Life lately has been filled with dogs, dogs, and... dogs! Our minimal daylight hours have been spent on the runners, enjoying our final weeks of sun, setting up the new winter dog lot, and preparing the whelping box for our pregnant dog. (Yes — less than a week till puppies!) We recently moved our team to a new location on the property to make winter dogsled hook-ups easier. This move has been a year in the making, and while it feels great to have them settled in, there are plenty of kinks to work out. Below: Moving doghouses! They slide easier on the snow if they’re flipped upside down. It also means countless trips up and down our access trail every day... which my hip flexors are still adjusting to in my 3-pound Bunny Boots! But when exhaustion hits each night, I remind myself that this energy isn’t draining... it’s an investment in our dream. Below: Straw day is the happiest day. The dogs (like Gilly here) get so excited when they see me carrying straw in their direction. It takes all my strength to keep them out of their house while I put the straw in! Here, I had to hold Gilly back from the sheer force of the kisses she was giving my face! My yoga teacher in India always says “Your attention is your most valuable currency.” And right now, all of mine is on the team. As my body gets stronger with training, so does the team. The experience of caring for and mushing these dogs, while sharing the healing power of dog-powered adventures with others, is exactly what we’ve been working toward. It’s been a big leap of effort, but we can’t have effortlessness without effort... so here we are! Just one month till our first winter retreat of the season (Winter’s Womb!) — and if you need one more reason to visit this year, remember... no matter which retreat you choose, THERE WILL BE PUPPIES!
Sending love, Mollie
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This past winter, we hosted Alec Sills-Trausch, a landscape photographer and outdoors storyteller. He made a long-form vlog of his Arctic Hive experience, including tons of gorgeous drone footage, and we’re so excited to share it with you. Click below to watch! By Alec Sills-Trausch / @AlecOutside November 18, 2024 As fall comes to a close in the arctic, our temps are finally dropping below freezing overnight, the ground is firming up, and the fall colors have peaked. Leaves have long fallen, and there’s snow on the ground! A few weeks back (before our world froze) I remember distinctly a day where we had temps in the low 50s. It was beautiful, but the feeling of the air in the shade had teeth. I caught myself cursing under my breath because of my too-thin jacket, icy fingers and cold ears without a beanie. Just as I thought to complain, it dawned on me: This was the exact moment I’ve been dreaming of for months! In early August, I remember taking a group of teens on a hike the day we knew with 100% certainty would be the last day of summer. The temps were incredibly hot (for us) in the 80s... and every step I took, sweat dripping down my back, I thought to myself, “Thanks for everything, Summer! See you next year!” It’s funny how we wish for different circumstances... and then when they arrive, we completely overlook the fact that WE’VE MADE IT. Sean and I look forward to winter the day the snow starts melting — and I was glad to shake myself out of my haze and find gratitude for the chill. I guess the more efficient route is simply to enjoy what is... as it is. Our guests who attended “Harvest of the Heart” last month, our Fall Equinox hiking and yoga retreat, enjoyed so many types of weather during their 4-night stay! Cloudy skies, rain, blue skies, mud, frozen ground, fresh snow, and more. That’s the way it goes during these transitional times… you wake up, look outside, and go about your day, whatever the weather. Instead of recognizing the seasons by calendar dates, holiday sales, and Pumpkin Spice-everything, I much prefer noticing seasonal shifts from my experience of being outside.
