Building the Talkeetna Cabins: First Cabin

My First Dog Mushing Experience

In the winter of 1987-1988 we purchased 40 acres of hilly, wooded recreational land that lies about seven miles south of Talkeetna and has two “million dollar” views of Denali.

My plan was to build a lodge and several bungalow cabins connected by ski trails. To avoid biting off more than we could chew, we decided to first build a cabin deep in the woods. There was no road access to the cabin site so I took advantage of winter, bought a snowmobile and started packing a trail with the intent of using the snowmobile and a sled to haul lumber to the cabin site while there was still snow on the ground. Before hauling my first load of lumber, a more intriguing idea surfaced.

My boss, Jerry, has a kennel of sled dogs. Jerry eventually completed four Iditarod Trail sled dog races. He offered to use a team of sled dogs to haul the lumber to the cabin site. It was definitely a better idea than using a snowmobile. Dogs teams don’t break down and dog teams can haul much more freight than a snowmobile. And, what would I rather tell my grandchildren – that I used a snowmobile to haul the cabin materials or that I used a dog team?

Jerry came to my home a few times to teach me how to build a freight sled for the dogs to pull. He taught me to not use conventional nails, screws or bolts that would be rigid and fall apart after bouncing down the trail. He showed me how to use rope to fasten all of the parts together so that the sled would be flexible. Jerry told me over and over that I had to install a very robust brake on the sled.

My coworkers - Brian and Dave - along with my wife and I, loaded two pick-up trucks with lumber and the freight sled. Then we joined Jerry and his dog truck full of sled dogs and a traditional dog sled. We drove north towards Talkeetna, turned east on Barge Road and parked at the end of the snow plowing. There we would load the freight sled, hook up the dogs and let the great adventure begin.

As we were gearing up, Jerry took one look at the brake I built for the freight sled and knew the brake was too wimpy. He decided to rig both sleds in tandem, with the traditional sled and its robust brake trailing behind the freight sled. Jerry would mush the freight sled and I would enjoy my first time as a dog musher riding behind him on the traditional sled, working the brake according to Jerry’s commands.

Jerry anchored the sled train to his pickup truck bumper and we hooked up all of the dogs. The ten-dog team was powerful. The dogs were so excited that they pulled the pickup hard enough to cause the pickup to surge back and forth on its suspension. Those dogs could almost skid that truck down the icy plowed road. With the freight sled loaded, Jerry and I got on our sleds and he told me to stand on the brake until told otherwise. Then Jerry yelled, “Pull the pin.”

Brian pulled the pin on the anchor line and we rocketed down the icy road with the brake having little effect on the hard ice. At the end of the plowed road Jerry shouted a command and the dogs went up and over the snowplow berm at full speed. Jerry’s sled in front of me hit the plow berm, went airborne, turned sideways in the air and I watched Jerry deftly shift his weight onto one runner to right the sled so that it hit the ground perfectly upright. My sled hit the plow berm, went airborne, turned sideways in the air and I had no idea what to do.

My sled landed on its side at full speed but I managed to hang on. However, I was on the ground with my belly and legs being dragged full-speed down the trail. I tried this and I tried that but I was not strong enough to the pull my belly and legs against the trail dragging rapidly beneath me. I heard Jerry yell, “Let off the brake” two or three times. Then he turned around to see what the idiot behind him was doing. Then he yelled, “Right the sled.”

I could do that. While still barreling down the trail, I flipped the sled upright onto its runners and I was still hanging on to the handle but my belly and legs were still dragging hopelessly behind me. Jerry yelled, “Get a knee up.”

I rolled so that my hip was dragging on the trail which freed one leg. I then swung my freed leg up so its knee was on the sled runner. Then I could pull myself up and get the other knee on the other sled runner. Then it was simply a matter of going from kneeling to standing on the runners.

I did it! I righted the tipped sled and got myself back up to a respectable mushers stance, all at full speed! Then me and my stroked ego watched Jerry pull out a knife and cut the line to my sled. I came to a rapid and disappointing stop out in the middle of frozen Bonanza Swamp.

I understood. We had survived the downhill run to Bonanza Swamp and were cruising across the swamp when Jerry realized that it was all uphill from there. The last thing he needed was me dragging hopelessly behind as he navigated the winding wooded uphill run to the cabin site.

Brian and Dave watched the whole comic skit from the top of the plow berm. When they saw me lounging on the dog sled out on the swamp, Brian jumped on the snowmobile and gave me a ride to the cabin site to help Jerry unload the lumber from the freight sled.

Jerry Mushing the Freight Sled Full of Lumber

Freight sled stuck and Jerry and I pushing

I wish I had more photos but when dealing with two teams of 10 sled dogs there is little time for photography

Playing with the freight sled without sled dogs.
There is a dog hiding in the background.

