First of all, I have to be honest. I’m writing this post about the John Beargrease dogsled race from bright, sunny Orlando. It’s not exactly ideal vacation weather here right now, being in the 50’s and cloudy, but it is substantially more comfortable than the negative single digits I stood in last weekend to witness the 41st John Beargrease dogsled race. What the experience lacked in comfort, it made up for in enthusiasm and I came away with a new appreciation for just how tough one must be to enter the race.
The John Beargrease dog sled race follows the Northshore mail route of its namesake from over 100 years ago. Though John would traverse the shore from Two Harbors to Grand Portage, race participants don’t need to commit to that entire distance. The race comes with three options: the 40 mile finish, which starts north of Duluth and ends north of Two Harbors, the 120 mile finish which has the same starting point and ends at the Trestle Inn by Schroeder, and the 300 mile marathon finish which goes from the common starting point to Grand Portage. This years winner of the marathon finish, Ryan Anderson, completed the race in about two days. Racers left the starting line at Billy’s Bar on Jean Duluth Rd on Sunday January 25th between 11am and 1pm. Ryan crossed the finish line in Grand Portage at 4:28pm on Tuesday, January 27th, followed closely by Erin Aili at 4:31pm. Several other teams crossed the finish line later that day, the rest arriving before sunrise on Wednesday. This was over what may be the coldest weekend of the year with temps hitting negative double digits at night, not even counting the windchill. It is a testament to the grit of these mushers and the faithful dogs that take them up the shore.
John Beargrease, who delivered mail on the shore between 1879 and 1899, was the son of an Anishinaabe chief. He lived with his family in the settlement of Beaver Bay. He and his brothers knew the Northshore well. Back then there was little more than a footpath between Duluth and Ontario, so John and his brothers put their knowledge of the region to use by delivering mail to the small settlements that were popping up along the shore. They would deliver mail by canoe or horseback in the summer, but John was best known for delivering by dog sled. His team was much smaller than the teams that run the trail today, and they looked more like lab mixes than huskies, but they did their job well. When I look at them I can’t help but think of Buck, the St. Bernard hero of Jack London’s Call of the Wild.
It’s a fair assumption that most, probably all, spectators, volunteers, organizers and participants of dogsled races love dogs. They are so endearing in their little booties, jumping against their handlers in anticipation of running together down the trail. Their faithfulness and willing spirits evident as ever.
Being my first time at a dogsled race, I had a lot to learn about how it works. For starters, the dogs do not trot nicely up the starting line and wait for the command to run. They must be lead until the musher places a hook in the snow to anchor them in place. When it’s time to go, he or she pulls up the hook and the dogs take off. I was reminded of the way racehorses come onto the track prancing with anticipation, lead by someone riding a calm and collected quarter horse. In lieu of quarter horses and their rider, the dogs had handlers, each holding on to two very excited huskies. This is a job that takes a little experience as it’s easy to slip with two large dogs lunging against you.
Another detail I had never thought about before is that the teams can’t all leave at once. They must leave from the start line one team at a time. The fateful order of racers is decided by drawing bib numbers a day or two prior to the race. You wouldn’t think the difference of an hour matters much in a race that takes two days, but this year first place was taken by a margin of two minutes. The starting line up isn’t the only thing left to chance. There is also snow conditions, weather, and winds from Lake Superior. These uncontrollable factors are best tempered with preparation, that is to say, consistent training by the mushers and their dogs. And on a day as cold as last Sunday, it seemed to me the mushers would only be able to complete the race with the best equipment. Even with it, things happen out there, and if they do, the team can always scratch. There is help at the many checkpoints along the way if needed. This year there were a handful of teams who scratched. Sometimes it is unavoidable and the safest choice for the musher and the dogs. After all, it is the difficult nature of the race that gives it much of its allure.
By finishing the 300 mile marathon race, the team will have completed a qualifying race to enter the world’s most famous dog sled race, the Iditarod. Though the Beargrease is not as well known, it is the longest dog sled race in the lower 48 states.
Being part of it this year, was a fun and rewarding experience; maybe not as I drove in to my volunteer station at Billy’s Bar at 6 A.M. in those negative double digit temps, but certainly as I worked alongside the raceday veterans to set up the starting line, and certainly as I watched the dogs tear down the trail together. No one spent too much time complaining about the cold. Everyone was eager to contribute and help one another. All the while excitement, laughter, and the yipping of huskies filled the air. It is an event that truly captures the spirit of northern Minnesota.
If you would like to know more about the race, attend next year, or volunteer, visit their website here. https://beargrease.com/
Thank you for reading, and keep listening.
Jenny Marie