To the dogs (or whoever)

As my term as dog handler extraordinaire is rapidly coming to an end I'm having a hard time coming to terms with heading back south. Five months on the lake working a remote fly-in fishing lodge and now two months working with sled dogs in an isolated community has left me feeling at home in the open wilderness and more of an outsider than ever to the big city lights.

Will the city take me back? Or do I even belong there?

Indeed I have struggled for some time over whether or not I actually have a place I'd call home at all anymore.

Working and living with nineteen dogs nearly twenty-four hours a day for 60 days has no doubt hurt my social skills but at the same time expanded my knowledge and respect for the animal world. The integrity of some of those dogs rivals that of many people I know.

Sleeping at the dog yard has allowed me to become attached to the dogs in a way I wouldn't have been able to otherwise. Watching the dogs run, and running them myself, and seeing them come back to the yard happy has been incredibly rewarding after working with them so closely. There are few bad moods a happy dog can't reverse.

I've watched them get into shape and adapt to the colder temperatures. I've been able to see certain dogs grow and learn, younger dogs coming up the ranks, learning from the older residents. These dogs are athletes and they love to run. And so they will run.

I'm sad to leave this motley crew of sled dogs and I do hope that I will be able to come back to visit before long. Each dog has its own personality and I liken them to a high school class room. You've got you jocks and your bullies, the class clown at the back of the room, your shy ones and your pretty ones, some who just don't fit in, some who are friends with everyone, and others who you know will go somewhere someday just by watching their intelligence and the way they handle themselves and others.

Some of my best friends in this town are in that dog yard.

By leaving here I feel like I'm trading lives, returning to the inane problems of life in the city. Back to the place where wolves and bears don't matter but cellphones do; where you don't need to know how to use a gun or drive off road but you better know how to navigate a shopping mall; where you dress for looks not for survival. All of the clothes I own right now are useless in that life. They're torn, stained, faded, and that's not acceptable. I've forgotten what it's like to wear clean clothes.

I slept in town for the first time in weeks last night. Too, I had forgotten how comfortable it was sleeping in a heated house, being able to sleep through the entire night without getting up to put more wood in the stove or run gas out to the generator or throw your boots and pants on and stumble outside with a spotlight and a rifle to find all the dogs were barking at was a curious fox.

It feels cushy, spoiled, too easy, not having to wake up early to buck wood or break trail, to be warm, to be dry, to be clean. I suppose I'll even end up trimming the beard before long.

Leaving this behind I feel that I'm cheating myself, like I'm quitting right when things are starting to get heavy. Initially I had dreams of weathering the winter up here and building my own kayak and paddling back south in the spring. Even now I've been looking at ways to continue this northern adventure. There a dogsled operators all over Canada, I'm sure I would be able to find myself a job with one of them.

At the same time I've found that it is best to leave something knowing you will miss it rather than leave because you want out. I know that the new year will bring another season at the lake and a fresh shelf of experiences and stories.

Until then, the next adventure has already been planned, and there is much preparation needed.

To the dogs, or whoever, thank you. I'll see you around.

Edge of the world

We're standing on the rim of the ocean with the waves crashing in front of us like aquatic freight trains hellbent on plowing themselves into the rocky coast. The wind is pushing so hard I brace myself against the stones and hold my hand up against my eyes to block the snow whipping around us in what I imagine is the same way electrons whip around inside an atom.

With the lights of the town visible as a blurred glow behind us, I squint and I swear I can see the edge of the world.

The edge of the world, where gallant naval vessels helmed by bleary eyed sailors venture and fall right off into nothing; where giant beasts clad in claws and fur and teeth breath out clouds of frost; where brave souls go and return changed, if they return at all.

We come here to learn and to grow and to live. Standing here, the foolish imagine themselves heroes, while the apt realize they are mere pygmies among giants.