Winter 2008

GO DEEP INTO THE WILD
Near Dawson City, Yukon

It doesn’t get much wilder than the Yukon’s Tombstone Range, the jagged line of peaks that rises up from the Arctic tundra in the Ogilvie Mountains. And there’s no better way to explore the heart of this wilderness than the old-fashioned way – by dogsled. On Uncommon Journeys’ nine-day Tombstone Range Expedition, you’ll first fly north from Whitehorse to spend a couple of days on the frozen Yukon River solidifying your dog skills on the famous Yukon Quest Trail. Then you’ll head even farther north to the Tombstones and spend five days mushing and snowshoeing beneath the peaks, through snowy passes and along the West Hart River Valley. “There’s no one there but us and the caribou,” says Rod Taylor, the company’s owner and guide. “It’s the real thing.” Nights are spend in spacious tents equipped with small heaters. The trip ends with a day in Dawson before the flight back to Whitehorse.
 

November 2008

OFF the PISTE
Winter adventures leave the groomed slopes behind
By Crai S. Bower

The eight huskies pull their sled , reveling in the uphill climbs more than the descents. Traveling the narrow trail makes you feel the speed, as does the near-silence of 32 padding feet. Suddenly, as the lead guide’s sled disappears behind a stand of birch trees the races out of sight, I assume complete control, even though I’m a rookie musher. I press hard on the brake, and then ease the team to a steady trot. May this ride never end.

Last winter produced epic amounts of snow. Whistler broke its January record 10 days into the month. Mount Baker even closed twice due to too much snow. Skiers and boarders shredded the mountains well into April. But last year also proved monumental because of the surge in nontraditional winter sports, especially dogsleddding and snowshoeing. This season, take a break from lift lines (and ticket prices) for an exhilarating skid through the trees, a moonlight walk on the powder or a climb up a frozen waterfall. Winter play no longer needs to be synonymous with a ski slope.

Dogsledding is winter’s new “It” activity. Kennels are springing up all over the place, and Vancouver’s Mount Seymour has even added dogsledding to its urban ski experience. But to feel the exhilaration of true wilderness mushing, follow the tracks of Jack London and travel “North of 60” (degrees latitude) to the Yukon Territory. Here, dark days are brightened by the aurora borealis and the “Ice Road,” the Alaska Highway, which freezes solid every winter. If you’ve read White Fang, Call of the Wild or ”To Build a Fire” (especially the latter), you begin to imagine winter’s fierce isolation, even while planning your visit from the temperate safety of Seattle.

Rod Taylor once envisioned the Yukon life from his corner office. “I was a COO at a health care company in Toronto,” explains Taylor, proprietor of Uncommon Adventures. “I cashed my options after the IPO and headed to Whitehorse.”

Taylor had tried dogsledding while instructing at Outward Bound when he was in college. The allure never left. More than one guest has called Taylor a “dog whisperer” because of the unique behavior of his charges. The surprising speed of the sled can be unsettling, so Taylor adjusts it by removing a dog. The untethered dog then heels perfectly behind the sled, a display of incredible discipline in a breed bred to run, pull and socialize.

Uncommon Journeys is based at the Homestead, a well-appointed lodge about 20 minutes outside of Whitehorse, which, with 20,000 residents, is the Yukon’s largest town. But don’t expect to hang out at the Homestead during your stay. Most mushing trips last a week, with several nights at the Wilderness Camp, a set of four-star yurts clustered in the Ibex Valley. It’s more dogsledding school than pedestrian activity, and most guests leave determined to mush again.

“I didn’t really understand how to work with the dogs the first year, but I still had a great time,” recalls former Bellingham resident and Georgia Pacific general manager Dan Dahlgren. “I returned last year for a five-day trip of about 160 miles where I really learned how to drive the dogs. This year I’m going on the 13-day trip to the Beaufort Sea in the Arctic Circle. And to think, I’m a cat person!”

Still, Dahlgren insists he’s no expert musher, a fact, he says, that wasn’t lost on the real “lead dog” of his sled.

“Every time that I did something that wasn't quite right," he laughs, "the lead dog would look back at me to check on what I was doing. It was her way of saying, 'Keep it together, Dan."'
Unlike in dogsledding, your own two feet set the pace when snowshoeing. Recent advances in equipment have resulted in a simple, extremely light design that empowers even the unsteady or unfit to tread confidently on the snow.

"Snowshoeing is a wilderness experience that can often be mind blowing," says Pat Conlon, proprietor of Wanderlust Tours in central Oregon. "Most people have never heard the hush of the winter forest, nor observed snow crystals reflecting a full moon like so many diamonds."

Wanderlust Tours offers full-moon snowshoeing tours in the Deschutes National Forest. Guests leave Bend at 7 p.m. and travel toward Mount Bachelor as the naturalistguide explains the unique natural and geological history of the volcanic environment. Groups of 12 or fewer then walk a one-totwo-mile loop through the forest, stopping frequently to listen for great gray owls and other night sounds.

Most ski areas now offer a snowshoeing operation, as does the Spokane Parks Department. REI and other local outfitters rent the latest snowshoe equipment. The newly legislated Wild Sky National Wilderness Area, located outside Index and just an hour from Seattle, provides a perfect environment to try out the sport.

It's unlikely you'll encounter a roaring campfire should you trek on your own, however. Remember to plan and pack accordingly for potentially hazardous winter conditions. But on Wanderlust's bonfire tour, Conlon says many people don't always believe their own eyes as they approach the gathering site.

We walk about half a mile into an oldgrowth forest where we've carved out an amphitheater in the snow and a lead guide has prepared the bonfire. People can see the fire through the trees as they approach, a spectacular sight."

Adam Hirstein experienced the tour as part of a team-building retreat for his company, Caterpillar NW.

"We first worked in tandem during a scavenger hunt, using GPS devices to locate the bonfire provisions, like Bailey's, appetizers and desserts," he says. "We came together at the bonfire right at dusk. On the way back, we even snowshoed blindfolded, which was very cool."

Stepping into an alpine copse is just one way to snowshoe. An evening's trek followed by a soak in a natural hot spring provides another opportunity to reconnect with your surroundings, colleagues or family. Colorado's Dunton Hot Springs, a magnificently restored ghost town, has winter paradise covered like ... well, a Hudson Bay blanket.

Visitors stay in one of a dozen opulently appointed historical cabins, dine in the old saloon and take part in a host of winter activities ranging from back country skiing to ice climbing up the property's 35-foot, single pitch waterfall, As at other rare resorts of Dunton's caliber, the greatest challenge in this historical mining town is selecting from the roster of activities.

