Chenil Akkada Kennel

05/27/2026

🐾 A run down memory lane this morning after stumbling upon old photos.

For as long as I could walk, I was drawn to animals and wanted to be around them.
I remember one of my favorite things as a child was collecting snails and lining them up on our basement table, proudly counting my collection and creating families.I would easily pick up hundreds. 😅

I came across pictures of Elegant, my very first bestie and my very first horse. He not only gave me my first taste of competition, but also taught me something much more important: the difference between competition and true value.
He passed away a few years ago at the age of 30.

I couldn’t find any good photos of my first sled dog I mentioned the other day. She appeared in many pictures, but always off to the side or at an odd angle, nothing really memorable.
That’s where best friends (the human kind) come in.
I asked Mel if she happened to have a photo of Saka, my very first Sibe.Low and behold, she probably had the best photo of them all. Back then, we didn’t have cell phones. We had to send film away and wait to have our photos printed.
So here is Saka, my very first Siberian.
She was my first dog that would literally run herself on our usual trail if I didn’t take her out routinely. She was a 7-year-old lead dog from Northern Quebec that I acquired when the musher was getting out of dogs.I would walk her even before she was mine.Being drawn to Siberians, I would ask if I could tend to them all.When Steve decided that he didn't want dogs no more, I was the first he contacted to place Saka.
Of course I couldn't say no, and luckily I had a dad that understood that I wouldn't take no for an answer.
She became one of the most faithful dogs I ever owned.
Like most Huskies, she was a Houdini with more than one trick up her sleeve. She adapted easily to farm life and took it upon herself to catch any rats or small animals causing trouble (or not) around the barn.
Every night, she slept in my bed, and she stayed loyal and faithful right until the day she passed at almost 17 years of age.

Any mushers on my page want to share photos or stories of their very first sled dog?
I'd love to see them.

05/22/2026

The last leg of the race.

Leaving on the final leg, somewhere in the very early morning, I remember the dogs being far more hyped up than I was. This is where my cold had really started catching up to me. The fatigue had set in, my fever had climbed, and my cough had worsened.
I looked at the marshals while waiting on the countdown for departure and remember saying, “Yeah… I don’t feel like it at all.”

Luckily, the dogs’ energy is contagious, and I owe it to all of us to make every experience count as a positive one.

As the seconds neared takeoff, I went to each dog, thanked them, and told them we were going to make it a good one.
Dogs are very sensitive to our energy, and on every run , whether in training or on race trails, I always thank them for their effort. Dogs with jobs are happiest doing what they love, and the same goes for people. What is shared is multiplied, and through every experience we grow as a unit, and most importantly, together.

The dogs were on fire leaving the checkpoint, and I did my best to slow them down.
“Tranquillement… doucement les bébés…”
It took them about five miles to settle into their rhythm and stop overdoing it. I left Fuji and Samba in lead, with everyone else in the same positions.
I quickly noticed Fuji had started playing with her mom, and it was ruining Samba’s concentration and confidence. Samba is a very soft, submissive female, and though she is an excellent leader with a desire to run fast, she needs a calm teammate beside her. Otherwise, she shuts down.
Many times in training I had to switch her co-lead because her younger teammates always tried to burst her bubble and unfortunately, they usually succeeded.
Running dogs is training dogs, and there is always a puzzle to solve.

