Dog-sled racing

Sergey and Irina saw an ad for international dog-sled races at some sort of a camp outside of Minsk. The entry fee of $2.30 got us admission to the races and free tea. Sergey promised us that we could hide out in his car if we got cold, so it was easy for us to accept. Knowing that we’d be standing around outside on a cold day (around 20-22°F), we dressed warmly and went off to meet them at the edge of town.

The events ran in increasing increments from one dog to eight dogs on a team, and the first event was the funniest. The teams started individually and raced against the clock. A one-dog team can’t pull a rider, but a dog does give a cross-country skier extra power, at least in theory.
The team seeded first had a little trouble at the start, as the dog veered to the side of the course before its skier talked it into straightening out and making him stumble in the turn. The third team got the best start. The dog shot straight ahead with complete focus as his mistress skied furiously, yelling “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” The crowd chanted along, yelling the same command to the dog and skier.

At last the announcer told us that the final team was from Belarus. A murmur swept through the crowd: “It’s one of ours!” We clapped and waited in rapt attention.

“Go!” the timer yelled. The dog trotted over to the admiring crowd and asked to be petted. We all yelled “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.” The dog trotted ahead and sniffed at some more people. Then he snapped off towards the other side of the track, knocking over the skier, who came out of one ski. The skier got up and jumped back into the binding of his ski, but it was filled with snow and the ski fell off again on the first step. On the third, painfully slow try, the skier got the ski to stay on his boot and tried again to get the dog to pull. The dog wanted to go over and see somebody else over by the gate at the end of the spectators’ area and managed somehow to wring the harness from the skier’s waist. I figured at that point that the skier was just going to ski the race without the dog, because the dog certainly wasn’t helping.

Gamely, however, the skier caught the dog with a little help and reattached the harness. Off they went, into the woods and out of sight. We figured there was nothing more to watch, but suddenly the dog returned, this time completely free of his harness, and the skier came back, harness in hand, to do this race properly. I don’t think they did succeed in finishing the race. The dog didn’t really want to go far from its owner/trainer, who had been in the crowd all along.

I was captivated by whole camp where this race took place. They had a ropes course and a modified bobsled run, with mattresses instead of sleds. I would have loved to stay and play all day, but our friends weren’t as warmly dressed as we were, and it was their car anyway. I just think I need to go back so I can play on the ropes. And slide on a mattress. And ski.



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In case it's useful to any of my readers, we were at festcamp.by