In a former life, part of my cabin was a trapper’s snow machine shop. There is a partially hidden sign on the property, “Sled Head Lane.” The trapper and cabin owner, a self-described lifelong bush rat and sled head of 51 years, is a good friend of mine. He is exactly the kind of intensely private and fascinating person the Yukon seems to nourish. Let’s call him “Sam” … seventy-ish years old and has lived in the Yukon for forty-ish years.
Sam declined a formal interview for this article. Then, over the next three days, he called me and dropped by to share reflections and thoughts about his life with snow machines. He bought his first snowmobile in 1971 and still gets a particular gleam in his eye when he talks about it. He describes the hum, the smell, the sound and the feel of the different snow machines over the years. The ones that lasted, the ones that burnt out.
Sam told me tales from the thousands of miles he has rode, in all kinds of conditions—remembering times he was almost lulled to sleep by the comforting sound of the engine, times when he used his will to live to survive frigid water and ice, times he felt pride seeing his kids ride their own machines.
The main idea Sam wanted to convey, after our many conversations, was this, “You really need to relate to and see your snow machine as a musher sees their dog team. You need to take care of the machine, get to know the machine really well, feed and water it, let it rest, listen to it.”
Sam demonstrates (humming like a happy engine) the sound of a well-treated machine. This is the man who taught me the true value of gas-line antifreeze. He also taught me how to ride. I followed him like a duckling until he made me go first.
“You need to have an intimate relationship with your snow machine,” said Sam. He furthered his rationale, “When you think about it, even though it’s a machine, the components all come from the Earth, from nature—the plastic comes from oil, the rubber, the metals—all of it.”
Sam often reminds me, “Snow-machining, to me, is a way of life … of living with the land and the boreal forest, the coastal mountains, lakes, my traplines. It’s not recreation for me. And remember, the ‘iron dog’ comes from nature.”
For me, snow-machining reminds me about the power of patience and perseverance. Say your machine is super stuck. If you keep a clear head, stop and think about your approach while assessing your risks, you may find you become free of what seemed like an impossible situation.
Also, snow-machining can provide me with a good dose of adrenalin. As a performer, I have a highly developed relationship with the adrenalin and I find being out on snowy adventures, with an engine and conveyor belt, to be a thrill. Sledding is also strangely soothing and calming, something I found I shared with other way more experienced riders.
James Connor, the treasurer for the Klondike Snowmobile Association (KSA), has been riding since he was “a little kid, growing up in Yellowknife.” Connor is an airplane mechanic and conducts snowmobile tours. He started with the KSA, as a member, when he first moved to the Yukon 23 years ago.
For Connor, “Snowmobiling is a good thing for the whole family … it’s the perfect tool for hunting and fishing, a good way to get out with your friends, an active way to spend an afternoon and get to know people.”
With his long experience as a member and treasurer, Connor observed, “In addition to the trail maintenance, there is a lot of behind the scenes the KSA does, a lot of fundraising for trail projects.” He added, “We also work with different government levels when they’re planning things, just to make sure that snowmobilers are getting their voice in [the] game.”
Connor’s advice for absolute-beginner riders? “Just go slow, take your time, find somebody with experience and ask them questions, let them show you stuff.” He added, “I find most people in the snowmobiling community—and there’s a lot of knowledge and experience out there—are really good about sharing. All you have to do is ask, right!”
Speaking of asking … the KSA can always use more volunteers. But the easiest way to help support the many services the KSA provides is to simply purchase a membership. Connor explained, “For the average person, the best way they can support us is to buy a $20 membership every year. Membership has benefits. “There are all kinds of discounts,” noted Connor (a true treasurer). “The deals are really good value. Members save more than the twenty-dollar cost per year.” And you do not have to be a snowmobiler to become a member! Check out the KSA website for all the details. Memberships are also available at Tags in Whitehorse.
I asked Connor for his top favourite tips for riders. He responded, “I would say the first thing would be, just slow down and enjoy the scenery and look out for the people around you … If you see somebody stuck, offer to help.
“I would probably say, just be prepared with your gear and make sure everything is running properly before you leave. If you are going any distance at all, have with you: survival gear, your tools, a first aid kit, some dry socks, a fire starter. Connor reflected, “It’s amazing how any little thing can help you break through a tough situation. You don’t even need a crazy amount of stuff, just even something you can work with when you’re stuck.”
Connor’s next snow-machining tip shows his community mindedness. “Wherever you live, join your local snowmobile club. There’s all kinds of behind-the-scenes work they’re doing for you, and it’s all volunteer. There are 700 snowmobile clubs in Canada.” He adds, “Even if you don’t do anything with the local club, just the $20 a year makes a huge difference for supporting those volunteers.”
For many, part of the love of snow-machining is the love for a compact engine. The perfect engine to learn with too. Connor pointed out, “Mechanically speaking, it’s simple enough the average person can learn the basics in an afternoon.
“Read the book, read the manual, it helps with your understanding of how to drive. If you are trying to work up a crazy hill, if you actually understand how the machine works, you can use it to your advantage.”
When I asked Connor what he’d like to tell people about sledding in the Yukon, or in general, I found his response felt familiar and comforting … I could relate. After saying that snowmobiling is awesome and everyone should try it, Connor reflected on the feelings of calm that snowmobiling can bring.
“When I’m grooming the snow, in the winter, to make the trails nice and smooth, the optimal grooming speed is about 15 kilometres an hour … That’s going to let the groomer do its thing,” Connor explained. “People say, ‘Oh, that must be the most boring thing in the world, sitting there doing that,’ but I always tell them I put my little podcast on my earbuds, underneath my helmet, watch in the mirrors the groomer do its thing … It’s oddly relaxing.”
Connor sounds soothed, even as he describes it. “I just feel something kind of settles, my senses are open to what’s around me. It’s exciting and relaxing at the same time.”
Cruising a trail or blazing one across a wide-open expanse of white, under a northern sky, brings me feelings of possibility. Moments of calm bliss mixed with excitement, adventure and the potentials of bush life—all courtesy of a conveyor belt combined with an engine over the snow. Long live the snow machine and those who ride and love them. Long may we run.
