The Musher

Neo was the first to emerge from his cradle in the snow and stretch his snout toward the moon. Licking his lips, he let forth a howl to alert his pack that, though the sun would not rise above the horizon because of the solstice, the night was relenting even above the Arctic circle and a new day was about to begin. One by one, his comrades began to stir in their cages and added their voices to the chorus rising through the darkness as the cloud of the steamy hot breath of a hundred Siberian huskies, rousing from their slumber, hovered over the camp.

The humans scuttled about to and fro across the camp preparing equipment and gauging the temperament of each dog as the timbre of their collective voices swelled with anticipation for the run ahead. Flakes of snow were beginning to fall from the sky scattering the first beams of light from the approaching fleet of four-by-fours in all directions. Sensing their imminent release, the chorus of canines adjusted its tenor to harmonize with the baritone of the idling engines as the crunching and scraping march of heavy winter boots in the snow kept time.

Doors from various trailers swung open and shut like semaphores to the dogs who were becoming more and more agitated with every subtle disturbance. Zippers and fasteners were being adjusted on weather-ready suits as each dog was being selected and strapped to their sled. The harnesses were drawn taught with each eager soul ready for the anchor to be lifted and the chains hitching them to the brake post to be unfastened.

“Remember!” Lucy cried out to the teams, “Your job as a musher is to act as a counterweight to the dogs’ enthusiasm. But never forget, you are still a part of the team! Hah!”

With a flash, Lucy and her team disappeared into the forest with five other teams in pursuit. Sharp winds shook the new-fallen snow off the trees onto the cold noses below as the sleds caught the tracks in the trail through the woods. Approaching an incline and the sleds slowed as the dogs stretched and strained to keep their momentum moving forward. To keep the rhythm, one by one the mushers hopped off the skis and added their own muscle to the charge pushing the sleds up the hill.

Scarface and Rioja kept a keen eye out for Lucy’s heels while leading their sled. Tequila and Sweetie were behind them with one eye on the lead and one eye on the musher encouraging him to release the brake and let them run free. On level ground, bouncing with the trot, every canine tongue flapped back and forth as each sled settled into the pace of the pack slaloming between the trees along the trail through the forest. Now was not the time for stopping as Rioja uncomfortably swung her hips off to the side hopping on three legs and flashing the other off to the side to answer nature’s call.

The night gave way to the day and the sky shifted from black to grey with clouds hanging low and blowing snow in every direction. Turning a corner into a clearing, Lucy and her team at the lead needed to stop to look back and make sure all of the teams were staying together and no one had gone off the trail. Through the forest and down the hill toward the lake, the scraping of the brakes of a half-dozen dogsleds rumbled and crackled in wind. The sleds slid past the rows of shrubs and evergreens to where the paths over the frozen lake flow into the wide-open north and the last of the minuscule settlements between civilization and the Arctic Sea.

Flags, barely visible through the snow and fog, indicated the safest way across the lake. To the southwest, back toward Kiruna, nothing was visible but a pale sheet of cloud and snow. Up in the distance to the north, a line of trees at the foot of the mountain could be seen and, along the shore of the lake, a few cabins peered through the trees. The pack headed straight across the lake before taking a sharp turn and tracing a line along the northern edge. “Vänster!” Lucy cried out to her team. Squinting as she turned around on her skis to look back at the trailing teams, Lucy had to be sure that the dogs were pacing themselves close enough to one another to all make the turn.

There were moments of calm even as every team was fighting the winds that were blowing from the north and blasting every face full of sharp pellets of snow. The musher looked over his shoulder back toward the trailing teams. The beating of his heart began to slow as he stared into the cavernous white nothingness. There was no line between the trackless snow-covered lake and the cloud-filled sky. Beads of fat snowflakes began to pool and collect in the spaces between the strands of the musher’s thick beard and turning his head back to the north in the direction of his charging team the wind caught his long black hair sending it whipping around his face and neck. The musher scraped the brake along the ice as the crackling sound got the attention of his team. Scarface, Rioja, Tequila, and Sweetie, still at full trot and in perfect unison, turned their heads back to the sled as the musher blew them a kiss to thank them for their effort.