… of feeling the sensations of hot and cold on my skin. … of experiencing the wet rain and mud. … of hearing the dry crunch of frozen ground as fall gives way to winter. Wherever this email finds you in the world, I hope you, too can step outside, take a deep breath and welcome this new season of your life with open arms. Sending love, Mollie (+ Sean and all our sled dogs) Tuesday began like any other day... Just before coffee, I was reading an email from one of my fellow yogis, Lauren Walker. She was speaking about calming the nervous system by working with the Vagus Nerve. The following passage really struck me. I found myself reading it over and over again: “One of the most extraordinary things I’ve ever learned about [the Vagus Nerve] is that there are three sounds in nature that soothe it: Wind rustling through leaves, moving water, and bird song. We are literally wired to feel better when we hear those sounds, when we are in nature.” Then, within an hour, Sean and I were jarred from our morning routine when we had to suddenly say goodbye to our sweet, old dog Glacier. Through the whole ordeal, I noticed nature provided all three of those experiences — leaves, water and birds. The wind was especially powerful, and the leaves were falling all around us, as autumn fades in the Brooks Range. I found myself taking deep breaths and finding peace, despite the deep sadness in my heart. Nature truly is incredible medicine — and dogs are the greatest joy in our lives. However hard it was to say goodbye, we are forever grateful for the decade of life we got to share with Glacier. A little tribute: In 2014, we adopted Glacier from a shelter after she’d been passed around for many months across the west — including a brief stint at a kill shelter in Idaho. We took her home for a trial weekend, and when she showed some agitation with our Weimaraner, Daisy, we decided she wouldn’t work out. But, as fate would have it, the shelter was closed all weekend and so we had a little more time with Glacier. By Sunday, she’d won our hearts. We knew she’d need quality time and lots of love, but Glacier was staying with us for good. Big Luggie (named so for her massively furry Border Collie/Aussie/Great Pyrenees winter coat) came into our lives just as we began building a yurt— which was our first experience living off-grid, and our first experience building our own home, or... building anything, for that matter! When our first wood stove had a leak and unbeknownst to us, we had faulty CO2 detectors that had been recalled by the manufacturer, it was Glacier who barked loud enough to wake Sean up before carbon monoxide poisoning claimed his life. He spent most of that day in the hospital on oxygen — and he lived to tell the tale, thanks to Big Luggie. She’s been with us ever since, including our journey moving to Alaska, on the Kenai Peninsula, and eventually to the Arctic. Below: She never quite got the hang of wood stoves beyond the CO2 incident. Her fur was so fluffy, she occasionally grazed by the woodstove and burnt her hair — which didn’t hurt for her at all… just made for a stinky yurt for us, humans! Below: She was with us for the entire build of our first cabin in Montana. She was a good sister to our chickens, ducks and turkeys… and even our pet rabbit, named Tiger. Glacier has been a big sister to our entire team as we added them one by one. She took her role in stride, never tolerating too much puppy bullshit, putting everyone (gently) in their place. She could smell wild animals like bears a mile away, barking incessantly at the window so we knew. Whenever we’d go hiking, and yell “Hey Bear!” to make noise, she would bark on command... just in case :-) In her later years, Big Luggie battled epilepsy — which is what ultimately claimed her life. The disease was just another hurdle she handled, always bouncing back, ready for the next adventure. Glacier took us for our first dogsled ride back in Montana, eager to pull and run — as she did for many years. (Above, with Powder as a puppy) She was never a superstar because her coat was prone to the biggest snowballs you’d ever see! But we always said she had the spirit of a sled dog, no doubt. When she stopped mushing a few years ago, she assumed the role of trail dog, leading hikes with all our guests. And then on a whim this past February, Sean and I loaded her into one of our sleds and took Big Luggie for what we didn’t realize at the time, would be her final dogsled ride of her life. She took us for our first ride — and we took her for her last.
