Skijoring

Volume 4, Issue 1

International Parti Poodle Gazette

January 2008

SKIJORING – A SPORT FOR POODLES

Author: Eliza Hedegaard

Staring down the snow-covered trail with no other soul in sight, I wondered what I had gotten the two of us into. Ellie, my blue Standard Poodle outfitted in a sled dog harness, and me, braced on thin cross-country skis, were about to head out on a nice, relaxing skijoring stroll. However, in the back of my head, I was sure this would be more of a “suicide mission” than a “relaxing stroll!”

Several years before, having moved to New Hampshire to attend college, I had quickly learned that winter lasted much longer than its designated four months. Soon after I began school, I bought my first dog. I went to an established breeder of performance dogs, looking for a puppy with the potential to become an agility champion. “This one is the bossiest puppy of the litter,” explained the breeder. Somehow in my mind, “bossy” translated into the perfect Master Agility Champion (MACH). We received our novice agility titles this summer: my bossy and bold Poodle has been a great match for the sport! However, it became evident that these qualities were a bit of a nuisance in the off-season when we couldn’t practice agility outside. How to expend the energy of this “zooming mongrel?!”

I had heard of skijoring with horses – where a harnessed horse pulled a cross-country skier via long reins and a tow-line connected from the harness to the skier’s waist. I figured some dog lover somewhere must have tried it with dogs, so I raced to the computer to Google “skijoring with dogs.” Lo and behold, I found that it was quite a flourishing sport . . . and getting more popular by the minute! For decades, skiers have used one dog to teams of three to pull them around the trail. Enjoyed by both amateur dog owners looking for ways to bond with their canine comrades and competitive skiers looking for a more thrilling trek, skijoring sounded like the perfect New Hampshire sport. Additionally, I thought this sounded like the perfect sport for Ellie and me since I am always looking for ways to dispel the “frou-frou dog” reputation that Poodles often have.

I could hardly wait to get out and have more use for the massive amounts of snow on the ground than just shoveling it. I pulled out my dusty beginner-level LL Bean skis, found an old harness of Ellie’s, and clipped her onto a long leash. Putting Ellie into a sit-stay, I clipped on the skis, held the leash in both hands, and bent my knees. “Ok, Ellie, free dog!” I yelled. She promptly leapt back to me, tangling the long-line around my skis, and tripping me into the snow. As I lay there feeling the snow creep in around the waistline of my pants, I decided I had jumped the gun on this skijoring thing just a bit. It was true . . . I realized my dog knew nothing of going in a straight line (or stopping!) and I hadn’t skied since junior high school.

Frustrated, but undeterred, I went back inside and Googled “skijor equipment,” “dog and skier training,” and “physical requirements for skijoring dogs.” Basic equipment included a well-fitting “x-back” style harness for Ellie, a tow-line made of nylon and bungee cord, and a harness going around the waist and under the legs for me to wear. The tow-line went from the top of the dog’s harness to the middle of my waist harness (complete with a much needed safety-release clip), leaving my hands free to hold the ski poles. It turned out that the type of skis used wasn’t that important, though I upgraded to smaller skis from my original rather cheap LL Bean pair. Surprisingly, the new skijor equipment cost less than one hundred and fifty dollars. A local supplier in Maine, Nooksack Supply, fitted me and my dog, and we were ready to go! Almost. Now all I needed to do was train Ellie to pull, turn left and right, and stop.

I began taking her for walks in the harness, encouraging her to pull, teaching her to slow down and stop with a “whoooa”, and teaching “left” and “right” by calling the directions out each time we turned. I tried teaching the original sled dog “gee” and “haw” commands for left and right, but kept getting them confused. What was wrong with using non-traditional English, I thought? So far, using plain ol’ English has worked well.

In a few months, Ellie was turning and pulling on command. The “whoa” command was less then 100% reliable, but I chocked that up to time and experience. Meanwhile, I was skiing by myself. Being the weenie that I am, I went to the local snowboarding store and bought elbow pads, knee pads, and a hip/butt pad to cushion my falls. Although meant only for ambitious downhill skiers and snowboarders, those pads were one of the best purchases I have ever made! Soon I was able to ski over trail debris, gain stamina to ski uphill, and gain enough balance to stay up over the small bunny hills on the local trail. Ellie and I were making progress – we were almost ready to really skijor!

Then came the day. It had snowed hard several days before and I knew of a nice trail that had been packed down by previous skiers. I threw on several layers of clothing including all my padding, packed up the car, got the dog, and made the 15 minute trip to a popular trail. So far so good. Ellie stood still bracing against my weight as I clicked into my skis. I bent my knees, tightened my abdominal muscles, and yelled, “Ellie, go hike!!” as was the proper command to start out. She sprang into action and a big butterfly flew into my stomach as I saw the slack in the tow-line become taut. There was a big lurch as I was pulled into movement. Amazingly, I stayed balanced and upright.

My Poodle was really pulling me on skis! We flew down hills (and took a few spills), worked hard pulling and striding up hills (and took some pit stops when we could go no further), and glided across fields perfecting our new-found sport and canine-human bonding activity. Other dog owners on the trail held onto the collars of their Retrievers and Shepherds as they gaped at the athletic Poodle whipping her owner around the trail.

I’ve learned a great deal about myself and my Poodle from skijoring. Sure, we’ve plowed into other dogs and humans on the trail, gotten twisted in the lines, and made “face-plants” in the snow, but it has clearly been well worth it for both of us. Participating in a sport that’s thrilling and relaxing, and has owners and dogs working together for the same goal is one of the best activities an active dog owner could ask for. Knowing that I’m giving my dog exercise, using her working-dog heritage to its potential, and helping create a positive image of the Poodle breed has been well worth any bumps we’ve had along the way.