Imagine riding thoroughbreds through the McElmo Canyon Winery before lunch, cross-country skiing beneath 14,000-foot peaks throughout the afternoon, sliding into a lengthy spa treatment before dinner, and then ending the day with a bonfire, a soak in the springs or both. With its accommodations for 42 guests, companies often reserve the entire town and supplement meetings in the library, saloon or dance hall with snowmobile tours or even good old-fashioned ice-skating on the frozen pond.

Winter offers an excuse to get cozy, for sure. But embrace the outdoors where the snow falls and seasonal exuberance takes on new meaning. Whether you thrill with the rush of being pulled by a team of eager huskies, sink into the sublime traipsing through an old-growth forest, or test your concentration while climbing an ice wall, the cascade of new sensations will drown out unnecessary thoughts, and you'll reflect the zeal of a child who's just zipped down a snowy slope on a sleigh for the very first time.

July/August 2002

Uncommon Journeys
A. Digger Stolz

Since 1998, four full seasons now, Rod
and Martha Taylor have been busy providing custom-tailored dogsledding adventures for well-to-do clients from around the globe. Their wilderness guide company, Uncommon Journeys Ltd., is strategically located in Whitehorse, in Canada's Yukon Territory.

Back in 1995, Taylor, formerly the COO of a Toronto-based health care company, decided it was time to leave the commuting crowds behind, take off the business suit and try his hand at the challenging world of adventure tourism. His experience in big business is just one of the reasons for Uncommon Journeys current success-other factors include a genuine adoration of his sled (logs and a low guide-to-client ratio (one to three at the highest). It took the Taylors some time to buy the land and develop the necessary infrastructure (yurts. cabins. kennels and guide routes). hut three years later. Uncommon Journeys was open for business.

The 42-year-old Taylor doesn't have many regrets about his change of careers instead of dealing with the stress of managing 500 employees. his handpicked staff is limited to Martha and, depending on the season, up to 10 other guides. On a recent weeklong trip, Rod's biggest worry was whether his clients would get to witness at least one good aurora light show.

If Martha and Rod Taylor are the brains behind Uncommon Journeys, their kennel of Alaska huskies (currently more than 50 dogs) is the lifeblood. The Taylors specially train their dogs so first-time mushers can gear down the sleds when covering rough terrain. If the going gets tough, Taylor advises clients to unclip one or more dogs from the harness. This allows them to proceed with more control. His dogs have been taught to heel at the side of guests' sleds. and are immediately ay ail able for reattachment on smoother ground. The dogs are socialized as pets. not just working dogs. and guests have the option of letting a dog or tsv0 i Ito their cabin at night.

While most of Uncommon Journeys' kennel is born and bred in house, a few dogs are semiretired from world-class race teams. Hans Gatt, lditarod racer, 2002 Yukon Quest champion, and four-time Wyoming Stage Stop race winner, placed Buma in Taylor's capable hands. Other notables include Dawson, son of Susan Butchers famous four-time-Iditarod-winning leader Granite, and Cee-Cee, a descendent of Victor, Ross Sauderson's champion sprint team leader.

As one might expect, supervising 50 dogs and a growing business takes up a lot of time. When he isn’t out on guiding trips (he went on every one this season). Taylor particularly enjoys working and playing with the younger dogs in his kennel. The satisfaction of watching one of his youngsters learn a difficult concept is more than enough reward for his efforts.

Taylor maintains an unexpected enthusiasm for Uncommon Journeys' clients. He claims that one particular characteristic seems to be a constant among the clientele he guides - "they're all incredible dog lovers" He told of clients who, after going out into the bush for a sleek with a team of dogs. missed their plane home because they spent too long saying goodbye to each one. Another client. a woman from California. look pictures of each dog in the kennel and organized an intricate chart detailing the various family trees. Taylor laughed while admitting. "Many past clients send us fancy dog biscuits from specialty shops all over the world."
 

November 2004

Travel
Cruising to Alaska

My wife loves to cruise, especially to Alaska where the tranquil, pristine environment calls her back year after year. After five trips north, you would think another trip this fall would be out of the question. Not so. The price was right and the itinerary - Whitehorse to Vancouver - suited our interests.

We would fly to Whitehorse, take a coach tour and overnight in Skagway. Then the next day board the Volendam cruising south to Vancouver.

The coach tour included a visit to "Uncommon Journeys" a dogsledding ranch. The family-owned operation began when the Taylors moved here from out east and inherited a retired husky. Today they have over 40 incredible dogs. Originally a means of transportation for Aboriginals, dogsledding is both functional and recreational. Socialized from birth, the dogs are very friendly and the majority welcome attention. Some of the dogs have raced in the grueling Iditarod. Each dog has its own doghouse with water and a food basin, They are fed a high-calorie diet, which produces a beautiful healthy coat. Leashed in an exceptionally clean yard, they interact with three or four other dogs in their immediate area. Witnessing a demonstration, we could tell how much they enjoyed pulling tide sled as a team.

On the road to Skagway, we caught a glimpse of a grizzly bear as we left Canada and entered the US via Lake Bennett pass, We saw the famous "Trail of `98," a well-known route to the gold fields of the Yukon, including the White Pass and Yukon Railway. A fabulous rail line, it features trestles, switchbacks and tunnels making it well worth the trip,

Skagway has changed over the years, but still retains some of its charm of the gold rush days. Today there are many jewelry shops along the main street as well as tourist "bargain" stores.

Holland America's ships have cruised in Alaska for years, and have a solid reputation in these parts. This gives way to some priority sailing in Glacier Bay and, in our case, observing the glaciers calving in the John Hopkins protected park area. The enormity of the glaciers rivals city office towers and when they calve it causes a turbulent stir in the water and a thunderous roar as the ice breaks away. This once in a lifetime experience makes you feel humble next to the immensity of the ice. In Alaska, you are caught off guard by seeing the real thing up close.

The best part of cruising is that life on board can be enjoyed at a leisurely pace. Since all meals, entertainment and other activities are included in the fare, you can be busy or lazy. We have cruised for almost a year - over 300 days. Each ship has her own personality and we especially delight in talking with fellow passengers and the crew. Travelers come from all over the world; with the majority from North America, giving us a common bond and language.

