THE HOWLER

During the summer I get a lot of time visiting with our guests as they come to the kennel to meet us and our dogs. One of the things I love about these visits is having the chance to drive with them back and forth from the hotels. It gives me a great chance to tell stories and talk about our lifestyle in rural Alaska. However, people are only with me some of the time, the rest I am driving alone to get them. We live in such a rural place that there is very limited radio reception. The only station that I can get is the Fairbanks NPR station KUAC. With no other options, I am left to the whim of the station as to what they choose to broadcast. In a world of almost constant choice, this is a different experience. Not everything they broadcast is what I would select but, by that very principle, I find myself exposed to things I would not

have had the chance to experience if I were in control. This is just another way that living in Alaska reminds me of living back in time. Sometimes I catch Morning Edition or All Things Considered. Often it is Marketplace and Alaska News Nightly. Riding home at night they have a variety of music shows showcasing blues, jazz, folk music and more. My favorite days have always been Saturday, when I get to hear Car Talk, Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me, and my personal favorite A Prairie Home Companion.

The days are long, but we seem to fill them all up. Last Monday marked the summer solstice. While there is technically a sunrise and sunset time, it is never dark. I have also seen the fireweed blooms start to appear. There is a part of me that feels panicked about both of these signs. When the fireweed gets to the top of its shoot it is indicative of the end of summer. I do not think this panic is a reluctance for winter to come as much as a reluctance for summer to go. I am always looking for more time. Did I get everything done that I needed to? Did I make the most of each moment with my family? Can my son stay small just a little bit longer?

Congratulations Riot and Jigsaw! Our first litter of puppies have arrived. Riot gave birth to her first litter on May 17th. Mom and puppies are doing great and they are already being loved by all of us here at the kennel, Caitlin, Mike, Max, Thomas, Katie, and Savanna, as well as by our visitors. When puppies are born they are pretty immature, so their eyes are just opening. I know they will be getting into mischief in no time.

Spring in Alaska brings long days and brilliant sunlight. It starts to feel hotter than the middle of summer. Just when you begin to hope for dry ground, the snow starts again. Warm days lead to punchy snow. Places where trails used to be packed give way showing the bottomless depth of snow you've been walking on. Max and I have been exploring on snowshoes. We look for tracks. Mostly we find raven tracks and fox tracks.

We have been working non-stop to get ready for the Iditarod. Mike and the crew loaded the bags to be sent to the checkpoints.

Ok, I admit it, January can be a challenging month. The days are dark, the excitement of the holidays is over, the worry and challenge of preparing for the Iditarod is upon us. Luckily, part way through the month the sun returns. It finally gets high enough to peak over the mountains, even if only for a few moments. It is surprising as first. Sun reflecting off a surface. Some of my neighbors know the exact day the sun will peak back in their windows. I think Max feels a bit like a mole when we walk midday, the unfamiliar sun reflecting off the surface of the snow.

I once had the chance to hear author Kurt Vonnegut speak about his writing. One of the things that he explained was his purpose in using very short chapters. He explained that at the chapter breaks, the reader is forced out of the story, which in turn causes the reader to have to reflect on what is happening in the book and reflect on how these events provide insight on the reader’s own experience. Vonnegut went on to say that endings to books are hard to write because in life there are no endings. I believe that New Year's Eve is akin to a chapter break in a story. It is merely an end to a year, not to the story. However, it is a chance to pause. To consider all that has happened in this chapter of our lives.

We have entered the depth of winter. The temperatures have dropped, the daylight has vanished, and the training miles have stretched from day into night. Mike and the dogs have been training around the clock. In replication of the race, they are running 6 hours, resting 6 hours, and running again.

In Alaska, everything is big: the mountains, the distances, the adventures. This week we have experienced the biggest snow storm I can remember. Snow started falling on Monday evening. Tuesday morning there was already 15 inches.

Living 150 miles from the closest shopping center has its challenges. The grocery list is always long and we buy the dog food 50 bags at a time. This last week, Max and I made a supply run which included a refrigerator, which made me think about how much I appreciate the versatility of our dog truck.

The dogs are loving the cool weather and the snow and are eager to run. As in the summer, we are training the dogs on trails that cross creeks. This time of year the runs early in the day may cross over the water on the ice, while the teams later in the day may go through the water once the ice has broken apart.

Life has been really busy at the kennel. The dogs are running about 10 miles a day. Mike has been working on a new cabin for our helpers. We typically have 2 or 3 people who come and spend the winter with us to help us train the dogs. When Mike and I first bought our property we built a 14 x 14 foot cabin to live in. After Mike moved the house, we have used that cabin to house our handlers. However, spending the winter in a one room cabin is a challenge, even if many of your hours are spent outside running and camping with the dogs.