Both new and familiar faces surround me, wet noses nudging, voices rising to greet me. This is my old team, and I have missed my old friends.

Of course I am not referring to friends of the human kind. These are the four-legged legends of our past, the subject of Jack London’s Call of the Wild, the participants in our present day Iditarod.

I had owned and raced some of the dogs surrounding me now for more than three years. But a separation from my alcoholic husband, and his eventual death, brought the need to regroup and simplify my life. During the spring of 2000, with mixed emotions, I put the team up for sale. Last fall I went to the home of the people who had bought the dogs to see how they were doing and catch up on the adventure.

I look through Holger and Tracy’s photo album. It is bulging with evidence of a full season, and it has only been their first. They bought my dogs among a few others, and make good use of them and the season they were born to run in.

Holger was 13, living in Germany, when the dream of owning his own dog team started to take shape. He read book after book about expeditions in the Antarctic and Greenland, feeding his desire for the sport. Through the years that desire continued, but it was never the right time. He apprenticed as a professional forest worker in Germany for three years before moving to Canada where he lived a nomadic life. He knew that his dream could not become reality until he settled down.

Tracy, on the other hand, never had any such dreams until she met Holger. While growing up, she considered dogs to be dirty and messy. Her preference went to soft, cuddly cats. It wasn’t until Holger convinced her they needed a pet, a husky to hike with and protect them from the bears, he told her, that she gave it any thought. So, they were starting to look into huskies when they saw my ad in the local bargain finder.

When they came to look, I explained to them that it wasn’t the right time in my life to have the dogs, and, under the circumstances, it would be better for me and the dogs if I found them another home. They told me that Holger eventually wanted a team of dogs, but for the moment they only wanted one. However, they would keep me in mind.

Their first dog was a husky puppy. They figured they could start building a team, one dog at a time - at least that was Tracy’s plan. For about three months we went back and forth on the phone. "So," I would ask, "are you ready to start your dream yet?"

"We’re thinking about it," they would tell me. Holger was worried it would take too much time and was concerned about how Tracy would view it. And Tracy was concerned that Holger was holding back because of her.

With some persuasive counseling from myself, including a phone call once a week, I managed to convince them that now was the time to take that challenge. (I believe I joked about raising the price if they didn't buy soon.) I offered them the dogs, their houses, chains, harnesses, one sled, lines for six dogs, and the food dishes. When the snow came in a few months they would be ready to start. And so, claiming it was an act of mercy for me (everyone needs their justification), they made the final decision and took over my team in July of 2000.

There were challenges at first. Initially the dogs were uncertain; Holger was in a camp job so Tracy was responsible; there was still brush to clear where the dogs were tied; and the noise, the hairy clothes and the smell took some getting used to. Eventually, none of those things were a problem. However, while discussing the dogs, they repeatedly mention the smell of one of the males. Apparently some things you don’t get used to.

They found ways of keeping their freedom to go on hiking and other trips by trading favors with members of the dog sled community — "I’ll watch your dogs, if you watch mine" is the motto. A neighbor boy was also willing to make a little money every now and then so they never lacked for someone to care for their new brood. The dogs and owners eventually settled into their new roles.

During my visit, Tracy makes an interesting comment. It's based on her new respect and love for the dogs and what they do. "Sled dogs are more of a dog than any other dog." She says this with conviction. She had never imagined what it would be like. In fact, when she first came to look at the dogs with Holger, she didn’t think that her involvement would go far beyond their care. Now she has an air of excitement when she talks about going for a run with the dogs. "You get an adrenaline rush just getting them hooked up. Sometimes you’re tired before you even start."

At this point in the conversation, the dogs start howling. We stop and listen to the long mournful song. It is a beautiful sound as they harmonize and I realize how much I have missed it.

"Does it ever bother your neighbors?" I ask. Tracy says no, the howling has become a welcome sound.

I ask how they minded getting the dogs during the summer and if they now feel it was a good move. Yes, they appreciated having the summer to get to know the team, make adjustments to the sled, and build two more — a toboggan sled and a kids’ sled. They show me the equipment and what they’ve done. They've even acquired an old industrial sewing machine to make sled bags and harnesses.

Also, during those first summer months, they took one or two of the dogs hiking with them. The dogs carried packs with their supply of food and acted as bear watcher-outers.

The time they spend with the dogs depends on their schedule. Some days they just do the basics — feed, water, clean up — and other days they spend hours playing and socializing. "You could spend 16 hours a day with them if you had the time," Holger says. He loves to come home from work and mingle for a half-an-hour, petting and talking to them.

During the winter, even when they are busy, they make time to run the dogs, sometimes at night. They love it and recognize the importance of using them for what they were bred for and love to do. There are trails that lead from their house onto Crown Land, where they can roam anywhere from 16 to 400 miles. They sled together, alone, or with other people. They say it doesn’t bother them to run alone, but sometimes it is nice to be around others with the same interests and swap sledding stories.