Aboard the cruise ship, we keep, much the same routine as we do at home in Victoria - we rise early for breakfast, exercise by walking, eat a modest lunch and k late dinner. In between we attend shore excursion lectures, explore the ship, read, swim and sometimes go to art auctions. Many passengers play cards, bar hop, use the spa or the casino. With so much to do, it's never boring, In fact, if you do it all, you'll need another vacation when you get home, just to recuperate.

All said, travelling aboard a cruise ship is a great way to spend a vacation and the Alaska trip is definitely one that shouldn't be missed.

February/March 2005

YUKON
Sledding to Adventure

TO MANY, YUKON IS SYNONYMOUS with dogsledding - thanks in part to Jack London, whose classic The Call of the Wild revolved around the adventures of a Gold Rush-era sled dog called Buck. A number of outfitters are now offering winter visitors a chance to explore the territory by dogsled; it's a rare and exciting opportunity to see a land where people are few and far between.

"We're set in the environment in which dogsledding ruled," says Stephen Reynolds, manager of the Yukon Quest, a 1,651-kilometre, 10-to-14 day annual dogsled race between Whitehorse, Yukon and Fairbanks, Alaska. There was a time, Reynolds notes, when the sleds were used by travelling doctors, ministers, and others and for wintertime food deliveries. Before that, they were standard winter transportation for northern aboriginal peoples.

The arrival of snowmobiles almost sounded the death knell for dog teams but, starting in the 60s, racing led to a resurgence. Today, many devotees of the sport are inviting tourists to try it. Transplanted Torontonians Rod and Martha Taylor run Uncommon Journeys, which offers one-week packages that familiarize guests with driving a dogsled before taking them on guided journeys through the snowbound wilderness that London described as the land of the "White Silence." Touring an unpopulated countryside is very much part of the appeal, says Rod Taylor, who likes to boast that he can mush from his retreat near Whitehorse to the Pacific Ocean (some 260 km away) "without seeing a cabin."

One Uncommon Journeys outing has newly trained mushers following the Yukon Quest trail. They often see the tracks made only days earlier by competitors in what is billed as "the toughest dogsled race on Earth" - during which temperatures can rise above freezing or plunge as low as 54-below. Some years, half of the teams drop out because of tough conditions.

Guests retracing part of the Yukon Quest glide through dense forests and deep valleys, taking in some of the same vistas seen by the prospectors who followed The Trail of '98 to the Klondike gold fields over a century ago, It takes almost six days to trek 160 kilometers north to Braeburn. Arctic outerwear is provided to guests, who lend a hand harnessing dogs and setting up camp.

Each season, which runs from January to April, the company takes only 60 to 70 people on its week-long excursions. Teams have five or six dogs, and each journey is limited to six guests and two guides.

Uncommon Journeys' home base - guest cabins overlooking the Takhini River Valley and a log house where meals are served before visitors hit the trails - welcomes more than 8,000 visitors a year. Most come in summertime when they can't go sledding for want of snow; but they do get to meet some of the 45 sled dogs on the property and learn about dogsledding. Some of the dogs are former Yukon Quest competitors, turned over to the Taylors because advancing age has made them too slow for racing.

Dog-mushing is on the upswing internationally, with dogsledding experiences now being offered in a number of provinces and various parts of Europe. But Rod Taylor says southerners may too often find themselves travelling over a snow-covered golf course on an outing that lasts only 15 minutes - a far less adventurous experience than spending days exploring the land of Dangerous Dan McGrew, chilled-to-the-bone Sam McGee, and a host of other colorful Yukon characters both-real and fictional.

"If you ask a hundred people to close their eyes and say what place they associate with dog mushing, they will all say 'the Yukon,' he confidently predicts. "It's part of our history. The reality is that it's iconic to the Yukon."

Spring/Summer 2006

Common Ground. Uncommon Journey.
Kathleen Ramsay

It began when we flipped open the back cover of the July '05 Grove News to a picture of a dog team mushing along in the shadow of pristine mountains. Months and thousands of kilometers from where we first noticed that red parka in the photo, eight of us, all variously connected to LCS, were kitted out in layers of down and Goretex launching into Dogsledding 101. It was, in short, a fabulous experience, memorable, enjoyable, unexpectedly comfortable, and undertaken with companions whose Lakefield experiences provided plenty of fodder for any conversational ice-breaking, despite the crispness of -30 Celsius outdoors.

After flying over the glistening peaks of the Coast range; we landed in Whitehorse just in time to attend the windup banquet of the Yukon Quest, a grueling 1000 kilometer trek for only the most experienced mushers. In the next few days we would come to know some of the dogs who were the-celebrated champions of previous Quest races. Many of these extraordinary animals come to Martha and Rod Taylor, hosts of Uncommon Journeys, to continue their mushing careers at what is often called the "Club Med for sled dogs. From the moment you enter the dog yard, you know how well loved and cared for these passionate pullets are, and it pays off in their responsiveness to novice mushers.

After taking in some of Sunday's Klondike Days festivities in Whitehorse, we headed west to our base for the coming days, and settled into the accommodations surrounding the well-appointed main house where we would. gather far meals. (And what meals! Fending off remarks from southbound friends about a February trip

The next day we headed out from our base over more challenging terrain to Dam Lake, where we tethered the dogs and hiked a little further for a caribou wiener roast, then back to water and feed the dogs, and also ourselves. Wednesday we drove north to the Canol Road, where for a few hours we took our teams, or they took us, through more of the spectacular Yukon landscape. Thursday some of the group headed off to Haines Junction, while others headed down the highway with our teams and sleds to expiate the exquisite surroundings of Kluane. Every day was clear and bright, and with the layers we had been advised to bring and the outer wear provided, thirty below was perfectly comfortable. The last part of our sojourn was undertaken on four wheelers. An unusual winter left part of the Ibex valley route impassable for the dog teams. Negotiating the ice was tricky enough for the machines, but it was well worth it for the view of the valley and a night in the yurts.

We left the Yukon with fond memories, great photos, new friends, and for all of us, I think, a resolve to return.

July/August 2007

Doggie Paradise in the Yukon
By Jillian Rogers

Down a winding gravel road, just outside of Whitehorse, Yukon, is a Utopian society - for sled dogs, anyway. And true to its name, there is nothing common about Uncommon Journeys Ltd.

Rod Taylor started the operation 10 years ago with a specific vision in mind: high-end dog sled tours, where the dogs are king. He now runs the business with his wife Martha, and their mantra of 'dogs first' has paid off big time.

Rod and Martha will sleep with new pups for the first 10 days after they're born. They have a steady string of volunteers, including many youth-oriented groups, coming out to their homestead to play with the puppies. It sets them up to have a well-mannered, friendly yard full of huskies. And walking through the 60-plus-dog yard, it's obvious their methods are tried and true.

