From Cloudveil Mountain Ambassador Alex Hassman whose Skijoring career has gotten off to a rough start …

The rope is wrapped around my torso as I am being dragged across the snow at 25 miles an hour. The rope runs up and over the back of my helmet and is firmly holding my face to the rough and uneven snow below. Time has halted as the screams from the crowd are being muffled by the sound of Hank Williams Jr. and crunching snow. When Marce is finally able to bring his horse to a halt,  I lift my face from the cold snow as a woman is running toward me yelling “Dude! You need to let go of the rope!”. I wipe the snow and blood from my face and refrain from saying… “no s#%t!”. Instead I grab my ejected ski and hobble off the course and into the crowd to receive the proper heckling from my friends and family.

The sport is called Skijoring, a Norwegian word that means “ski driving”, where a person is pulled behind a horse, a dog, an ox, a snowmobile or a Suburban.  It doesn’t matter what you’re being pulled by – as long as you’re on skis, it’s called Skijoring. It’s great; it’s like Norwegian red-necking. It’s simple; the faster you want to get pulled, the bigger the motor needs to be. In this case, and I think in most cases, the motor is a horse. In 1928, Skijoring with a horse was included at the Winter Olympics in St. Moritz, Switzerland as an exhibition sport and still today enjoys a small but strong following.

The U.S National Skijoring Championship is held every year in Red Lodge, Montana, and there are several similar events throughout the West and I am sure parts of Europe. Teams of two, rider and skier, compete on a course that includes gates and jumps. The horse, much like a motor boat, travels down a center lane while the skier holds onto a rope and must negotiate an obstacle course of sorts.  The team to complete the course the fastest without missing any gates wins.

I am here to tell you that my casual foray into the sport of Skijoring did not result in any new saddle or chaps endorsements. I would have had better luck auditioning for the Broadway musical Cats. Imagine now, with a basic premise for the sport, getting pulled behind a horse galloping at full speed. As you land the first jump, the slack end of the rope swings up and over your shoulder, while one of your skis simultaneously releases. Any hope of pulling some heroic one ski recovery is whiplashed away and slammed out as you hit the snow.  It’s exciting, as a participant and I am sure as a spectator as well.

But at last, this isn’t a story about carnage and/or public humiliation, it’s about a sport that combines the Norwegian ski heritage with the Western horse heritage. On the one hand, you have the classic image of the American West with cowboy hats, bandanna’s and lariats. Even if you’re not a lover of the horse, you can’t help but respect its traditions and culture.  I mean, come on, who doesn’t love a good Western movie.   Who doesn’t dream of throwing a leg over the saddle, lighting a ‘roll your own cigarette’, zipping up your coat into the wind and yelling “yeehah!!!” as you ride on out of town on your horse named Yeehah!!! Well, I don’t dream of it either but that image does make me think of Clint Eastwood and the West.

On the other hand, you have the ski culture with all its glory and traditions.  Combined, Skijoring partially represents a merging of two co-existing and overlapping traditions that can be seen all over Montana and in ski areas and mountain communities throughout the intermountain west.

I don’t see myself purchasing a horse anytime soon, and if I did purchase anything it would probably be a pony. Ponies don’t seem to be nearly as fast, and I could work on my technique while the kids ride it.

We added this picture. Might be more what Alex is looking for