Dragged on your face by sled dogs

The Eagle Cap Extreme sled dog race launched their doggies yesterday from Ferguson Ridge Ski Area outside of Joseph.

 On Donner, Freckles, Sparky and Shep . . . hyah, hyah. . .

I used to report on these races for KWVR Radio and here's what the coverage would sound like:

"We're here with sled dog musher So-and-So, who ran the Idita–BARK-BARK-YIPE-YIPE-HOWL-BARK-DOG NOISE-BARK (two minutes of this) . . . now, back to the studio."

Sounds a lot like a Rush Limbaugh interview.
"Long-time listener, first-time barker...." 

Pretty cool to see schoolkids up there rooting for mushers with hand-made signs. It was kind of like being at a football game, except in the snow with teams of sled dogs instead of football teams.

My trusty pooch Bula is part husky, part collie, part sheperd and would have made a fine sled dog back in her younger days, judging by how she would pull my arms from their sockets when I tried taking her on walks connected to a leash.

The worst phase was when she kind of got the hang of not pulling with a thousand pounds of force, so I'd be lulled into just walking along until she exploded after a chipmunk or the whispering wind or whatever she was always chasing and – boop – there would go my arm and blood would be spraying everywhere, my detached hand and arm dragging after her, still clutching the leash.

I'd catch up with her down the trail and she'd either be chewing on the chipmunk or my hand and I'd have to sew my scratched-up appendage back on, which is a trick when you're missing an appendage. It was a real hassle.

You get one of these when you join the Jack London Book Club.

The guy in this next photo probably understands the downside of having dogs that just want to pull when it's not convenient.

His sled caught an edge on a tight corner, tipped over and he got drug on his face for a while. Once he got it righted, the dogs took off and jerked the sled away before he could get settled in, so he slowed them down by dragging his kneecaps in the snow. His technique is pictured here:

Whoah . . . whoah . . . sit . . . lay down . . . stop . . . alto . . . cease . . . desist . . .

He'd get them slowed down enough and try and get up. Almost get to his feet, then – boop – the dogs would shoot off, yank the sled away and he'd go back to the kneecap technique for a while. This got repeated for about a hundred yards or so, and it sure looked like a fun game. Hard on the ski pants, though. It looked just like me trying to learn how to waterski, including shouting at whoever was dragging me.

Then he finally got upright and mushed off around the corner, straightening his hat, presumably enjoying the nice chilly breeze on all the new abrasions he just collected on his face.

This was half-a-mile into a 30-something mile course, so he had plenty of time to reflect on his joy of  owning a team of real go-getters.