Someone’s ears must have been burning because outside one of the dogs lets out a howl and the others joined in the chorus. Polly and Kevin explained that somehow the dogs could sense when a meal was over and it was time to start pulling again. Outside, the sun has disappeared, and what was once a clear view across the lake had diminished in a mass of dense fog.

I found that the feeling of isolation had been replaced by one of peacefulness. Snowflakes drifted down as I absorbed the scene around me. Here I was, an Australian who really only knows summer, standing on a frozen lake in the northern United States, dressed in six layers of thermal clothing, surrounded by Yukon Huskies in well below freezing conditions.

It dawned on me that this is really what travel is all about. Being out of your comfort zone, learning new things, meeting new people and finding that no matter where you are, the world is amazing, surprising, and beautiful.

The return trip was vastly different than our maiden voyage. The snow was falling faster and blurring the view in front of our sled. I could barely make out the shapes of Polly and Simon in front of us and Cassie and Nandi bringing up the rear. It was clear that we were falling behind the lead team, so Polly made some adjustments, moving the dogs around until we were at even strength, enough to get us back to base in a timely fashion.

Dogsledding with Polly and Kevin doesn’t imply that once the sleds stopped, we stopped. There were dogs to be loaded, sleds to be unpacked and lifted back on the truck, and sleeping bags to be rolled. I didn’t mean to ignore any of these duties, but I wanted to pat each dog, take more photos and hold onto what I had just experienced before I had to head back to reality.

And the reality is that although this adventure didn’t make me into a cold weather convert, it did expand my horizons, making me slightly tougher and giving me a unique experience that will never be forgotten.

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