The dogs jumped up on their houses as soon as we entered the fenced yard. All tails wagged furiously in anticipation, but there was no cacophony of barking. Not a peep. And upon approaching any given dog, they didn't lunge; they simply waited for a pat on the head or scratch on the belly.

We spend at least as much time training them for them their etiquette as we do training them to run hard," said Rod.

However, when it's winter and the dogs are getting harnessed for a tour, it's a bit of a different story, noise-wise. Like any sled dog, the brood at Uncommon Journeys can't help but yelp and bark in excitement when it comes to running.

But it's not just their dogs that are exceptionally unique. The tours are different at Uncommon Journeys, too.

There are only six tourists at a time, and for those six guests there are three knowledgeable and experienced guides riding in front, middle and behind the group. Rod tries to accompany each of the tours, which range from multi-day trips to the Uncommon Journeys' yurt, to week and two week long trips down the Yukon Quest trail, into the Tombstone Mountains or all the way to Herschel Island in Northern Canada. Guests usually start with the first trip into the yurt where they spend a few days before mushing back to the kennel. But, said Rod, they usually come back to tackle the longer, more challenging tours.

During winter Martha tends to stay close to home with their 3-yearold daughter Hayley, but plans on getting out with a women-only group this winter.

The dogs work hard on tour but are pampered by staff and guests no matter what the season.

Almost all the dogs will sleep in the cabin or tents with the tourists or guests on any given night.
"If there's a common denominator between the guests, it is of course that they're all dog lovers," Rod said, adding that they adopt out most of their retired dogs to former guests. "We had our first dog go to London, England, this summer."

There are even waiting lists for some of their retired lists.

Around 80 percent of the dogs at Uncommon Journeys, www.uncommonyukon.com, are their own breedings, said Rod. They have also acquired some of Hans Gatt's Yukon Quest-winning dogs, which are still producing offspring for them. There are even a couple rescued dogs from the shelter in Whitehorse.

"We need a very eclectic group of dogs," Rod said.

It has taken years to get their breeding program figured out. It all started when Rod caught the infamous mushing bug in Ontario more than a decade ago. He moved to the Yukon, years after laying eyes on his first sled dog, with the dream of starting a high-end tour business.

"I pretty much started from scratch and it hasn't been easy," he said.

But, 10 years after clearing the first trees on the property, business is booming. As of mid-May there were only a handful of spots open for 2008 and they were busy booking for the 2009 season.

"We've been very fortunate because, in spite of ourselves, we've succeeded," Rod said, adding that he gets to be on the back of a dog sled at least 100 days out of the year. "We decided to do this relatively high end and the experience is as comfortable as it gets. That was the best decision we ever made. We have half the guests as most operations but we make twice as much, but to do that, you need some capital to start with and you need to reinvest every cent."

Guests get gourmet meals at the camps, which adds to the 'refined' experience.

And while summer used to offer some much-needed downtime for the pair, they now offer summer kennel tours and demonstrations to tourists. They landed a contract with Holland America and see more than 10,000 out-of-towners in the summer.

"Those 10,000 people go in and indiscriminately pet any dog they want and it's incredible how it keeps the dogs socialized," said Rod, adding that people come from all over the world during the winter and summer months.

In the winter, the guests don't even step on a sled on the first day.

They get an extensive 'Mushing 101' course where they learn how to hook up and basics of equipment. The next day they do 'Mushing 101' all over again "only this time the dogs are a little more excited because we bring the harnesses out," Martha said.

When the guests finally do take off for that first run, it's all very controlled with a staff member standing beside each sled to make sure there are no problems. In fact, the entire 20-mile run to the Uncommon Journeys base-camp yurt is very controlled even though the trails are very challenging, especially for first-timers.

"It's definitely not a free-for-all," Martha said.

"People come here thinking it's about the sled and how you ride it, but we tell them there's a direct correlation between the quality of their experience and the amount of time they spend getting to know their dogs," added Rod,

"People tend to dismiss the power of that relationship and really, it is what makes us so successful."

November/December 2004

Uncommon Journeys

"We are not your average everyday dog-sledding operation." Rod Taylor and his partner Martha have managed to take a traditional winter product and create from it a successful summer season product as well. But just how successful can dog sledding be in the Yukon's summer of seemingly endless sunshine?

"We are about a hundred times busier in the peak summer months," explains the enthusiastic entrepreneur. We have a very modest business in the winter, about 75 visitors I guess. This past summer we had over 7500 people come to see the dogs, and the expectations are for 10 or 20 percent growth for next year."

So how did all this come about? Rod has been able to develop his business by keen awareness of the opportunities that might just come along. The possibility exists for everyone; you just have to seize the chance when it comes your way.

"Three years ago we were a small operation," says Taylor. "In the summer we had been doing a bit of coach business, maybe three busses a year, but from those people who visited, we must have gotten 30 letters a year telling us how much they enjoyed their experience. It was amazing and we knew we had something good."

Holland America Inc., a major cruise line and tour company bringing tourists into Alaska and the Yukon, had just finished a contract with the Yukon Wildlife Preserve to provide attractions for the summer tours, and Uncommon Journeys decided to use this opportunity. "Out of the blue I cold-called Holland America, explained what we do and offered to come to Seattle at my own expense to pitch them the idea. They decided to give it a try, and in the first year we had maybe 1200 people, tops." Since then, in the space of only a few years, business has grown, quickly becoming the top-rated Holland America attraction in the Yukon for customer satisfaction, and hosting more than 7500 people each summer.

"We had all the pieces in place already. The product, the facilities, and the dogs are under-utilized in the summer anyway. It gives them a way to earn their keep in the summer," he jokes.

Uncommon Journeys always employs an aboriginal guide on the tours, and Taylor hopes that through this contact, perhaps the roles will reverse. "It would be great if one day, the skills and knowledge will rub off and they will approach me with a market ready product we can create partnerships with. It is my solid belief that, when all the key elements fall into place - funding, education, and development - the aboriginal product in Canada will be absolutely incredible."

When asked about advice for others who may be finding their way into expanding their outdoor soft-adventure product, Taylor stresses the importance of committing to the quality of your offering.

"It is quite clear the marketplace is getting cluttered and confused with so much quazi-wilderness adventure product that it can be difficult to establish yourself. To make sure you get noticed the best way is to ensure what you offer is of the absolute highest quality. It's the easiest way to differentiate yourself from all the others."

