Ahhh... At last.

Perhaps you can sense my good mood, or maybe you heard my dogs barking and howling way over there where you are.

Our cool temperatures have moderated somewhat. Our week last week was lows in the -30's and highs that never made it much above -18 Celcius. It was awesome, too, because it was about the only nice clear, calm and sunny days we have had all winter. The sun was bright, the sky was blue and the air was crisp... and I was stuck at work thinking about how nice it would be to be running back to the truck with a happy and strong team of dogs, my new sled and an anorak that dares to be challenged. As it was, we warmed up considerably last night: by seven this morning it was -11C and it continued to climb to a high of -3 today.

Taiga

I wasn't about to let this warming up deter me from my perpetual daydream, so I loaded the strong, happy dogs, the new sled and yes, the anorak, too into the dogtruck. Jenn and Hunter were not long following me out of the house. They were also eager to get out and enjoy the day.

Once we were set up, we started hooking up the dogs. We took ten this time and man! they howled and barked and screamed their excitement non-stop until I finally pulled the hook and we were off.

Before I get into how our take off went, let me first say that the new sled is two inches wider than I am used to, and the runners are only an inch and three eighths wide and are equipped with brand new, super slick plastic. Also, let me add that the foot grips are experimental and the handle bow is slippery plastic. So, with all of this as a disclaimer, how'd the take-off go? I just - and I mean JUST - managed to grab the handle as the sled shot out from under me. I pulled the hook and stepped to where I am accustomed to finding a runner but this time, I found only snow. A frantic, reactionary flail with my one hand managed to find the handle bow and latch on and before I could even take stock of the situation, I was being dragged on my upper knees down the trail.

Jenn, not aware of what was going on behind her because she and Hunter were in the basket, asks: "How's the new sled, hon?" What was I to tell her? We were a hundred or so yards down the trail and I hadn't yet driven the thing. Finally, my composure reestablished and control firmly back in my hands, I stood on the runners of the new sled and marvelled at how different, how responsive and how ours the sled is. It handled great; it is effortless to steer, the wider stance is more comfortable and is it ever sturdy. We managed to bash it over a few open creek crossings and a couple of frozen ones, too. I'll have to let my friend know how great it is.

Moxy

We ran on a trail that I used extensively last year. It was nice to be back in the bush again, but it was also a reminder at how behind I am in conditioning the dogs. We ran to a lake that parallels the trail for a while; this lake was just part of the scenery last year as we zoomed past it on our way to distant trails and longer runs. It was easy to see that the dogs were getting tired as we neared the truck today. It was a lot of new work for the dogs because this trail is rather hilly, but also because the trail surface was like beach sand and anyone who knows what loose beach sand is like to run in can symapthise with the dogs.

All of the dogs were great, and Baby continues to impress me. Jenn wanted to put him in lead for the last half kilometer or so, just to see how he'd do, so I switched him with Chili and after a few false starts and a couple of looks back, Baby was as focused a leader as you'd expect for an 18 month old puppy; maybe even moreso.

Baby (l) and Horton (r)

I decided to wear the anorak because I have been dying to do so since I got it. It will be great in the cold weather. It was a bit much for minus three, though. I really like how easy it is to put on; I managed to pull it over my head as we were on the move. Originally, I had stopped the team to get the anorak from the sled, but they wanted to keep going and even though I had my foot on the brake, which was as deep into the snow as it could go, that's what we did: we went. With my anorak over my head and my arms half-way into the sleeves.

Lastly, if you notice a difference in the quality of the pictures, it's because Jenn has a new camera. It's hard to get it out of her hands and she is forever taking pictures or videos with it. It's a Canon A650 IS and it takes great, high quality, high resolution photos. Our old camera, a Nikon Coolpix 2500, also takes great pictures, but the resolution is comparitively lower. I say all of this because we have decided to make the Nikon the DangerCam and by this we mean that we'd rather use the Nikon around potentially damaging or misplacing situations. At least, until we figure out how to comfortably chain the new camera to our wrists.

I love how the dogs stick their noses out of their box-holes, so here are some photos Jenn got today:

Chili

Dora

Hope

Indulge me, a little: these are some more photos of the sled, now that there is daylight to shoot them in. These will likely be the last sled-only photos, so bear with me as I wean myself off the newness of it all. It just about has a new-car smell.

Still waiting.