Once the freight sled was empty, Jerry taught us how to turn a dog team around on a single track trail and off he went, back towards the pickup trucks to get another load of lumber. Brian followed on the snowmobile and picked up the dog sled that we left out on the swamp. I stayed behind at the cabin site to help with future loads of lumber because, well, Jerry really didn’t need me dragging behind anymore and would go on without a brake.

Jerry brought twenty dogs but only hooked up ten for each lumber run. That was because of the short distance (about one mile) between the pickup trucks and the cabin site. If he used the same dogs every time, they would get bored and stop working. So after each lumber run he would put the ten dogs back in the truck and bring out the other ten dogs. Each time the group of ten dogs got the chance to run, they thought it was a new trail and pulled like there was no tomorrow. It worked well because at times the winding uphill portion of the trail was steep and loose and the dogs had to dig hard. It worked maybe too well.

After emptying the freight sled and turning the dog team around, Jerry would fly downhill on the winding trail at full speed with no freight in the sled. It looked dangerous. And it was.

After the last load of lumber, we turned the team around and off he went. I started to walk back to the trucks and after Jerry and the sled disappeared over a rise in the trail, I heard a loud, very loud, crack. I ran to the top of the rise and saw the empty sled with its runners straddling a tree, the dog team strung out tight and safe, and Jerry lying in the snow, in front of the team. I ran to him. He said when the sled hit the tree he flew over the sled, bounced off the tree and landed where he lay. He was clutching his arm in pain. I stuck my hand up his sleeve and felt a huge swollen lump. I said, “I know nothing about medicine but I think it is broke.” And in a bout of sick humor I said, “Good thing we got all the lumber delivered.”

He replied, “Put me in the sled and you mush us back to the truck.”

I said, “Wait a minute. You’re the experienced Iditarod musher and you crashed into a tree and broke your arm. Now you want me to drive the dog sled out of here?”

Just then Brian and Dave arrived on the snowmobile. They had come to help with the last load of lumber which was already offloaded and stacked at the cabin site. It is rare that I come up with a good idea but this was one of those rare moments. We abandoned the freight sled and hooked the dog team to the snowmobile. Jerry and I got on the snowmobile. I drove without the engine running and the dogs towed us on the snowmobile which is heavy, has good steering and a very robust brake.

We got Jerry home and secured his dogs in their kennels. The next morning, I walked into work and there was Jerry with a cast on his arm. He looked at me and said, “Yep, it’s broke.”

Building the First Cabin

When planning the cabin, I contacted a fellow who was advertising used lumber for sale. It turns out his line of work is constructing temporary wood sidewalk enclosures to protect pedestrians from adjacent construction. He re-uses his lumber. He pulls the enclosures apart, removes all of the nails and stores the lumber for the next project. He was retiring and had a butt-load of good lumber to be had for a song. I took all I needed, including redwood 6x6's for foundation posts.

Redwood foundation posts - note the dogs on the dirt pile.
There are two dogs in the background.
Where's Waldo?

Deck installed (plywood over floor joists)
with plastic tarp for temporary rain protection

At this point I learned that I should have built the outhouse first since, while building the cabin, I will need to use the outhouse occasionally. So I stopped work on the cabin and built the outhouse.

Varnishing the outhouse - there's that dog on the dirt pile again

I stored nails, tools, dogfood and beer under the deck of the cabin. I stored the nails in empty coffee cans. While I was away a bear visited. The bear ate all of the dogfood and tore open every beer can. He chewed the coffee cans full of nails, probably because of the smell of coffee. He ripped part of the outhouse door off so he could go in and chew the coffee can with toilet paper in it.

Outhouse with the door tore apart by a bear.

Before building the walls, I took advantage of the flat clean deck for building the roof trusses.

Truss gussets glued (Weldwood) and nailed

Trusses stored for later

Walls going up

Trusses being installed

Sheathing the roof.
There are two dogs hiding in this photo.

Metal roofing installed

Every screw for the metal roofing was turned in by my hand. At the end of the day my right palm was a giant blister that was broke open. On the drive home I bought a bag of peanuts and stuffed my right hand in the peanut bag to grab a handful. Salt got inside the blister and I just about died. I was forced to buy a six-pack of cold beer so I cold hold the cold beer in my right hand to soothe the pain. Once each can of beer was warm, I had to dispose of the beer in an environmentally-friendly manner - I drank the beer.

Installing cedar lap siding

Siding complete and varnished

Interior sided with cedar tongue and groove

Sweet year-round get-away

In the winter of 1987-1988, we used the freight sled and sled dogs to haul lumber. In the summer of 1988 I built the cabin. In the winter of 1988-1989, we used the freight sled and a snow machine to haul sheet rock and I installed the sheet rock on the ceiling of the sleeping loft. In the spring of 1989...

Disaster !!!

Cabin burned to the ground - there's that dog looking for a dirt pile

My buddy and his wife used the cabin for the weekend. At the end of the weekend they kindly took the ashes out of the woodstove, put the ashes in a plastic bucket and put the bucket on the front porch. They didn't even know that the cabin had burned. It caught on fire and burned while they were driving home.