Dogsledding

With the start of this year's Iditarod in Alaska and some of Jack London's stories resonating in my distant memory, we set off on a blistering winter day in Leadville, CO for a mini-dogsled adventure. We wanted to get a tiny taste of that 1150 mile adventure. At the very least, we would see the dogs up close and feel their pull on the sled.

At 10,000 feet in a valley, the piled winter's snow covered everything, and the cloud cover changed from moment to moment. A haloed sun peaked through near whiteout conditions. Our rented car was only two-wheel drive, much to the shagrin of the upgrade happy saleswoman at the Denver International Airport, but we made it on the well-paved state highways winding through the central Rockies. Anyway, the ranch was only a few miles outside of town.

There are ninety-five dogs at this particular ranch all with their own little dog houses. We were introduced to each individual that would pull our sled.

There were three vantage points provided during this couple hour ride. The coziest, of course, was being nestled in the sled, wrapped in a blanket with only your face exposed to the elements. The second was the person at the helm, in charge of the brake, yelling "mush" to the ten dog team. And because we really didn't know what we were doing, there was the seat on the sled being pulled by a snowmobile about thirty yards in front of the dogs.

We finished up the couple hours with a drive back to town, and some local brews with the welcoming folks at Rosie's BrewPub.