True Grit: Copper Dog 2014

Merriam-Webster
grit   noun
    : a hard sharp granule (as of sand);
    : firmness of mind or spirit: unyielding courage in the face of hardship or danger

To me
    : having goals and sticking to them against all odds; follow through; perseverance

In Malcolm Gladwell's bestselling book, Outliers: the Story of Success, the thesis is simple: we put too much stock into what success looks like and not where it comes from. Gladwell argues that successful people have certain traits and qualities that help shape them to become successful.

Gladwell also asserts that one has to spend about 10,000 hours at anything to become truly gifted at it. "Achievement," writes Gladwell, "is talent plus preparation. The problem with this view is that the closer psychologists look at the careers of the gifted, the smaller the role innate talent seems to play and the bigger the role preparation seems to play."

You gotta love something an awful lot to spend 10,000 hours doing it. As I drove up I-75 north toward Michigan's Upper Peninsula this past Thursday for the second time in two weeks, I tried to calculate how many hours I have spent behind dog butts in the last eight years. I've certainly spent 10,000 hours in the last 8 years driving hundreds of miles up I-75. But how many hours have I spent driving dogs?

Michigan is a blur of snow and rest stops. Lake Michigan fades into Lake Superior. Miles go by and eventually I arrive at Keweenaw Bay. I've gotten so good at these road trips up I-75, I can practically do them in my sleep.

It has taken me eight years to even know how to begin to get serious about this sport and how to train competitively. A rookie erroneously puts too much stock into simply hooking dogs, running them and accumulating training miles. This vastly over-simplified way of training dogs is inadequate. This season, I changed my way of thinking about training dogs, focusing on not quantity of runs/miles/hook ups, but quality. While training, I focused on speed bursts later in the season; while racing, I focused on keeping our speeds consistent throughout an entire leg. Sometimes, my training runs might have been short, but I consistently hooked up at least four days a week, and sometimes five. I was more consistent in my training than ever this season.

My dogs are talented athletes. But without the proper preparation, that foundation would fall short. It is my job as trainer and musher to provide them with the best preparation.

The Race

Many have said I'm crazy for driving as far as I do just to jump on a sled for a race. And maybe I am. But, back to those qualities that make successful people, I come from a family of grit, and I think sheer determination is a backbone to success.

I was nervous at the start of the race, I admit. I had never run the Copper Dog 40 and I knew, among other things, that there were 20-some road crossings along the way and the last 10 - 15 miles was full of hills. At the last minute, I changed my dog choices because my main leader was coming into heat. I left the chute with Big Brown and Ruffian in lead; Tosh and Fiona in point behind the leaders and Perry and Wailer bringing up the rear in wheel.

But right away, I began having issues. About two miles out of the start, Ruffian kept looking back at Tosh, balking and slowing the team way down. I'm not sure what she was thinking, but after stopping and trying to get her to focus several times, I decided about three miles into the race to hook down and switch leaders out.

This was risky. Tosh, who is two years old, has only led a handful of times on shorter training runs and never on a race, where there is far more pressure. It was risky also because Big Brown was coming into heat.

As soon as I put Tosh in lead, however, we flew. He kept his head despite the many road crossings staffed with people and the girl in heat next to him. It was the best decision I could have made.

I really have nothing else to report about the race! The trail was fast and beautiful. I saw more stars than I've ever seen in that part of the country. It was very cold this weekend. I turned off my headlamp at one point, hoping to see the Northern Lights, but did not. On the drive up Thursday night, my dashboard thermometer hit -25.

We finished the 42.6 miles from Calumet to Eagle River in 4 hours, 31 minutes and 30 seconds.

I am told by several people that I have grit. My Marine father was more tenacious than anyone I knew growing up, and his legacy has certainly carried forward with me. And, although my mother was a home maker until I was 13, she also cared for seven kids. She could put her feet firmly in the sand and not budge an inch if she chose to. I had no choice but to have grit.

I want to harness this feeling. There is nothing more rewarding than working so hard for something and watching it come to fruition. Success is less about intelligence as it is about perseverance, less about status as it is about culture.

