Michael Wason couldn’t get off the couch.
Retired after a 20-year career in U.S. Army military intelligence, Wason was retreating deep inside himself. Long- festering wounds were giving way to symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.
Wason had wanted to live in Colorado ever since visiting his parents at their home in Paonia. So in 2006, he and his then-girlfriend Nanette — the couple married two years ago — moved from Baltimore to the Western Slope town.
But away from the military and his work as a German and Vietnamese linguist, Wason felt the PTSD taking a firm hold.
“Michael had a lot of idle time,” says Nanette, 43. “He was sleeping a lot. It was a really, really rough time.”
That’s no longer the case. Today, Michael, 48, straps on Nordic skis or hops on a bikelike contraption of his own design, harnesses up his troop of German shorthaired and wirehaired pointers — aptly named the Pointer Express — and fills his days with recreational runs known as skijoring. On the weekends, the Wasons and their dogs, all of which come from rescue organizations, often compete at races around Colorado’s central mountains.
Skijoring — Norwegian for “ski driving” — with horses, reindeer and dogs has been popular in Scandinavia for years. Now, dog skijoring, which is relatively easy to outfit, learn and enjoy, is growing in the U.S. as more people look for ways to be active in all seasons with their canine companions.
A natural inclination
Kody isn’t too sure about the harness he’s wearing. As a first-time skijoring dog, the 5-year-old Australian shepherd keeps craning his neck, looking nervously to see what’s on his back. Finally, with a swan-dive back flip, he wiggles completely out of the harness, like a four-legged Houdini.
Louisa Morrissey is a dog skijoring trainer from Silverthorne. She’s at a specially designated, dog-friendly area at the Gold Run Nordic Center in Breckenridge. Her proven track record of taking neophytes like Kody and turning them into pulling machines in a matter of minutes is well known.
Kody’s future as a skijorer looks hopeless, but Morrissey isn’t giving up.
“Some dogs catch on easily, some dogs may not,” she says. “It’s important to keep it positive and fun.”
Skijoring generally involves one to three dogs and a cross-country skier. Each dog is outfitted with a harness attached to a bungee leash. The skier wears a hip harness, also attached to the leash. With a call of, “Let’s go!” dogs pull their skier along groomed trails while the skier skate-skis or flat- tracks behind.
Morrissey often uses her own dogs — border collies named Lucy and Linus — to help dogs-in-training learn what they’re supposed to do.
“When you are skijoring with your dog, it is truly teamwork,” Morrissey explains. “You are skiing as well as the dog is pulling … especially uphill.”
After hitching Linus and Kody together for time on the trail, Kody begins understanding that the object is to run and pull. Amazingly, in less than 20 minutes, he’s on his own, running happily, ears rhythmically flapping, digging his paws into the snow as Morrissey skis behind him.
“In sync with the dogs”
Teaching dogs how to skijor is often easier than teaching people. Morrissey says it’s important that participants are already skiers before attempting to attach themselves, albeit on detachable leashes, to their dogs.
“Basic ski skills are a must, as is the ability to stop,” says Morrissey, who’s been cross country skiing for more than 20 years.
Important, too, is that dog and owner work together. Both should be well versed in obedience training.
As much as Morrissey enjoys promoting skijoring, she’s firm about keeping dogs leashed up, even at Nordic areas that allow dogs. An enthusiastic dog off leash can easily knock a skier over, or cause aggression with other dogs in skijoring harnesses.
Additionally, many public and private areas don’t allow dogs. In addition to Breckenridge’s Gold Run Nordic Center, there are dog-friendly areas at the Tennessee Pass Nordic Center near Leadville, and at Grand Mesa’s County Line area near Grand Junction.
But for those like Michael Wason, an opportunity to ski and run together is unbeatable.
Michael now attends PTSD counseling sessions at the Veterans Administration Hospital in Grand Junction. Along with the VA, Nanette Wason attributes her husband’s continued recovery to the time he spends outdoors, working and playing with their dogs.
“With PTSD, you can feel very alone,” says Nanette. “These dogs have helped Michael so much in giving him a sense of purpose. When you’re in sync with the dogs, there’s nothing else like it.”