Dogs are with us for a chapter of life. They provide love, adventure and levity for a while, during which time we humans stumble and grow. When it’s time to start a new chapter, they leave us only when their job is done… because we’re ready to stand on our own two feet. Rest easy, Big Luggie. And thank you. We’ve got this… Sending love, Mollie (+ Sean and all our sled dogs) It was the hottest day of our arctic summer... 86°F! After wading and splashing in the chilly water of the Koyukuk, I was lounging at the river’s edge, watching a group of teenagers play in the mud. Yep, you read that right. Teenagers were not scrolling, Snap Chatting, or rolling their eyes. They were using their imagination to “build” a mud spa, inventing an entire experience for their future clientele. Laughter rang through the air as they played in mud, water and dirt — with absolutely no regard for reality. It was glorious. Sean and I were in the midst of our annual Basecamp retreat where we donate the entire Arctic Hive facility to Riding On Insulin (ROI), a nonprofit that hosts one-of-a-kind action sports camps for kids and teens with type 1 diabetes (T1D). Each summer, teens with T1D fundraise directly for ROI to spend a week exploring the arctic with us — learning how to push beyond what they thought possible with an autoimmune disease in tow. ROI raises over $20,000 annually with this event, which helps fund its ski/snowboard camps that serve 300+ kids across the USA each year. Watching teens in imagination-land transported me to my own childhood… I used to play “Mermaids” on the lake I grew up on... my friends and I would invent entire worlds by speaking them into existence. That floating dock was a palace, this dock was the grocery store, the shoreline was something else — you get the idea. I realized that day at the river it’d been a while since I daydreamed for no higher purpose, without any boundaries, with no regard for time. I know, I know… I live here! How can I get caught in the day-to-day grind of chores, projects and to-do lists? I guess it’s easy when you have 24 hours of daylight with the midnight sun. There is so much power in having space to simply be. With darkness returning to the arctic, we see more stars and planets every night. Soon, we’ll see the dancing aurora once again. We like to think that Northern Lights season returns just in time for Sean’s birthday on August 21st! Below: Aurora from the Igloo looking toward Poss Mountain on September 4th, 2022. I miss darkness after going so long without it — and carving out space to be is somehow easier as summer gives way to fall. I feel like the increasing contrast in light helps me create contrast in my life. Before long, I’ll be back on the runners, with only the sound of dog paws on the trail and the whoosh of my dogsled underfoot. THAT’S where the magic happens. Stokes of genius and ah-ha moments are mostly likely to strike when I least expect it… while on a walk, watching the aurora, or on the trail with the dogs. Those teenagers reminded me that carving out time to play in the proverbial mud is so important. I need time to simply exist without trying to accomplish anything. I think we all do. Below: Aurora right out the front door, August 24th, 2021 As fall starts to flow down from the arctic to wherever you are this season, I hope you, too, can tap into the darker skies and a slower pace — and savor the opportunity to just be!
Sending love, Mollie (+ Sean and all our sled dogs) PS — I think this is implied, but if you’re craving the ultimate disconnection to reconnect with your creativity and imagination, we’d love to host you for a retreat this winter! Scroll to see all the options… spaces are filling up :-) Below: Using unlimited daylight hours to hike-in the door to our arctic entry… puppy Eclipse is “helping” :-) As temps reached 84.6°F last week, summer at Arctic Hive is reaching a fiery crescendo... hopefully not literally. Fires are raging a few hours south of here, and every day brings thunderstorms with potential for lightning and ... inevitably, forest fires in the Brooks Range. No one likes a forest fire in their backyard ... but it’s a totally different ballgame when you’re 7 hours from the nearest fire station, in a village that sits outside any Alaskan borough jurisdiction. If fires start here, it could be a loooooooong time before help arrives, if we needed it. Nothing to be sorry for, or scared about — remember, we choose to live here. This is just one of the many trade-offs we make living in an incredible part of the world. Fire is a natural part of any forest ecosystem... and we’re just living in it. You’re welcome to send good vibes though — we’ll take all we can get! Other than “what if” fire-evacuation plans and the logistics of getting 18 dogs and 2 humans off the property in an emergency… what else have we been up to? We’ve been building an addition to our home/lodge: Phase 1 is a 14x16 expansion to the north, which will include an arctic entry, spare bedroom, and storage space. We got nearly all our materials up via snowmachine back in April… but there are always stragglers that need to be hiked in — like two 62-lb rolls of Grace Ice & Water Shield. The metal roof went on this past week (after these photos were taken) and now we’ve got plenty of interior buttoning up to do before the snow falls. An interesting complication of this project has been the strategy involved. We planned on building our lodge in phases, but there are so many things to think through — one being the slope of the terrain. A guest said to me this season, “I’ve seen your photos a million times but I didn’t realize you literally built everything on a