In the starting chute at the Tahquemenon Sled Dog Race, I waited two minutes for my exact start time to arrive. The dogs were barking and lunging, 10 of them, waiting for the brake to release so they could surge ahead.
The timer leaned over and said, “It’s a mess out there. There are teams without drivers and drivers without teams”—not exactly what I wanted to hear as I was about to go.
Two days prior a steady rain had fallen which then froze, and even though the area had several feet of snow, the rain had firmed up the trail, crystallizing the snow and making it somewhat icy.
We shot out of the chute, and the strength of these dogs took my breath. Within a quarter mile we hit our first big turn, 90 degrees to the right.
One thing about this race course is that there are many intersections and turns in the trail, and for whatever reason, this gets the dogs very excited. They sped toward the turn as I braked, but finally, at the last second, I let the brake go as we veered around the corner, and the runners of my sled slid sideways like a racecar skidding on a track. I leaned into it just right, though, and we kept going. It turns out a few teams lost their musher right there, a quarter mile out of the chute.
There were many turns after this, and my dogs sped up at each one. Some teams had been successful at dumping their musher on each of these turns. I learned later that Kendra, our handler, who was running a team in the race, had approached a turn, slowed down, and then thought she needed to speed up, so she did and ended up falling into the center splits. She lost her team, the sled stayed upright, and off they ran without her.
A race organizer picked her up on a snowmobile, and they sped off toward the team. The trail was narrow, and they couldn’t get alongside the team. Finally, they got close enough, and Laura, also a musher, jumped from the snowmobile toward the sled, knocking it over and thus stopping the team.
It was a fast run for both of us, though Kendra’s team was faster than mine. Overnight it snowed, and we did it again the following day, but the corners weren’t quite so harrowing with the fresh snow. Kendra placed seventh, and I placed 10th.
My daughter Sylvia ran her first race as well, placing fourth out of seven kids. She managed to pull off a “pass” and said she fell over twice but was able to hang on to the sled. I think she’s hooked.
Though I stayed upright during the race, I’ve had my share of mushing excitement in training. A few weeks ago, we did a run, camped for a few hours with the dogs, and then prepared to do another run. We were set up behind my husband Matt, who was going to groom a trail around a small lake for us to do a turnaround. Kendra was behind me with her team. We were all ready to go, and Matt fired up the snowmachine. I released my rope just a touch too early, and with a jolt, we were going, except Matt hadn’t quite left, and maybe we hit a small tree, too.
I’m not exactly sure of the events, but what I do know is that I quickly overturned my sled, and as we crunched against a tree, I let go of the handlebar and was about to lose the team when suddenly I felt something grip my foot, and then I was flat on my back. We burst onto the lake, and I was being dragged by my foot, which was caught in the brake of my sled.
I wasn’t in any terrible pain. I took note of that. Somehow I hadn’t broken anything. Even so, I was bouncing along on my hip and side, and it didn’t feel great. My knee rotated in a way it wasn’t supposed to, and snow was making its way into every crevice of my clothes.
I screamed for Matt on the snowmobile, but he was unaware of my predicament. The more I screamed, the faster my dogs ran, and I was helpless to do anything. Finally, Sylvia, who was on the snowmachine with Matt, got him to stop and come to my rescue. I had lost a glove on my way down to the lake, and as we hit the trail again, a mitten bounced out of my sled, too. I did the second run with a liner glove and one mitt. Luckily, it wasn’t that cold.
I’d like to believe I have made all the mistakes before the big race. As I write this, the John Beargrease Sled Dog Marathon is 12 days away. There are 22 teams in the marathon, which is slated to start from Billy’s Bar in Duluth and end in Grand Portage. Trail marking has begun, and despite marginal conditions near Duluth, the race is slated to go on. What this year’s event brings will soon unfold.