Dave Olesen - Kinds of Winter: Four Solo Journeys by Dogteam in Canadas Northwest Territories

KINDS OF WINTER

The Four Journeys 20022005

Four Solo Journeys by
Dogteam in Canadas
Northwest Territories

DAVE OLESEN

Wilfrid Laurier University Press acknowledges the support of the Canada Council for the Arts for our publishing program. We acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund for our publishing activities.

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Olesen, Dave, 1957, author

Kinds of winter : four solo journeys by dogteam in Canadas Northwest Territories / Dave Olesen.

(Life writing series)
Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-1-77112-118-7 (bound).ISBN 978-1-77112-131-6 (pbk.)
ISBN 978-1-77112-069-2 (pdf).ISBN 978-1-77112-070-8 (epub)

1. Olesen, Dave, 1957TravelNorthwest Territories. 2. DogsleddingNorthwest Territories. 3. Snow campingNorthwest Territories. 4. WinterNorthwest Territories. 5. Northwest TerritoriesDescription and travel. I. Title. II. Series: Life writing series

FC4167.3.O44 2014 917.193044 C2014-904147-0
C2014-904148-9

Front-cover illustration by Graeme Shaw. Compass image sergeiminsk, http://www.123rf.com/profile_sergeiminsk. Cover design and text design by Daiva Villa, Chris Rowat Design.

2014 Wilfrid Laurier University Press
Waterloo, Ontario, Canada
www.wlupress.wlu.ca

Kinds of Winter and So Long and a line from Our People, by William Stafford, from The Way It Is: New and Selected Poems. Copyright 1959, 1970, 1998 by William Stafford and the Estate of William Stafford. Reprinted with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc., on behalf of Graywolf Press, Minneapolis, Minnesota, www.graywolfpress.org. Tasting the Snow by Gary Snyder from The Back Country (1971). Reprinted with the permission of the poet.

This book is printed on FSC recycled paper and is certified Ecologo. It is made from 100% post-consumer fibre, processed chlorine-free, and manufactured using biogas energy.

Printed in Canada

Every reasonable effort has been made to acquire permission for copyright material used in this text, and to acknowledge all such indebtedness accurately. Any errors and omissions called to the publishers attention will be corrected in future printings.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the publisher or a licence from the Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency (Access Copyright). For an Access Copyright licence, visit http://www.accesscopyright.ca or call toll free to 1-800-893-5777.

For Kristen

Maps

Four Journeys

South

East

North

West I

West II

Illustrations

The Husky ski plane and cache supplies on Noman Lake

Tugboat and Dandy cast a doleful eye at the load on the climb to Daisy Lake

Wet gear hung to dry at the layover campfire, Robert Lake

The team breaks out the trail along my snowshoe tracks

Breakfast in the Hilleberg tent

During a pause to careen the sled and remove the aluminum rails

Murphy, Riley, Gulo, and Jasmine

Krummholz camp, final camp of the east trip, at dawn

The hut at Maufelly Bay, with the dogs picketed in their snow trench

The team advances through the boulder field above our night-six campsite

Resupply cache camp at Laverty Lake, wind-polished ice in the background

The turnaround point on the trip north, at the headwaters of the Back River

View from the Aviat Husky, westbound to set the resupply cache at Wilson Island

Kaltag and Ernie scream with impatience during a pause in The Gap

Jumbled ice of the pressure ridge at Outpost Islands, just before the trip west onto open ice

Annika, Kaltag, Ernie, Dave, and Liv: home sweet home

The dogs at rest on ice in the wind

Like many of my generation, I continue to be confounded by North Americas split personality when it comes to everyday measurement of temperature, distance, volume, and weight. And this split does not split right at the CanadaU.S. border. As a pilot in Canada I still spend my working days conversing and calculating in miles and feet and pounds, for these are the worldwide industry standards. Meanwhile, as a Canadian citizen I am encouraged by Ottawa to think strictly in kilometres, litres, and grams. Alas, as an Illinois boy born in 1957, my mind will forever run in miles and inches and pounds.

In this book I have given temperatures and distances and other measurements in the way they now come naturally to me, and to many millions of others like me: Temperatures in degrees Celsius (for after twenty-seven years in Canada, I have at least mastered that changeover), distances in statute miles, smaller measurements in inches and feet, and weights in pounds. This is the way I think and the way everyone I work with, right across western Canada, still talks. Maybe in another generation or two we will all be converted and toeing the metric line.

As for the terms and slang of dog mushing and winter bush travel, a glossary is provided at the back of the book, along with several appendices, which might help the reader to understand some of the details of my travel and camping methods, food supplies, dog care, and navigation.

As the sun went down in late afternoon on the 28th of February 2003, I raised my voice above the roar of wind, calling out gently to the team of huskies stretched ahead of me: Who-o-oa there now, who-o-oa. The low tone of my command was muffled by the ice-encrusted hood surrounding my face and it did not carry far. The dogs heard me but they hardly slowed at the sound. What? Surely hes not thinking of making camp here? I stood heavily on the sleds steel brake claws, forcing them deeper into the wind-packed snow. Our momentum fell off and ten frosty dog faces turned back, baffled, to see what I was going to do next. Whoa, I said again, and dropped the snow hook. I kicked it down with my thick mukluk. Thatll do. Home sweet home.

It was time to camp, and the blank white sweep of tundra offered no shelter. The northwest gale had dominated our day, howling at us head-on, shifting slightly, probing for weakness like a tireless sparring partner, hour after hour. The rush of air had dropped perceptibly at days end, but it still packed a wallop. With the temperature near 40 below zero, the wind was still eager to freeze any skin I might carelessly expose to it. I moved forward up the team and unhooked the toggle at the back of each dogs harness. Now my intentions were clear to them all and as they felt the toggles come free they each pissed, shook, circled, and curled up on the snowtail over nose, furry shoulder turned toward the brunt of the wind. Work done, day over call us when suppers ready, boss.

The dogs and I were about halfway between the upper Thelon River and the east end of Great Slave Lake. We were westbound for home, with about a hundred miles to go. It was time to stop the days marching, dig in, pitch the tent, cook food for us all, and rest for the night. We would find no oasis of spruce trees, no cozy hut on these rolling plains. One barren hillside was as good as the next and darkness was coming on.