I am not saying I am successful, but I have grown more this season as a musher - and I think as a person - than any other season prior. Mushing has taught me what I am made of, shown me that I am stronger than I think I am. I had a feeling the team could place in the top 10 in this last race of the season, and they did. And I am in love with my dogs. They run for the joy of running and pull their hearts out, all for me and for love of the trail and what's around the next corner. I have no idea how many hours we have spent at this, but I put more miles (we hit just over 900) on the team this year than ever. That's a lot of hours shared between my furry friends and I.

Here is a video I made of the race start and switching leaders 3 miles in. What a fabulous way to end a season. Our best season yet.

"We all have our time machines. Some take us back, they're called memories. Some take us forward, they're called dreams." Jeremy Irons

We leave Thursday for our final race of the season, the Copper Dog, in Calumet, Michigan - a gorgeous part of Michigan known as "Copper Country." It was once a hub for copper mining; at one time, this area produced over half of the nation's copper. It is part of the Keweenaw Peninsula, which is a beautiful and remote area of Michigan that juts out into Lake Superior.

It is the longest distance we travel for a race at over 750 miles away. There are two races: a 10-dog, 150 mile race in three stages, and a 6-dog, 40-some mile race in one stage. We are doing the 40 mile race. Both races start at night.

Sometimes, I think I am crazy. I train these dogs for hours and hours (we have 850 miles on the team as of this writing), only to drive for hundreds of miles to races to put the dogs on the ground and drive them for several more miles. But, dreams can make us crazy, and sometimes we do crazy things in pursuit of dreams. Part of being free is having the ability to pursue "crazy" dreams - even if they don't entirely make sense. "Freedom is just another word for nothin' left to lose" said the late great Janis Joplin...

This morning I spent some time thinking about which dogs will race on the Copper Dog team. Here is the line up:

As always, my trusted leaders, sisters Big Brown and Ruffian will lead the way through the darkness.

Big Brown, only 38 pounds but the best little lead dog anyone could ask for

Big Brown's intense sister, Ruffian. She is the get-up-and-go. If we go too slow, she barks at the team to "Giddy up!"

In point position behind the lead dogs, I have chosen Fiona and Dirk. 

Two-year-old Dirk is an up-and-coming leader with a ton of drive and potential. All the boys hate him because he is handsome and all the girls adore him. His nickname is "Dirk the Jerk" because of it

Sweet Fiona has run such legendary races as the John Beargrease Marathon. She is tireless and just getting warmed up after 20 miles 

And rounding out our six dog team, in wheel position are brothers, Tosh and Perry.

Tosh after the Midnight Run last week. Tosh is a super sweet, sensitive two-year-old boy who is  also an up-and-coming leader

Tosh's brother, Perry, is also super sweet and sensitive and is my biggest dog on the team. At about 58 pounds, Perry is a very hard worker who brings a lot of muscle and power to the team

And I am bringing one extra dog, Cinder, just so I have an extra dog in case I change my mind for whatever reason come race time.

Cinder is also only three, but has a lot of drive and is whip-smart

We leave on Thursday after a Skype session I have scheduled for an elementary school in Roaring Brook, New York. It's hard to believe this will be our last race of the season! Our race will end sometime late Friday night/early Saturday morning. We have trained harder this season than ever before. I hate to see it end, but hope we end on a happy note! I plan to spend the weekend helping out other teams at the race and shooting photos of beautiful Copper Harbor. Stay tuned and you can follow our results on the Copper Dog site or on our Facebook page.

Mush love!
Shannon and the Diamond Dogs

Nothing ventured, nothing gained: 2014 Midnight Run

"He that nought n'assayeth, nought n'acheveth,."Troilus and Criseyde
    - Geoffrey Chaucer, 1374

The team and I set out on our third consecutive Midnight Run, a 90 mile sled dog race, this past weekend in Marquette, Michigan. There is a saying in mushing "run your race." This means, don't get caught up in stress about what your competitors are doing. Keep your focus on what's important: your team. Heading up north, my strategy was simple: run our race. On the drive home, I had lots of time to reflect - and laugh - about some things I lost on the race. Conversely, I had time to reflect on many more things gained.