We still had about 35 miles ahead of us, and no matter how much I tried to get Fuji to focus, she knew she had successfully burst Samba’s bubble, and we were no longer moving forward. Remember, at this point I had already dropped my second trusted leader at the last checkpoint.
So I tried Logan up front. He wasn’t new to the position — he had done it many times this season, as they all had.
He started playing too.
We kept moving five or ten feet at a time with every coaxing.Sometimes only a foot.
Pit. Miller. Alfred. Uno.
One foot. Two feet. Ten feet.
We were basically stagnant, and this is where things got rough.
The more you play tic-tac-toe trying to find a solution, the more your dogs can start shutting down. Samba did not want to run in single lead, and at this point nobody wanted to run with Samba, or rather the opposite.
There are so many subtleties in running dogs that you have to be careful with every approach. You can make it or break it, and the more I kept changing things, the more I was affecting their mental state and their confidence, either in themselves or in me.
I am their most trusted person, and by not finding a solution, I felt like I was failing them and losing their confidence in my ability to lead them.
It is important to stay calm in these situations and never seem overwhelmed. No matter how hard it is, you have to appear in control and in charge on the situation.
We were barely advancing, probably over an hour out since we left the checkpoint, and I was basically leaderless with a bunch of yearlings who had decided playing with each other sounded better than heading home.
Luc arrived from behind on a trail that wasn’t very wide, so I tipped my sled sideways and grabbed his leaders to let him pass and encourage his dogs onward.
Then I looked back at Bruno, who I lovingly call my autistic child because he sees the world so differently. He was chewing the line and couldn’t settle.
I knew I couldn’t put Bruno with Samba, because he can barely lead with anyone. He is simply “too much dog.”

Bruno is wild. He has a zest for life that is very often too much for most other dogs.
So I went to him and we had a heart-to-heart conversation.
“Bruno, I love you. I know you know how to do this, and I know you can. I wouldn’t put you up front if I thought you were going to fail. You wanna do this, Bruno? Can you do this, baby?”
Bruno being Bruno, looked up at me with his goofy expression, half-bitten lip hanging out, and gave me the biggest kiss.
We were in no rush to put strain on any dog, whether physically or mentally. At this point, all I wanted was to find the missing piece that would get us moving forward again.
Bruno could do it.
He was only a yearling, and he didn’t know this trail.
But to heck with it — I knew he could.
After pep talks, run-downs, and nothing but love throughout, I moved Samba and Logan back into swing (right behind the leaders) in case Bruno needed direction, and we took off.
We were moving.
Bruno was going way too fast at first, so I eased some weight onto the drag mat until he settled into a better speed.
Every few hundred meters he would look back as if to ask:
“Am I doing alright, mommy? Am I being a good boy?”
“Bon chien Bruno! Bon chien!”
Every compliment made him move forward (albeit too fast) with even more confidence.
Selflessly, he was doing something I have never seen another dog his age do.
During this race, he was becoming an athlete — not the crazy, unruly, hard-to-handle-Bruno who bullies all his teammates.
To give you a little understanding of Bruno: he comes from a litter of three brothers. His brothers, Alfred and Raz, are bonded and love each other more than any pair I’ve ever previously seen. Bruno had to be separated from them at four months old because he was too bossy and unruly.
By five months of age, he could climb or jump nearly any fence up to eight feet high, because to Bruno there are absolutely no obstacles ahead of him.
He will do what he wants, how he wants, and when he wants.
Not in a selfish way.He simply uses his intelligence to achieve whatever brings him happiness.
You can feel that determination inside him. A confidence that surpasses the average dog.
So that is Bruno.
And we did it.
We took a few wrong turns along the way.
At one point we were on a plowed road and he decided to go haw (left). I couldn’t slow the team down fast enough, and we ended up in a dead end with half the team buried up a snowbank in loose, unpacked snow.
Our third leg became more of an adventure and a contemplation of the yearlings ahead of me and the season we had built together.

When I entered this race, my goal was simply to complete it with my team of pups, with what I assumed would be more of a back-of-the-pack run. I actually ran fewer yearlings than originally planned because they had caught a bacteria we were still resolving.
Every year there are countless issues mushers have to overcome just to make it to a race.
Mushing creates resilient people, and resilient people adapt, recover, and grow stronger.
I looked at Bruno as he looked back toward me again.
"Good boy, Bruno. You’re such a good boy."
And that is exactly what the Chic-Chocs race was for us this year.
We grew stronger as a team as I finally got to run my yearlings.
We adapted. We faced and we grew.
I hope we all get to experience the joy of seeing dogs become what they were destined to be. These dogs have halos around them when they are doing what they love.
It isn’t about position. It isn’t about speed.
It’s about growing, bettering ourselves, and putting our X’s in a row.
In life, there are Karens and there are Brunos.
Choose Bruno.

