The Forgotten Ones

Posted on January 6, 2013 by alaskanarcticexpeditions

There is a group of men and women that have been overlooked in Arctic exploration history. They were hardy folks that didn’t seek fame or fortune and weren’t backed with enormous budgets by the royal family or the government. They didn’t dine with the king or queen, or the president, nor were they glorified for discovering a new land. They weren’t honored with large memorable sites after their deaths like many of the popular explorers were, and in fact, some were just buried in a wooden box built of ship lumber and placed on the frozen tundra only to be visited occasionally by a wandering Arctic traveler a century later.

These people who assisted the popular explorers in their endeavors to explore a new land spent their lives fending off bears and ravaging wolves, battling famines, and traveling in the Arctic in their perpetual search for game. They were humble individuals, fiercely independent and self reliant residents of the Arctic. Although they may not have fared well monetarily from their struggle living in the Arctic, they were rewarded with freedom, and an indescribable strength and strong will which are two characteristics that money cannot buy. And I am certain these forgotten men and women had traveled more miles in the Arctic than many of the most popular explorers ever dreamed of. Many of these folks that the explorers relied on for assistance and guidance include local natives as well as men and women from around the world, whom for one reason or another, took residence in the Arctic.

Often, while traveling on the Arctic coast, I have found frozen in the sand many century-old artifacts, like dog sleds, ship lumber, bottles, house logs, and rusted wood burning stoves. These items are evidence of the people who lived along the coast. Further proof exists in the photographs captured by individuals traveling through the region. However, as I travel in the mountains I am surprised that the same evidence of people isn’t found there. And there aren’t many historical records of the popular explorers venturing into the mountains either, and I don’t blame them. Traveling in the mountains is tedious, slow and extremely exhausting work. You can struggle all day and cover only five miles. Yet, on a few occasions I have found old tent sites and other artifacts high on windblown ridges in some of the most inhospitable mountainous regions. It’s my guess that these Arctic residents spent their long days in spring awaiting the migrating caribou on these ridges. I find it astounding that these folks traveled and made a living in this harsh mountain country as well as along the Arctic coast. To me, they were certainly the true explorers.

Photos and captions from the US Geological Survey Photographic Library.

Dan Sweeney and Shagavaichiak. Anglo-American Polar Expedition. Canning district, Northern Alaska region, Alaska. C. 1910.

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Native Eskimo. Okalisuk and puyuk (dog). Anglo-American Polar Expedition.district, Canning Northern Alaska region, Alaska. C. 1910.

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Ernest de Koven Leffingwell, in cabin, Flaxman Island. Anglo-American Polar Expedition. Canning district, Northern Alaska region, Alaska. C. 1910.

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Native Eskimos, Sheep hunters’ camp on the Canning River. Anglo-American Polar Expedition. Canning district, Northern Alaska region, Alaska. C. 1910.

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Triangulation signal erected over Astronomical Observatory Pier at Flaxman Island. Used from KUG Station 20 miles inland. It looks eccentric but was lined up O.K. for KUG. Anglo-American Polar Expedition. Canning district, Northern Alaska region, Alaska. C. 1910.

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Pete Bernard feeding his dogs at Collinson Point. Anglo-American Polar Expedition. Canning district, Northern Alaska region, Alaska. C. 1910.

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Sledding up Canning River in April. Anglo-American Polar Expedition. Canning district, Northern Alaska region, Alaska. C. 1910.

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Ernest de Koven Leffingwell (left), Captain Ejnar Mikkelsen (center) Dr. G. P. Howe (right). Anglo-American Polar Expedition. Canning district, Northern Alaska region, Alaska. C. 1906.

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Eskimo [native] summer camp on Arey Island. Anglo-American Polar Expedition. Canning district, Northern Alaska region, Alaska. C. 1908.

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Natives at Flaxman Island. Anglo-American Polar Expedition. Canning district, Northern Alaska region, Alaska. C. 1910.

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Big Ben’s Golden Opportunity

Posted on January 3, 2013 by alaskanarcticexpeditions

Finally, after waiting his chance to join the team, the time has come for our Ben to hit the trail with the rest of guys and gals of Team Malamute for the 2013 expedition.

With paws larger than my arms and a young, hormonal body full of adrenalin to pull, Ben is a handful, to say the least, especially since he thinks my caribou fur parka is a chew toy.