Yesterday, I wrote about how nice the night was and how much I wanted to get out and run the dogs in such a beautiful night. I'm still waiting.

This wouldn't have been a big deal last winter, since I was employed in a seasonal-work situation, but this winter, I have a full time, year round job and it kind of sucks. I can hardly wait until I have enough seniority or vacation time saved that I can start taking winters off again. Mostly December, January and February. That's not too much to ask, is it?

That aside, however, I decided to write a new post so that I could put on the video of Hunter in our chicken coop. She's chasing chickens around, trying to catch them while Jenn's mother's new Poodle (or, if you are Hunter "Ploodle") puppy, "Jack Frost" looks on. Hunter named him, too, and I have to say I'm a bit jealous. Afterall, when she named our puppies, we got 'Baby' and 'Triangle' but 'Jack Frost' would fit nicely in our yard. The name, not the dog.

There is also a video of Jack Frost meeting some of our dogs. It's a two-part video, but it takes forever to upload these longer files, so I will have to save it for later, if at all.

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!

Tonight it is absolutely cloudless, the moon is almost as bright as the sun, it seems, and is casting shadows over nearly ten inches of newly fallen snow. There isn't a hint of wind and the night, although cold -- it's 33 degrees below zero -- is completely still. I am so sorely tempted to break this stillness with the sound of excited dogs as I load them into the truck to go for a night run. I've got the clothing (look for my dorky picture in the previous post), and now, I've got the sled.

When we moved back to Ontario from the Yukon, almost all of our winter gear and equipment was left in our cabin just north of Carcross because we had expected to return. When we didn't, we faced a winter without a sled and proper clothing. We begged or borrowed the clothing that we needed from family but it was pretty difficult to find a sled, so I phoned our one contact here in Ontario who runs dogs like we do: over marginal trails for long distances. Surely he'd know of someone with a sled to borrow or buy. As it turned out, he didn't; but, he offered us one of his training sleds. That was three years ago.

The following spring, I went back to our cabin and collected all of our remaining belongings, including a sprint sled. Now, we had two sleds; one, we used on long runs where we could either pack people or gear; and the other, the sprint sled, we used to whip around our property or to give visitors the thrill of driving a small dog team

I was supposed to build a sled for us the following summer, but for one reason or another, it never happened. So, winter number two was spent on the back of our friends loaner sled. I have to admit, I was getting pretty comfortable on it, too. This past summer, I ran into a mutual friend and since I was having a difficult time contacting the lender of the sled, I mentioned to our mutual friend that I'd like to buy the sled and could he pass along the message.

A few weeks later, the phone rang and it was the sled lender. "I'm really sorry," he began, "I can't part with that sled. I wish I could sell it to you, but it's more valuable to me than the money I'd get for it." He felt bad for not being able to sell it to us and I felt bad for having borrowed it for so long, so we set about arranging how we'd return the sled to him. In the meantime, I spoke to another friend who used to build sleds for a living and owned a successful sled and harness shop in Southern Ontario. He promised to build me a sled as long as I was there to provide input.

Today was that day.

Sitting out by the dogyard now is our new sled. I know it was dark when I pulled in the driveway, and it didn't get any lighter as I fed the dogs, however, when I was done feeding, I just had to take pictures of the sled. Here it is, and believe me, more photos will follow.

How I spent my winter vacation.

Even though everybody claims to enjoy the holiday season, when it comes right down to it, they are all stress cases with a short fuse and a list of things to do that is longer than the paper it's written on. That is why, when we found out that we wouldn't be having everybody come to our house for the holidays, Jenn and I decided to pack up a few dogs and go on a dogsled/visit-her-family trip. Originally, we were just going to take a dozen dogs, our sleds and gifts and such and make Lindsay our anchor point for the week. Originally. Try to find a dogsitter who is willing to stay at your house over the holidays. In the end, we just said what the hell -- we'll take 'em all. As the day of departure drew ever closer, I finished putting the sides on the trailer, packing the necessary gear and food. Jenn had emailed the Haliburton Forest to see if we'd be able to run our teams there since it was not too far from where we planned to stay. The nice people at Winterdance Dogsled adventures or whatever the heck it's called summoned up all their holiday spirit and said "no." The reason given was because they had 'problems with other dogteams in the past'. I can understand how this would happen, too, because the Haliburton Forest encompasses a paltry several thousand square hectares: far too little a space to run dog teams in. Thanks, Winterdance. I hope we can return the favour.