05/20/2026

Taking off on our second “leg” of the race, I left the dogs in the same positions we came in with: Fuji and Samba in lead, and Guiness (my second experienced leader) in swing with Logan. Of my yearlings, every dog can go up front, and most know how to steer — at least on our home trails.
Fuji kept her intensity and even upped her game another notch in terms of concentration. This section of trail was nicely packed and made for a much smoother run. It’s a slight ascent to the turnaround at Faribeau, and once you start descending for a while, you know you’ve reached the midway point.

There were many moose tracks this year. Fresh ones too. Between myself and the team ahead of me, I could tell a moose had crossed over their tracks, and we were only several minutes apart. It’s always fascinating imagining where they disappeared into the woods, and what is roaming out there just beyond the trail.
I truly believe mushers become great assets to their terrain. We know our cycles and ecosystems intimately from travelling and training year after year through these forests. I tend to think we are guardians of them in our own way.

This year, the Chic Chocs had three distances: a 40, a 100, and a 150. The 100s and 150s shared this same trail. Being a turnaround, it was fun seeing all the returning teams heading back toward the checkpoint and analyzing them as they passed, while cheering everyone on.
As the front three in our discipline, we all followed one another fairly closely, separated only by several minutes.
At the turnaround heading home, I could consistently see Luc’s headlamp, and we travelled together for quite some time actually.
About eight miles from the turnaround, still travelling with Luc on the right side of the trail as intended, we were descending a slow hill when we came across another team’s headlamp. In the glare of all our lights were two large red glaring spheres moving toward Luc’s direction.
This large cervidae was clearly terrified and had no idea where to go. Headlamps, as we all know, can be blinding, so I immediately turned mine sideways to cast only enough dim light onto my team while I looked ahead in anticipation.
I heard Luc shout, “Attention!” as the moose headed straight for his leaders before swaying at the last second and cutting behind him toward my team instead.
Already hanging tight on my sled with my anchor down, I was ready for whatever might come our way.
The moose now came directly toward the front of my team. My six front dogs all pushed backward like an accordion, heaving away from this massive beast that, deep down, I knew had no intention of harming us.
The moose was visibly distressed. You could hear the pounding hooves and deep lung capacity as its horse-like mannerisms carried itself past us, untouched and mostly unphased.
Once we were all safe again, Luc and Pam continued on their way in their different directions, while my dogs rammed against their harnesses in excitement and adrenaline. Unfortunately, Guiness and Logan became tangled in the line, but because my anchor was already set, I was able to get to them quickly before either could be injured.
I checked over everyone quickly to make sure all was well, then we took off again.
The return trip after that was mostly smooth sailing. The dogs know we’re heading back to where we came from, and they settle into that rhythm. You can practically close your eyes out there.. unless you encounter another moose, haha!
Every passing team heading toward Faribeau, I shouted warnings about the "moose on the trail"!
I missed warning Jeffrey though, and I kicked myself for it the entire way back, worried something might happen. I kept thinking about a young girl out there on her first 100-mile run and hoping she was alright being behind me.
My motherly instincts wanted every single team on that trail to make it through safely.
Somewhere mid-trail, I passed Luc and arrived into our final checkpoint routine in second place.
Don’t ask me about the exact minutes between us all — I never checked and still don’t know. I live by the motto, “Run your own race.”
And don’t ask me for accurate mileage either. I don’t travel with a GPS. What I can tell you is approximate travelling speeds because I know each dog, their comfort levels, and their natural gaits.
By this point, most of the dogs had finally settled into their routine and bedded down. Some of them were voracious in appetite, more than I had seen in quite some time, which is always a good sign.
Looking toward the front of the team, however, I noticed Guiness favouring his front right leg. Knowing he had previously been caught in the line during the jolt, I understood very well how something like that could happen.
I informed the veterinarian and made the decision that I would officially drop him before departure.
I kept overhearing teams discussing moose encounters, so I knew we certainly weren’t the only ones dealing with them that night.
I continued asking about Philip’s daughter. She remained on my mind right up until the moment she finally arrived at the checkpoint.
She was okay. Good.
Now I could proceed with my own race and my own worries ahead.
I slept for an hour and went straight back to the team to prepare for the final leg of the race.

