That time Quince Mountain took me for a dog sled ride through Northwoods Wisconsin – Wausau Daily Herald

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MOUNTAIN – “Have you ever ridden in a dog sled?”

Quince Mountain asked the question. He had just swooshed out of the woods on a sled pulled by a six-dog team, and he and his wife and dog mushing partner Blair Braverman were getting the animals some water. It was about 3:30 in the afternoon, five days before Christmas, and it was warm, about 30 degrees. Really too warm for the dogs, who run best in the biting kind of cold that people complain about.

Mountain was running behind schedule; he had intended to be done with this training run before our interview. But the dogs needed the exercise and Mountain did too. He’s preparing for the Iditarod. That’s why the three of us and six impatient, squirming dogs were here, getting ready to cross State 32/64, on the north side of the town of Mountain, the little town located between Antigo and Marinette that Braverman and Mountain call home. 

No, I had never ridden in a dog sled. I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I mean, I love dogs, I love winter, I love outdoor sports. But the idea of sledding behind a team of dogs never much appealed to me. Maybe it’s because I never was much of a fan of Jack London, the writer of the classic “The Call of the Wild.” 

FOR SUBSCRIBERS: Quince Mountain and Blair Braverman: Writers, mushers, Wisconsin’s most interesting couple

But Mountain insisted. Braverman ran to the truck they use to haul dogs and equipment, for a blanket. I awkwardly got into the sled, and stuffed the blanket under my butt, which I soon found out would drag on the ground when the trail got rough.

The dogs were eager, jumping up and down, straining against their harnesses. Braverman ran out ahead of them, onto and across the highway. Because the dog team is so long, it’s safer to have two people to cross a major highway; Mountain cannot see if traffic is coming from his spot on the back of the sled.

Braverman gave a wave. Mountain eased up on a brake at the back of the sled (a heavy metal prong that acts like an anchor) and released the dogs. And we all, the dogs, the sled with 230-pound me in it and Mountain standing on the runners behind it, jolted ahead and across the bare pavement. 

It is a strange sensation to be scrunched in a sled while six dogs pull you along. It’s not quiet. You can hear the dogs’ panting. You can hear the swoosh of the runners on the trail. You can hear the patter of 24 paws padding through the snow.

And if the musher is Quince Mountain, you’ll probably hear a lot of chatter.

“OK,” he said at one point, “if we tip over, don’t reach out with your arms.”

Wait … what? If we tip over? Turns out that wasn’t much to fear, even though the sled has a kicky unstable feel to it.

He talks about the dogs, too. When he’s looking at dogs that can compete in races like the Iditarod, he’s not looking for the fastest dogs, he said. He might not even want to look at how they run. He wants to know how they eat. That’s because eating is crucial when dogs and people are out on the trail for days on end.

It’s an amusing form of transport, too, if you are a dog lover. I liked how the dogs had different running styles, one kind of leaned away from the rope attached to the sled, as if he or she wanted to veer left. I liked how their ears bounced as their heads bobbed quickly with the strides they took. I like how they were all business, but seemed happy about it.

I quickly fell for the lead dog, a female I would later learn is Pepe. She was named after Pepe Le Pew of Looney Tunes fame, because she has a white stripe running down her face.

Mountain stopped the sled every mile or so. That was because it was so warm that the dogs needed to cool down and chomp up some snow to rehydrate.

Whenever Mountain stopped the sled, Pepe started jumping against the harness, barking sharply. She did not like interrupting the run. Later when I met Pepe off the harness, she was the sweetest pup, leaning in against my legs to be petted.

She is a special dog, Braverman said, especially suited to be a leader. “She teaches other dogs how to pull,” she said.

I didn’t think Mountain and Braverman would let me take Pepe home with me, so I didn’t ask.

In the end, as appealing and likable as Mountain and Braverman are — and they are incredibly appealing and likable — the dogs are the engine of their Braver Mountain online juggernaut.

That’s why, whenever they can, the couple gives people rides on their dog sled. Those rides help them connect with people quickly and solidly. The dogs break down barriers, like shyness or discomfort, that can get between people who don’t know each other.

The sport of mushing and the dogs are “disarming,” Mountain said. 

“You’re like, ‘What is this weird sport?'” Mountain said. “‘I’m being pulled through the forest by dogs. And it’s kind of magical. And I haven’t been sledding since I was a kid maybe, and now I’m laughing. I’m looking at dogs’ butts and this is hilarious.’ I think everybody can kind of agree on that. It’s pretty neat to see how the dogs bring people together.”

Contact Keith Uhlig at 715-845-0651 or kuhlig@gannett.com. Follow him at @UhligK on Twitter and Instagram or on Facebook.

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