| Never
Let Go! by
Paul
Schurke
Though dogsledding has been a way of
life for my family and I for over 20 years, I first learned the art of
mushing back in the late '70s from the famous adventurer Will Steger.
My wife Susan and I lived in a sod-roofed log cabin with no power and
no phone at his remote homestead north of Ely. Since the nearest road
was over 2 miles away all of our supplies had to be brought in by
dogteam.
During our first winter Will spent weeks teaching my wife Susan and I
everything he knew about the art of mushing and then he capped it all
off one day by saying, ''Everything I've taught you all boils down to
this; just be sure you never let go of your sled.''
The significance of that lesson hit home hard a few weeks later when
I set off by dogteam to gather firewood along an old logging railroad
grade near the homestead. The day went well and near dusk I headed off
to fetch one last load.
Normally, I'd tie the dogs off to a tree each time I'd stop to load
the sled. But on this last trip of the day I figured they were tired
enough to sit tight while I bucked the wood and brought it to the sled.
Boy, was I wrong. Perhaps they caught the scent of a passing deer or
maybe they saw a rabbit race across the trail far ahead. Whatever it
was, something triggered all six of them to suddenly lurch upright in a
flash and bolt down the trail. The empty sled banged merrily along
behind them.
To no avail I yelled and yelled for them to stop and then I took off
in a dead run after them. They soon disappeared around a bend, headed in
the direction of Jackfish Bay on Basswood Lake.
A few miles later, drenched in sweat that was rapidly caking my
clothing with ice in the minus 20 degree air, I reached the shores of
Basswood. In the dimming light I stared out at dog tracks disappearing
under drifting snow across miles of lake that stretched to Canada. There
was no sign of the dogs. I was terrified that I had lost the team
forever.
I frantically scanned the horizon hoping to catch a clue as to where
they went. Just as I was about to give up in despair something caught
the corner of my eye. There appeared to be a speck out towards the
middle of the bay. I didn't recall there being any islands in that area
so, battling hypothermia, I trudged out through the deep snow to
investigate.
The speck got bigger. Soon there appeared to be some movement. Then
an immense flush of relief swept over me as I realized I had indeed
found the dogteam and sled. Curiously the dogs were sitting quietly in a
circle. As I got closer I realized that at the center of the circle was
a lone ice fisherman sitting on his bucket jigging his lure.
I turned the sled upright, anchored it off, and went to approach the
fisherman. He never looked up but simply said, ''All I want to know is
who's going to pay for all my crappies?'' I was perplexed and there was
odd moment of silence. But then he looked up and explained what had
happened. While making their way across Jackfish, the runaway team had
smelled his day's catch laying on the ice and raced towards him. Before
he knew what to do they'd scooped up, and eaten, all the frozen fish. He
figured somebody would eventually come to retrieve the team and so he
simply sat down to catch some more.
I was overjoyed to find the team intact and I apologized profusely
for the mishap. The old guy never cracked a smile but I think he, too,
was a bit humored by the situation. He accepted a ride back towards Ely
on the sled with me. When I dropped him off at his truck he looked back
with wry smile and said, ''Never let go!''
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