The Last Day

I couldn't believe it had finally come to this. We were woken up at 8 the next morning, after another late night outside in the snow, with no sign of the Northern Lights I had come so far to see. The morning began as usual, though I was filled with an unending sense of trepidation and...nervousness, I suppose, knowing that, after today, I most likely would never see my five wonderful dogs again.
We set the harnesses, as usual, and took off on the trail. The most memorable element of that last day was definitely the cold. It had been cold all week, but then, after the fresh snowfall the night before and the sky swept into a clean and shining cerulean blue that stretched from horizon to horizon, there were no clouds to keep the heat in, and the meagre yet glorious sunlight there on the roof of the world was incapable of warming our freezing bones. The cold winds cut straight through our gloves and parkas and, I'm ashamed to say, I almost couldn't wait to get back inside.
But the cold was a double edged sword, because with the brilliant sun casting its luminescent presence over the snowfields and crystalline forests the entire country sparkled with fairy dust. Particles of snow floated through the air like dust motes, but caught the light like tiny prisms and cast rainbow light amongst the shadows. The snow drifts were pure white and the perfect flatness of Jackson Lake broken only by the trail stretched off into the distance to the towering behemoths reaching for the skies. When we reached the roads and gentle slopes my dogs began to slow, and I was freezing so I leapt from the sled and landed beside them running, racing my beloved companions as far as I could. I know its stupid, but I swear that the second Sage saw me running beside him, he redoubled his efforts, dragging Micki and the others along with him till the sled caught up with me again, forcing me to surrender and dive back on board.
I must admit, despite the piercing, arctic cold and the lack of any colossal slopes or blind, adrenaline filled corners, that last day had something special to it, i think that running beside my dogs was just as much fun as guiding them around the corners and the high ridges, I felt so wild and free, although I think I'm only just realising that now, one year following my spectacular journey.
When we returned to the dogyard I spent an hour saying goodbye to my dogs, hugging them and taking photos to remember them by. Of course they didn't know what was going on, and I doubt they had felt such a connection to me as I did to them, but I like to think that if I went back, they might show just that little bit more excitement than if they were meeting someone new.
With my farewells said, I returned to the lodge and had one last meal with my fellow adventurers, people who, like me, had no interest in following the mainstream snowgoers, the skiiers and the snowboarders down in Whistler. We were different, we wanted something different. I like to think that, in another age, we would have been the explorers seeking out the lost corners and peering into the deep shadows, but in this world all we can do is ride the sled and explore the most untouched, beautiful and pristine lands at the roof of the world the only way it is meant to be seen, without the roar of engines and puff of smoke, only the pitter patter of paws in the snow. I'm back in my own country now, Australia, but I'll always remember the countryside that made me feel like I was home.