Of course there’s always that smack-on-the-lips token of gratitude from a malamute for letting him join the team. I’ve got my work cut out for me this season, as does Ben. But no doubt, he will come home in the spring, a changed man.

Behind The Scenes

Posted on August 5, 2012 by alaskanarcticexpeditions

Welcome, friends! You may have seen many photographs and videos of our expeditions on our website, Facebook and elsewhere on the internet credited to Angus Mill, and I’m sure some of you have often wondered whom this photographer/adventurer is that has followed me across the Arctic capturing some of these fantastic images of me and the dogs. Well, let me introduce you to the man behind the scenes - Angus Mill

Angus, capturing images of the dogs in their environment.

Here’s a shot I took of Angus last year at the beginning of his five week expedition with me and the team.

Here he is in front of his tent on a fine spring day.

Here’s a shot of Angus participating in the evening chores. Yes, that is dog crap he’s scraping off the bottom of the sleds. A must-do chore every evening!!

Gutting freshly harvested ptarmigan for dinner.

Setting up his tent.

Angus enjoying fried ptarmigan.

Thanks Angus!!

Short and Sweet

Posted on July 8, 2012 by alaskanarcticexpeditions

I get a kick out of the way Shorty darts around in circles, wooing and whining, begging for a scratch and a tummy rub. She’s tireless. I wish I had her energy and that seemingly eternal youth. I expected her to calm down as she grew older, but Shorty remains as playful at 10 years old as when she was a puppy and I hope she stays that way forever.

I’ve heard that a dog’s environment shapes and molds them into who they are. And Shorty, being in the presence of other energetic and cheerful warrior type dogs has grown to be just like them. There’s a lot to learn from dogs. It’s hard to comprehend the influence they have on you if you allow them to get in your heart.

Shorty’s name is reflective of her stature. She definitely has short legs, which doesn’t hinder her pulling ability, but it does give her the disadvantage of a slightly slower trot than my other dogs. However, on the other side of the spectrum, dogs who have disproportionately long legs, or hocks, are at a total disadvantage especially in deep snow. While breaking trail, their legs sink so far into the snow that they have a tough time keeping up with the other dogs because they cannot retrieve their footing fast enough. Shorty, on the other hand, can “swim” through deep snow like everyone else, just a little slower, that’s all.

photo by Angus Mill

When Shorty was young I believed she would be an excellent leader in deep snow because of her slow, yet powerful trot. She also exhibited an uncanny sense of direction, so I figured she’d be a great lead dog on sea ice as well where there are no landmarks and it takes a talented dog to run a straight route, which she was. But it was during a blizzard when I realized that her leadership was not exactly what I was expecting.

We were traveling along Alaska’s Arctic coast. The team was pulling a heavy load in 12 inches of fresh snow. It was slow going so I figured it would be a perfect opportunity for Shorty to learn the art of leading the team. There wasn’t anything between her and the perpetual white horizon, no obstacles or distractions, just an open expanse to run straight and true. When I placed her in lead alongside Bear she glowed with pride. Her thick, bushy tail bristled and waved in the low, orange winter sun. But behind us the sky was turning gray and far in the distance a blizzard stewed. It was around -20°F and strong wind gusts pushed against my back sending a chill to my bones, but I wanted to cover as many miles as possible, and take advantage of the wind before visibility fell to zero and we would be forced to camp. I grabbed two long wooden poles of driftwood from the beach, tied them to my sled’s handle bars and stanchions and attached my sail, which is a large square piece of heavy canvas with grommets around the edges to prevent tearing.

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The sail caught the wind like a small parachute and off we went. Now, with Mother Nature’s usual destructive force propelling us along with little effort from the dogs the pace had increased considerably. Shorty’s little legs tried to keep pace, but to no avail. She looked a little surprised when she saw the swing dogs catching up and running beside her. She glanced to her right, and then left. I could practically read Shorty’s mind as she wondered how could she slow these guys down: Oh I know, I’ll make some radical turns every which way. That’ll do it. She swerved quickly back and forth, zigzagging, and scrambling over ice ridges, and bee lining for the deepest snow she could find, but the team kept pace. In fact, the other dogs thought it was a game and enthusiastically chased her. All the while, Bear, outweighed and outnumbered, tried his best to keep the team on course. Finally, Shorty realized that there wasn’t any way possible to escape, so she wheeled around and headed toward me and the sled, effectively tying the entire 22 dogs into a jumbled knot.