It was a week before Christmas, a Tuesday, and it was the day that we were to have our truck looked at and the brakes done when I got a phone call at work from Jenn. As she was pulling out of the driveway to go to the truck appointment, our engine blew a sparkplug out of the block. Normal? Not unless you drive a Ford with the Triton V-8 made between 2001 and 2004 - but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Jenn asked me if I thought it was safe to drive the truck the 40-some kilometers to town. "Go slow, I guess." I said. Jenn limped the truck in to the dealership and received the first bit of bad news: this happens to this engine all the time (same plug, even) and the repair isn't cheap. The repair involves removing the head, re-machining the threads for the plug, inserting a spacer because in re-machining the threads, the hole is too big now, putting the head back on (complete with new gasket and oil) and then putting the plug back in. Jenn was understandably shocked at this news since the very same thing happened to us last year and we were helped out by a local mechanic in Verner who took twenty minutes and used only a new plug. We were on the road with change from thirty dollars. This time, however, we were looking at about $2,500 worth of work, just to re-install the plug; the brakes hadn't even been done yet. The worst part about it all though was that the head mechanic didn't think the truck would be ready for Friday, the day we were supposed to leave. And if it wasn't ready Friday, chances were good that no mechanics would be working on it Saturday, Sunday, Christmas eve day and certainly not Christmas. Our plans to spend the holidays dogsledding around the Kawarthas and taking our nieces and nephew out for rides were over.

Understandably, Jenn was crushed. She went to work that night with eyes red from crying and when it was discovered the reason for this, her friends got together and rented us a truck, which made Jenn cry even more. It was such an incredibly generous thing to do and Jenn kept saying "they don't know what they've done; they think that they've just rented us a truck." But it was more than that; it wasn't just a rental of a truck. They had given us the ability to spend the holidays with family and our dogs -- the two things that Jenn most wanted.

It turned out that we didn't need the rental of a truck. The mechanics at Ford stayed late and worked overtime to get our truck ready by late Friday evening. We were packed on the road by 10h30 Saturday morning.

When all of our travelling was done for Saturday, we were in Lindsay for 0h30 Saturday night/Sunday morning. We'd visited a friend and made an appearance at a family dinner, but for the most part, we were on the road that day. It's an odd feeling, driving through downtown Brampton with a truck and trailer load of dogs and dogsleds strapped to the roof. You certainly don't have to look hard for your truck in a parking lot.

We spent the next two days running the dogs around a farm field on a trail we put in ourselves, with the help of our lead dog, Risk. We ran in the rain because it seemed sort of foolish to have brought our entire kennel down only to be sidelined by poor weather. Perfect conditions does not a hardy musher make. Risk was flawless: she was faced with an open farm field about forty acres in size and she took directions well enough to put in a figure eight trail that used two different fields.

Then, as if downtown Brampton wasn't enough, we loaded all the dogs up and drove down to Oshawa for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. We parked the dogs on a subdivision street and, when we dropped them to feed them or pee, took up a lane and a half. Yep, we certainly turned some heads in Oshawa. We even had the across the street neighbour taking pictures of us and a cop stopped by 'just to chat'.

On Christmas day, after all the presents had been opened, we set up in the small park across the street from Jenn's sister's house and let the neighbourhood kids take turns on the dogsled with Dora and the ever-tolerant Ruby.

We packed up early that night and headed back to Sudbury at around 21h30, arriving at our house in the early hours of Wednesday morning.

It certainly was a busy trip, and one that nearly didn't happen but for the thoughtfulness and hard work of some people.

I'd like to tell you that I have lots of pictures of the whole thing, but I don't. Jenn was given an awesome new digital camera for a gift and she was so excited that she had the memory card full within the hour. We couldn't download the pictures (and make room for more pictures) until we got home.

Triangle and Baby, our two 'puppies' running around the back yard in Oshawa

Hunter, skating on our driveway. It rained enough to make it a literal skating rink.

The obligatory pose for the camera in my new Skookum Brand Anorak. (!)

Bug

I don't know about others, but I always wonder what dogs think of us, their caretakers. Do they know how we feel? Do they understand what they mean to us? Can they see how they change our lives? Can they anticipate the loss we feel when they are no longer with us? All of this was going through my head last week as I sat with Bug, knowing it was going to be our last time together.

