|
Dog sledding
Now this should be my kind of winter sport, I thought as I pulled up to Winter
Journeys in Lovell, Maine. I take in the scenery and the dogs do all the work.
|
DOG SLEDDING
|
|
Winter Journeys (RR 2, Box 1105, Lovell, Maine) offers day and half-day dog sledding trips. A seven-hour trip, including lunch and instruction, is $150 per person. A four-hour trip is $85 per person. Trips are generally restricted to four people and reservations are required. Call 207-928-2026 or e-mail [email protected].
For a longer trip, Mahoosuc Guide Service (Bear River Road, Newry, Maine) offers two, three, and four-day dog sledding trips, in addition to single day trips. Reservations are required. Day trips run from Tuesday through Thursday and are $125 per person. Two and three day weekend trips are $325 and $400. Longer trips range from $750 to $2,750. For more information, call 207-824-2073, e-mail info@mahoosuc or log onto the web page at www.mahoosuc.com.
|
|
It didn't quite work out that way. Instead of a restful ride, I got an adrenaline rush.
Most sled dogs owners raise them strictly for racing, but a few people in New England have turned their love of the sport into a business. About 3 1/2 hours north of Boston, near Sunday River in Bethel, Maine, Liz Como and husband Andy Chakoumakos offer dog sledding day trips from their house.
With dog sledding, you can take a hands-on approach or simply stand back and wait for the ride to start. I soon found myself slipping harnesses over the dogs and clipping them to the gangline. Many of the dogs were a mix of husky and malamute bred specifically for sledding. Each is able to pull between 50 and 100 pounds. And they are just as friendly as they are strong.
Before I began harnessing the dogs, I was struck by guilt pangs. Do they actually like pulling around a sled? I asked Como. Judge for yourself, she told me.
I soon discovered that the dogs' excitement matched mine. They couldn't wait to get going and didn't hesitate as I helped slip their legs through the harnesses.
Before we took to the trails, Como filled me in on some of the misconceptions of the sport. First off: "Mush!" is not a command. The person who drives the sled is called a musher and the sport is called mushing, but at no point during the day did I hear Como yell "mush" to the seven-dog team. Instead, she frequently called "Let's go, doggies" or "gee" for a right turn and "haw" for a left turn. No whips, just verbal commands.
For the first leg of the trip, I sat in front and Como stood behind me, directing the team. I expected a leisurely run, but these dogs really moved. The 10 m.p.h. clip felt much faster, especially from a dog's-eye view.
It wasn't a particularly smooth ride, but after a while I forgot about the bumps and focused on the passing trees and mountains. We had to watch out for hazards like low branches, but not so much as to ruin the ride.
About halfway though the trip, Como gave me a chance to drive the team. I stood behind the sled, a foot on each runner, and held on tightly. Como stood behind me, and started calling out commands to the dogs. The sensation of standing, balancing, and moving was like that of water skiing at a low speed. Once I got used to it, driving the sled seemed easier than sitting in it.
It can be an educational experience or recreation depending on your willingness to get involved. But as I found out, it's hard not to get involved with the dogs. I'm more of a cat person, but the dogs' enthusiasm is contagious. I had a chance to play with a litter of puppies before my ride, and enjoyed my time working with the dogs as much as I enjoyed the ride itself. If someone invents a dog sled with a good pair of shock absorbers, I think I've found my ideal winter sport.
|