Taylor concludes: "Since we have been involved with the coach tours I would estimate we sink upwards of 30 percent of our revenue each year back into the product. If you do this, soon people begin to recognize your commitment, and you'll establish a trusting relationship. Holland America knows we are putting everything we can into having the best product. You simply cannot invest enough into this!"

November/December 2006

STRIKE IT RICH IN THE YUKON
By Barb and Ron Kroll

Where can your group play golf at midnight, sip cocktails on a glacier, pan for gold, take can-can dancing lessons and sleep in a former brothel?

Half the size of Ontario, with 30,000 people, the Yukon is home to the world’s smallest desert, Canada’s highest mountain, the world’s largest non-polar ice field, more than 2,000 glacier lakes, the midnight sun and the northern lights.

“We picked the Yukon because it’s different,” says Flora Fioritti-Irwin, managing director, Encore Event & Destination Management in Calgary, Alta. “People always say they’d like to go, but never do. We thought Yukon was a great draw, so we gave them a reason to go.” Her pharmaceutical group of 60 people held two concurrent meetings over three days in September 2004.

“Our biggest challenge is breaking misconceptions that the Yukon is all ice and snow, that it’s dark all the time and that mosquitoes are the Yukon air force,” says Jenn Houtby, managing director of Yukon Convention Bureau (YCB). “We link planners and suppliers, help send out requests for proposals, delegate bags, vaction planners and lure pieces. There’s no charge for our services.”

“There’s definitely a perception problem,” says Fioritti-Irwin. “People think Yukon is far, but it’s not hard to get there. There are direct [2.5-hour] flights from Vancouver, Calgary and Edmonton.”

“YCB recommends the best airlines to fly and the best routes, depending on meeting dates and departure points,” says Houtby. “We can share the best rates available on Air Canada, Westjet and Air North combinations.”

Another misconception, according to Houtby, is that Yukon is expensive. “There’s no PST, so take eight per cent off the top. We have some of the country’s lowest room rates ($110 to $140 per night) and lower food costs than most people expect.”

Robin Anderson, vicre-president sales and marketing at Latitude Destination Management, in Whitehorse, dispels another misconception. “Some planners think Yukon is only a men’s incentive, where they fish all day and drink Scotch all night. But our programs appeal to women, as well.”

He suggests an aboriginal program where some participants go fishing and others pick herbs, berries and garnishes with a Native elder. “Afterwards, in the lodge, they prepare a meal with the fish and gatherings. We also run wellness themes. An elder describes medicinal plants as they pick them and make a lotion. Massage therapists and aestheticians give spa treatments at the lodge.”

Companies using the Yukon for meetings and incentive consider themselves pioneers in their fields, notes Anderson. “Yukon’s pioneer spirit and gold rush history are natural tie-ins for ‘Go for the Gold’ incentive programs with gold, silver and bronze levels. Gold-winners go to the Yukon.”

He cites the outdoors as Yukon’s big draw. “It’s nature on steroids. We can still land people on mountains that don’t have names and take people fishing on lakes that have never seen a line.”

“Yukon is outdoorsy, nature-loving and exotic,” says Jane Wallbridge, vice-president, client services at Carlson Marketing in Mississauga. She brought 30 people from an auto company to the Yukon in August 2004. alf went rafting on the Tatshenshini River with a hot lunch along the route. Half went horseback riding with a guide. Two took a guided kayak trip.

“The highlight was our awards night at Uncommon Journey’s Homestead Ranch, owned by a young couple who raise sled dogs. Latitude DMC used trees and boughs to make a wooden tent, with no sides, to resemble a forest. They covered the greenery with white lights and set the tables with linen, crystal and china. A Whitehorse band got everyone dancing. They projected green, pink, and red lights on the canvas ceiling like the northern lights. Table centerpieces had large pillar candles in rustic metal holders with bear and moose cut-outs, and little log cabins nestled in greenery with gold. Dinner was fabulous sit-down plated four-course meal.”

Whitehorse’s venues and day-trips focus on outdoor and nature themes. Groups of 225 can hold receptions beside a 12,000-year-old wooly mammoth cast in Yukon Beringia Interpretive Centre. They can take over the MacBride Museum, which features wildlife and First Nations exhibits. In the courtyard, with historic trains and buggies, groups pan for gold and listen to Robert Service poetry by Sam McGee’s cabin. They can tour the permanently docked S.S. Klondike, the largest sternwheeler to ply the Yukon River, and have dinner in a tent beside it. Frantic Follies, at Westmark Whitehorse, continues the gold rush theme with vaudeville skits, banjo music, and can-can dancing that invites audience participation.

Fioritti-Irwin liked the Transportation Museum. “It’s a neat place with old cars and planes hanging from the ceiling. Our participants still talk about it.”

In summer, golfers can tee off at 10:30 p.m. for a midnight sun golf tournament at the nine-hole meadow Lakes Golf Course. “They have a permanent tent in summer, which groups can use if at least half the group golfs,” says Houtby. At the 18-hole Mountain View Golf Course, the last tee-off is 9 p.m.

Big River expedition brings 22 passengers on Yukon River cruises to Fort Selkirk, where they explore historic buildings, and enjoy a barbecue or box lunches. Coaches transport groups to Yukon Wildlife Preserve, to learn about moose, bison, musk-oxen, Dall sheep and caribou. Nearby Takhini Hot Springs Retreat Centre is suitable for spa and yoga experiences. Equinox Adventure Learning offers a climbing tower, a challenge course and zip line. A breathtaking flight-seeing trip over Kluane National Park offers jaw-dropping panoramas of saw-toothed mountains, glaciers and Mount Logan.

Groups can ride the historic White Pass and Yukon Route Railroad on a scenic journey to the Alaska/Canada border. The 2.5-hour coach trip to the Skagway departure point is equally picturesque, with stops at Emerald Lake and Carcross Desert. The newly built 65-metre Yukon Suspension Bridge has an outdoor deck where 200 guests can enjoy cocktails with panoramic views of the raging Tutshi River. Caribou Crossing, near Carcross, with its gold-panning and barbecue facilities for 300, is a convenient dinner stop on the way back to Whitehorse.

Dawn Graham, meeting and events planner for the Canadian Council of Professional Engineers, describes the Caribou Crossing program as a big hit. Her group of 150 held their annual meeting in May/June 2006. “We held our awards program at the Yukon Arts Centre Theatre and our dinner/dance at the High Country Inn’s adjoining Yukon Convention Centre. Their food was top-quality. We had bison. The hotel’s high-speed Internet was a bonus.”

