MUSH HOUR!

A DOG SLEDDING ADVENTURE THROUGH THE U.P WILDS

- SARAH BENCE

DEEP inside a pair of borrowed ice fishing boots, my toes curl up in apprehension. Or, more optimistically, it’s a fluttering kind of suspense. Ahead of me, five shaggy tails beat decisively back and forth. The dogs’ paws are covered in neon booties that dig and pad on a trail of packed snow in anticipation. It’s not even 9 a.m. and here I am, standing at the helm of a dog sled in the Michigan wilderness. Apart from the panting of the dogs, and my own thoughts, the world is muted in the particular silence of a deep, fresh snow. I tighten my grip on the sled handle—a thin rod I can barely feel through thick (also borrowed) mittens. I’m waiting for the “go” signal. Waiting to see if I can stay attached to the sled when these five dogs tear off into the woods.

I WAS RUNNING LATE when I arrived at Nature’s Kennel at 7:30 a.m. The dog sledding destination is located in McMillan, near Newberry, in the eastern Upper Peninsula. I stepped out of my car and a man dressed in a burgundy flannel shirt and suspender snow pants inspected my outfit. “We need to fix you up,” he greeted me gruffly, ushering me into a wooden cabin. Then, “Here ya go,” as he handed me first a steaming mug of dark roasted coffee, and then a teetering pile of boots, insulated gloves, thick snow pants and wool socks.

The idea to go dog sledding in Michigan came to me a few months ago. I had just moved back to my home state as an adult. I’d spent the past few years living in England, where everyone loves to talk about the weather, and where I spread my general shtick of “you don’t know winter unless you’re a Michigander.” Within Michigan, though, it’s pretty well known that you don’t know winter unless you’re a Yooper. I wanted to see what a real Yooper winter was all about, and dog sledding seemed the perfect place to start.