In spite of last weekend’s stormy weather – or perhaps because of it – thousands of Coloradans flocked to the high country to play in the snow. Sure, the great majority went to ski, but there’s more to winter in the Rocky Mountains than standing in lift lines and paying way too much for poor rations. On Saturday and Sunday, there was also the Silver City Sled Dog Classic, the last major dog sled race of the year and one of the season’s best-kept secrets.
Despite the sport’s visual appeal, precious few spectators turned out for the Classic – somewhat surprising in light of most Coloradans’ fondness for winter activities and the love all right-thinking folk have for dogs. On the other hand, the sporting grounds are a bit off the beaten track.
Tradition places the Classic in the long, narrow valley at the entrance to Camp Hale, which is often a busy place in winter, though not obviously so. Once home to the illustrious 10th Mountain Division, it’s now primarily a domain of deer, foxes and solitude resting in grand isolation amid the peaks and pines of White River National Forest about halfway between Leadville and Minturn. Nordic skiers, folks on snowshoes, even a handful of snowmobiles can do little to disturb the peace in that alpine fastness. Incredibly, neither could the 200 cheering people and at least twice that number of tightly-wound and extremely vocal dogs who traveled to Camp Hale from all over the Mountain West.
Though it’s not generally known, the region between Bailey and Evergreen is a hotbed of mushing activity. “We hide well,” says Debra Su Stephens who, with her husband Mark, has been driving huskies for 15 years. “There’s probably 30 mushers living within 20 miles of Conifer.” In the interest of clarity, it should be stated here that dog sled racing is referred to as “mushing” by its practitioners, a term linguists believe derives from the French word “marche,” which means something like “march” or “onward” or “move your tail, you lazy mutt.”
In a sprawling fenced compound on their 36 wooded acres off Pleasant Park Road outside Conifer, the Stephens see to the safety, health and happiness of no fewer than 41 purebred Siberians and 6 Alaskan huskies. If that sounds like a lot of dogs, consider that the number is down from the 72 they owned a few years back and a fraction of the hundreds that have passed through their lives in the last 15 years. “The average around here is probably 20 dogs,” Debra Su says, “and I’d like to get it down to about 30, which would be plenty for racing.”
It could take a while to reach that goal. While many of the dogs are effectively retired from racing, they can look forward to several years of graceful retirement and, when they die, they’ll be buried on the property beneath hand-painted stone markers. Though bred and trained to pull a sled, they’re pets, plain and simple. “I always keep the older ones in the house at night,” Debra Su says, “and when it’s cold, I’ll bring in some of the younger ones, too.”
Always dog-people, the Stephens weren’t always mushers, or especially husky-happy, for that matter. “I accidentally bought a husky in 1985,” says Debra Su, by way of explanation. Immediately charmed by the creature’s intelligence, spirit and good nature, by 1990 she and Mark had several more of the variety, a sled, and a new reason to look forward to the season’s first snow.
Inside their home – an original frontier log cabin dating to 1868 – the walls are virtually papered with everything husky. A skillful Siberian breeder, Debra Su proudly displays pictures of both her award-winning show dogs and particularly successful racing animals. Such is the reputation of the Stephens’ kennel, “Snow Runner Siberian Huskies,” that 25 of their dogs are now in the hands of Alaskan mushers preparing for the sport’s main attractions.
Racing at the Stephens’ level isn’t cheap, though. Providing a high-protein diet to 47 dogs costs 600 bucks a month. Add to that the price of nutritional supplements, veterinary bills, travel expenses, contest entrance fees and equipment costs and their hobby – make that passion – sets the Stephens back in the neighborhood of $17,000 dollars a year. The Stephens are fortunate that their business, Stephens & Co. Building Services, provides the wherewithal to keep their animals in kibble. “We sponsor ourselves,” Debra Su said. “We’re lucky, that way.”
Given the price tag, one might think bringing home ribbons and trophies is job-one. In fact, for the Stephens and the other members of Colorado Mountain Mushers – one of two principal mushing leagues in the state – the animals are top priority. “It’s all about the dogs,” Debra Su says. “I love each and every one them, and all the mushers I know are the same. Some people think we beat them; that we’re mean to them. But nobody takes better care of dogs than a musher.”
And not just their own dogs. When the High Meadow and Snaking fires threatened homes and lives throughout large areas of the foothills, the Stephens put their dog truck to work transporting hundreds of domestic animals out of the fire zones, and recruited many of their fellow mushers to do the same. In the process, they founded Animal Evac Volunteers, a nonprofit group composed largely of sled dog racers and dedicated to keeping animals out of harms way during emergencies. “Because we’re already equipped to move and board large numbers of animals,” Mark says, “mushers are the logical ones for the job.”
The truth is, Colorado’s top mushing purse wouldn’t buy breakfast for a decent sized kennel. The real attractions are the excitement of the race, the camaraderie of fellow mushers, and the majestic beauty of Colorado’s wild places. “It’s a very family-oriented sport,” Mark says, “and mushers are the best group of people you’ll ever want to meet.” And, while the Stephens’ operation runs into money, a person can easily break into the sport on a shoestring. “All you need to get started is one dog and a pair of skis,” he says, “or three or four dogs and a second-hand sled.”
Just ask Dick Nichols of Bailey. His 6-dog team is composed entirely of older animals he rescued from local animal shelters. “They’ll never win anything,” Nichols said, “but they like to race and it’s a lot of fun for me, too.”
Next time: It’s soooo on…