High Country Inn has Yukon’s largest covered and heated deck. Wallbridge’s group used it for a dinner venue, featuring a beer-tasting by the Yukon Brewing Company.

The 85-room High Country Inn and 180-room Westmark Whitehorse are the major hotels for meetings and incentives. Both have renovated their guest rooms, lobby and meeting space since 200. The newly built $40 million Canada Games Centre has five meeting/party rooms for 20 to 60, a flexihall for 1,900 featuring two arenas and an artificial turn field with bleacers.

Anderson notes that Yukon can easily handle groups of 800. For smaller VIP groups, he recommends several exclusive lodges. “Dalton Trail Lodge, 20 minutes south of Haines Junction, holds 30. The 12-room Raven Hotel, in Haines Junction, has a restaurant in the top 20 in Where to Eat in Canada.” In addition, the fly-in 10-guest Inconnu Lodge have great fishing. Only 35 minutes southeast of Whitehorse, the European-style Inn on the Lake offers banquets and function space for 46.

“Our group really like the Yukon,” says Wallbridge. “The people are so nice to deal with. It’s a hidden gem.”

2000 Buyer's Guide

Untrammeled Wilderness
By Rob Jones

I have heard that expression many times. Last summer I finally got a chance to experience it for the first time when I went mountain biking in the Yukon.
The trip came about through an old friend of our publisher, named Jim Bell. Jim lives in Whitehorse, where he is the manager (and part owner) of an outdoor store and outfitting company called Coast Mountain Sports. He contacted us in the spring, saying that some of the locals were looking to expand the possibilities for mountain biking travel to the Yukon. Was I interested in coming up for a few days? It took less than 2 seconds to say yes.

So, in July, I boarded a plane in Toronto, headed to Vancouver and then wont straight north to Whitehorse. Now, I spend a lot of time in airplanes, and generally I grab aisle seats on emergency rows for maximum leg room. On the leg trip to Whitehorse I had been advised to get a window seat on the left side of the plane. This afforded me my first introduction to the north, when we flew over the miles and miles of ice fields, sparkling and glinting in the sun.

Getting off the plane, in 30 degree heat similar to what I had left, I was met by Jim and Rod Taylor, owner of Uncommon Journeys. Uncommon Journeys is an adventure travel company that offers canoe trips in the summer, and dog sledding expeditions in the winter. They are hoping to expand into mountain biking, and I was their 'test' guest.

The original plan was to walk across the airport tarmac and get in a helicopter to be whisked back into the wilderness. Unfortunately, every copter in the region had been nabbed that morning for firefighting duty, so we were stuck with a plain old pickup truck. This was the last 'plain' experience I would have for the next two days...

After a brief stop at the Uncommon Journeys lodge (where we were greeted by 50 plus howling sled dogs), I was dropped off at the end of a dirt road (I'm being generous, here) with my two guides (Steve and Eric), my bike and a 6-wheeled ATV. The ATV was for Steve to take off for the campground ahead of Eric and I; we got to ride in the 12 kilometers or so.

And so, after 12 hours of travel, I swung a leg over my bike and rolled off down the most northern trail t had ever ridden on, The air was still and clear, and full of the scent of pine trees. We were riding along the Ibex river valley, heading south towards Mt. Arkell. Uncommon Journeys keeps a wilderness camp in the valley,

next to the river. This was to be our base for the night, from which we would head off for a day of riding the following day.
As we rode in, there were three things that immediately stood out. First, even though it was now after 8 o'clock in the evening, it appeared to my southern eyes to be no later than early afternoon. In fact, the 'midnight sun' would finally go down sometime after midnight, and be up again around 3:00 am. Second, I seemed to be continually short of breath. Okay, so maybe I was a little out of shape after spending too much time in front of a computer, but I didn't think I was that bad. It turns out that I wasn't: we were at 3,000 feet, a fairly significant difference for someone who had just left 500 feet above sea level...

The final thing that caught my attention was the way Eric kept looking around, and talking loudly while we were riding. I asked him what he was looking for, and the answer started me peering behind bushes and talking louder than normal. "Bears" he said. "Grizzly bears."

Okay, I thought, what have I gotten myself into here? As Eric explained it lo me (and as I had it confirmed later), the bears aren't hunting humans (that's a relief), but are in the bush eating berries. Not being very good of hearing (the bears, that is), you don't want to come around a corner on a mountain bike and startle them, especially since they can weigh upwards of 1000 pounds and take you out with one swipe of a massive paw. I, too, suddenly developed a keen interest in the surrounding brush, and began to tell Eric quite loudly about our magazine.

However, either there were no bears in the area, or they weren't interested in hearing about the joys of magazine production, because we arrived at the camp without incident. I use 'camp' hesitantly. This camp was as a Rolls Royce is to a Toyota Tercel - both are cars, but there the resemblance ends.

Uncommon Journeys has erected high-tech yurts back in the bush - circular buildings with domed roofs, highly polished wood floors, fine dining facilities and beds as good as any hotel to sleep in (surrounded by solar-powered wire fencing that puts out 5000 volts to keep inquisitive grizzlies away). This type of camping 1 could get well used to. Steve met us with chilled beer, and asked how I wanted my steak done.

After a short rest (and a beer), Eric and I went down to the Ibex river for predinner wash. Now, even though the air was warm, the water flowing down the Ibex comes from snow fed streams in the surrounding mountains - this water was cold. Despite that, we hit the water fast; hordes of bloodthirsty mosquitoes will do that... After a brief (very brief) swim. we scampered back to the yurt for fine dining and conversation, before heading off to bed.

The next morning was the start of one of the epic treks in my 25 years of cycling experience. We had decided, over breakfast (pancakes, with fresh local blueberries...), that Eric and I would traverse the ridge towering behind us, that connected Mt. Arkell to Mt. Ingram. We figured that if we headed straight up a trappers trail to the top, and then headed north, we should be able to hit another trail that Eric and Steve knew about and drop back down to the valley trail to head out. No one had ever done it by mountain bike, so far as the locals knew, so we were literally pioneers. Cool.

Nine hours later, we discovered why no one had done it. After hiking straight up for 2 hours, and 2300 vertical feet, we reached the top of the ridge. The view was staggering, The river meandered through the valley below, eagles soared around and above us, and we could see Dall sheep scrambling around on the ridge across the valley from us. The sun was shining, a gentle breeze was blowing - life was very, very good as we sat down for a lunch of sandwiches and fruit.