mountainside!” Yep, we did. Views like these don’t happen on flat ground. And this simple truth made building this addition UPHILL from our house a “fun” adventure. It’s a good thing I love math, because there was a lot involved! Phase 2 will be a 24 x 24 dining and lounge space, attached on the east side of the lodge. Imagine big windows, Brooks Range vistas, and tons of space to spread out, enjoy a meal, snuggle a sleddog, and play games with fellow guests. We hope to start construction on this phase soon, but a lot depends on weather. Stay tuned! *You’ll see in the photo below there’s no roof overhang on this side of the addition… this is because the roofline of Phase 2 will butt-up to the edge, so it’s one long continuous wall. Mother nature is hard at work around here, too. Below is a photo Sean snapped at the beaver pond at midnight the other night. Two beavers were busy at work building a dam. As our dog team expands to accommodate the exciting new learn-to-mush retreats we launched for 2025, we’ve got lots of updates to the dog yard happening this summer, too. Eclipse (Yara’s singleton puppy) is growing fast and nearly 12 weeks old. She sticks close to us on walks just like her loyal momma and Auntie Sansa. Her favorite game is roaming the dog yard and giving kisses to all her furry family members. We also think she’s growing some blonde-ish eyebrows like some of her relatives… wouldn’t that be adorable? When we’re not building or dodging thunder and lightning, you can find us romping on all the public lands behind Arctic Hive with the dogs. They love bounding over the tundra and finding water holes between the tussocks — there are endless things to sniff, and plenty of mud, creeks and rivers to roll in. Summer for a sleddog is a more relaxing time where we’re focusing on bonding with the team and giving everyone daily opportunities to free run. Below, lucky girls Darla (left) and her niece Gilly enjoying some chill time on the couch. The last exciting thing is a community garden! Some of you might have seen our raised garden boxes at Arctic Hive — perfect for planting with permafrost underfoot. For root veggies, we are reviving a garden plot in the village next the Wiseman sign, about a mile from our house. This plot hasn’t been used in years and sits on great soil, sans permafrost. Sean, myself and Steve (our neighbor, friend and fellow dog musher) decided to tackle it together and plant with carrots, beets and turnips. There has been A LOT of weeding to manage, so we’ll see how things go this first summer as we attempt to regain control. If growing weeds was a spot, we'd be pros... That’s a full update on life in the arctic. Thanks for reading along — happy 4th of July, everyone!
Mollie (and Sean) You’ve just taken the deepest breath of fresh air you’ve had in a long time. You smile as you look around — you’re surrounded by wilderness, on a vast, frozen river, surrounded by the ancient, towering mountains of Alaska’s Brooks Range. You chuckle as you feel a bead of sweat trickle down your back... how in the hell you’re sweating in below-freezing weather, you’ll never understand... but this you know for sure: All your effort has been worth it. You’ve learned to drive your own dogsled with a team of Alaska Huskies in the arctic. You’ve journeyed to the far north to become a dog musher + experience the thrill of living off-grid in remote arctic of Alaska. Your friends thought you were crazy wanting to “get pulled around by dogs” for a week, but you knew better. You’ve always dreamed of mushing your own dog team, and you expected it’d be hard work. But something you didn’t expect? This experience may have changed your outlook on life itself. Arctic Awakening is truly a one-of-a-kind retreat. You’re fully immersed in the dogsledding lifestyle with us — your guides, Sean and Mollie Busby. We live and breathe this arctic lifestyle, as this is also our home. We hand-built Arctic Hive Wilderness Lodge on 15 acres of boreal forest with sweeping views of the Brooks Range in all directions. The property backs up to hundreds of miles of public lands. Our retreat facility is a 1-mile hike outside the historic mining village of Wiseman, population 12 -- which includes us! When it comes to the dogsled trails in the area, you’re getting an authentic bush experience on trails that aren’t made by machines; they’re made by dogs and the humans that love them. For 4 nights at Arctic Hive, and 3 full days on the trail, you become one of us. You learn how to harness your dogs, feed them two meals a day, and you learn to watch them as they run, anticipating their moods and their needs before they have to glance back. You run up hills behind the sled to assist your 4-legged teammates, and you ride down hills, managing your weight on the brake system to keep the line tight. The only sounds out there are the whoosh of your runners underfoot and the pitter patter of paws on the snow-covered tundra. You learn to lean this way and that, call out commands, and steer your sled through miles of tight Black Spruce trees on narrow bush trails. You journey along frozen rivers and creeks, climb mountains, and if conditions allow, you get to mush into one of the most remote and least-visited National Parks in the country: Gates of the Arctic National Park*. You take occasional spills, toppling over into the deep snow while still following Rule #1: Never let go! You laugh at yourself as your dogs look back, wondering why you stopped. You praise them for their prowess, untangle the lines, and return countless slobbery kisses with belly rubs. You even choose to be initiated into the sacred art of scooping dog shit in the dog