One of my favorite activities on the planet is hiking mountains. A month after I brought Dexter home, Wyatt and I took him on his first official hike up Mt. Chase in late October. Dexter towed me up the mountain as he navigated the roots, rocks, and incline with the athleticism of a parkour athlete.
At the summit, we ate snacks and admired the spectacular view of Maine’s expansive wilderness. When we returned to the trailhead a couple hours later, Dexter jumped into the truck’s front seat, laid down, and promptly fell asleep.
This was the first time I’d ever seen him so tired he couldn’t keep his eyes open. I laughed and said to Wyatt, “Well, I’ve finally found out how to expend his endless energy! I guess we’ll just have to hike more mountains!”
This past winter, I tried skijoring for the first time. Skijoring is a combination of cross country skiing and dog sledding except the dog doesn’t pull a sled, it assists the skier by pulling him or her on cross country skis. I already knew Dexter had incredible “pull power.” His muscular 80-pound husky body was designed for maneuvering through snow and pulling a load. The question was, could I train him to pull me safely across the snow?
I ordered a skijoring harness system from Ruffwear and started practicing the commands “Haw” (left) and “Gee” (right) every time we went snowshoeing. I also taught Dexter how to “Whoa” and “Halt” so I’d have some semblance of control on the trails. I used my 1998 Polaris snowmobile to pack down a trail around our fields, and after a couple of weeks of snowshoe training, I mustered up the courage to put on skis.
At first Dexter had no idea what to do. He just wanted to chase and bite the skis, but as soon as he’d run ahead of me and pull the line tight, I’d yell “Yes, Yes, good boy! Hike, Hike!” He knew by the sound of my voice that he was doing something right, and he took off like a shot down the snowmobile trail. At the beginning, I simply held the line in one hand and poles in the other, so I could let go if he went too fast or flew into the woods after an animal.
After a few times, I attached the line to my harness, so I could use my ski poles and ski along with him on the flat stretches and uphills. Throughout the winter, we shared some truly magical moments.
One late afternoon under purple, pink, and orange-streaked skies, we skijored across our field which is about a half mile long. Dexter galloped ahead of me with his ears back, mouth open in a smile, and tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth. His whole body exuded pure joy, which I felt too. We’re not about to enter any skijoring races anytime soon, but we learned something new together and found another way to take advantage of Maine’s wintry world.
Recently when the temperatures reached the upper 80’s, my sons, Wyatt and Walker, and I took Dexter to Nickerson Lake to go swimming. There is a small pond near our house that we often took Dexter to, so we knew he could swim, but this was the first time we’d taken him to the lake.
Wyatt had visions of Dexter jumping off the diving board with him, but I told him not to get his hopes up.
When we arrived, Dexter was glad to wade in the water. I threw a tennis ball near the shore, and he hesitantly retrieved it as long as his feet touched the bottom. I did this over and over again trying to coax him out a little further each time, but he remained wary of the deep water. Dexter watched Wyatt intently when he jumped off the diving board, and he even walked onto the diving board on his own, but he ventured no farther.
I gave him a break and started swimming laps down the shoreline. The next thing I knew there was a big white head swimming next to mine in the deep water! Dexter had overcome his fearfulness to come check on me. I told him he was a good boy and that I was okay and gently nudged his head in the direction of the shore.
For the remainder of my laps, he splashed along the shore from one wharf to the other, keeping an eye open for me until I was done. I foresee that with time and patience, his confidence will grow, and he will learn to love the water as much as I do and maybe even jump off the diving board.
Lee-Rae Jordan-Oliver is an educator and author who lives in Hodgdon with her husband Matt and children Wyatt, Anna and Walker. Her column will appear on a semi-regular basis in The Houlton Pioneer Times.
