We spent last night in Green Bay and decided to go to a couple of sports bars to watch the Vikings-Saints game. The crowd around here was absolutely pro-Saints, or should I say anti-Favre. There were a few Viking fans wearing their purple and gold number four, but this town has apparently lost their love for Brett.
Found a great store here yesterday called "Cooks Corner." Gary and I both love to cook, so it was a fun place to visit. Not sure where we're heading today. We plan to be back home this Wednesday.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
Dog Sledding 101
So, it was actually my idea to go dog sledding. We were in Ely, Minnesota, which is apparently the dog sledding capitol of the world. I envisioned riding in a cozy compartment, wrapped in blankets and maybe even sipping hot chocolate while our well-trained driver stood behind us and expertly guided the dogs over smooth, level and wide trails covered in soft snow. Something like you would see with Dudley Do-right or in an old movie.
No. As our guide put it later, this was “interactive” dog sledding.
We drove the sled. Yes, I’ll say that again. We, two people who had never even been close to a dog sled before, one from Alabama and one from California, stood on that platform and drove the sled. They give you a quick lesson, which is a 10-minute talk with the visual aid of a toy sled. Then, they assume you’re ready to ride.
We were on a ride with another couple and a guide who led us on cross-country skis. The other couple had the team of sedate dogs who seemed as if they were ready for the retirement home. We had the NASCAR team, with the lead dog named Heinzy. The guide said Heinzy was psychotic.
And those smooth, level and wide trails? You start out that way, on the frozen lake. Then you hit a trail which is exactly the width of the sled. I mean, it’s EXACTLY. And you go over logs and rocks and a beaver dam. And it’s curvy and branches hit you in the face. And you have to watch out for the huge tree limbs hanging over the path that will decapitate you if you don’t duck.
We did this for three hours. I only fell off twice, but I screamed a lot more than that. At the very end of the ride, the guide stopped us and said, “Now, this last part is going to be tricky.” (What? The first two hours and 50 minutes weren’t tricky?) “The beaver dam broke and flooded the old trails, so we had to cut a new trail YESTERDAY. It’s very bumpy and all downhill and there’s a lot of ice.”
Well, it was very bumpy and all downhill and there was certainly ice.
Those of you who know me well realize this is not the kind of thing I typically do. I’m more of a spectator, not a participant. Athletic is not really how anyone would describe me.
But, we made it. Nobody died (although my arm does fell separated from my shoulder). And it was fun, really fun. The dogs were great. They were extremely friendly and absolutely gorgeous. If you ever get to Ely, head for Wintergreen Dog Sledding and ask for the guide named Steve. I promise, if I could do this, anybody could.
Maybe when we get back home, I’ll open my own dog sledding business. The only problem is, where will I get the snow?
No. As our guide put it later, this was “interactive” dog sledding.
We drove the sled. Yes, I’ll say that again. We, two people who had never even been close to a dog sled before, one from Alabama and one from California, stood on that platform and drove the sled. They give you a quick lesson, which is a 10-minute talk with the visual aid of a toy sled. Then, they assume you’re ready to ride.
We were on a ride with another couple and a guide who led us on cross-country skis. The other couple had the team of sedate dogs who seemed as if they were ready for the retirement home. We had the NASCAR team, with the lead dog named Heinzy. The guide said Heinzy was psychotic.
And those smooth, level and wide trails? You start out that way, on the frozen lake. Then you hit a trail which is exactly the width of the sled. I mean, it’s EXACTLY. And you go over logs and rocks and a beaver dam. And it’s curvy and branches hit you in the face. And you have to watch out for the huge tree limbs hanging over the path that will decapitate you if you don’t duck.
We did this for three hours. I only fell off twice, but I screamed a lot more than that. At the very end of the ride, the guide stopped us and said, “Now, this last part is going to be tricky.” (What? The first two hours and 50 minutes weren’t tricky?) “The beaver dam broke and flooded the old trails, so we had to cut a new trail YESTERDAY. It’s very bumpy and all downhill and there’s a lot of ice.”
Well, it was very bumpy and all downhill and there was certainly ice.
Those of you who know me well realize this is not the kind of thing I typically do. I’m more of a spectator, not a participant. Athletic is not really how anyone would describe me.
But, we made it. Nobody died (although my arm does fell separated from my shoulder). And it was fun, really fun. The dogs were great. They were extremely friendly and absolutely gorgeous. If you ever get to Ely, head for Wintergreen Dog Sledding and ask for the guide named Steve. I promise, if I could do this, anybody could.
Maybe when we get back home, I’ll open my own dog sledding business. The only problem is, where will I get the snow?
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
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