The trail lies deep and narrow in the powdery snow. From a distance it looks like a lazy line drawn across the white.
It twists and turns around willow brush, across wide sweeping valleys and over gentle hills until it disappears on the horizon.
It’s a bitter-sweet trail that is cussed and cursed, blessed and cherished.
It’s a lone trail that is never seen by others. Mostly though, it’s a silent trail except for the crackling sounds of my breath in the cold crisp air and the crunching snow under my snowshoes as I walk in rhythm to my heartbeat.
But it’s not just an ordinary Trail. It’s the signature on the landscape of an Arctic traveler and a dogteam doing what they we were born to do. -Joe G Henderson