the helm to drive twelve dogs. That’s about
600 pounds of dog under the direction of one 17-year-old Junior
Iditarod musher. My job, it seems, is to keep the rear sled from
tipping over or crashing into his sled.
Max yanks up the anchor and commands the dogs to run. They
bolt out over the ice. Rule number one, two and three suddenly
becomes clear: Hang on. ...
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