Winter Thrills

 

Slade’s gloved hand wrapped around the baton, gripping it for all he was worth. After their disastrous performance yesterday, they needed this win. The Olympic committee rep would be in Red Lodge next week, and Slade refused to show up empty handed. If he was serious about convincing them to add Skijoring to the winter games lineup,  he needed a seat at the table. Beating Justin Bride today would get him that seat.

He watched as the first start gate attendant tugged on the fifty foot rope. Devin had tried tying it to the rigging rings behind the saddle but both of them preferred it tied to the saddle horn—that way the friction brushed more on Devin’s leg than Bear’s hindquarters which the horse did not seem to like. With more training, he might get used to it, but for now, the saddle horn served as Slade’s anchor.

He adjusted his helmet. The second start gate attendant approached and passed him the rope. Slade’s heart kicked into a crazy rhythm as he hollered at Devin. “Go, go, go, go, go!”

wikipedia.org Leadville Skijoring

Devin kicked Bear in the flanks and the quarter horse shot forward, his bohrium tipped shoes kicking up a mash of snow and slush.

Slade allowed the tether to slide through his left hand, positioning himself near the end of the rope. Tightening his grip, it jerked taut as Bear crossed the starting line at full speed. Zero to forty miles per hour in a couple of seconds left Slade breathless and exhilarated as he started climbing the rope.

He leaned into the first turn slaloming left around the blue gate. Barely having time to straighten, he flew up the six foot ramp and caught air before smacking down on the flat straightaway. A few aggressive pulls on the rope brought him closer to Bear and to the ring that he could not miss today. The two seconds they’d lost yesterday when he dropped it had cost them the win. These teams were too good for Slade to think that penalties wouldn’t hurt him.

Like lightning, he extended the baton and focused on spearing the orange circle right through the center. The crowd on the sidewalk cheered as he got it, and he forced himself to block it out. One ring by itself meant nothing. Two more gates, two more ramps, and two more rings stood between him and a successful finish.

Slade tilted right and swished around the red gate, bending it with the edge of his skis. How many times had he visualized these moments and these moves as he’d readied himself for a comeback?

The ramp rushed up in front of him and he nailed the landing, yanking himself closer and closer to Bear’s behind. The ring whooshed onto the stick. Slade bent his arm, protecting the precious cargo as he navigated the last gate. Almost there.

Bear bounded past the final slope and Slade held on as he sailed over. Spearing the last ring, he pulled himself forward with everything he had and soared across the finish line to a blinking sixteen point one seconds on the digital time board. He’d done it. He had just beaten Justin Bride, the reining skijoring champ by one tenth of a second.

courtesy of gohebervalley.com

***

It’s no newsflash that authors are always looking for inspiration for their next story. When a friend of mine told me about western skijoring—which I had never heard of—and sent me a picture of her husband on skis behind the back of a horse, I knew I had to use it in a book. The above is an excerpt from book three in my Sweet With Sizzle Fake Series. It’s still under construction so I can’t share a release date yet, but it’s titled Fake Marriage at Snow Peak and features Slade MacIntyre as an ex-Olympic skier turned skijorer. 

As I began researching the sport, I discovered it’s been around for hundreds of years just not as a sport. It began in Scandinavia as a form of transportation. Reindeer and dogs pulled people on long skis making movement over heavy snow during the winter months much easier. Skijor literally means to ski drive. Mules, snowmobiles, cars, and planes have also since been used to tow skiers around.

While horses are used in other countries, they are often riderless. The advent of American skijoring put a rider on the horse effectively combining rodeo and extreme skiing—or in more recent years, snowboarding!

While there are several competitions scheduled in Europe in 2025, the ones that I find most interesting as fodder for my western stories are the ones that take place on the circuit of several western states and Canada. Cities throughout Utah, Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, and Colorado host two-day competitions January through March.

The events often feature music, food trucks, beer gardens, and hot chocolate for those die-hard fans standing around in the cold watching teams of crazed cowboys and skiers trying to outdo each other.

As small town events go, Skijoring competitions are perfect examples of community effort. Volunteers are welcome for everything from helping the designer build the track to judging the proceedings, running the starting gate, and keeping track of the various team entries.

Competitions usually have a pro level, an intermediate level, and a novice level although the number of entries and age of entrants varies from place to place. Each town creates their own track—some oval shaped, some U-shaped, some L-shaped with just one turn, and some as straightaways right down Main Street as is the case in Leadville, Colorado.

With average finish times somewhere around sixteen seconds, the races are over almost before they start. Tracks are typically six hundred to a thousand feet and boast some of the wildest winter sporting you could ever hope to see.

To learn more about skijoring, visit skijorusa.com or simply google skijoring. You will find numerous articles, pictures, and videos—some of which give you the incredible feeling that you are the skier experiencing the race.

As a final thought, if you have been following along in my Sweet With Faith Blue Sky Series, the series finale—Under the Stars is now available. Check it out on Amazon. All of my books are in KU and since the series is complete, it’s perfect for a weekend of binge reading.

Until next time, strap your skis on and hold onto your horses.

See you next month!