05/20/2026

I’ve had dogs my whole life. I rode my first dogsled at seven years old with Mr. Cousineau in Pabos, and that’s where the first spark happened, along with my love for Siberians.
Around thirteen, I acquired my first retired lead dog, a purebred Siberian named Saka. She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful Siberian I had ever seen. I loved her so much that I walked her before she was even mine. She taught me a lot about Siberians, but even more about instinct. The kind of instinct that eventually led me to spending nearly twenty years owning and running sled dogs.
Everyone close to me knows how much these last two litters mean to me. After years filled with health issues and setbacks, you realize that you may not have endless opportunities to breed and raise dogs like this again. Because of that, I’ve lived these last litters more intensely than any before them.
That doesn’t mean I loved my other dogs any less. I’ve loved every single one wholeheartedly, though like anyone, I’ve had a few favorites along the way.
All season long, I talked endlessly about how excited I was to finally run these yearlings. After a strong start to training and a thousand miles logged by mid-November, everything suddenly unraveled.
Every piece of machinery we relied on for training broke down, forcing us to stop for over two weeks just as we were hitting our stride. Then snow arrived in early December, and within one week I lost my dog team twice. At one point, my sled literally climbed ten feet up a tree. The first crash rammed me directly into a tree trunk, and the second swung me full speed into a spruce hard enough to put me out for ten days.
As if that wasn’t enough, Mother Nature followed with nearly two weeks of rain and trails covered in sheets of ice. The consistency we had worked so hard for disappeared, and the yearlings didn’t get nearly as much training as I had hoped.Rather the type of training ai wanted them to have.
Still, they gained experience. They ran the Beargrease 120 with Remy and later the Can-Am 100 with our good friend Olivier. At both races, the goal was simple: keep them comfortable, keep them learning, and never push them beyond nine miles per hour.
By the last race of the season, despite inconsistent training and a handful of other issues we had battled through, they were finally ready to "race"
That’s where the Chic Chocs came in.
The Chic Chocs has always felt like my nemesis from the start. Yet my desire to run these home trails has always outweighed my fear. After a close call the previous year, I decided to put my fears aside and head back onto the trails I call home with my babies.
The team itself was far from perfect. I had six yearlings, one semi-retired female who also happened to be the mother of two dogs on the team, and a collection of B-team dogs that either hadn’t raced yet that season, were returning from injuries, or had very little racing experience at all.
We had bib number four.
The first leg of the race went surprisingly well. The yearlings were difficult to settle at first, full of energy and excitement, but about fifteen miles into the fifty-five-mile leg I decided to test one of the young females in lead.
Her name is Fuji.
I paired her with her mother, Samba. Fuji has incredible drive and fire in her, but she lacked confidence around skidoos and passing teams. The only real way to build confidence in a leader is to give them opportunities when they matter.
I’ve always enjoyed working dogs and building leaders. Whether it’s during training or during a race has never mattered much to me.
In my mind, this was our B-team anyway. Remy was racing the stronger A-team dogs that had recovered from illness just a few weeks prior, so there was no pressure on us, nor on him. Our goal was simply to have fun, work through our weaknesses, and give the younger dogs the opportunity to grow.
The trail was soft...like really soft Kinda like running through deep dry beach sand. Even so, the dogs exceeded every expectation I had. They came into the checkpoint in third place and in a faster time than I had anticipated.
The final fifteen miles of that leg remain unforgettable to me. There are not many mountains in the east that humble you but one section of this trail does just that.
Every time I run it, something inside me comes alive. I love attacking that climb alongside my dogs. While I love running dogs, I also genuinely love running myself. Some mushers stay planted on the runners the entire way, but for me, climbing beside the team feels like joining the battle with them.
That mountain is brutal and I love every second of it.Climbing it and wondering if it'll ever come to an end to finally beating it the fastest you can make it makes me feel amazing.
Meanwhile, Fuji slowly started finding her confidence in lead. She began holding the line tightly around obstacles while Samba calmly showed her the ropes beside her.
Unfortunately, the first checkpoint itself was chaotic. The entire team was overstimulated and restless. Whether the adults were feeding off the yearlings’ energy or the yearlings were reacting to the excitement surrounding the other teams, nobody fully settled down.
It discouraged me more than I expected.
Still, they ate well and by late afternoon they were ready to head back out for the next second fifty-five-mile leg.

