Sled Dog Watchdog: Yukon Quest John Firth book

This book, by local Whitehorse author, John Firth, gives an informative and relativley balanced treatment
of the Yukon Quest (the book even includes a section about Quest race rules, such as they are), among
the few books written about the event. Although Mr. Firth, like the authors of other books reviewed in
this section, is a strong proponent of the race, he does express some concern and compassion for the
dogs, and gives an airing to some of the Quest's 'dirty laundry.'

[About Alaska musher Gerry Riley]
Riley walks down the team, rubbing each dog on the head, talking quietly to the team, reminding them
who is boss. It's like watching a coach prepare a team for the big game, trying to calm them down while
keeping them pumped up. But there is more to the relationship between mushers and their dogs; borders
on something like a parent-child bond rather than just players and their mentor.
(Page 13)

[Alaska musher Jon Gleason on the intelligence of sled dogs]
"Dogs can be so stupid sometimes," sums up Gleason. "It's almost like it was written, 'you will get to the
top and you will stop and you will not go any further no matter how much they cuss and swear.' At that
particular point, all our dogs have got the same damn name: you dumb sonofabitch. I don't care whose
team it is, we've all got the same dumb dogs and they all have the same name."
(Pages 17/18)

[The effect of extreme cold on dogs]
It is harder on the dogs; they literally freeze-dry. The dry cold absorbs the moisture they breathe out and
sucks it out of their skin faster than the musher can replace it. Dehydration is a problem in any long
distance dog sled race, but its effect is magnified by extreme cold and wind.
(Page 37)

[French musher runs injured dogs]
Francois Varigas, transplanted from France, moved to a cabin on a small creek just outside of Dawson
City because he had fallen in love with the north reading Jack London novels as a child. He has injured
two wheel dogs before reaching Angel Creek, but decides to keep on running and evaluate them on the
mountain. [Ed. Note: Varigas dropped out shortly after]
(Page 41)

['True athletes']
The Alaskan breed bears little resemblance to the multitude of pedigrees that have combined to produce
this diminutive animal. Unlike many of those purebred animals or the dogs of Jack London and Sergeant
Preston, few of these dogs will ever see the inside of a human home and even fewer will grow old lying
at their owner's feet by the roaring fire. They are the heart and soul of the multi-million dollar business of
sled dog racing. When fitted into a harness and hooked to a tow line, they become perfectly tuned
competitive racing machines. A balanced team operates almost like the pistons in an automobile engine.
As tough and conditioned as the mushers may be, the mushers rank second to the true athletes who pull
the sleds…
(Pages 50/51)

[Alaska musher Joe Runyan's 'sled-puppy mill']
Runyan, winner of the 1985 Yukon Quest, the 1988 Alpirod (the European 1,000-mile race through Italy,
Austria, Germany and France) and the 1989 Iditarod, is a methodical breeder who has no qualms about
adapting new ideas from other breeding programs. His kennel has about 300 dogs, half of them puppies.
Most of the pups won't be kept past their age of maturity: about six to 14 months. He will sell most to
other mushers for breeding and give away the others. Only the ones who show signs of what he is
looking for will remain with him. The culling process for the pups is based on the method used by
breeders of homing pigeons: the bird makes it home or it doesn't. The dog meets his standard or it
doesn't.
[Ed. Note - read about Mr. Runyan's apparent use of electrical cattle prods to shock dogs
while training, in the 'cruel training methods' section of the Sled Dog Action Coalition
website]
(Pages 51/52)

[Breeding experiments]
Certain combinations of breeding worked better than others, and as the lines were inbred further, the
chances of a successful hybrid dog were further enhanced. Genetic or inherited problems can be reduced
as a breeding line gets older. But there were still too many unknown factors. Certain cross-breeding that
should have worked, didn't, for no apparent reason.
(Pages 53/54)

[Common afflictions of sled dogs]
Viruses, such as doggie flu, can stop a team in its tracks. They spread rapidly, causing vomiting, lethargy,
and diarrhea, Collisions with trees or stepping into cracks can sprain wrists, dislocate shoulders or break
legs. Fights can result in disabling cuts to paws, mouths, necks and legs. Heat stress can cause dogs to
lose their coordination, vomit and get diarrhea. This usually happens when a dog's natural cooling system
can't keep up to the heat generated by running under a warm sun, even if the surrounding air is
sub-zero…