Lucy and her team hooked around to the east and headed up a trail into the forest. A rural road was cutting through the woods and, though there was rarely any automobile traffic in the area at this time of year, it is always better to be safe and sorry. Where the trail and the road met, Lucy tipped over her sled and explained the crossing strategy to each team. The mushers dropped their anchors into the snow as the dogs all stepped into the deep snow on the side of the track to rest their paws. Lucy and her team charged across the road and up the hill into the forest on the far side. Tipping over her sled again and running back on foot to the road, Lucy gave the signal as the mushers hoisted their anchors and charged across to the far side coming to a stop where the lead sled and its team was waiting in the snow. Lucy came charging back up the hill on foot and flipped over her team’s sled with a deft flick of her wrists. “Hah!” she cried above the groans of the dogs who were becoming impatient and, with a flash, off went the pack hurtling through the forest turning their howling into steady rhythmic, locomotive-like, panting.

Suddenly, a small thread of warm candlelight broke through the fog. Small wooden sheds emerged in the distance as Lucy rode her team to the top of the hill next to a sturdy log cabin where Olga, the winter kennel attendant, walked out to meet her. Tipping over her sled again, Lucy anchored the harnesses of her team to the post and began hitching the harnesses of the other teams. Lucy grabbed a series of large tubes of frozen ground meat out of a box from one of the sleds and began to chop out pieces for each dog with an axe. Mushers huddled into the wood cabin lit by candles and sat by a small table being warmed by the fire in the stove and each grabbing a bowl of soup and a cup of lingonberry tea. A lazy old malamute, who could not be bothered with the commotion of all of the other dogs outside, occupied half of the only other sitting space in the common room lazily yawning and accepting a scratch or two from all of the strangers passing through. They sat eating and warming themselves by the stove in anticipation of the return journey. The musher returned to his team and one by one placed his face in the fur of the scruff of their necks. The teams had finished their meals and were anxious to be back on the run while the musher and his team sat patiently knowing that the moment would soon come.

Soft and fat flakes of snow began to swirl around in the mist as the other mushers emerged from the cabin and took their positions with their teams. Lucy cried out over the barking of the dogs and lifted the brake of her sled sending her team off into the forest. Snapping to attention, all of the other dogs dug in and sent themselves and their cargo hurtling forward in pursuit. The dogs fell silent, concentrating on the route before them, but the howling did not cease as the echoes of their exuberant cries carried on the swirling breezes into the grey skies above and swept over the lake crisscrossing in every direction.

No stars could penetrate the thick shield of cloud as the last of lights of the southern day began to fade into the black below the horizon. Only the light of the moon was enough to faintly light the clumps of snow resting on the unblemished treetops along with the few points of electricity from homes tucked into the forest on the far side of the lake and the glow of the lights of Kiruna off in the distance. It was only 3 in the afternoon but every last symbol of the day had disappeared as the darkness of the longest nights had set in.

The ears of every dog in the pack stood straight up as Neo’s howl thundered over the frosty ground. He could sense the return of those that had set out earlier at the first flickering of day. The rest of the dogs that had been left behind joined him in their welcome chorus as each team came speeding down the hill back into the husky camp. Weary from the haul, each team member crouched down on their haunches in the snow waiting for their attendant to release their harnesses. They knew that their work was done and now it was time to rest. The musher also stooped down on his haunches and kissed the nose of each member of his team as they continued their panting from the strain of the day. The musher could feel Scarface’s hot breath on his face and he wondered how many runs were left in him as old as he was becoming. Only Rioja could keep his tongue from hanging and flailing off to the side. He alone, small but in his prime, stoically appeared satisfied but unmoved by the effort that had been required. Tequila sat up when the musher came to say goodbye. With a smirk, he licked the face of the musher and laid back down in the snow. Sweetie, the youngest, still had some energy to burn and through her wild and erratic panting made her feelings known that there was still more run left in her.

In their cages, the other huskies whimpered yearning for their chance to run. In a few hours, the first of the aurora hunters would arrive hoping for the skies to clear. Until then, there was nothing for the dogs to do but pace from one end of their cages to the other and continue their call out into the night sky. As the mushers piled back into the four-by-fours to make the journey back to town, the rumble of the winter winds and chanting canines rose out of the forests and spread for hundreds of kilometres in every direction where it lingers in the air every second of every day above the circle when there is no sun.