After bringing her in the house a few weeks ago, Bug's health saw an improvement. She became more alert and more steady on her feet; she even ate regularly. But, it was a short-lived improvement. Her health dropped off sharply and there was nothing we could do except try to make her comfortable. The vet we took her to suspected it was a ruptured spleen or tumour and that her rapid decline more or less pointed to this.

Bug was a fun dog to know. We got her as an old leader, hoping to have her help us train puppies but she made it clear the first winter: she was done pulling a sled. Even still, she was as excited as the rest of the dogs when it came time to take them for a run. Bug enjoyed being Hudson's companion. The two of them were like an old couple: he'd mosey around on walks, poking here and nosing there, and Bug would encourage him, prod him, and make sure he wasn't left behind.

I don't want to dwell on what Bug was. Those who knew her understand and those who didn't should know she died an honest dog.

Bug

Never, under any circumstances, trust a dog with personality.

Lately, my time has been taken up almost entirely by my job. I have not had much time at all to get out with the dogs and even if I did, our four wheeler is in kind of sketchy condition with brakes that don't brake, a starter that doesn't start and an engine that needs more coddeling than a Hollywood starlet. This combined does not a happy musher make.

Today, however, was my day off. I had made arrangements the night before to borrow a friends four wheeler and to use his trails too, so I was up at the crack of dawn -- which, around here isn't at all as early as it may sound -- to feed the dogs so that they could digest their soupy meal before heading out on the trail. It was going to be a great training day, since my friend would be out on the trails with his dogs, too, and we'd get to practice passing head-on which is something our dogs haven't had much experience with.

Let me describe what a good team does when it meets another good team and has to pass: picture driving down the road. Any road. In a car. You see another car approaching and what happens? It just keeps on going. It doesn't swerve into your lane; it doesn't suddenly throw itself in reverse and cower on the shoulder, it doesn't honk it's horn at you and thereby distract you. It does none of these things. So, too, the well trained dog team passes without incident.

Now, let me describe MY team. Or, at least Ruby. Ruby was second from the front of the team ('swing' position, to those who know) and on the inside of the trail. She was doing wonderfully. She was working hard, she was keeping up the rest of the team, she was even refraining from checking out the side of the trail by sniffing or wandering. I was thinking to myself: 'why did Ruby stay home so much last winter? She's doing great.' And she was. Then, around the corner and onto the straight stretch we came and met my friends team head on. He was about twenty yards in front of us and closing and as he and his team neared us, I could see Ruby's thoughts, as though she had one of those cartoon thought-bubbles over her head:

"HEY! I didn't know there'd be other dogs out here! I can't believe it: other dogs! Out here! Did you know there'd be other dogs out here?" this last bit she says to her neighbour. Then, to the dogs as they pass: "Hi!MynameisRu..." then to the second one: "Hi!MynameisRub..." and the third one: "Hi!Myname's..." and so on, until my friend and his team had passed. That's right: I'm the car that swerved. I'm the one that went into oncoming traffic because I had the social butterfly of the canine world. The other dogs, who were trying hard to pass properly, who were behaving and trying to avoid a train-wreck (imagine the tangle that could have -- would have -- ensued, had we run into each other), strained to pull Ruby away and eventually succeeded. For the rest of the run, Ruby kept trying to find the dogs again.

"And now," to use an oft-quoted Monty Python line, "for something completely different."

Hunter at ballet class

Short and to the point.

The most difficult thing about having dogs is being with them while they face the end. Bug is not doing so well and she has been moved into the house to make what is left of her life a bit easier. She has gone downhill fast, but she is not ready to give up just yet. She sleeps a lot, but will still give small wags of her tail when she is alert and she can, most days, manage the outside steps on her own; both up and down. I'm not ready to eulogise her yet, but I don't expect a miracle, either. Here are a few pictures of her, since being moved into the house.

This is how Bug spends much of her day now; sleeping on the couch.

Hunter and Bug. They've been pretty good friends for a while and even moreso now that Hunter feeds her treats almost non-stop.

On a happier note, one of our two living room window replacements has been completed. We didn't take a lot of pictures of the job, but those that we did follow.

Our boring, non-sun-letting-in, 4 square foot window.

The preparations for the new window -- making the opening.

The new window. 7 feet by 4 feet, 10 inches. Lotsa light now!