yard, morning and night. (This is what authenticity actually looks like!) Most of all, you become part of a team. *photo credit above: Alec Sills-Trausch Whenever you and your fellow mushers stop for a break, the dogs roll around in the snow to cool off, tails wagging and tongues lolling — the picture of pure joy. Sure, their joy is contagious... but you don’t need any help mustering joy this week. You’re absolutely bursting with it. Looking around at your small group of fellow retreat-goers, you know without a doubt that they, too, are having the best day ever. The steep learning curve has taught you well -- and the sweat equity you’ve invested has come back tenfold in the serenity you feel. Evenings are spent enjoying hearty home-cooked meals, laughing and sharing stories and photos from the trail. We prepare for the next day of mushing, play a card game or two before folks head off to bed. You end the day, snuggled up in a comfortable bed in your toasty warm cabin — and stay up to watch the aurora borealis dance in the polar sky out your cabin window. *photo credit above: Alec Sills-Trausch This is just a snapshot of a typical day at Arctic Hive's signature Arctic Awakening Learn-to-Mush Retreat. Every day, we adapt to changing conditions with the group, the dogs and Mother Nature. As you will see, this is the way of things in the far north! The group size is intentionally small — a maximum of 4 guests — to keep the experience intimate and organized. This is our home and our backyard and we are excited to share it with you in a sustainable way. You’ll participate in the day-to-day care of working dogs and experience in some of our daily activities such as gathering water from the river — learning the true meaning of “working as a team” on and off the trail. And there’s no better way to take care of a team than taking care of yourself — first and foremost. You’ll have ample time to relax, a healthy dose of outdoor mushing adventures, cultural immersions in the village, and daily mindfulness + stretching designed to meet you where you're at. No experience with any of these things is necessary to attend except a good attitude, willingness to learn, be physically and mentally fit, and a strong sense of adventure. Bumps and bruises from falls, running into trees, and other unexpected situations are not uncommon. You're provided an extensive packing list and one-on-one guidance from us to assure you have the outdoor gear you need, and you’re prepared each day for the activities that await. This is your Arctic Awakening and we look forward to welcoming you into our home and lifestyle. Let’s break some trail together and travel some beautiful country! Join us in 2025? You have two sets of dates to choose from, and each retreat has only 3 spots available.
Click here for the full details, pricing and links to register now! Happy Solstice, everyone. Mollie and Sean *Arctic Hive holds a commercial use permit to operate in Gates of the Arctic National Park. Our wilderness lodge is situated right on the outskirts of the Park boundary and we have a goal to build your mushing skills up to possibly mush into the Park, where few humans get the chance to visit. However, all daily plans will be determined by arctic weather, trail conditions, and dog/human wellbeing. While the Park is an incredibly special place it should be remembered that all trails and areas we travel are just as special with only an invisible line determining what is “National Park” and what isn’t. We aim to foster a culture where everyday out on the trail, no matter where we go, we are grateful and honored to enjoy these sacred and traditional Koyukon lands. It was the morning of April 5th — smack in the middle of SHEWild, four days before the solar eclipse. Time to feed the dogs. My favorite half hour of every morning goes like this: I put on my gloves, walk outside and yell, “Gooooooooooooooood morning doooooooooogs!” They ERUPT. Our pack of sleddogs start barking, howling, and running circles around their houses — leaping in all directions as they anticipate their breakfast. If you’ve never been in a dog yard, the sound is weirdly harmonious and chaotic at the same time. While I can pick out each dog’s voice, I also love how they sound together — losing their minds with excitement, at the same level of intensity they did the meal before. As each one is fed, the chorus dies down — which is followed by me, scooping poo and giving “morning love” to each dog. On this morning in particular, I knew something wasn’t right. We’d acquired three 2-year-old sleddogs a few days earlier, and Yara was still tucked inside her house. In the few days I’d known her, she’d never miss mealtime. I knelt down to get a better look, and — ope! She was protectively curled around a small black lump… and the lump was moving. It took me a few seconds to process... It’s a puppy. OMG. YARA HAD A PUPPY. According to Sean, this is the part where I “scream-cried” for him to get to the dog yard, quick! We had no idea Yara was pregnant, but Sean and I held that little lump-of-a-puppy with massive grins and tears in our eyes — like we’d just given birth ourselves. I guess she truly is our “first-born” because neither of us had ever experienced newborn puppies before! Funny enough, I had commented to Sean a few days earlier that Yara looked chubby — we chalked it up to muscle from all her training. I laughed and joked, “Maybe she’s pregnant!” I didn’t give it a second thought until I found the puppy. Call it a woman’s intuition, I guess! Yara didn’t have any more pups after the first — so we named her Eclipse, in honor of the cosmic timing of her arrival. Welcome to the fam, Eclipse.