Some dogs do die. Gastric torsion, or a twisted stomach, can kill them. Burst blood vessels in their brains
claim others. Dehydration is often the catalyst that precipitates a fatal health condition. But the mortality
rate of race dogs is no higher than it is for the dog who lives a sedentary lifestyle.
(Page 63)

['Enter the Sandman']
Ralph Tingey isn't in the habit of falling asleep on his sled, but there's one incident from the 1987 race he
won't forget - or remember. "I fell asleep on the sled and I must have been asleep for a while. When I
camped the next day with Dean Siebold he said, 'Boy, wasn't that stretch of the Yukon back there horrible
with that ice kind of sloping into that huge open hole?' I said, 'Dean, I fell asleep on the sled yesterday.
What hole?' He says, 'There was this great big hole, with the river boiling through it, and there was all
this side ice and it was really hard to negotiate.' I said, 'Oh.'"
(Page 91)

['Thirst for gold' in Dawson makes mushers overdrive dogs]
"I hope four ounces of gold doesn't end up costing me $20,000," says [Alaska musher Dave] Monson.
"That last push took something out of my dogs." The gold wasn't the reason for the finishing kick, he
explains. "Coming in first was a question of honour."
(Page 109)

[Isolation]
On this side of the mountain, just a few miles into the longest stretch between checkpoints (300 miles
from Dawson to Carmacks) drivers are truly isolated when it comes to helping their dog teams. There are
no veterinary facilities and no way to call for help when a dog team goes down. It is knowledge,
ingenuity, quick action and desperation that mean the difference between life and death for the dogs.
(Page 133)

['Burned-out' team]
Clifton Cadzow had burned up the trail from Eagle, and burned out his team. His leaders were getting
rebellious and balked at following his commands. "I pushed them too hard over American Summit in the
heat of the day and now they're not with me. If I go on, I could ruin them forever. At this point they
don't trust me any more." He scratches at Dawson City.
(Page 137)

[Some reasons mushers drop out of Quest]
In 1984, Bob English broke into tears and cried when scratching in Dawson City after contemplating the
toll the trail was taking on his dogs. In 1987, Jon Gleason endured frozen fingers, a frostbitten face and
exhaustion to the point of losing control, but when he discovered his dog, Dutch, had frozen his foot, he
withdrew immediately, just 100 miles from the finish line.
(Page 146)

[Disqualified musher]
Mike Maurer, a fisherman from Salcha, Alaska, will be disqualified in 1990 after one of his dogs dies
shortly after arriving in Carmacks. The injuries suffered by the dog will lead the vets to believe the animal
was not given proper care on the trail. Maurer will protest the ruling, insisting that the autopsy gave the
vets a false reading, but his disqualification will stand.
(Page 160)

[Quest vet 'saves the day']
Jim Reiter has good reason to appreciate the extra effort put forward by the vets. When one of his dogs
chewed off its foot after freezing it at Stepping Stone in 1987, Terry Quesnel, a vet from Vernon, British
Columbia, flew in, landing on the snow-covered ice to perform a quick bit of surgery that save the dog's
life. The dogs take all the pinching, poking of needles and peeing in jars in good humour. "The sled dogs
I've seen back home are vicious," smiles New Jersey vet Jean Buist. "Here, the greatest danger I've had
near a team is being licked to death."
(Page 160)

[The race is over/'Running is their life']
There is nobody to tell the dogs it's over. They've passed under banners, stopped in crowds and been
poked, prodded and needled by veterinarians a few times over the past two weeks...

