Here's what happened when our reporter tried Extreme Horse Skijoring

Shakopee Valley News

I have attempted skiing only once in my life — on a class field trip when I went to high school in Wyoming.

I stuck to the bunny hill most of the time, mastering the “pizza” and “french fry.” After a while, I started to feel pretty dang confident. I could definitely do the next easiest hill.

I could not.

My attempts to go down slowly, despite pizza-ing as hard as I could, failed spectacularly and I scooted down the rest of the way on my butt until I returned to the safety of the bunny hill.

So, when Canterbury Park Media Relations Manager Jeff Maday emailed me about an opportunity to try “Extreme Horse Skijoring” and asked if I had skied before, I said “absolutely,” because I like to try things that might bring up my broken bone count (I’m at four).

Skijoring, derived from the Norwegian word for “ski driving,” is when a rider on a horse pulls a skier behind them as the skier attempts to dodge obstacles or grab rings on the track. Skiers can also be pulled by dogs or a motor vehicle for it to count as skijoring.

After some concern from my editor about worker’s compensation and other trivial issues, Maday suggested a compromise — instead of the skier, I would be the rider.

I have much more experience in the horse riding department, having been one of those “horse girls” when I was younger. I even had a horse-themed subscription box before subscription boxes were cool. My horse riding experiences also outnumbered my skiing experiences by literally five to one and so, after making sure there would be a saddle and reins, it was decided.

On Wednesday morning, I headed to Canterbury Park with fellow reporter and photographer-for-the-day Sarah Wynn to document the adventure. The professionals ran the track a few times first, making sure the snow was packed appropriately for everyone’s safety.

I was glad I was no longer the skier.

Time approached quickly for the media demonstrations. Ted Slathar with Extreme Events Skijoring mounted a brown horse and pulled Star Tribune reporter Richard Chin, who had apparently skied more than once in his life and managed to do fairly well on the course.

Then it was my turn.

I was introduced to Montana, a massive spotted palomino (at least, that’s what Maday said Montana was) with vivid blue eyes. Ted Slathar warned me that Montana would resist my efforts to slow down.

Just for the record, horses are much larger when you’re standing right next to one. I swung up into the saddle with a little help from Ted Slathar, because that’s the hardest part, as Riley Slathar stood at the ready in some skis and looking much more appropriate for the occasion in chaps and a cowboy hat. I should have brought a cowboy hat.

It was time.

I went very slowly the first time, remembering when I had urged a horse too hard at my brother-in-law’s parents’ house (say that five times fast) in Missouri and then screamed the entire time until my brother-in-law could rescue me on his horse, going the same pace and not screaming at all.

I did not want to scream in front of the other media members. It was a matter of pride.

The second time was intentionally much quicker. I had forgotten about how bouncy it is atop a horse — it felt like my brain was in a bottle of juice that said “shake well.” I intermittently shouted when I bounced but it was more of an “I’m having fun” sound as opposed to “someone please rescue me.”

Riley Slathar even got some air on the first jump, but purposefully crashed before the second due to some snow boulders. Of course, I did not know this at the time and thought, “Well, crap, I made my skier crash.”

Indeed, Montana did not want to slow down as much when we reached the end of the track. He shook his head like, “Come on, I can go faster than that.” Of course, he might have also been mad at me because I kept saying, “good girl” and cooing at him like I do my dog.

And after two runs, it was over. As I disembarked, I wondered if my landlord would let me get a horse. Alas, he definitely would not — but if the chance ever comes up to try skijoring again, I would jump at the opportunity with unbridled enthusiasm.