Everything was perfect, until we started lo ride along the ridge. I should say, until we tried to ride along the ridge. We, in our plans, had figured that the ridge would be mostly rock and alpine grass - easy to ride over. Uh-uh. What we were faced with was scrub brush. Vicious scrub brush that came up to mid thigh, hiding holes and drop offs, and lighting you every step of the way. Vicious because it took the skin off unprotected limbs,
meaning our legs. f reached the end of that ride with blood streaming from dozens of cuts and gashes. As one wit said afterwards, it looked like someone had gone after my legs with a weed Wacker.

But that was afterwards. We still had to get across to our trail down. It took us 6 hours to cover 5 kilometers across the top of that ridge. Riding was limited to stretches of no more than 100 meters, and most of the time we were doing a hike-a-bike. By the time we reached a snow runoff (yes, we were that high) after 5 kilometers of unremitting slogging, we were ready to take any option to get down. Slithering and sliding down through the snow and ice to the stream it eventually turned into, our feet turning blue in the ice cold water, we finally reached the trail in the valley. I was ready to fie down and go to sleep (possibly from blood loss...), but we still had another 8 kilometers to ride back out. At this point, a grizzly could have wandered right up and I would have just sat there. The ridge had been traversed by mountain bike, for the first, and probably last, time.

The next day started real slow, at least on my part. After creaking out of bed, and inspecting the truly impressive mess my legs presented (people were actually pointing at them in the streets), dim took me for a lour of the town of Whitehorse. It looks no different than any other small Canadian town of 20,000; with a few exceptions. The first is the broad, fast flowing Yukon River. If you walk along the boardwalk beside the river, you can see all the old pilings, where the river boats tied up. Up river is Miles Canyon and the White Horse Rapids (Whitehorse was so named because the whitecaps in the rapids looked like the manes of white horses), so goods had to be portaged around to Whitehorse lo continue the trip north during the gold rush at the turn of the century. Next to the boardwalk you will see the remnants of the old tramway that was used to transport materials around the rapids. You can also visit the S.S. Klondike, the last remaining example of a Yukon paddle wheeler, restored and situated on the riverside.

I said there were few exceptions to a southern town. Some of those exceptions include the menus of focal restaurants (be sure to have a caribou burger while in the area), the amount of German spoken (Germans are some of the most frequent visitors to the Yukon - in fact, there are direct flights to Whitehorse from Frankfurt, but not Toronto...), the Yukon
Brewing Company (their Yukon Gold is superb - see Editorial Beers on page 66) and the incredible mountain biking trails within the city limits.

After lunch, from Jim's back door, we hop onto a gravel road that takes us to the 'railhead. We are going to head south along the Yukon River, along the shores of Schwatka Lake, the Hidden Lakes, and down to Miles Canyon. The day is perfect, and our group of five is eager to rids. I fear that my still recovering muscles will stow everyone down, but my gracious guides are happy and proud just to show me their trails.

We swoop through the lodgepole pine and poplar woods, along some challenging singletrack, before bursting out into the open along a ridge above Schwatka Lake. The lake narrows back into the Yukon at the southern end, and we drop back into the woods. The number of trails is bewildering, as they merge and diverge along our ride. I could easily spend a month just exploring the riding opportunities with Whitehorse city limits.

Finally, we reach the scenic highlight of this ride - Miles Canyon. The Yukon has carved deep cliffs into the surrounding basalt rock, and the water is funneled into a fast flowing channel. While the water flow is fast, it is no longer anywhere near as dangerous as it was during the gold rush. The Whitehorse Dam (which created Schwatka Lake) has raised the water level by up to 12 metres in places, and careful boat operators can negotiate the Canyon in safety.

Al the southern entrance to the Canyons is a suspension footbridge and park - a perfect place to view the river, and the cliff swallows that dart and wheel around, just skimming the surface of the water. From here we could continue further upstream to Canyon City, a gold rush created town at the turn of the century, that now consists of old building foundations and debris. However, that is a - ride for another trip. We headed back to Jim's place, for natchos, beer (Yukon, of course) and mountain bike conversation.

A day later, after some more poking around the town, Jim and I get to talking about mountain biking opportunities outside of the local area. One name that comes up is Kluane National Park, about 160 kilometres due west of Whitehorse. It is early afternoon by this point, but who cares - the sun will be up for at least 10 more hours! We quickly gather together supplies, including, ominously, big canisters of pepper spray...

We drive towards the mountains (the St Elias Mountains run through Kluane), and our jump off point of Haines Junction. Kluane covers 22,015 square kilometres and, combined with other parklands in Alaska and B.C., forms the largest internationally protected area in the world - a UNESCO World Heritage wilderness area of global significance. Kluane
contains everything from mountains (including Mt Logan, Canada's tallest mountain at 5959 metres) to the largest non-polar icefields in the world.

Arriving in Haines Junction, we checked in at the Visitor Centre (mandatory), only to find out that the grizzly risk was considered high - gulp. Nevertheless, we decide to head in to the Park, We chose the Alsek River trail for our expedition. After driving 10 kilometres north of Haines Junction, we turned off the Alaska Highway onto a gravel trail, You are allowed to drive back in to the Park boundary (about 5 kilometres), and we want to get in as far as possible before starting to ride.

'Trail' is a generous description of the route we take in Jim's pickup. It includes numerous stream crossings, all of which must be negotiated with extreme care our north and west, and tall bluffs facing us on the opposite side of the Alsek.

I install a bear bell that I have bought in Jim's store. It is supposed to jingle and make enough noise to warn grizzlies that you are approaching. I notice Jim doesn't have one, and ask him "Are these things any good?” "Well" he says diplomatically, "we sell a lot to tourists." Thanks, Jim.

By this point it dawns on me that we are literally on our own. There are no human habitations or facilities within reasonable walking or riding distance. I start to wonder if this is maybe more adventure that I need or want. I notice Jim is looking pretty twitchy too, for a local.

We start to ride. Initially the trail runs through gravel and sand, along the river's edge, and out in the open where we can see anything grizzly-like from a good distance (I'm starting to get paranoid). However, the trail moves inland after a couple of kilometres and begins to climb into thick bush. It is double track, pounded hard; an excellent riding trail that normally I would enjoy a lot more. But at this point i am having loud conversations with the air, and so is Jim.