Of midways, porchlights and the now famous Princess Ballerina

Once, in a land known as The Valley, there danced a Princess Ballerina. This valley was not the happy, fertile and verdant plain the that name may suggest; rather, it was a fanciful name given to a slash in the landscape where, centuries earlier, angry forces hurled a stone so large the land was ploughed into a giant furrow.

I'll not go further with that pseudo fairytale; no good will come of it, I can assure you. I finally have pictures of Hunter at her ballet class, though. I don't have many, though, because Jenn's camera ran out of battery.

To set the scene: picture the bumper car rides at a midway or moths and a light. In each case, there is a knot of activity that seems to be more or less following a prescribed path towards a common goal, but there is also a lot of individual activity going on at the fringes; activity that is similar to, but apart from, the common goal. Sometimes, there is the kid in the bumpercar; it's his first time driving and he just can't get the hang of it, and so he spends the duration of the ride driving into walls. Other times, it's the moths and their erratic circles; their inability to just focus on the light and maintain a steady direction. Instead, they fly close, spiral and spin away, and then fly close again, repeating this, it seems, forever and achieving nothing. So it is with a young girls ballet class. There are those who follow the instructor, those who don't and those who can't take their eyes off of their own reflection in the room-sized mirror. I'll let you guess which category Hunter falls into.

Moths and bumpercars aside, Hunter loves her dance class.

Still no ballerina pictures.

Another cold and bright morning materialized today out of the cloudless night. Frost, and lots of it, lay thick on the grass and the truck as the sun had not made it above the tree tops yet. I could hear the familiar squeak and clink of dogs doing laps in their areas: they were up and waiting to be fed. Jenn, who was doing her best to sleep off a cold, was buried deep under the comforter, so Hunter and I had our hot chocolate and a coffee while I waited for a respectful hour to feed the dogs.

These are just a few pictures of Hunter in the back of the truck when we loaded the dogs to go home. She climbed up there all by herself and was pretty proud of herself for doing so. She graciously posed for Jenn and the camera. It was difficult to convince her that the front of the truck, in her seat, was safer and more comfortable than the back of the truck. She wanted to ride home with the dogs.

I'm a bit afraid to call attention to the weather; we've been fairly lucky, in comparison to the past few years, in that we have had less rain so far. That, and the new load of gravel that I have been wheelbarrowing around the dog yard, has made for a much less sloppy kennel this fall. The dogs are in great spirits and they are enjoying the cooler weather, too. I am looking forward to giving them new straw this weekend since the first straw of the year is always met with great enthusiasm. Much digging and shoving, pawing and fretting is done in the dogs' house when they get the straw, wanting to get it 'just so'.

This past weekend I was able to 'treat' my parents to a dry-land ride with the dogs. My friend Lou has been exceptionally generous in letting me borrow his four wheeler and Mule (a glorified golf cart and machine that I *need*. Really.) while my four wheeler is out of commission. The best thing about the Mule is that it allows the passenger to sit beside the driver, as opposed to behind the driver as on a four wheeler. Unfortunately, there are no pictures of that weekend, as I neglected to bring the camera -- a happenstance that I am sure Dad is happy about: I don't think he has ever worn dirtier clothes than when I lent him more suitable boots, pants and a jacket.

Mouse and Blitzi, post run.

I thought that we were far enough into our run that I'd be able to get a good shot of Jenn, Hunter, the scenery and of course, a neatly lined up, patiently waiting team of dogs. As is obvious, we were not ready for a break. Moxy can be seen snapping at Hope for moving around too much. Poor Moxy, she was the only one willing to behave.

Back in from feeding the dogs, I was on my second coffee and sewing harnesses. Please, don't ask. It's a story I'd rather not relive, since Triangle chewed a brand new, $26 harness; one of the fancy collared x-backs for those who'd appreciate that. Jenn had, by now, felt her way around the corner and into the livingroom, not fully awake but up and out of bed nonetheless. She had some breakfast while I finished the sewing and then I went out to hook up the trailer and load some dogs while Jenn got Hunter ready and met me at the truck a few minutes later.

Once we arrived at Lou's place, I started to get the four wheeler ready while Jenn dropped the dogs and put on the harnesses. Hunter followed Jenn around for a while and then, when I started to sort out the gangline, she decided to help. It's funny to watch what kids learn by observation as Hunter did, as best she could, what I do: untangle, stretch out, and put each tug out straight to make hooking up easier.

Stretching out the leader section.

... and the team sections.

