One Husky Dog Run

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In the 1960s the Antarctic huskies at our base always got excited when a sledge run was due. Despite the cold they would jump, yell and scream at the end of their chains as I pushed the long wooden Nansen sledge up to the span. With cold hands I put a lamp wick harness on each dog, and attached it to the main pulling trace, stretched out in front from the picketed sledge. The lead dog would be out in front, either Bev, the female or Count, the male. Bev was more obedient.

Count as Leader

I decided this day to use Count. I forgot that last year Count had bolted and led the husky team, the Huns, up an iceberg and then had peered down the thirty-foot drop on the other side. Count was a little reluctant to lead despite his abilities. Other tougher dogs behind him wanted to chomp on him. In a pair immediate behind were Podger, large and generally friendly, and Notus, savaged as a pup and only with some of my TLC starting to pull. Next came the pair of brothers, Dizzy and Satchmo. Neither had too much enthusiasm for pulling. And to keep the whole team moving forward were the chief pullers and fighters, the brothers, Nero and Caesar. They could move a half-ton loaded sledge on their own.

The Run and the Fight

With the pickets out the team leaped forward and ran. Everything went smoothly for about a mile. Then the usual "begin the run" fight started, each dog getting rid of any grievances or grudges. I turned the sledge onto its side, and waled away at the dogs with a thick braided rope. This stopped the fighting, and prevented serious injuries.

The Return

I walked to the back of the sledge to right it. Most of the huskies had got the need to fight out of their systems. But Count was still nervous. He suddenly whipped around, flipping the sledge upright, and headed the team back to the base. I grabbed the trailing rope hanging from the back of the sledge, and missed. From my prone position in the snow I saw the team heading straight down the glacier to the forty-foot ice cliffs that leaned into the cold sea.

The Rescue

I trudged back to the base with an image of the whole team plunging into the icy Antarctic waters. Once the other base member's derisive comments were over with we skied along the ice cliff edge. Count must have seen the base on his left as he raced down to the sea, and immediately swung left; the whole team and sledge followed. The sledge toppled over and the handlebars wedged themselves into a crevasse six feet from the edge of the cliff. Relieved, we untangled the dogs and their traces, and led the team home.

Back in the Saddle Again

I took the Huns out again the next day with Count still as leader. We had an uneventful run. I was relieved. As many dog drivers in the Antarctic used to say, one never had total control of a husky team at all times.

(c) Michael Warr June 27 2007