Ever wonder what it’s like to stand on the back of a handmade wooden sled, propelled by a team of robust dogs, as they whisk you across the Arctic tundra? Maybe not, but you’re about to find out, and I can assure you, it’s an experience worth having. It took me three attempts to finally make this adventure happen in Barrow, but the perseverance paid off. To give you some context, there used to be two dog sledding teams in Barrow that would take people on these excursions, but now the town has just one.
The first attempt was a non-starter because the folks taking us (me and my friend, Kathy) hadn’t checked their snow machine until the night before, and it wasn’t functioning correctly. The day we were supposed to go, though, was exceptionally cold, around 30 below zero. In retrospect, the cancellation may have been a blessing in disguise.
The second time around, Kathy and I were ready for action. The temperature was still frigid, around 20 below zero. We arrived at the team’s house, suited up appropriately, readied the sled and dogs, and with a resounding, “Mush!” we were off. Kathy was on the snow machine with Alan, and I was on the sled with Martha.
However, just a few minutes into the ride, Kathy was already off the snow machine up ahead, and the dogs were paying zero attention to Martha’s commands. None whatsoever. “Bail!” Martha urgently shouted. “They’re going to tip us. You need to bail!” So, I rolled off the sled, and seconds later, Martha and the sled toppled over. The dogs raced forward, their lines getting tangled with the snow machine’s ski. Thankfully, Martha and the sled were unscathed, but the dogs were in a bind. Alan jumped onto the sled while we worked to free the dogs from the snow machine’s clutches. As soon as we succeeded, the dogs took off, with Alan struggling to regain control.
Martha initially instructed both of us to hop on the snow machine, but she quickly changed her mind and said, “Wait here.” Off she went after Alan and the runaway dogs. So there we were, Kathy and I, left out in the cold, alone, with no idea of our whereabouts. Luckily, we were on a road. We wandered around, taking a few pictures, never venturing far from the spot where Martha said she would come back for us. After about 30 minutes, we decided that we didn’t know if or
when they were coming back for us, and we needed to find our way back to town. We were accustomed to walking in extreme cold, even at -50 degrees, so we were okay for the time being. However, we were also aware of the dangers of extreme cold and the reality that we wouldn’t remain okay indefinitely. Then, fortunately, a couple drove by, asked if we were okay, and offered us a ride. We said, “Sure, thanks!” We got back to Alan and Martha’s place, grabbed our stuff (folks don’t
often lock doors there), left the money that we probably shouldn’t have owed them, and just as I was about to text them that we were calling for help if they didn’t respond in an hour, guess what? Alan and Martha rolled in with the dogs, and their sled was a total wreck.
Our dog sledding dreams didn’t quite pan out that day, but the silver lining? No humans or animals got hurt in the chaos. This all happened in February. Kathy left Barrow in early April, but she did manage to have a successful dog sledding adventure before she left. As for me, well, my chance came, but not before Kathy said her goodbyes to Barrow.
Shortly after Kathy bid farewell to Barrow, I arranged for another attempt at dog sledding, this time with my friend, Rachelle. Rachelle is a bit of an anomaly when it comes to fearlessness. She embraces adventure but always keeps safety in mind, and she’s usually the one to steer clear of risks. Even our polar bear outings were a bit of a stretch for her, but she felt safe as long as were in the car (that being said, she did join us outside of the car a few times!). However, she had a burning desire to experience dog sledding, and you wouldn’t have guessed she was nervous. She tackled it like a champ, and I couldn’t have been prouder of her.
But here’s the kicker: this time, we had the incredible privilege of going dog sledding with none other than Geoff Carroll. Now, Geoff is a legend in his own right. He’s a renowned biologist who was part of the first unaided dog-sledding expedition from Canada to the North Pole in 1986. If you’re interested, I’m currently reading a book about this incredible journey called “North to the Pole.” That’s not all, though. Geoff was also a key figure in the whale-saving mission in Barrow in 1988, the same event that inspired the movie “Big Miracle” starring Drew Barrymore. In fact, he even has a little cameo at the end of that movie! To put it bluntly, Geoff is a total badass, and I’m still stoked that I not only got to meet him, but I also went dog sledding with him.
Geoff owns half the dogs on this team, while Alan and Martha own the other half. However, Geoff is frequently off-slope for his work, and that’s why he wasn’t available for our first attempt.
Back to April 8. April 8 was one of those days that makes you wonder if someone up there is arranging picture-perfect moments. The temperature was still dancing around a chilly 20 below zero, and Geoff almost canceled because of it. But the sun was shining, and the tundra was dressed to impress! It was the kind of day that makes you think, ‘could it get any better?!’
The day started pretty much like my previous dog sledding attempt. We got to Martha and Alan’s house around noon. This time Martha was off-slope. Geoff lives right next door, and the dogs live smack dab in the middle.
After a thorough gear check ensuring we had everything we needed, we began our adventure. The dogs, the stars of the show, were bursting with excitement and energy and were ready to hit the trail, their breath visible in the crisp air. Rachelle and Geoff took the sled while Alan and I revved up the snow machine. For two unforgettable
hours, we journeyed through a winter wonderland that seemed straight out of a dream. We switched roles along the way, taking turns with the dogs, the mushers, and the snow machine, each experience adding to the thrill.
On the sled, the absence of the snow machine’s loud drone allowed for easier conversation. Geoff told stories of his dog sledding adventures, including a gripping tale of the time he whacked a polar bear with the butt of his rifle after it misfired during a close encounter. Alan shared the journey that led he and Martha to adopt dogs and embrace the world of mushing, a path that eventually intertwined with Geoff’s in a unique partnership.
The sun bathed the snow-covered tundra in a brilliant bright light, and if you looked closely, you could even spot the moon under the sun in the sky. As we slid across the arctic tundra, our eyes caught glimpses of the Arctic’s elusive residents – a speedy Arctic fox and distant caribou that quickly retreated when we drew near. It’s the only time in my life I have ever sat on a gun, but you
HAVE to have protection on the tundra. Fortunately, we didn’t cross paths with any polar bears. As much as I love seeing them, it was a relief given the nature in which we would have met.
It truly is a feeling beyond words to stand on the vast expanse of the tundra, where snow stretches as far as the eye can see and only a few can call it home. In that barren beauty, with no trees in sight, you can’t help but feel incredibly small, a mere speck in the grandeur of the Arctic wilderness. It’s an experience that leaves you in awe, a reminder of the raw, untouched majesty of nature in the heart of winter.
As our journey neared its end, a slight chill had begun to nip at our toes, yet it hardly fazed us. The day had unfolded in spectacular fashion. Upon our return to Alan and Geoff’s place, we pitched in to assist with the dogs, carefully disconnecting their harnesses and giving them well-deserved praise and attention, and returned our gear. With heartfelt appreciation, we thanked them for allowing us to be part of this unforgettable ride. Then, we headed back home, where we eagerly reviewed our pictures and embraced the memories we created on that extraordinary day. This was one for the books.
