On the first night of our adventures, we ask participants why they opted to do the trip. Such was the case with one of our Chilkoot Trail trips. Reasons varied, but none intrigued more than Elke's story.Elke was a German lady traveling on her own. She had been to the north before and wanted to see more of it. She recounted the events of her first visit to our group. We were drawn deeper and deeper into a wondrous tail (sic) of humanity and humour.
Elke worked for Lufthasna Airlines. She won an internal contest for two to travel anywhere in the world that Lufthansa flew. She chose Alaska. She had seen a documentary about Alaska and the Idatarod dog sledding race, and jumped at the opportunity to experience both. She and her husband flew to Anchorage to see the start of the race and then do some touring.
The Idatarod begins in Anchorage, in south central Alaska, and ends in Nome on the western Bering Sea coast. It is run in the middle of winter, through the Alaskan wilderness, in sub-zero temperatures, and covers over 1150 miles.
She thoroughly enjoyed the excitement, preparation, and anticipation of mushers and dogs in the days before the start. She was witness to the beginning of a race that would test each team's resolve against the winter extremes of nature.
With the days that remained, she wanted to explore as much of Alaska as was possible within limitations of distance and weather. She and her husband rented a car for a visit to Fairbanks some 400 miles away. And, that's where her real Alaskan adventure began.
Although the connecting road is maintained and plowed, there is not much traffic aside from the occasional car or truck in winter. Within a hundred miles or so of Fairbanks, on a very desolate stretch of road, they noticed something furry sitting in the middle of the road. As they got closer, they were forced to stop. Initially they were convinced that the animal was a wolf. After closer examination, Elke became convinced that it was a Husky - her experience of seeing so many at the start of the race. Her husband was not as convinced and cautioned Elke that it would be best to honk the horn and force the canine to the side, and carry on with their journey. She opened the car door against her husband's most dire objection. The canine walked over, past Elke, jumped into the car, and onto the back seat. This action resulted in a quick exit from the vehicle by Elke's husband. The animal assumed a seated position on the backseat and announced his comfort with a wagging tail. After some conversation, both Elke and her husband were sure that it was a dog - much to his relief. He still wanted to leave the dog on the road, as he was convinced that it must belong to someone in the area and they would be looking for him. Elke insisted that they bring the dog into Fairbanks and leave it at an animal shelter, as there were no houses in sight, or tracks in the snow, that would account for the dog's presence there. She would not forgive herself if the dog succumbed to the elements.
Being Sunday, they learned that the animal shelter was closed. Someone suggested that they seek help from the Alaska State Police. At headquarters, they related their story to a trooper on duty. He was taken by their concern for the animal and phoned the man who ran the shelter. Not altogether pleased to have his Sunday interrupted, he nonetheless agreed to the trooper's insistence that he meet them at the shelter.
Elke asked the animal shelter man what would happen to the dog. He said that they usually keep a dog for about a week. If no one claimed the dog, or no one else wanted it, it would be put down. Elke would have none of that. She told the man that if no one claimed the dog she would adopt it. After her husband's double-take, and attempt to reason her out of her foolishness, he finally just threw up his hands and resigned himself to her steadfastness.
They returned to Anchorage for the final week of their holiday. On Wednesday morning she decided to phone the animal shelter in Fairbanks to see if the dog had been claimed. It hadn't. The decision was to put the dog down that day. She implored, argued, groveled, for more time for the animal. There was no budging the man. Space was needed. She asked that nothing be done until she got there later in the day. She would adopt the dog.
She announced to her husband that they had to return to Fairbanks to retrieve the dog. He knew enough not to challenge her decision. She told him to check them out of the hotel and rent a vehicle. She was going to return to the Idatarod staging area, to the leader board, to see how the mushers were doing. While she was at the leader board, she got into a conversation with a man who recognized from her accent that she was a visitor. Was she staying on in Anchorage to see the final results? No. She then recounted her story and her need to rush to Fairbanks to save the dog from being put down. It turned out that the man was a reporter with a local paper. He saw a story here. He got the phone number to the animal shelter. When the man at the shelter corroborated Elke's story, the reporter said that he would run a story in the paper about his heartlessness to this German woman's efforts to save the dog. Not only that but that he would pass on the story to their sister paper in Fairbanks. The pressure of being identified to the local population was enough get the man to hold off until the end of the weekend. This would give Elke time to make all arrangements necessary to take possession of the dog, get vaccinations, and approval to take him to Germany.
She returned to the hotel to a perplexed husband who was instructed to check them back into the hotel and return the rented car.
Elke is now back in Germany. So is the newest member of their family - a Husky named Trooper. She named him in honour of the Alaska State policeman who had helped them so much.
(The most plausible theory of the dog's presence on the road was that it somehow jumped from a pickup truck without his owner ever noticing.)
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