"I don't know why it's all tangled, Hunter. Mischievious little gnomes must come in at night and do that because I rolled it up neatly the last time I used it. I swear." Sheesh, even my kid gives me a hard time.

The hookup was good and incident-free; no chewed harnesses. Jenn and Hunter got on the back of the four wheeler -- it has an add-on 'two up seat' so they had a lot of room plus a certain amount of comfort. The run, too, was great although the last half is sort of boring because the trail does a series of concentric, ever tightening laps in towards an imaginary center until it reverses direction and we do it all over again. I will say this, though, there is a lot of distance in that swirl of trail; Lou has done a great job with a small-ish field.

Part of the trail. Sort of dull and muddy at this time of the year but, at the speeds we move, it's hard to see, anyway. (Those that know us and the team have already picked up on the sarcasm.)

Getting pulled up and over a rock outcropping. Good dogs!

Tomorrow, the other half of the yard is slated to go out, Baby and Triangle included. Baby, I don't doubt, will be another great dog. Triangle, however, hasn't shown the same ability and understanding of his brother but his enthusiasm to go might overcome this, soon I hope.

Back at the truck, getting nice, baited water.

Get used to seeing this brown and black dog, Dora, in the front of our team: she's already proving to be a natural leader.

Moxy, Chili and Hope, post run.

A whole month, compressed to a few paragraphs.

On my ride back from Montreal last weekend, I was lamenting to my friend the fact that my training 4-wheeler is broken. It's tires won't hold air and even if they did, the brakes are in pretty rough shape. Also, the new-to-us-but-in-reality-ancient 4-wheeler that we have just bought is in the shop getting fixed. It, too, has very little stopping power, but unlike our old one, this ATV has tires that hold air and an engine. The weather has been extremely cooperative of late; with the exception of some rain earlier on, it has been overcast to sunny and cool: perfect for running our dogs -- which brings me back to my trip to Montreal.

We had gone down to Montreal to pick up our winter's worth of meat for the dogs. Since it would cost about $1,000 to have it delivered in a refridgerated truck, we decided that we'd go down together and split the driving duties, that way, we'd only have to pay for gas. We took his truck, since it can hold more than mine, and a trailer, too. Jenn and I bought 1,400 lbs of meat while my friend bought 2,600 lbs. The trailer and truck were pretty heavily loaded on our return trip and in case you were wondering, 1,400 lbs of meat in 40 lb blocks fit into two full-sized chest freezers with only two cubic feet to spare between them.

My friend, also a musher, was talking about how his training has been going this year. He is a bit behind in milage from years past, but he has a handler helping him now, so he will catch up soon he thinks. When he asked about my training runs with the dogs, I told him that we were looking to start as soon as we got our new four wheeler running and that up to this point, I had been taking out a pair of dogs on my mountain bike. I also gave my rant about the need of job and how this job really cuts into training time. My friend was unable to do anything about my job, but he did offer the use of his working 4-wheeler until ours is fixed. I told him we'd be over the next day.

I probably woke Jenn up earlier than she would have liked, but she was excited to go when I told her what I had arranged the day before. We loaded up eight of our dogs, including our new one, Hope, and we drove the few minutes up the road to my friends place. When we pulled into the driveway, my friend and his new handler were already harnessing up a team. This handler had come from Montreal with us the night before: no time to rest and it will be all hands-on learning for him. I wonder if he knows what he's agreed to...

Jenn began to unload our dogs as I readied the 4-wheeler. What a joy it is to be able to lock the brakes and know that the ATV will not go anywhere. Once the dogs had been harnessed, I started to hook them up: the calm, reliable ones first and the nutty, exuberant ones last. Our new dog, Hope, is one of these nutballs. So is Baby, one of our two youngest dogs. Although Hope had been harnessed and run by another musher, we had only had a harness on Baby once before, so it was going to be interesting, we thought, to see how he did. Baby, it should be noted, falls on the ground as though he's been shot when anyone tries to lead him somewhere by the collar so to get him anywhere either takes a great deal of patience or a firm grip and enough resolve to get him to where he's supposed to go. Both methods produce the same result and Baby doesn't seem to care one way or the other, although I'd rather him just figure out on his own that the whole collar-as-a-handle thing is okay and to get over it, already.

I hooked up Baby last and, apart from one minor tangle, Baby took to the harness and tugline thing like he'd be run a thousand miles already. We were off! The first serious run of the year.