I ask what their challenges have been - as I had a few when I started. Holger says that figuring out what to feed and how much is a big one, but as every musher knows, it can be as much a guessing game as a science and the dogs will let you know by their condition and performance if they are getting the right ingredients. Aside from that, they name the normal stuff such as terminology, where to put the dogs in the line-up, making needed changes to the sled, going past the neighbor's barking dog (this challenge does not change for some mushers), and turning the dogs around on narrow trails.

Tracy remembers an incident where the dogs took the wrong trail, actually, it was someone’s driveway, and got into a tangle. By the time she got them straightened out and turned around, she had had enough for one day and headed for home.

They talk about their night runs and having to stop for trains at the railroad crossing. Holger and Tracy laugh, picturing the engineer of the train smiling and waving at them and the looks on the passengers’ faces. Nostalgic for both parties.

Then Holger remembers going down a trail and hitting a blowdown log. All of the dogs went under except for one. Jack went to go over and whacked himself on the log. Holger was grateful that the collar broke, and that Jack has a hard head.

Leica, the pet husky they got as a puppy, likes to partake in the fun as well, sometimes too much so. "She likes to get into trouble when she knows I’m too busy to do anything about it," Holger says with a laugh. "But she gets better as she gets older."

One of the huskies they own is deaf. Peggy does fine following the other dogs' lead, but occasionally decides that enough is enough. She is not quite as fast as the others. They show me pictures of her riding shotgun in the sled. She looks pretty comfy.

"And Timber," Holger beams, "is a very good lead dog."

"Timber?" I asked in disbelief. This dog had never been a sled dog before I got her. The people had lived in town and needed a country home for her. She is an adventurer and had the ambition of Tigger. I ran her in wheel for one season and she did well, but lead dog?

Holger loves Scout, the dog I nicknamed Psycho-dog. I remembered him being as dumb as a sack of nails, but he loved to run. The way Holger talks about him, he is a super hero and the energizer bunny combined. I am glad he is pleased.

In November 2000, they bought more dogs from the same musher in Fraser Lake that I had bought six of the dogs from. By the end of the season in the spring of 2001, they had 12 sled dogs and Leica, the pet. "What’s one more dog to feed when you have that many," Holger comments. I know what he means, but then I remind myself what it’s like to feed two dogs versus 13… a big difference.

Holger and Tracy’s very first run with the dogs was in Wells, with six dogs. The snow was sticky and the air warm. They went about 12 miles, sometimes both on the sled, sometimes one running along behind. It didn’t take them long to realize how quickly the dogs burn out at the beginning of the season.

Tracy laughs when she recalled one of her challenges. Sometimes she would get the tug lines and necklines mixed up, ending up with no more room for dogs. She has it figured out now, though.

At Christmas, a year ago, they took the dogs and went up the Stuart/Cassiar Highway to places like Tatogga Lake, Telegraph Creek, and Iskut. They sledded on the Stikine River and down mining roads towards Atlin Lake. They stayed in cabins and tents and would sled out for a six to 10 hour day trip. At the time, they had nine dogs. Tracy used four and Holger used five. They talk about the splendor of the scenery, the snow on the trees, the peaked mountains, the silence, the mists and the wildlife.

After that trip, Holger went on the annual Mail Run from Umiti Pit, Quesnel to Wells with 10 dogs. It was two days with an overnight campout, the third day being a fun day of sprints, sled rides, and a triathlon. Holger said there were about 120 dogs total at the event. Their expressions are bright as they discuss the fun they had giving rides and participating in the games. "The dogs were tired after that stint," Holger says.

In March they did another long trip. This time they spent 10 days sledding around enjoying the outback, the dogs, and the people they met around Watson Lake, Johnson’s Crossing, Whitehorse, and Rainbow Lake.

Tracy was required back home and returned by bus, but a friend of Holger’s from Germany joined him for 14 more days starting in Kluane National Park in the Yukon, on the Alsek River, sledding down old gold miner's roads. They stayed three nights at Haines Junction doing day trips, and traveled out and around Churchill Mine in northern BC near Fort Nelson.

Holger remembers a couple more trips they've made, but by this time my head is spinning trying to keep up with the names and the places they have seen in their first season.

They tell me about a 15-day hiking trip they did this last summer on the Mackenzie Grease Trail. They took one sled dog, Mia, and their pet, Leica. Leica apparently is a good fish retriever. Standing in the water in his shorts, Holger would catch fish, throw them to shore for Leica to pick up and place on dry land. Holger said she would not eat them slimy, they had to be cooked first.

This winter they bought more dogs and did many more miles of sledding, including the 2002 Annual Gold Rush Sled Dog Mail Run. They did more weekend overnight trips and the Yukon is still in the plans for this spring.

Tracy says she will do as many winter camping trips as Holger wants - as long as he has a heated tent.

This summer they will be off once again hiking with some of the dogs and will start the training and preparation for the new season by the end of September. This includes harness repairs, making new harnesses, pounding posts for stake-outs, building houses, renovating dog boxes, repairing chains. "I like to do everything myself," Holger states.

So I see, I think in thankful amazement.

(Lisa Martin lives in Quesnel and ran sled dogs for five years. She is a freelance writer, an avid hunter and fisherwoman.)