Huskies in snow boots, temperatures of minus 40, and northern lights that appear like messages from the beyond: that’s Dawson City, Yukon, in February. It’s not your typical vacation destination, but there’s a secret thrill to being there at this time of year, when the community pulls together for the Yukon Quest.

A year ago, I spent the winter in Dawson and volunteered for the Quest. I had such a good time that despite the crazy cold and drooling dogs, I’m heading back this month to watch the teams come into town.

Billed as the toughest sled dog race in the world, the route covers 1,600 kilometres between Whitehorse and Fairbanks, Alaska. Dreamed up by two Alaskans—historian Roger Williams and musher LeRoy Shank—to celebrate the old trails of trappers, gold rushers, and mail carriers, the first Quest took place in 1984. The race is open to as many as 50 participants, both men and women, who lead teams of up to 14 dogs across frozen rivers, mountain ranges, and isolated settlements. With hundred-mile-an-hour winds, dangerous ice, and three serious summits to climb (the highest, King Solomon’s Dome, is 1,158 metres), it’s no surprise that the race relies on hundreds of volunteers—bush pilots and ham-radio operators, trailbreakers and cooks—to ensure that participants stay safe along the way.

I’m no bush pilot; I can’t find my way out of most underground parking lots, let alone Ski-Doo through miles of whiteout to mark trails in the wilderness. But along with skilled and experienced volunteers, the Quest needs people to check in dog teams in Dawson City and answer questions. That, I can do.

The race takes about two weeks to complete, with a mandatory 36-hour rest period at the halfway point, Dawson City. All along the trail, vets check on the dogs—the Quest is known as the most dog-centred of sled races because sick or tired dogs can be dropped off and looked after at checkpoints. But Dawson City is the only place where a musher is permitted to receive outside help if a sled needs fixing or a harness needs replacing.

For my first Quest volunteer meeting, I decided to dress up: I wore clean jeans instead of my muddy snow pants. The meeting was in the log cabin visitors’ centre. The volunteer coordinators, Dawn and Gabby—who were both wearing snow pants—handed out scheduling information and assured me that I’d be fine, even though I had no experience whatsoever. I wasn’t afraid of dogs, was I? Well, then all I had to do was show up on time. And maybe…dress better, they said, eyeing my jeans.

It was time to get back into my snow pants.

As volunteers, we cleared the road, prepared forms, and fussed with hot beverages. Vets arriving by plane landed in the sunshine on the frozen river, race officials gathered in confabs, and as the sun set and the twilight deepened, people began phoning in from higher up the trail, reporting on who they’d seen go by. When my eight-hour shift ended, I was reluctant to leave—two-time winner Lance Mackey (who would go on to win the race for a third time) was closing in on Dawson, and I wanted to be there when he arrived.

A smidgen before midnight, he appeared on the trail, a lone headlamp swooping in from the darkness of the river. We began to cheer. I marvelled at his vigorous dogs, bouncing with enthusiasm and wagging their tails after hours on the trail. Mackey’s first action after he crossed the Dawson line was to pet each dog individually and check their paws. The icy snow can be sharp, so dogs wear protective booties, though some merrily tear them off as fast as a musher can put them on.

Throughout the night and over the next few days, teams pulled into Dawson, greeted by their friends and family. Even though some teams arrived exhausted, everyone (human and canine) was delighted to have a day-and-a-half break. Dawson boomed with supporters and media covering the race, while teams camped quietly across the river; the dogs bedded down on hay, protected from the wind by open tents.

When I wasn’t at the check-in, I was talking to volunteers and dog handlers at the bar in Bombay Peggy’s—a former brothel that now boasts the best (and perhaps only) martini in Dawson. Heading home late one night, I watched a green aurora streak across the sky.

This year, I want to learn more about mushing; novice enthusiasts can spend a day learning to mush and hanging out with the dogs at Frank Turner’s Muktuk Kennels, near Whitehorse. Turner is competing in his 24th Quest this year. “Life is pretty short, why not do the things that bring you the greatest personal satisfaction,” he writes in his profile on the Yukon Quest Web site. Exactly.

So for this Quest, I’ll be trying to keep my toes warm while waiting for the teams to show up starting around February 14. I can’t think of a better way to spend Valentine’s Day.

Access: Alternate years, the Yukon Quest starts in Fairbanks and Whitehorse; this year, 26 teams headed out on February 9 from Fairbanks with up to 113 kilograms of provisions. They camp as they go. Conditions on the trail are rough, so there’s no way of knowing precisely when the first mushers will arrive in Dawson City. You can follow the race on the Yukon Quest Web site, www.yukonquest.com/, which also includes information about volunteering. To try your hand at mushing, visit www.muktuk.com/.