It was a long time before I tried Shorty in lead on the sea ice again, but eventually she learned not to worry about running too slow and she became an all around fine leader.

Shorty is still as playful as ever and her goofiness makes Andrea and I smile on a daily basis. She’s a true testament to the old saying: you’re only as old as you feel.

Pulling Over Sand

Posted on July 1, 2012 by alaskanarcticexpeditions

It was -65°F, the snow was dry as sand and the dogs were pulling with all their heart, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out who was making that weird noise. It was the strangest sound I’ve ever heard from a dog. It’s common for malamutes to growl when they go into a hard pull, but these growls were almost similar to a human voice, like someone grumbling “Get! Get! Get!” It reminded me of my old high school football coach yelling, “Get going, you slackers! Now, get! Get!”

Peering through the fog rising from the dogs’ breaths I noticed Mitch was low to the ground, burying the harness deep in his thick fur and pulling for all he was worth. His head jerked upward every time the bizarre growl sounded. I figured he was the culprit. At the time, Mitch was a strapping 2 year old boy and probably going through that raging hormone stage males go through at around that age. I’m sure he wanted everyone to know that he was tougher than hell, tougher than his mates, and tough enough to take on the world and he had the brute strength and muscles to prove it.

Traveling in –65F temperature the dogs create a cloud with their breaths.

What amazes me about Alaskan malamutes is that they love a solid, muscle-bulging, gut-wrenching pull. They just love it. They’re one of the only animals I can think of on earth that can work at such high intensity for so long. To protect themselves from succumbing to exhaustion and crashing, malamutes have developed a strategy that sets them apart from other breeds, a strategy that has evolved over centuries of hard work. It’s a calculated and ingenious energy conserving tactic.

The best way to exemplify this tactic of how is to visualize it as if you are standing on the runners with me. Directing your eyes up the gangline, you will notice that some tug lines are slack and the dogs are pulling sporadically. Actually, these dogs are testing the load. Like a computer gathering data, those ancient canine creatures are testing the weight in the sleds and friction of the snow.

Depending on these conditions, the dogs will set a comfortable pace for themselves that enables them to conserve energy like a marathon runner. Even after the freight team finds a good pace, they stretch the energy saving tactic further and each dog hits their harness for a few minutes then relaxes and hits their harness again. This strategy lets them recover their energy, regain their strength, and then jump back in the game. Often on sea ice the pace will surge every few minutes when the team employs this method in sync.

However, when temperatures plummet to around -40°F or colder for an extended time, the snow becomes dry and abrasive as sand. This phenomenon is very common in the Arctic and eventually the snow loses a lot of its moisture content and morphs into the consistency of sand. Mushing in these frigid and dry conditions is the trickiest dog mushing there is. You can burn out a team before you know it. When the snow is dry there isn’t any glide whatsoever, not even going downhill, which means the dogs do not ever get a break.

To give you an idea of the amount of effort that it takes for freight dogs to pull on dry snow, let’s say your dog is pulling with every muscle he’s got in a weight pull competition and has succeeded crossing the finish line with his legs shaking and adrenalin running on high. Now just have him continue for 10-20 miles. That’s what it’s like for freight dogs. That’s why I prefer to travel 8 hours a day on good snow, but when the snow is dry I limit our travel to 3 to 5 hours so the dogs don’t get overworked and ruin their enthusiasm for the pull. You might think that’s a short day of traveling but half the secret in conducting multi-month expeditions is maintaining a happy, healthy, and fresh team. A soured team will still work and pull, but they aren’t happy. There’s not a lot of enthusiasm or excitement and they pull just hard enough to keep the lines tight and sled moving. And in the long run, dogs who are soured consecutively every year have very short careers. If proper care is taken to where they never get soured, a dog should be in their prime at 7 or 8 years old, and nowhere near retirement.

How do you know when the snow is so dry that you can travel only for 3 to 5 hours? Well, the answer is in the sound of the sled runners. If you’re hauling heavy freight the runners squeak, groan, and moan on dry snow. The louder the runners squawk and rebel, the dryer the snow is. Sometimes the noise is deafening.

Now Mitch is7 years old. His voice has deepened and it’s hard to tell his “talk” from the others in the team. But once in awhile I can detect his signature growl which reminds me that my buddy is still happy and tough as hell.

Mitch