Dogsledding is not a great way to impress guys
“It is quite possible since we will be dogsledding on the Boundary Waters for ten days that the 400-pound sled might fall through,” Brad, our grizzled Outward Bound instructor told us matter-of-factly. “We need to practice an ice rescue while we are at base camp and we can warm people up in the sauna afterwards.” He glanced over the fifteen of us college students warily. “I need two volunteers to jump into the ice so that we can practice a rescue.”
Sam’s hand went up. No! You’re too beautiful! I thought. He was my coworker at the outdoor education center. He was kind to me, even though I felt like a Gorgon at the time; therefore, I developed a crush so strong, it led me to sign up for the dogsledding course. I thought I’d get close to him and impress him. Then he’d love me forever.
With point of his mitten, Brad selected the two ice jumpers: Sam, the beautiful, and Tim, the mean Chewbacca.
“We need volunteers to warm Tim and Sam up!” Brad shouted. I had a 50:50 chance of getting Sam, and I was a gambler. I was told to undress into my long underwear and to get into a stack of three sleeping bags to wait.
I heard as Brad led the boys to a hole that was chopped into the center of the ice. They squealed as they hit the water. I heard the shuffling grunts as the other students got onto their stomachs on the ice to pull them out.
I could hear from within the sleeping bag as one teeth-chattering body was led to me. “Strip him down to his underwear,” Brad commanded a helper. Oh man! Was I going to get to see Sam’s abs? They must be washboard! Then a very wet and frozen Tim was pushed in the bag with me. “Don’t just lie there! Rub his stomach, you need to bring his core temperature up,” Brad barked. I grimaced, and obeyed. There were icicles in his tummy fur. I fought back tears. I closed my eyes. Tomorrow will be a better day.
The next day our trip really began. “Pack up and find your sled mate,” Brad commanded. I frantically looked for Sam. My heart sank as I saw him chatting with Mary, the beautiful girl who had rescued him the previous night. She was giggling. I glared at her. That should have been me.
“Looks like you’ll have to be partners with me.” I jumped, Brad was standing right behind me. All the other students were standing in pairs. I was the odd one out. Really? Nobody wants to be my partner? I blinked to ward off tears, trying to stay positive. I’ll just learn how to sled well from Brad and then tomorrow, I’ll impress Sam when he is my partner.
But dogsledding was to be much harder than I’d imagined. I had assumed dogsledding was a sedentary activity akin to a happy plump Santa being chauffeured by animals. I was wrong.
“Where do I sit?”
Brad let out a spiteful laugh. “No sitting here! The sleds already full of dog food, people food, and camping gear. We stand on the runners.”
With horror, I saw the runners were about 3 inches wide, even skinnier than a balance beam.
“Hop on, Lauren,” he called to me. I clung to the handlebar. “Mush!” The dog team sprang to a fast trot, and I couldn’t help a little scream as I struggled to gain balance. Brad looked at me with disgust. “You’ve thrown the sled off balance, Lauren. One of the runners has jumped out of the tracks. You’ll have to run out and shove it back on.”
I jumped off. The snow was up to my knees and immediately the sled was far ahead of me. “Run, Lauren.” I did my best to slog through. Sweating and panting, I caught up. “Get it back on the tracks!” I shoved the sled with my arms. It didn’t budge. “Hit it harder, Lauren.” I ran and body slammed the sled, hitting my hip hard. That seemed to work. I ran to jump back into my moving balance beam.
We sled from 7AM till 8PM with Brad yelling at me and me constantly running alongside the sled. When we finally stopped for the day, I hoped for some rest.
“Get the axes and saws out of the sled. We need to get the firewood ready.” I groaned.
Every part of my body hurt as I crawled into my sleeping bag under the tarp. I was late so I had the coldest spot closest to the opening, right next to Tim. I shivered through the night cold and alone. No one wanted to spoon.
“Wake up!” Too soon, Brad was outside of our tarp. I stretched. It’s a new day.
For breakfast, they cooked bacon in a big cast iron pot, and fried bagels in the leftover grease. It smelled wonderful. I knew that I was so hungry I was in Jabba da Hutt mode. Sam isn't supposed to see me like this. I grabbed my bagel and walked a good way from the group, to stuff my face in peace. I got out my pocket knife to cut the cream cheese. It split into two frozen chunks and I stabbed my hand, hard.
Before the pain came was an excruciating feeling of heat. I stuck my hand instinctively into the snow, and dumbfoundedly watched blood radiating through the white in concentric scarlet circles.
With the pain came the shame: not only was I a glutton, but a clumsy glutton. I can’t let Sam see this. I shoved my still-bleeding hand into my mitten and kicked fresh snow over the bloody circular stain. I trudged back to the group. I was late, so Brad was to be my partner again.
The following days were filled with exhaustion, cold and loneliness. Sam was friendly to the group but pretty much ignored me. My resentment of anybody he spoke to alienated me from the other students.
Then came “solo night.” I would be dropped off at a location along the lake out of sight and earshot from everyone else and told that I would be picked up in the morning. I was nervous, certain I would freeze on my own. Sam would see my popsicle corpse in the morning. But then as I was brought to my location Brad handed me a plastic wrapped hunk of chocolate chip cookie dough as big as my fist. “To help keep you warm,” he smiled. Maybe I would be fine.
I was left in a copse of Jack Pine trees overlooking the lake. I set up my tarp, building snow walls around it to keep the wind out. I chopped firewood from a fallen tree and ate a dinner of ramen. I felt content with my ability to stay warm alone in such cold, to feed myself in the dead of winter. It was only about 6 PM, but I was free to crawl into my sleeping bag. I bit into the cookie dough and sighed with contentment. Nobody was there to judge how much I would eat.
Of course, just when I started to get comfortable, I had to use the bathroom. I pulled myself out of my warm burrow and hiked away in the snow which glowed so bright I didn’t need my headlamp. On my way back, I paused to look at the night sky: it was dizzying to see so many stars. I had never understood why it was called the “Milky Way.” With the beautiful sight above me and the cookie dough in my pocket a sudden feeling startled me: happiness.
That is when I forgave myself for my silly crush and claimed my new love, the outdoors.