Looking Back at Me

Tip toeing along the ice and snow covered switchbacks, I kept gazing across the fjords hoping to catch sight of the northern lights. Their allure was a reason I’d mustered myself to pull on warm clothes and leave the comfortable hotel room we’d found for the night. A cold, slippery and dark run awaited me when I could have easily sloughed off the hour run I had on my schedule. It had been a day of the highest highs and some challenging obstacles. I’d slept past the window of time for my morning run, instead believing the wind wiping the windows was cause for me to stay inside another hour. The adventure an hour and fifteen minute drive away was perhaps one of the most memorable experiences we’ve had yet on a trip.

When Codi told me he’d booked a dog sled tour I was excited but thought we’d be treated like tourists, look but don’t touch. Instead when we arrived we were greeted warmly by Daniel, a man not much older then ourselves who told us to go say hi to the dogs while he finished a few things. I expected unfriendly, serious dogs who cared little for human companionship, but instead were greeted by barks and wags and licks from the most sociable and loving dogs I’ve met. Terrifically powerful and beautiful athletes with goofy personalities that made me us never want to stop petting them. We were in love immediately. The joy and excitement radiating from the dogs was contagious only increasing as Codi and I learned we would each be driving our own team and sledge. Daniel and a visiting Swedish driver with his own team named Magnus, quickly gave us the rundown of driving and we began harnessing the dogs for each team. The frenzy of excitement grew as the dogs began barking and jumping excitedly knowing they’d soon be able to do what they love most. In a silly way I felt a deep connection particularly with one of the young females, of sharing such a passion for running. I’m excited even just anticipating it. But as wild as they would be in barking and jumping, as soon as we began harnessing them, they’d patiently allow us to put one leg and then the other through the harness loops and calmly follow to be attached to the sledge. They understood to do what they love, they had to be obedient and patient in the process. As we worked through the four sledges, a stampede of young puppies from another part of the farm sprang over their fence and bounced around us hoping to join the fun. Instead of putting them back, Daniel happily obliged their desires and brought the gaggle with us on our tour. With puppies tearing around, dogs barking and pawing with excitement, snow flakes whistling around us, we lifted our anchors and left of the break to a call of “okkkayyyy!” signaling the dogs to begin our journey.

The power of the team and the connection between myself and these incredible animals was unforgettable. With feet and feet of snow, they effortlessly maneuvered through unpacked soft snow, tree branches, up and down slanted hills and bumps. They never ceased the enthusiasm with which they had begun. It took me awhile to get used to leaning correctly and helping the sledge follow along the tracks set by Daniel and Codi. Each move I made directly affected the dogs as leaning too much or not far enough could pull them into the deeper powder or threaten to flip the sledge. I will admit to cracking a female driving joke in my head hoping I wasn’t living up to the stereotype. But as we moved on, I began to understand how to work with my team. I felt how much I needed to lean far to the side, both feet and hands on the edge and how to work the break to keep the eager dogs behind Codi’s team. Most of all, I relished in the connection of when the team needed my help. Daniel told us when we were gearing up that when going up a hill or traversing a deep flat, we would need to jump of the sledge and run pushing the sledge or push with one foot to help the dogs. Codi asked how we would know and Daniel told us the dogs would look back at us to ask for help. I have to admit I didn’t think they’d do that, it seemed too complex a connection that only an experienced team and driver would reach.

But sure enough, our first steep hill, I found my lead dogs glancing back at me, asking me to help them carry this weight up the hill and work together to accomplish our tasks. The power of this small glance floored me at its profound simplicity. In order to climb we must ask for the help of others. The most powerful creatures cannot act alone. I was thrilled to oblige and share the weight of running with my team and feel the effort they were putting in to move us through the deep snow. As we crossed through forests and fields, the wind would kick up and wrap us in white out storms. Blinding snow pelted us as we turned our faces, trying to keep our eyes focused to help the teams. How solitary those moments felt, unable to hear the shouts of the other humans around, but so connected to four living creatures who needed me to keep watching, to stay with them as they stood with me. I shouted words of encouragement, telling them my appreciation for pulling through the storm. I’m sure with their experience they didn’t need my adulation, but I can’t help but believe they were listening to me. We circled to head back home as we were supposed to catch a train from Narvik in only a few short hours. I didn’t want to stop even with frozen hands and feet. The discomfort mattered little to me in comparison to the joy of being a part of this team.

Sledging past snowy peaks and whitened trees, I reveled in how fortunate I was to be where I am in life. Driving a team of dogs in Northern Norway with my husband surrounded by wonderful people, animals and spectacular scenery. As we pulled in and began to take the harnesses off one by one, my heart was full. I felt such a deep connection with these huskies as we shared such a strong love for running in nature, a passion that drives life forward and becomes a reason why.

With one last pet, we headed back through a white out snow storm and came to learn our overnight train had been canceled without previous warning. We scrambled to find alternative means of transport, booking last minute flights with waning phone plans and searching for open hotels for an unexpected bonus night in Narvik. Sitting in a mall cafe temporarily stranded, the duality of one days experiences came into sharp focus. From one moments untouchable high, to anxious feelings of derailed plans and unknown, it is unpredictable from moment to moment what this plan is for us, but I know we’re the lucky ones. We booked different flights, found a cozy hotel with a host who packed us a breakfast pail for our 4:30am departure and were back on track for our Stockholm plans. The northern lights didn’t appear on my run, but each step gave me time to absorb the days adventures and be thankful for each piece.