"Hello Mr Bear. We're just riding through, no need to worry. We won't bother you, and you won't bother us, okay?" Nothing, not a rustle, no crashing bushes. I start to relax a bit. Then we come around a corner and see a big pile of dung in the middle of the trail. We stop and stare at it intensely. Jim confirms that it is, indeed, bear pee. "Not too fresh" he says, with the air of a connoisseur. "At least an hour old." My paranoia returns tenfold.

We decide to continue on (after all, I reason, the bear could just as easily be behind us...). The ride up through the trees, along the slopes of Mt Archibold, is incredibly quiet and beautiful. We are heading towards an abandoned gold mining camp, according to the map, but as the hour grows later (it is about 9:00 pm by now), we start to wonder if we are going to make it. After an hour of riding we decide that even with the extended daylight of the north, it is not doable, and turn around. This relieves me considerably, since the only thing I can imagine that would be worse than meeting a bear on the trail, is meeting a bear in the dark on the trail...

The ride back down is a blur of trees, creek crossings and loud yodeling. All too soon, we are back beside the Alsek, and I am taking my last look round before we pack up and head back to Whitehorse. We arrive back in town around midnight, just as it is getting dusky, and stop in at the local Chinese restaurant (mandatory in all Canadian towns, no matter how small) for a late night dinner. I am leaving in the morning, and I want to prolong my experience as long as possible...

However, the next morning arrives, and Jim drops me off at the airport. As we take off, I look out the window (get a window seat on the right for the southward trip), and watch the icefields and mountains pass below me.

I travel and ride in many, many places, and almost all have something special about them. But this trip has been different, extra special. I know that I will be returning to the Yukon so that I can explore further this unique territory.

September 2004

thrills AND CHILLS
Need to cool down this summer? Here's how one woman took dogsledding to a new level in the Great White North.
BY TOBY ZINMAN

Abs in, knees flexed, elbows soft. Sound familiar? Last time I heard these instructions I was at the gym. But oddly enough, this time when I heard these commands I was the farthest place from it. However, the activity I was participating in was more intense than any gym session I'd ever experienced. I was on a dogsled, behind a team of six Alaskan huskies, flying through the pristine wilderness of the Yukon. I'll admit this was hardly your conventional vacation, and I was not the least bit surprised when I told people I was going mushing, their reactions were: "Wow!" and "Why?" Why? Because I Love adventures; I love extreme landscapes that are physically demanding, such as deserts, glaciers, and rainforests. As everybody who pushes themselves beyond their comfortable physical (and psychological) limits knows, you learn a lot about yourself and have some thrills in the process. If you're bored of the allinclusive, tropical, swim-up-bar-type vacation, dig out your warmest sweaters and winter accessories and head for a vacation unlike any other. On this True North vacation in Canada's Yukon, along with the thrills came some inevitable spills and chills.

The Yukon is bigger than California but has a population of only 30,000 with 22,000 residing in Whitehorse, the capital, which still looks much like a small, Gold Rush frontier town. The other 8,000 live even farther north, above the 60th parallel. My guides at Uncommon Journeys, Rod and Martha Taylor, are two of those 8,000, and they tell me that you could dogsled the 200 miles to the Pacific and not see a single cabin.

They live in a big, rustic but elegant house, with several beautifully furnished and very comfy cabins for their guests. There is a fenced-in yard for their 54 huskies; each dog has its own little house, with its name on it. Friendlier, stronger, more tolerant dogs couldn't exist anywhere else in the world. Many of them are retired from racing the Yukon Quest, and Junior, one of my team’s lead dogs, was one of the champions.

After three days of trails that got increasingly narrower and icier and more twisted, we headed out to the yurts (cabins) twenty miles away, deep into the ibex Valley. We would spend two nights in this remote wilderness, where somehow Martha cooks up elegant meals served with good wine. One of the dogs, Willow, is allowed into the main yurt for a treat [this is only the second time in her life she has been inside a building). Primal dog instinct: she immediately jumps onto the sofa.

spills:
Everybody fell off the sleds; my huge triumph was not falling off on the last clay. Even the two guys who were the other novice mushers fell off and they were serious skiers with plenty of experience handling horses in their native Australia. Having never been on a ski, much less two, and living in a world where I travel by taxi not animal, I didn't have their credentials. Nobody got hurt, just a little humiliated, watching the dogs tear away down the trail without you.

In the middle of the week, the dogs were given a day off, so we went snowshoeing into the beautiful woods. The only footprints we saw were made by a caribou and a rabbit. Snowshoes no longer look like those cartoon tennis rackets, but they're still big and clumsy and provide a terrific total body workout. In a moment of comic relief, I did the classic prat fall: stepping on my own snowshoe, I fell over backwards into the snow. This is one adventure you don't want to attempt solo - it is impossible to get up without two laughing people hauling you back onto your feet.

If you're thinking this adventure sounds intense, you're right, it is. But that doesn't mean you have to be in perfect physical condition to give it a shot. According to Uncommon Journeys' website www.uncommohyukon.com) if you can comfortably cross-country ski at a recreational level, you should have no problems. On a typical day, you will find yourself having to jog next to your sled up two or three short hills in order to assist your team. Otherwise, you can just enjoy the atmosphere and the amazing experience- not to mention the winter wonderland.

chills:
In March, at least the week I was there, the weather was wonderful - brilliant sunshine, temperaturesin the high 20s although people a few Weeks before had seen temperatures dip down to serious negative numbers. Uncommon Journeys provides big arctic boots and giant red parkas with insulated overalls. I was totally toasty, even while outdoors all day long. Inside it is so warm you can wear a T-shirt. The only crucial gear I needed to bring was a neckwarmer and long underwear. But going to the out-house in the middle of the night can get a bit nippy, especially if you're wearing only a nightgown under your parka.

The dogs like it arctic cold, so every time we stopped, they would cool off by flopping down on the snow. While running, they grab bites of snow to cool off.

thrills:
You can't imagine the feeling of saying "Hup-up," which means "Let's go!" and feeling the sudden power of the dogs pulling you. What was even more thrilling was going up a hill so steep I had to run beside the sled and hop onto the runners just as we got to the top, then soaring over the ice berm at the top, hitting the downward slope, and somehow staying on. And I can't. forget about the scenery. If you're a city girl, seeing the' stars at night is breathtaking. The immensity of the sky and the intensity of the darkness is awesome; even luckier, We had several glimpses of the northern lights.

At 11 o'clock every night, all 54 dogs would start to howl in unison. This lasted about a minute and then stopped, as though a conductor had silenced an orchestra. This seemed to be the way the dogs say goodnight to each other and, I like to think, to us.