For the first few days, the handler will take the dogs for a jog to loosen them up and take the ache out of
their legs. They will welcome the easy jaunt. It tells them that the hard stuff is over for a while. They may
get a week or two of easy exercise, then it's back to the racing circuit. The big-money races are scheduled
to be run during the next month. They will greet the reappearance of the sled and harnesses with grins
and wagging tails. This is what they were born to do. Running is their life.
(Pages 188/189)

[The physiology of sled dogs]
Veterinarian Ken Hinchcliff was back for his final year of studying the physiology of sled dogs. This time
he was trying to determine why some dogs finished the race and others didn't. "The obvious reason for
some is they are lame. But there may be a reason why some are more susceptible to lameness than
others." Dogs are dropped by mushers for various reasons - sore muscles, stiffness, virus, injury,
dehydration or pregnancy. Their mental state is important. Some will just stop pulling because they're not
happy anymore or just don't want to go any farther. Often, some young dogs are dropped automatically
by the musher who only wanted to run them for half the race anyway, just to give them some experience.
Last year's stress tests had surprised the vet. "The most surprising thing we found is how minimally
stressed they are by competing in a race like this. It was not outside the normal range of a household
pet." Hinchcliff didn't expect any surprise results from this year's testing. "I don't expect we'll find any
earth-shattering reason. But I won't be surprised to find that dropped dogs, even if they are lame, have
something in common in their blood."
(Page 204)

[More about the 'hallucinating musher']
The [Yukon musher] [Bill] Stewart incident brought to light the fact that, while veterinarians and race
officials are constantly monitoring the condition of the dogs on the trail, there is very little attention paid
to the condition of the musher. It is, according to [Yukon musher] Frank Turner, a health and safety issue
that needs to be addressed. "There are some real issues out there that might be worthwhile discussing.
The results of Bill's experience could have been far more serious." Stewart did finish the race, in third
place. He retired from long distance and competitive dog mushing. Several of his dogs suffered damage
as a result of the long period of time that they ran without any food or water and they never raced again,
something that Stewart regrets to this day.
(Page 221)

[A Quest race veterinarian reflects on the dark side of mushing]
"I love this race," she started suddenly, without taking her eyes off the window, "but I have to wonder if
we're going about doing this all wrong. It's times like this that I wonder whether or not we're running
some of these dogs to death." [Ed. Note - you think???] Just a couple of hours earlier, [Quest vet
Wendy Royle] had lifted a dead dog from the sled of Jay Cadzow - the second one she had to deal with in
the past two days. John Peep had lost a dog just after leaving McCabe Creek (Peep was so upset he
immediately withdrew from the race. Cadzow wrestled with the issue for most of his 36-hour mandatory
stop in Dawson City, then decided to continue.) Cadzow's dog had died when it stumbled, running down
a hill, and the sled rode up on the animal before the musher could stop it. Peep's dog hadn't shown any
warning symptoms at all; it had simply collapsed and died in the harness. (The death was eventually
attributed to "sled dog myopathy," the sudden death of a sled dog for no apparent reason). It is a little
understood condition that many now believe is the result of a genetic predisposition…

After setting new, higher standards in quality dog care programs and knowledge, Wendy
Royle finally called it quits following the 1997 Yukon Quest. She was emotionally exhausted
by her passionate pursuit of the perfect program and disheartened by the fact that, after
two years of working with veterinarians and organizations, it was still a one-person
crusade. [Ed. Note - italics mine]
(Pages 245/246)

['Lucky I didn't hurt any of those dogs']
Tom Randall, president of the Canadian (Yukon Quest) board for the 1998 race, stopped driving dogs
altogether several years ago. He was a veteran of two Yukon Quests. "I haven't told many people this
story. I've always told them that because I had snapped my Achilles tendon and couldn't walk without
pain, I stopped driving dogs. But that isn't the real reason for it." His last race had been in northern
Alberta. He was close enough to the lead to possibly mount a challenge. He had a scheduled two-hour
rest stop coming up, but if he didn't take it, he could have a shot at catching the leaders. So he kept on
running. A few miles down the trail, the team had dropped onto a river. After awhile, Randall noticed his
lead dogs were starting to wander a bit, weaving back and forth across the icy surface. He stopped to take
a look. The leaders had hit the wall. They couldn't go any further. He had pushed them too hard for too
long. Randall parked the team and waited on the river for five hours before the dogs could continue.
"What in hell am I doing?" he asked himself, and stopped racing dogs at that moment. "I let speed and
position get in the way of dog care. I was lucky I didn't hurt any of those dogs. I decided there and then,
it wasn't worth it. If I could make that mistake once, I could make it again." These are the kinds of issues
that plague the mushing world, the issues of conscience.
(Pages 246/247)