Have a great week! Mollie We got our first rain shower of 2024 this week. Me and Rain? We have an interesting relationship... Funny enough, I didn’t know how deeply troubling my feelings were for rain until I spent a month in the midwest recovering from surgery this fall. One night, it rained in Wisconsin — like really rained, with thunder and lightning for many hours. And I remember thinking when I got out of bed the next morning, It’s going to be a mess outside! To my surprise, the "damage" was inconsequential. Sure, the concrete was wet. There were puddles and worms, but lawns and soil were damp at best. Everything dried up with a few hours, and I could walk in the yard that afternoon without shoes on. I didn’t hear one single squish underfoot. There was NO MUD. It dawned on me. Living off the beaten path with no concrete, especially living on permafrost, we exist with one single truth: Rain ALWAYS brings mud. Mud has been our nemesis. Mud in the arctic means the tundra has been disturbed, the permafrost exposed, and then the ice melts over time. It’s like a microcosm for what happens with the changing climate. Our lives revolve around permafrost preservation, and every time it rains, the ground turns into a poorly draining, extremely fragile sponge. We tread as lightly and mindfully as possible. Layer the fact that it’s May, and the ground is still frozen, so the snow, ice melt, and running creeks have nowhere to go, and you have a recipe for... well... squish, squish, squish. We’re not talking sweet little puddles here and there. We’re talking about a LAKE. Where there used to NOT BE A LAKE. One thing is for sure: The dogs never seem to mind... I don’t have some mind-blowing life lesson that I’ve learned from this yet. I’m just noticing how I feel, and recognizing one simple fact: I don’t want to despise rain anymore, just because of the impending mud. After the rain showers stopped this week, I stepped outside and took and deep breath — and I remembered that I love the smell of the earth after it rains. I love how the sun peeks through the clouds, and the tops of the mountains reveal themselves after being covered through the storm.
I also love the rainbows. There are unlimited reasons to be grateful for rain! So don’t mind me... I’ll just be over here working on my rain-centered gratitude. Still looking for the silver lining on mud though. If you have one, let me know :-) In light, Mollie When I signed up for a 200-hr yoga training years ago, I thought I’d be making shapes and memorizing anatomy. I was wrong. I mean, it *was* that... and so much more I never saw coming. I learned yoga isn’t a work out — it’s a work IN. It’s a well-documented, time tested, ancient lifestyle of living in harmony with nature. It’s not just for young people or flexible people, or people in yoga pants. Yoga is for each and every one of us… for real. Whether we call ourselves a spiritual person (or not), an outdoorsey person (or not), a motivated person (or not), a great public speaker (or not), a person who wants to teach others someday (or not) ... an [insert anything] person... or not. Yoga is a philosophy that fits into every nook and cranny of life, if we let it in. It gives us a roadmap to move through life with more ease and grace.
We not only learn about our body from an anatomical level, but also an energetic level. We are mind-blown to discover what our breath actually does to us on the inside when we use it properly — and we are proud of ourselves when we finally take up meditation long enough to see the positive benefits trickle into every part of our life. We learn rituals, leadership, confidence, lineage, philosophy and shapes to enhance our soul so we can live more purposeful lives. And during SHEWild Yoga Teacher Training? We take all that... into the great Alaskan outdoors. We gather with a group of fellow women during a week-long immersion at @ArcticHiveAK, bookended by two live Zoom weekends and a handful of check-ins. Over the course of three months, we learn together, grow together, and explore together — with the goal of becoming the brightest version of ourselves. If you’re curious, please reach out. Enrollment is open for 2024, and I’d love to chat with you if you’re feeling called to the arctic! 🥰 Sending love, Mollie |
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