There were many challenges throughout this training season right up until the last minute leading up to the race. For one, I had to teach until 10 p.m. Wednesday night. The mandatory drivers' (mushers) meeting was in Marquette, Michigan, 11 hours away at 4 p.m. the next day. Doing the math, it's clear that didn't leave a lot of time for things like, say, sleeping. I drove until 2 a.m., stopping to camp near Saginaw, Michigan. I rose about 7 a.m. the next morning, dropped dogs and hit the road again, narrowly making it to Marquette at almost exactly 3 p.m. with just enough time to check into the motel, drop dogs and head into the mushers' meeting.

I was super excited to receive a new-to-me sled that has special meaning. It belonged to one of my best friends, Emily Wade, who handled for me on my very first Midnight Run in 2012.

Me (left) and Emily (right) before my very first Midnight Run in 2012

I hoped it would be a good talisman for the race. Emily moved back home to the west last year after living in Marquette for two.
 

The "new" sled: a Sled Dog Systems K-2, inside the motel after I'd changed the runner plastic

The next morning brought new challenges, as snow fell throughout the night. I got rid of my truck and replaced it with a more fuel-efficient Mazda Tribute last summer. The Tribute was no match for a Marquette snowfall while pulling my 13 foot dog trailer, however, and it became quickly apparent I wouldn't make it to the vet check, let alone the race start in this vehicle.

Thankfully, my good friend, Sharon Curtice's brother, Paul, arrived with an all wheel drive van and pulled us to the vet check. Her friend Carl Hansen would arrive later to handle for the race with a Chevy Tahoe. Miraculously, 15 minutes late, we arrived at the vet checks.

Cinder (black dog) and Perry (brown and white dog) are listened to by the fabulous veterinary team before the Midnight Run

Ruffian gives kisses to the vet at the vet checks before the Midnight Run

All the dogs checked out with flying colors. Now we just had to wait for Carl to arrive and get to the downtown start. Not only did Carl arrive, but friends Krystal Hagstrom and her boyfriend, Josh Hudachek came from Bayfield, Wisconsin to help out, too! Suddenly, things were all falling into place. I began to relax.

We arrived at the downtown start in Marquette with almost two hours to set up and prepare. I had a GoPro to record the downtown start - something I had always wanted to do - but for some reason, it kept shutting off. Unfortunately, I do not have much footage. I am very disappointed about that!

We hit the starting chute at 8:30 p.m. with 750 training miles on the team. I was concerned about the mileage a bit because, even though we had done the Midnight Run twice before, it had never been this long. In years past, it was 70 miles. Before I had time to blink, we were off into the night, past the crowded streets of downtown Marquette, alone with my eight best canine friends - exactly where I like to be. I am always nervous until we pull the hook.

The first leg of the race runs out of town along a snowmobile trail next to Lake Superior for 17 miles, and it is my favorite part. People make bonfires and camp out along the trail on snowmobiles, cheering and clapping for the dog teams; kids hang out of car windows smiling at the dogs as they pass by, and the dogs seem genuinely jazzed by all the attention.

I had trained faster this season, but I never know how the team will gel until we are out there. Our first leg was flawless. After about 10 miles, I breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. The team looked beautiful, loping along in the night. I was so proud of them. I had watched three of these dogs - who are still young two year olds - take their first breath; I had trained all of them from puppyhood with the exception of three. Watching them blossom into such phenomenal athletes loping along the shore was breath taking. I held the drag mat down for the first hour to preserve energy in the dogs, but we still hit speeds of 13 miles per hour and held our place solidly in a totally clean run for the first 30 miles. It was only in the last 15 miles, when the trail steadily climbs a long, slow grade, that we lost some time. We arrived at the checkpoint in Chatham almost exactly when I predicted, at 2:01 a.m.

