Inspiring Tales from the Battle River Kennel Team
Dive into detailed race recaps, guiding you through the thrilling challenges and victories of our sled dog team across Western Canada.
Caledonia Classic 100 mile:
A Young Team’s Breakthrough Performance
We crossed the finish line at the Caledonia Classic Sled Dog Race after 100 grueling miles through some of the toughest conditions imaginable. Our incredibly young team—mostly three years old or younger, with the exception of five-year-old veteran Ultra—tackled over 11,000 feet of elevation gain through 8 inches of fresh powder.
These dogs showed heart beyond their years. The first 65 miles turned into a marathon 10-hour push, and despite our plans to camp, the team had other ideas—they simply didn’t want to stop. When we finally reached the checkpoint, they transformed into seasoned veterans, bedding down in the straw and resting like they’d been doing this their entire lives.
After a 6-hour layover, they erupted from the checkpoint with renewed energy, setting a steady pace that carried us through the remaining climbs to a strong finish. Jenna, Marlin, Score, Shooter, Ultra, Wendy, and Whisper—these seven incredible athletes deserve all the credit. The future is incredibly bright for this team.
Huge thanks to all the organizers and volunteers who made this race possible!
Torch River Sled Dog Race: Where It All Began
Torch River holds a special place in my heart—it was the first race of my mushing career, and returning always feels like coming home. This year brought warm temperatures and challenging trail conditions after a week of melting snow, but it also gave us the perfect opportunity to develop young talent and celebrate how far this team has come.
Day 1: Finding Our Rhythm
I wanted to give Marlin some real race experience in lead, so we rotated through different partnerships—starting with Ultra, then Jenna, and finally Shooter, who matched her pace beautifully to bring us home. We came out of the gate slightly too fast, but once we settled into our rhythm, the team found their groove. We crossed the finish line in 5th place, mission accomplished.
Day 2: A Masterclass in Patience
With warm temperatures forecasted, race officials moved our start time earlier. I went back to our strongest lineup—Dash and Shooter in lead—but kept them deliberately slow at the start. Every team passed us. I trusted the plan.
As we turned for home, I moved Marlin back up front so Dash could scoop snow to his heart’s content. That’s when we caught Amanda just before the narrow bush section, and my two yearlings got an education they’ll never forget. We’d catch up, then stop to let them cool down—eating snow, rolling around, being young dogs. Then we’d set off again to close the gap.
When we hit the road for the final stretch, I let the dogs do their thing. My leaders picked their way expertly through the minimal snow on the trail, and we executed a clean, uneventful pass. I kicked and ski poled those last few miles to the finish, bursting with pride.
Those two yearlings showed me everything I needed to see. The future is incredibly bright.
Big thanks to everyone involved with Torch River. This race will always hold a special place in my heart—it’s where this journey began, and coming back reminds me why I fell in love with this sport.
The Team: Dash, Jenna, Marlin, Score, Shooter, Ultra, Wendy, Whisper
Canadian Challenge Sled Dog Race: 200 Miles of Grit and Heart
We set out from La Ronge with a clear strategy: control the pace early, protect the team, and trust our dogs to carry us through one of the toughest races in the north. What followed was five legs of incredible teamwork, technical trail running, and a testament to the resilience of nine extraordinary athletes.
The Opening Push
The first 41 miles set the tone for our entire race. After a last-minute lake trail reroute due to slush, Jenna and Whisper led us off the line. I rode the drag mat to keep our pace at a steady 8 mph—too fast early would spell disaster later. When Whisper seemed uncomfortable in lead, Wendy stepped up without hesitation.
The descent down “the wall” required precision—slow on the drag and brake, weight shifted right. We executed it perfectly. The final 10 miles through the ditch tested our patience with bumpy construction zones, but after a clean pass of another team and a successful vet check, we rolled into camp right on schedule.
Into the Night
After a brief 3.5-hour rest, we pushed into the darkness toward Weyakwin. The technical bush trail was everything I’d hoped for—narrow, winding, and perfectly suited for a night run. Then came Montreal Lake. The wind hit like a wall as we charged across the ice, visibility nearly zero as I protected myself from the extreme cold. I kept the music playing and the ski pole working, trusting the dogs to follow the trail stakes through the frigid conditions. When the shoreline finally appeared, I knew the worst was behind us.
At Weyakwin, the vet team found no issues. I couldn’t believe it. These dogs had just conquered one of the most brutal stretches imaginable. They earned every bite of their meals and every blanket I piled on them that cold night.
A Daylight Gift
We took our time at Weyakwin—multiple meals, real rest. Teams were scratching all around us, but our dogs slept peacefully on their straw beds. When it was time to go, I thought they might resist. Instead, they shook off sleep with enthusiasm. Dash, ever the veteran, waited patiently on his bed until the last possible moment before exploding with energy.
Running this section in daylight felt like a gift. The sun warmed us enough to shed jackets on Molanosa Lake, and the team charged down the trail like they were brand new. When we pulled into camp, Dash made a beeline for the straw. We all needed that rest.
The Toughest Decision
Heading back toward La Ronge with only three teams left in the race, reality hit hard. Whisper and Ultra showed signs of discomfort in the rough ditch section. At Fafards, the vet confirmed slightly sore wrists. I could have carried them in the sled for 26 miles to La Ronge, but they deserved better than that. Stopping their race was the right call, even though it put us behind Anna and broke my heart to lose two teammates.
We pushed hard through the meadows and onto the lake, ski poling furiously to close the gap. I could see Anna’s headlamp ahead—so close, yet we arrived two minutes behind her in La Ronge. That night became a marathon of care: feeding, wrist wraps, hip massages. I set my alarm for 3 AM to do it all over again. By the time I collapsed in the tent, I was running on fumes.
The Final Push
Our seven remaining warriors had recovered beautifully. We left La Ronge just 13 minutes behind Anna, and I forced myself to stay present—focus on the trail, not the finish line. We met Garrick coming down the hill, his team looking incredible. A fist bump with his good hand, and we were off again.
Nine miles from the Fafards turnaround, we caught Anna as she was loading a dog. We traveled together back onto the lake, and with 12 miles to the finish, we began to pull ahead. I worked the ski pole to keep momentum high and spirits higher. Dash started hunting for snow to eat, so I switched him with Wendy and let him run without a neckline for those final miles.
When the finish line came into view and I heard the crowd cheering, the emotion hit. We had made it. Two hundred miles of technical trails, brutal cold, tough decisions, and unwavering trust between musher and dogs.
What an accomplishment. So incredibly proud of my little dog team!
The Team: Dash, Jenna, Marlin, Score, Shooter, Storm, Ultra, Wendy, Whisper