Editor’s note: This weekend, Current Publishing’s Web Editor Kate Power traveled to the Mushers Bowl Winter Carnival in Bridgton to get some first-hand experience at what it takes to be a musher.
I have never been much of a winter sporting person. The idea of strapping a snowboard to my feet then hurtling down a mountain completely out of control just doesn’t seem to spell “fun” to me. Same idea with snowmobiling – I feel like I would be tempting fate if I got on a vehicle that only runs on snow and ice. As a general rule, I’m pretty klutzy, and that’s without decreasing the friction between me and the ground.
However, I had to bend my lifelong “snow shoe only” rule when I heard about the dog sled rides being offered at the Bridgton Winter Carnival. The idea sounded so cool, sitting on a musher’s sled, letting a pack of trained huskies pull me wherever I wanted to go. (Another draw is that I wouldn’t be driving the sled, so if we crashed I would have someone to blame. Unlike if I were skiing, fell, and took out a pack of children – where the responsibility of the disaster would clearly fall onto me.)
So, after a few calls, I managed to secure myself a ride on one of the sleds. I would be going with a team from “Winter Journeys Dog Sled Adventures,” a business owned by Lovell residents Andy Chakoumakos and Liz Como.
Click on the video link below to see footage of my dogsled ride!
I’m sure I made quite the picture when I showed up at Highland Lake at 10 a.m. sharp for my ride. During my rush to depart earlier that morning, I misplaced my regular jacket, so I donned a cotton-candy pink one I’d purchased on clearance sometime before. That in itself wasn’t too bad, however, my snow pants are an electric-shock, highlighter hot pink color. The ensemble, including my purple and pink mittens, made me I look like a piece of cotton candy ready to take on a blizzard.
However, I was warm, and the mushing community must be very open-minded because nobody commented on my particularly bright outfit. Sharing the sled ride with me was a woman named Shannon Migo from Ipswich, Mass. She and her husband own a home in Bridgton, and she said she’d been looking forward to the sled ride since last year.
The sled, which looks a bit like a sleeping bag with runners, fits two people. However, you can’t sit side-by-side like a you’re on a park bench (which is generally more favorable when you are sitting next to a stranger) because the sled is too skinny. Instead, one person plops down and the other sits, basically, in their lap. An ideal situation for honeymooners looking for a romantic way to spend a morning. An awkward situation for two strangers who just want to go for a dog sled ride.
Luckily, Shannon and I got along well and our close quarters didn’t bother me as much as I thought they would. I was shooting some video for our Web site (check out the video at www.keepMEcurrent.com) so she even let me sit in the front.
Andy drove the sled, and we were pulled by a team of six of their 18 dogs. Although before we set out there was enough barking to make a deaf person get rid of their dog, once we hit the trail the dogs, simply put, shut up and ran.
Although I’m sure it’s different when the dogs are being raced, there was a palpable sense of peace to the whole trip. Snowmobilers had groomed the trail earlier that day, so our trek was a relatively smooth one. It was pretty warm and the sky was a really beautiful shade of blue.
Except for my questions and the occasional “Haw” or “woah” from Andy, everything was quiet.
It’s how a skiier who isn’t petrified of becoming paralyzed must feel. You are isolated on a trail, no cell phone, no television, no distractions. Just you, snow, and wind.
Earlier that day, I’d met a woman named Alanna, who Andy and Liz are training to be a musher. Mushing had never been a dream or anything like that, she said, Liz had recruited her and talked her into the job.
“It’s easy to be corrupted,” she said as she looked out at the dogs. “And I’m hooked.”
And while I’m not hooked (I didn’t quit my job after the ride) it’s the first winter sport involving speed that I’m open to learning more about. I’ll don’t think I’ll ever be a professional musher, but if someone handed me the reins, I might be willing to give it a try.
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