After caring for the dogs, and getting a few hours of sleep myself, Josh woke me at 6 a.m. by shining a headlamp in my eyes and saying "rise and shine!" Lovely. Thanks, Josh! I rose immediately to prepare for the second leg. We left the Chatham checkpoint at 7:57 a.m. My friend and fellow photographer, Nace Hagemann drove from Minnesota to shoot photos of the teams, and he shot these beautiful photos of my team leaving the Chatham checkpoint. Please visit his web site! He is amazingly talented.

...going

...going

...gone

The second leg was beautiful and clean.  I ran along the trail with my friend, Chad Grentz, who got into this sport right around when I did. Chad and I have grown up the ranks of these races right around the same time, and so it is fitting that we seem to run together often at races. We made conversation along the beautiful trail until I finally stopped to snack my team, and he passed. It was a gorgeous day, and the team was moving well at about 8-9 mph - still a decent pace. I wondered what I had done to be blessed with such a clean moving team of wonderful dogs and such a clean race. Other teams who I considered far stronger had scratched from the race. I beamed with pride. But...I must have jinxed it.

About an hour and a half from the finish, while running along the snowmobile trail, a snowmobile came up behind us. He turned right onto a connecting trail in front of the team, and the dogs instinctively followed. I had my drag mat tied up with a neckline because the bungees were worn and it wouldn't stay up on its own like it should have, despite having worked on it at the Chatham checkpoint. I couldn't react quickly enough before my team was headed down that connector trail. I called my leaders to "come haw" which means to turn the team around to the left, and my best lead dog, Big Brown (BB for short), pulled the entire team around with all of her tiny 38 pound strength.

In dog mushing, things happen in an instant. A perfectly clean run can turn disastrous in the blink of an eye. A large part of the sport is, in fact, dealing with adversity. Cinder, a larger female in my team, hates BB. They had a spat when I first acquired Cinder last year, and neither one of them have ever forgotten it. And as Shakespeare said, hell hath no fury...and this moment was no exception. Though Cinder was two positions back from Big Brown in the team, when BB turned the team around on that narrow stretch of trail, Cinder did not hesitate to seize the opportunity to unleash her wrath upon little BB.

At that time, my friend and fellow musher, Amber Evans, came upon us on the trail. She yelled for my leaders, and eventually they came toward her. But then I realized my sled wasn't hooked down well at all. The team started to surge forward, and I watched in horror as my sled lunged forward without me while my wheel dog, Wailer, was wrapped up in the gangline, head buried in a deep snow drift. As the gangline clamped down on his rear leg, I could hear his muffled screams under the snow. The team kept surging forward, and I admit it: I panicked a bit and said quite a few choice four-letter words. I tried in vain to release Wailer's leg from the gangline. I screamed. I cursed. I started to think I would have to cut the gangline to release him. But that would mean the rest of my team would go charging up the trail. I panicked again.

Then, finally, I stopped for a second and thought clearly. In a flash, I unhooked the tug line of the dogs in front of Wailer, relieving the pressure on the gangline and, subsequently, on his leg. I gently unwrapped it from his leg and he popped up out of the snow drift as though nothing had happened.

We inched forward and I stomped the snow hook more securely into the snow. I wiped the blood from BB and examined her wounds, and stretched Wailer's leg to make sure there were no breaks or injuries. Miraculously, he was completely fine. I walked back to the sled, hupped the dogs, and away we went. I apologized to Amber as we passed her for my four-letter words :)

As we turned the corner back onto the snowmobile trail that runs along the shore and headed for Marquette, I was shocked. What seemed to take so long the night before had taken only three hours. We headed into the last 17 miles of the trail, and I began to see signs of life: people standing along the trail cheering for teams as they passed. I was concerned about BB and considered bagging her; I stopped again to check her wounds. Amazingly, she was moving effortlessly despite the puncture in her cheek. I decided to keep her in the team.

