An ode to Big Luggie

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)