Life as a Husky Guide

Out on the fjells

Hetta Huskies.  My second home.  I’m not sure I can put into words exactly how I feel about this place, this tiny speck on the planet, but it is safe to say my emotions are mixed.  We certainly have a love/hate relationship, Hetta Huskies and I.  I love the people, the dogs, Bino, the magical sunrises, the safaris, Bino, multidays, snowmobiling, feeding, Bino, pooping….did I mention Bino?  I hate the crazy schedule, the feeling that I’m never going to get a chance to breathe for 5 minutes, the exhaustion that creeps up on you and then slams you down like a freight train, the sickness that will get you at some point in the season, the sense that nothing will ever be completed, and sleeping in a guide house with 10 other people.  (I also hate the occasional lazy trainee guide who doesn’t pull their own weight…*cough-you know who you are-cough*)

Paras koira! (best dog)

But despite all the hardships, I still wake up every day in Hetta with a feeling of excitement and anticipation.  What will the day bring?  What  stunning sites will I see today?  Who will let go of their sleigh so I can sweep in like a hero and rescue them from disaster?  This isn’t to say that sometimes I don’t have a bad day at Hetta, but they are far and few.  Keep in mind, I’m different.  Most people don’t have my reaction to difficult, challenging work, work that grinds away your joints and gives you constant back pain.  But I live for this.  I crave a job that pushes me to my limits and then some.  I have to have something that tests my intelligence and my physicality.  Having one without the other is boring and bad for your health.

And so my calling in life is to be a husky guide.  Glamorous?  No.  Honorable? Probably not.  Worthy of praise at dinner parties?  Unlikely.  Damn fun, challenging, exciting, bold, and adventurous?  Absofuckinglutely.  I feel alive every day.  There is never any sense of dread at the prospect of driving to work for another day stuck behind a computer for 10+ hours.  Instead I only spend a few hours in front of a computer, planning out the day, before hitting the fresh powder with a couple packs of huskies behind me.  I love my job…I don’t know many other people who feel the same.

Anna and I out on the fjells

This isn’t what my family and friends ever expected me to end up doing for the rest of my life.  And there’s no guarantee that I will do this for the rest of my life.  But right now, I am so unbelievably happy when I’m out on that sleigh, with nothing but the sound of six panting huskies and the whoosh of the runners under my feet.  True happiness is a rare thing, and I’m in no rush to let it go (Frozen pun not intended).

And so I returned to Hetta for a third winter season, though my time there this year was limited due to my guiding course.  I did, however, manage to be there for the crazy month of December when hell freezes over and turns into Lapland, complete with thousands of British tourists all eager for a glimpse of Santa.  To say this was a challenging season would be putting it mildly.  When I arrived in Hetta after being collected in Rovaniemi, I was greeted by over twenty “sick” dogs and a group of grumpy, tired guides.  Now this is normal as trainees begin to transition from the easy days of training to the hectic days of clients and safaris, but I wasn’t in the mood to break into yet another group of exclusive guides who think they know more than you.  Once again I was tested by those who had been there *longer* to see if I was up to snuff (which obviously I was/am/always).

Trainees in December + lead guides brought the total number to somewhere around 19 – which is sheer madness.  My first year at Hetta we operated the month of December with only 10 guides between the two farms, and we thought that was a lot.  The schedule at Hetta has grown more packed over the past few years as private business started gaining traction (thanks in part to the stellar website Anna/Martin/others created), but 19 people???  The guide house was utter chaos to say the least.  Eventually I ended up staying with Anna and Pasi permanently for the month of December.  Living in such conditions is fun and part of the experience when you first start out as a trainee, but in season 3, the “fun” part is replaced by a desperate need to have some alone time at the end of the day.  Actually, I think I’ve always had that need, it was just easier to put up with when I was a trainee.

Enough complaining.  At the end of the day, we needed all of those people, especially on days such as this one:  6:00am – start to feed, poop, and prep for safari.  8:30am – 3 buses of Santa Safaris 2km loops.  Throw a farm tour in there somewhere.  12:00pm – start making 12-dog teams for the Canterbury daybreaks and load the dogs in the trailer for Leppajarvi Daybreaks.  Run both Daybreak programs simultaneously for 6 hours.  Go home and then run a Northern Lights safari at 9:30pm.  Go to bed somewhere around 1:00am.  Wake up the next day and do it all again.

Ok, to be fair, that was our busiest day in December.  In fact the schedule for December was more relaxed than I’ve seen it in previous years, but somehow I felt like there was more to keep track of…maybe it was all the people…not sure.  But either way, by week 3 I was sick as a dog (haha!) and just about at my breaking point.  There might have even been some tears one morning when I couldn’t breathe and apparently screwed up communications with the guides regarding pick up time for the morning.  I hate being sick, and sometimes my anger comes out as uncontrollable salty droplets leaking from my eyeballs.  Which only pisses me off more.  I think that was my lowest point of December.

Yet given all of this, I’m still in love with Hetta Huskies.  When you’re standing on the start line, waiting not-so-patiently-anymore for the clients to arrive after half an hour, and you drop to your knees in front of Thunder or Jupi or…Bino, and they pour out all their affection on you.  When you pull back their ears, look into their eyes, and connect.  When you come nose-to-nose.  When you say “Ok” and they jump to their feet, anticipation mounting.  When you yell “Let’s go!” and they begin pulling with all their heart and soul.  When you see them out across the fjells, bogs, marshes, through the forests, paws pounding powder, tongues out, tails wagging.  When you watch them fly.  That rush, that feverish excitement, that intoxicating sense of pride and pure joy.  There is nothing else like it in this world.  And I love it.  I love my dogs (even though they aren’t technically mine).  I love dog sledding.  I love being a husky guide.  And I always will.