In the last 10 miles, I saw a male musher in the distance behind me. He was far enough back that I couldn't tell who he was, but I could see he was working hard to try to catch me. I was working hard to prevent him from catching me! He was very tall, though, and had a great stride when he was running. Before long, he narrowed the gap between us. He tried to pass, but his leaders clothes-lined me. I pulled the leaders around, and he called one of the dogs names; I immediately recognized the dog. I said, "hey! I know that name! Who are you?" It turned out, he was a musher from Minnesota named Mike Hoff. We chatted from there until the end of the race, leap-frogging with me passing him, and then him passing me again.

Mike Hoff and I chatting through the streets of Marquette at the finish, as captured by Nace Hagemann once again

Mike and I got lots of passing practice for the dogs and talked about all kinds of stuff along the way. It was great running along the last few miles with him. We came across the finish line with two seconds between us.

Mike and I again coming through the streets of downtown Marquette

So, another race is in the books as they say, and we placed 19th (by two seconds) out of 29 teams who started the 2014 Midnight Run with all 8 dogs on the line. One of the mushers at the awards banquet said something to the effect of, "it's taken me 12 years of running dogs to place in the money; it will probably take me another 10 to come in 1st." How true this is. There is so much to learn in this sport, and every season, I fine-tune what I know and learn so much more. I had hoped to place in the money this time, and may have done just that if I hadn't had issues along that second leg. Regardless, I am very proud of how this race went.

On the drive home, I realized I lost something during the race and giggled. Perhaps running up the hills those last 15 miles of the first leg had me grinding my teeth a little too much, for I lost a filling in a very back molar, which now has a hole in it. This caused me to reflect on some other things that I lost along the race trail, but, more importantly, made me reflect on what I've gained.

Things lost on the 2014 Midnight Run
1. A filling
2. A blinking red leader light, which was recovered by my friend, Mike Betz (thanks Mike).
3. Five pounds - of which I do not want back!
4. Considerable amounts of sleep
5. Quite a bit of money
6. My MacBook Pro, which now mysteriously will not launch since I returned to Ohio

Things gained during the 2014 Midnight Run
1. Experience. Running dogs is an exercise in calculated chaos. There are so many potentially unknown variables. Every mile down the trail brings more grace in my abilities as a dog driver and my abilities to handle and almost thrive in the unknown.
2. Poise. The ability to think calmly and clearly under pressure. When mayhem broke loose on the second leg, my first reaction was to panic. I had to deliberately breathe through that panic, calm down and find a solution.
3. Resilience. Despite the challenges this season has presented, I have found the courage to bypass those challenges and remain focused and steadfast in my goals.
4. Countless friends and a renewed faith in the goodness of people.

Much thanks to Chad Schouweiler, Sharon Curtice and Joann Fortier, who, without their countless hours of advice and endearment I would not have gotten this far. Thanks to Krystal Hagstrom and her boyfriend, Josh Hudachek for handling for my team and to Carl Hanson for taking care of my team and me during the race. Thanks to Mike Hoff and Chad Grentz for great trail conversations and to Amber Evans for sticking by me when shit was hitting the fan. Thanks to faithful sponsors, Dennis Waite, Jim and Martha Conway and SueAnn Henry who believe in me, for whatever reason! Thanks to Nace Hagemann for his beautiful photos. Thanks to countless volunteers who devote hours and hours to host these spectacular events and help keep us and our dogs safe. And, mostly, thanks to my parents for raising me to believe in myself and my dreams and thanks, most of all to my amazing, beautiful dogs.

Our next and final race, The Copper Dog, is in two weeks, on March 1 in Calumet, Michigan.

"Man, I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same." Jacob Dylan

It's official: I removed the dog boxes (portable dog houses that fit on the back of my truck where the dogs ride) from The Black Mamba (my truck) today, calling an official end to my season. Incidentally, this weekend most of my friends are traveling to races that traditionally mark the end of the season as well: the Iditarod, and, closer to home, the Copper Dog 150.

Signs of spring are already emerging here at the Ranch - and our winter was hardly a winter to begin with. 

While I am saddened to see this hallmark season pass, I am so proud of my dogs and what we've accomplished together. I have spent more time with my dogs this season than at any other point in our lives.