Going around a corner on my friend's trails. Baby is the black one at the back, on the right. Notice his focus, and then compare it to his partner, Horton, who is not paying attention at all.

All went well, the dogs came back a bit tired but happy. Hope was really good (stay tuned for more on her, once I get to know her better) and Baby surprised both Jenn and I with his focus and natural ability.

Our new dog, Hope, is the one standing. Lacey is laying on the ground

Baby, all proud of himself, after our run. He is really a sweet dog. He'd be a great addition to our team.

The Training Run Train-wreck

Imagine feeling the coolness of the air; seeing the leaves turning bright reds and yellows and hearing the tell tale cacophony of geese flying overhead. Imagine the pleading look in the eyes of the dogs, for they feel it too, and make no mistake, they know as well as I do that training season has arrived. Imagine having all the equipment ready to go, imagine the dogs keyed up and for once, imagine knowing where you will take them to run instead of hunting for trails like seasons past. If you are able to imagine this, then you will know the excitement that filled the dogyard Saturday morning as I loaded up the truck with my mountain bike and two dogs.

It was a tough decision to make; which two get to come today? Horton isn't really comfortable running out front, neither is Blizti and Dart is too gonzo to be given the responsibility of lead, even if that responsibility is shared; Dora and Olive had already gone out -- and we'd had a stellar run -- so of the dogs that were left, I chose Jinx and Lacey. I loaded them into the truck, along with my bike, and amid the chorus of howling at being left behind, we left.

Last year's fall training trail was a logging road and I think that it is being used currently to haul logs out, so we don't go there right now. Instead, we go to the trail head we used a lot last year, which is close by and ideal for dryland training.

I pulled into a widening of the road and parked the truck and began to unload. One of our goals this year is to have a team that doesn't loose its' mind while they are being harnessed and hooked up. We want calm dogs that don't chew lines, harnesses or rip off booties -- it's hard enough to put them on once, nevermind twice and while the dog is jumping like a maniac. So, I took out Jinx and Lacey, harnessed them and then proceeded to get the bike ready all the while taking my time and making sure my dogs were well behaved. Finally, everything was ready, so I took Jinx first and put her on the gangline. I told her to 'line out' and was mildly surprised that she did. I brought Lacey over, clipped them together with a neckline and went to my bike to release it from the truck. It is at this point that the wheels fell off. Not litertally, but since the run became a trainwreck, this was the start of it.

This is the view of the trail from where I start. I'm standing in front of the truck.

"OKAY! Let's go!" I said. Jinx started to move forward, but Lacey turned around and came over and jumped up on me. I got off the bike, repositioned the dogs and tried again to go. Same thing. Once more off of the bike; once more reposition the dogs and once more the bike is dragged a few feet through the dirt, riderless. Jinx kept wanting to go but with Lacey turning around all the time, she was getting her harness twisted with the neckline. After a few failed attempts at getting them pointed, together, in the same direction, I decided to take off the neckline altogether; afterall, once Jinx started to run, Lacey would have no choice but to follow because I was going, too.

I had just unclipped the neckline and was stepping away from the dogs when Lacey decided to remember how this whole 'harness and line' thing worked; she and Jinx were off like a scared rabbit, leaving me to run after my bike which was now skipping down the road. For a few strides, it was just beyond my reach and the more I thought about it as a I ran, the more I realised I had better do something fast or prepare watch my team careen around the corner and out of sight. So, I did what anybody in my situation would do, I expect: I dove, quite ungracefully, on top of my bike. The handlebars dug into the ground, the pedal too, and as I tried to right the bike I noticed the front wheel was facing the wrong way which locks my brakes. This sudden stop from the locked brakes tore the bike from my hands and sent it bouncing down the road again. Momentum propelled me forward and I managed to catch the bike by the seat post on it's second revolution. I turned the wheel the right way around, ran along beside it for a few strides and then hopped on the seat. Through all of this, Jinx and Lacey didn't miss a step.

Both of these pictures were shot with me holding onto the handlebars with one hand while the other held the camera; I had to guess what I was shooting and hope it turned out.

There were no other incidents other than me getting a chainring to the calf which resulted in a pretty nasty slash. We arrived back at the truck in more or less one piece; the dogs got a bowl of water each while I packed up everything again. We drove home; the dogs to lay in the now bright sunshine and me to assess the damage to both my bike and me.

Having water after the run.

Jinx -- a hot dog.

Lacey -- a bad dog.