On a recent episode of the Burled Arch podcast, we profiled Iditarod veteran musher, Matt Hall.
Photo credit: Tegan Hanlon/Alaska Public Media
Nestled deep within the birch and spruce forest, a three-mile long sideroad meanders off the Chena Hot Springs Road, about an hour’s journey from Fairbanks, Alaska. While traversing this path may seem straightforward on a crisp fall day, the challenges of winter loom large for those who call this remote region home. Here, amidst the swirling snow and biting cold, the life of musher Matt Hall and his partner, Elke Konetski, unfolds—a life shaped by resilience, dedication, and an unwavering bond with their sled dogs.
As visitors approach their secluded 40-acre homestead, they are greeted by the spirited chorus of 41 barking dogs that heralds the arrival at Smokin’ Aces Kennel. The dog yard opens into a clearing, encircled by dense black spruce and scattered birch trees, where rows of dog houses sit meticulously arranged, and a lively puppy pen adds a touch of playful chaos. Nearby, a cozy wood shack stands alongside a food storage cabin and a couple of aging trucks, marking the human residence—a yurt heated by a steadfast wood stove. With no connection to the power grid, Hall and Konetski rely on generators and solar panels to sustain their off-the-grid lifestyle.
Raised in the rugged wilds outside Eagle, Alaska—an area even more remote than their current home—Hall’s childhood was steeped in a subsistence lifestyle that his parents embraced. The son of a New Jersey father and an Alabama mother, Hall spent his winters on the trapline, where he developed an innate understanding of nature and the dogs that accompanied their family on the journey. From a tender age, he joined his parents in the wilderness, learning the ways of mushing as they journeyed on the trapline with a small team of strong, hardworking dogs that could travel 20 miles a day.
“My parents raised me in mushing,” Hall recounted, his memories a tapestry woven with the sounds and sights of the Alaskan bush. Homeschooling, alongside the companionship of a dozen dogs, shaped his formative years. As he grew, however, Hall sought broader horizons and ventured out into the world, experiencing life outside of his cherished wilderness. After a series of enlightening travels to places like New Jersey, Florida, and Alabama, he concluded that Alaska offered a way of life that honored nature—a life he wished to embrace wholeheartedly.
With his rich upbringing instilling him with invaluable skills—like communicating with working dogs—Hall returned to the land he adored. At just 16, he raised his first litter, blending his father’s trapline dogs with a lineage from renowned Quest musher William Kleedehn. Though racing did not initially beckon him, he found opportunity in guiding summer dog tours on Alaskan glaciers, supplementing his income and fueling his passion for dogs.
Eventually, Hall settled near Fairbanks, purchasing 40 acres of raw land in Two Rivers, surrounded by fellow mushers and accessible trails. Yet the abundance of peers posed a new challenge: training his dogs in conditions tough enough for their rigorous needs was becoming a daunting task. “It’s hard to find trail conditions that teach my team to break trail,” he mused, reflecting on the competitive nature of his environment.
As days turned into years, Hall transitioned from musher to racer, seeking to intertwine his love for sled dogs with competitive racing. Inspired by the legends of the Iditarod, he sought to train alongside the best, absorbing knowledge from every checkpoint during races, patiently observing rivals—not merely to outpace them for the moment but to glean wisdom for future victories.
His racing journey began in 2012 with the Top of the World 350, where the essential lessons on hydration and sleep became clear. From there, Hall’s drive propelled him through various races, culminating in the Yukon Quest—his heart’s calling, deeply connected to his childhood roots in Eagle. Earning Rookie of the Year in 2014 and later emerging victorious in 2017, Hall made his mark on the racing world.
Yet, balancing the logistics of racing those grueling 1,000-mile trails proved a Herculean task, requiring extensive support and coordination. With the Yukon Quest recently splitting into two race organizations and discontinuing the long-distance race, Hall adjusted his aspirations, embracing the challenge of the 300-mile iteration, where he triumphantly emerged victorious.
Of the 41 dogs in his kennel, 24 are currently in training for the race team—an exciting increase for Hall who previously trained 18. Though the Iditarod remains his singular focus as Alaska’s last great 1,000-mile race, he remains grounded in his pursuit: a top-five finish is the goal for now, with dreams of claiming the race title awaiting the horizon.
As Hall reflects on the heritage of his dogs, he recounts how his original eight formed a foundation from the crossing of his father’s breed and Kleedehn’s bloodlines. Today, his breeding objectives draw upon not only lineage but also the philosophies of successful mushers—emphasizing the importance of temperament
and physicality in his dogs. He aims for larger, resilient animals, typically weighing between 50 and 60 pounds, while grappling with the complexities of perfecting the breeding process. Hall acknowledges that while bloodlines provide a solid foundation, the true determinants of success lie in diligent training and comprehensive animal husbandry.
He approaches the challenge of rearing young dogs with a deliberate and nurturing philosophy. Hall prefers to wait until they are three years old to introduce them to racing, focusing initially on creating positive experiences that foster trust and a strong bond between the dog and musher. At eight months, the puppies experience harness training through short runs, cleverly constructing routines that keep the training process lively and engaging. Hall describes his unique strategy of ensuring that runs conclude with the exhilaration of freedom. Instead of returning home directly, they veer just shy of the yard, allowing the dogs to race ahead, eagerly anticipating the end of their run as they dash back to the yard on their own.
This playful approach instills in the dogs a desire to see their runs as an adventure rather than a chore, ensuring they associate the experience with joy. The second year of their lives sees these pups working as tour dogs, gently exposed to various people and environments, teaching them to remain calm amidst excitement; a crucial skill for any racer.
“It’s about building a work ethic that concludes with a burst of fun,” Hall explains, believing that instilling a strong work-play balance lays the groundwork for successful racing careers. His training style emphasizes that returning to the yard should not signal the end of a journey but rather an extension of the adventure. “You’d be surprised how many dog mushers don’t have a team that can run through their own yard,” he reflects, recognizing the significance of familiarizing dogs with high-stress environments similar to race checkpoints.
Hall’s thoughts drift to the broader question many ask mushers: why dedicate oneself to such a demanding pursuit? For him, the answer transcends financial gain—it speaks to the heart. He acknowledges the rising costs of food, the thinning prize purses, and the arduous nature of the profession but insists that the motivation to continue stems from a deep-seated passion for the lifestyle. “It never made sense in the first place, and now it truly doesn’t. Who starts a sled dog kennel with the ambition of getting rich?” he questions, his voice tinged with bemusement.
To Hall, it’s about the connection—between himself and the land, between himself and his dogs, and the shared moments of triumph and hardship that define each mile traveled together. With every race, every bark from the kennels and every wisp of snow stirring in the gentle Alaskan breeze, the musher’s deep-rooted love for this lifestyle remains unshaken, a testament to commitment, resilience, and the bond that binds he and his team on their relentless pursuit of adventure.
In this world of sled dogs and snow, Matt Hall is not just a musher; he is a custodian of a way of life, embracing the wild beauty of Alaska while shaping a future that honors the trails paved by those who came before him.
We are using a cool card deck that Robert found at an outdoor conference a couple of years ago to help come up with ideas for this story. Check them out here.