We've covered hundreds of miles and hours alone on trails in the glorious fall of the Upper Peninsula and here in Ohio together. My team had merely 750 miles on them when we hit the Midnight Run trail, and that number pales in comparison to the miles other teams had on them for that same race, not to mention the thousands of miles logged on a longer distance team.

Given the number of hours dogs spend with their mushers every season, is it any wonder the bond between us is one of the strongest between animals and humans? 

My yearling, Miles, at the Chatham checkpoint during the Midnight Run

I took a nap yesterday - a glorious treat - and while napping, I dreamed of running dogs. It was a straight forward dream (no hidden Freudian meanings to decipher) of simply being on my four wheeler with the dogs lined out running as we have done for so many hours this season. I awoke from the dream when I got off the four wheeler and started moving dogs around on the line.

I suspect a person has to spend a lot of time doing something before it becomes infiltrated into a person's psyche enough to dream about it.

I know how to read all the little nuances in my dogs. I know the look Yeti has when he is about to stop my entire team to take a dump. I know when I call a command, Ruffian will answer me with a commanding bark of her own, as if she is telling the whole team they had better listen, or else! I know every 30 seconds or so, Gwennie will look over at her son, Kerouac, and they will smile at each other while running in tandem as if to say, "isn't this great?!" I know to put a cable neckline on Aspen. :)

Some of my dogs are small (Gwennie weighs 35 lbs; Big Brown about the same); some of the dogs are larger (Yeti is 66 lbs, and Freya is close behind weighing in at about 58 lbs), yet, we move as a unit, one flowing, cohesive flow of energy all working toward the same goal. Sometimes, the dogs look like horses on a merry-go-round, bobbing and flying through the air with such grace and beauty, they almost bring tears to my eyes.

I have not changed this season, but this season has changed me. The dogs have changed me. The trail has changed me. And I can't go back. These hours spent moving forward with my dogs have melded us and shaped me.

To all of my friends embarking on their final hurray, I am thinking of you and your doggies. Good luck, and ....

Seventh grade science class in Elizabethtown, KY learns about dog sledding from Diamond Dogs

I am an educator first, before I've been anything else. I have taught grade-schoolers all the way up to middle-aged college freshmen returning to school. I spent seven years doing health education beside the beds of critically ill cardiac, Cystic Fibrosis, cancer and burn patients. I was raised to believe - and believe whole-heartedly - that education is the key to what makes or breaks us in life. It can change beliefs, prejudices, habits and lives.

Embracing my inner geek

I have been pleasantly surprised at how relevant and far reaching education can span within dog sledding. It involves tons of science: biology, genetics, ecology, geography. And one of my favorites: history!

Most know I do lots of educational presentations about dog sledding, but today was the first day I Skyped with an entire classroom of students about dog sledding! Technology offers such cool ways to learn about dog sledding - and science - from afar. I was impressed with the questions Ms. Kim Swickard's 7th grade science class at T.K. Stone Middle School asked me during our dog sledding Skype session today. They asked thoughtful questions, like how do you train the dogs, and how often do people get hurt in dog sledding. They also asked things like what kind of sports I played as a kid, and what I do in my spare time.

Finally, one student asked a question that has been popping around backstage in my mind, the question probably all mushers are asked and entertain at some point: do you ever want to run a long distance race like Iditarod. 

Almost six years ago, I said I had a short-term goal to run the U.P. 200. I keep running longer races, and no matter how long, no matter how many hours I am out there on the sled, I never want it to end.

I have always said I have no desire to run any kind of super distance marathon like Iditarod - the lack of sleep alone would just about kill me, not to mention it is super expensive: just the entry fee for Iditarod costs about as much as a fairly decent used car.

But something has shifted in me this season. I just keep doing longer races, and at the end of every one of them, I don't want it to end. And, as I said to my friend and mentor, Jodi Bailey, I started thinking,  if my dogs can do a 42 mile race at a 9.1 mile an hour pace, that's kinda like running from one checkpoint to the next in the Iditarod. It always seemed overwhelming to think about until now: 1,150 miles. Holy shit. Who does that? But now, I think, it's just a series of 42 mile, 18 mile, 50 mile, 90 mile runs.

