One Paw 🐾 Print at a Time...

Slated to begin on February 6, 2021, the 38th Yukon Quest International Dog Sled Race was cancelled due to border restrictions between Canada and  U.S.A., owing to the pandemic. Legendary in terms of being the most treacherous, this 1600 kms long race follows the historical gold rush and mail delivery route, throwing an unprecedented challenge to the mushers and their dog teams alike. With temperatures which average to forty below and can plummet to an inhuman negative seventy  in places, mushers face frostbite, sleep deprivation, isolation, and fear, while often being in a quasi illusive state of being. And yet, what is it in the nature of the race which beckons them back, year after year, to get  sucked in the vortex of the swallowing vistas of this feral wilderness? 

Born in a bar, almost four decades ago, The Quest was conjured up as a journey that would  pay homage to that spirit of adventure which helped shape the soul of the permafrosted North straddled by the bewitching aurora borealis. And therefore, this unique race has seldom been about winning the trophy. For the average cash award towards championship consisting of  a mere $30,000, barely even covers the basic expenses of the mushers, who congregate for the event from around the world. As Chris Cancibelli, a Yukon Quest rookie likes to put it, "the kind of freedom and solitude it provides on the trail, are bait enough for me". Agrees Severin Cathry, another rookie, for whom the race is a means to get away from an overly regulated world and experience the real freedom of being one with the elements.

As for Alex Buetow, running the mountains with a dog team is simply other worldly and a great way to experience the Alaskan wilderness. However, veteran Kristin Pace's simple rationale behind all the grueling work, training, discipline and dedication which go into a race like the Quest caps it all, "to be a dog for a while and have fun!" A dog that could burn as much as 12,000 calories a day! Or a human whose whole raison-d'être during the entire race is to serve its dogs. Right from hauling a thousand booties for a standard team of  14 dogs, dog food, a bale of hay for dog beds, a musher's primary role is to ensure the safety, health and good humour of its team.

All said and done, boring through a 16-hour of nightscapes, between treeless mountain summits that can offer clear views for miles one moment and vanish into howling whiteout the next, Yukon Quest is a daunting physical, emotional and mental challenge, relying on one paw print at a time.

Having been at the start line to boost the morale of the mushers almost a decade ago, I still can't identify myself with the 'fun or freedom' part of it. For all I remember is  doubling and stiffening up  to cope with a -38 C cold weather, further stoked by a slight breeze. Each breath left a tiny layer of frost on my eyelashes, and I could feel the inside of my nostrils freeze within seconds.  Waiting to see the first musher off, just to be able to say 'been there, and done that' my numbed self could not bring itself to partake in the thrill of the race, hexed with happy yelping of the dogs and the wave of cheer from an excited crowd. Church bells ringing through the purple morning haze intertwined with an earthy smell of marijuana added to the spell.

With an interval of three minutes seperating the flagging off of the teams, it would have taken an hour and a half for all  25 of them to be en route...ready to embrace every adversity which came their way, while counting their blessings. For they had all chosen to be part of this race "so rugged that only the purists would want to attempt it".  

Soon, each one of them would be alone on the silent trail, in sync with the pristine landscape and the rhythmic panting of the dogs on the move...At the very end of it, there would be a thousand frayed booties, a dog-tired musher...and maybe, just maybe, a team rearing to do it all over again.