Hey, what you doin’ back there? Dobby and Hawk glance back at me as I press down on the brake.
“Steady,” I reassure them, “Steady.” I keep my foot firmly on the brake to stop the sled from taking a tight corner too fast.
Left to their own speed, the dogs would send the sled slipping and sliding into the trees or topple over the snow embankments.
I hobbled off my sled as we returned to the ranch following a 30km ride on our second day out with the dogs.
When we left at 10.30am the temperature was hovering around -22 degrees Celsius and dropped to -30 by afternoon. Despite two pairs of socks and thick rubber boots, my toes and feet were numb and in excruciating pain. Heat warmer pads in our mits held the frostbite at bay during the day but had no effect in our boots.
While I yearned for the warmth of our cabin and a hot cup of tea, I hung back to unharness the dogs, take their booties off, pack the sled and return it to the shed. I could barely walk.
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