And I guess that's how it starts. When you can look at that 1,150 miles and not see that number, but as each piece as a stepping stone to the big picture. Right?

And I can see that now. My mind has shifted.


And, as Jodi replied, "The mind shift is the first step, something goes from impossible to plausible to possible, and then you're doomed *hehehe*"

You can learn more about one of my favorite people, Jodi Bailey and her husband Dan and their adventures here. 

So, to answer the question, yea, I can see someday possibly attempting a race like Iditarod. I have lots of races that loom in the distance as long-term goals: The International Pedigree Stage Stop Sled Dog Race, Montana's Race to the Sky, Minnesota's John Beargrease Sled Dog Marathon, and, closer to home and more immediately attainable, The U.P. 200 and The Copper Dog 150....

That's it. I am, indeed, doomed :)

For more information about how you can use mushing in your classroom, please visit any of the race sites linked above, or click on the following:

Polar Husky

Will Steger Foundation

The Iditarod: for Teachers

Outward Bound Wilderness Expeditions

Lake Superior looks like a glacier breaking up. Indeed, in many ways, it is. I am literally at the ends of the earth at the northern-most tip of the Upper Peninsula in Copper Harbor, Michigan.

Only, it's not cold for the second weekend of March. In fact, it's downright balmy for these parts at this time of year. The water surrounding Copper Harbor is full of break up, and my hair hangs in ringlets, curls soaking in the moisture in the air.


Ice break up at Copper Harbor

Road trips offer possibility and often perspective. I welcome the opportunity to follow M-41 all the way to where it ends in Copper Harbor. The chatter from mushers is that the only real thing to combat this weekend is the weather. Unusually warm, rainy conditions have all but deteriorated the trails, leaving mud and slush. Equipment usually reserved for hauling snow out is used to haul snow in.

Brian Tiura looks tired and frustrated as he discusses rerouting the course with Race Marshall, Pete Curtice. For this having been his first race, and the first Copper Dog, he sure has had to combat a lot.

As I'm having lunch at the Tamarack Inn, Lloyd Gilbertson and other mushers chatter about the first hundred miles.


A dog from Lloyd Gilbertson's kennel rests in its dog box at Copper Harbor

Musher Geri Minard says, "It felt like crossing over several state lines, the trails were so different. It went from slush, to hard-packed snow cover, to gravel, to mud, and water run off." Amanda Vogel concurs. An additional challenge last night was a thick fog that settled in the Keweenaw. Vogel reports that the Can-Am trail was worse, however. Global warming?

A sign hangs in the Tamarack Inn that says "Fishing stories told here." Ice huts still line the coastal waterways here, and some boast pulling whitefish, trout and pike over 30 inches in length from these icy waters.

The restart from Copper Harbor is tomorrow at 8 a.m. instead of the original 9 a.m. start. Despite trail conditions, competition is still stiff. Ken Josefsen is the one to beat, with a total elaped time of 8:03:18 and an average speed of 11.18 miles per hour.

Stay tuned!

Live from the Copper Dog!

I'm super stoked to be heading to the first annual Copper Dog 150 in beautiful Calumet, Michigan in the Upper Peninsula! Race Director, Brian Tiura has invited me to travel with the media crew for the weekend from the race start throughout the checkpoints. Watch live streaming video from the start of the race on this site. Click the link below to watch the start at 7 p.m.

The link to watch live feed of the Copper Dog 150 start is http://www.ustream.tv/channel/2010-copper-dog-150

UPDATE: In an age of "tweets" and status updates, the demand for live feed journalism is very real. But, believe it or not, there are places untouched and unspoiled by cell signals and wireless. I'm very disappointed to report major technical difficulties in trying to stream live video of the Copper Dog start. I will do what I can to stream video from the Copper Harbor checkpoint on 3/13. Check back!


Bib 7 musher Mike Barnett gives his leaders a pep talk before the 150 start