05/19/2026

At a little over 18 months of age and at his first double check point race of 150 miles, Bruno single led me the last 30 odd miles of trail at La Chic-Chocs sled dog race.

This might have been a way too short race for me, but it definitely falls into one of the toughest (mentally) that I have run.

Does anyone wanna hear about my Bruno and our third place puppy run?

The love I have for these dogs.Just look at that proud face 😍

05/18/2026

Bob and Max, both young dogs that became outstanding leaders for us during their careers.

I had never seen this photo before.The Yukon Quest being what it was and is, was very remote and cell service was very difficult in many areas.There was such pristine beauty that honestly I was taking it all in with my heart and eyes, rather than my phone.I believe this was in Pelly Crossing, and the dogs are mighty frosty as the start of the race had dipped as low as -57°c.
Temps like this out in the North west is a different type of cold.Its not as humid as our east and can be quite hypocritical since you don't "feel" it as much.
I remember waiting up in Braeburn ready with some hotshots for the dogs.(We had to truck them to Carmacks).

I invite everyone to visit the Yukon and Alaska at least once in their lifetime.Its beauty is quite unimaginable.

05/17/2026

I was so sad to hear of this news today.
The end of an era.
We will always remember our stay at this hotel.It was like walking into something sorta like Alice in Wonderland.Slanted walls and checkered floors and funky colors (think pinks and lime greens)
The chairs on wheels would roll in the pub.
It truly was a unique place.

I'm not quite sure when this was built but it had to be gold rush years.

We send our sympathy to Dawsonsites, all Yukoners and visitors alike as a true era sadly comes to an end. And extend our heart felt appreciation to the first responders.

05/17/2026

7 years ago, our beloved Max was at his second race ever, running the Yukon Quest.
He posed for photographers the whole race, and rarely bedded down.
Today, he bathes in the sun living the life of a retired sled dog, following me around while I play in the flowers.

Alaskans are truly an amazing breed.
Loyal, serene and very intelligent dogs.

05/16/2026

Sometimes the smallest gestures can change your whole day and bring you a breath of fresh air and this is where Amy comes in.

Last year (I believe ) Amy got into knitting herself and her husband beautiful paw-print Norwegian-style wool sweaters. I instantly started bugging her for one, and lo and behold, about six months later, she surprisingly agreed! She asked me what colours I’d like and a few opinions on the style but never took measurements or asked much more.
Knowing Amy is both a musher and a full-time paramedic, I never expected how quickly she would put it together, let alone during racing season.
In just a few short weeks — which would have been even shorter had she not run out of wool — she had it finished and wanted to give it to me personally. Of course, I wanted to keep the surprise intact because having a picture sent over Messenger takes away all the magic.
I was so excited to pick it up yesterday that it became my very first stop of the day. Several hours later, after some more-than-great discussions about our sport, she presented me with something I honestly couldn’t have imagined any better.
The colours represent me perfectly.She tweaked it as she imagined I'd like it and was spot on.Subdued, calm, happy, with just enough colour to make it come alive without being loud.
I tried it on this morning and can honestly say it’s a work of art. Not just the sweater and the pattern itself, but how perfectly it fits in every way.
I’ve always been difficult to fit clothing-wise because of my athletic build: long arms, broad shoulders, longer legs, shorter torso. Yet somehow, this sweater fits like a glove. No stretching, adjusting, or tweaking needed.
It’s amazingly warm and soft, and I already know it’ll become a staple in my wardrobe. A favourite both around the dogs and anywhere outdoors.
Obviously, I can’t wait to get back out training again, and unfortunately for all of you, you’ll probably be hearing me say even more often now that I can’t wait for winter to come.
Thanks, Amy. I can honestly say this is my favourite piece of clothing I’ve ever owned.
I believe Amy is open to taking orders if any of you would like a similar sweater, and she’s also testing out other designs that I’m already eyeing pretty heavily myself.
She says knitting keeps her from biting her nails, and honestly... after seeing them, I’d say we’re all doing her a favour by keeping her busy!

Oh Amy, you can make me another 🤪