Bigness killed a raven. And ate it. Ravens have massive beaks that, for every time I see one, always seem to be chiselling away at frozen dog turd. Nice. Fair enough we’ve all got to make a living but I’ve seen ravens kill a dog before. Not a dog of mine. Maybe the dog was injured I cannot say but it died from a machine-gun barrage of raven beaks.

Within a month into the season I was running eight dogs per team. All well and good until Bigness, in lead with his uncle Loads, had a bust up. Bigness wouldn’t hold hard upfront as I was hooking up and Loads called him on it.

Bigness didn’t want to be told and his retaliation was so severe Loads, my main leader, went down lame. I was fuming damn and blast. Loads was to be out of action for the next six weeks. More damn and blast.

It was around this time that I received emails from a very keen young man asking me questions about why and how I managed to get started with sled dogs.

Years ago when I decided what I wanted to do, my plan on getting there was to learn and work alongside men and women who, at the time, were the best in the world with expedition sled dogs. I approached my early days as an apprentice would. Nobody knows it all so I didn't stick with one person or team and gained experience very quickly because I worked liked a maniac. From them all I watched, listened and kept my mouth shut. For years I wrote and drew a lot of things down, lists essentially with illustrations. From each experience, new detail important to me at the time was added.

My attitude was and remains, I'm in it for the long haul.

To get to that starting point I worked like crazy and saved money. I held down three jobs at a time including washing dishes in a hotel. I used to eat the leftover food that came back on peoples’ dirty plates. It saved me money until the head-chef caught me. Along the way there are people you’ll never forget.

I’ll never forget that chef. His name was Tony. He took me to one side and asked me quietly why I ate the leftovers. I told him about my dream and from that day onwards he always cooked me a meal to eat after my shift and sometimes he gave me food to take home. Home at that time was the basement of a friend’s house. These are special people, ones that will never hurt you for who you are and encourage you for who you want to be.

I also warned the young man who wanted advice to beware of people who will try and tell you that your dream is too big because they will do everything to make sure it doesn’t happen. But I said, whatever you do, never, ever give up. Your motivation from your passion will enable you to overcome great odds.

I wished the young man the best of luck because we all need that too.

For all the emails I receive I cannot remember one from anyone wanting to study Greenland Dogs. Someone asked if ants live in Greenland. They do, but who cares.

Why doesn’t anyone study Greenland Dogs? They are the only domestic animal in the Arctic. My dogs sing. Why do they do that? One starts bringing the others in to sing in unison and simultaneously they stop all at once. How do they know when to stop? Is it a song that’s been passed down through generations? They love the cold and can metabolise water from their stored body fat. How do they do that?

Back to Greenland and the approach of Christmas. A Christmas tree was flown here and fastened down with the usual thick bulky wire. Storms followed and ripped it away, with usual ease.

Throughout Christmas it snowed hard and went very dark making it rough for Father Christmas. If you didn’t already know, he lives here in Greenland. Kids write to him. His postal code is even published in our directory:

  Santa Claus
  Greenland, 2412

Before the New Year training runs had dissected umpteen fresh polar bear trails and we’d also run a lot of miles on bare ice. Mikkey went lame before I trimmed all my dogs’ claws for the second time in six weeks. A dog’s fleshy paw pads give it traction on ice, not its claws, and the trimming was done because claws that are too long give toe injuries.

On New Year’s Eve I harnessed my dogs with early celebration fireworks going off overhead. We returned from a good run to more fireworks. I was told the store sold over half a tonne of fireworks in the days leading up to New Year’s Eve. My dogs didn’t take the slightest bit of notice to the loud bangs and glittery spangled flashes. Actually, that’s not true. Yogi did, but not surprising since he’s ever so attentive and even thinks me throwing dog poo down on to the river is a spectacular spectacle.