Mushing is in my blood. Should I carry on this NunatuKavut dogsledding tradition?
Regan Burden’s family has been running dog teams for generations in southern Labrador
My father has had dogsled teams since before I was born. I grew up surrounded by huskies, watching puppies grow.
When I was young, I always imagined owning my own team. But as I got older, I couldn't see a life for myself in my hometown of Port Hope Simpson, N.L.
Now, for the first time ever, I'm wondering if running my own team is something that I can take on. Still, I wonder: can I do it? And do I really want to do it?
I decided to go home and spend time with my dad and his dogs, like I'd done so many times as a child, to try and find out.
A long history
Before the Ski-Doos came people needed the dogs for transportation: nurses and doctors would travel from community to community by dog team; mail would be delivered by dogsleds during winter; and people would use their teams for hunting and hauling water and firewood back to their homes.
Running a dog team has been in my family for generations. We know that my grandfather, great-grandfather and great-great grandfather on my father's side had teams, but we aren't sure about how much further back it goes.
On my father's side, we have Inuit ancestry and I'm a member of the NunatuKavut Community Council. Dogsledding is such an important part of our culture, but I didn't see it that way as I was growing up. I just saw it as an important part of my life.
The Inuit identity of NunatuKavut Community Council members is contested by Inuit Tapiriit Kanatami, which calls itself "the national representative organization" for all Inuit in Canada.
On my mother's side, we have settler roots — but dogsledding was so integral to the way of life in southern Labrador that her father, grandfather and at least her great-grandfather also cared for and ran teams.
I'd heard from both my grandfathers about keeping teams and remember them talking with dad about those days. I don't recall any details, just that they were always smiling.
While I grew up with my dad having a team, my father wasn't so lucky. His father gave up his dogs when snowmobiles came to southern Labrador, before my father was born.
Instead, he was 18 or 19 years old the first time he saw a dog team, at a race in Port Hope Simpson, in the 1980s.
"It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen, I think," he said. "I got to have one of them."
He credits local men, Graham Russell and the late Eric Rumbolt for bringing the dogs back to our area. The race in Port Hope Simpson is named in Rumbolt's memory.
My dad started his first team shortly after seeing that race, and aside from a period away at school, he's had them ever since. Most of my childhood memories with him are with the dogs at the little 10-by-12 foot shack at Mill Cove where he keeps them, just on the outskirts of town.
I gave up being surrounded by dog teams after high school when I moved to St. John's for university. You're always so heavily encouraged to move away from home and pursue an education, but you never really consider everything that you have to give up in order to do that.
I can't remember my first sled ride, but my dad can.
"I was off to the side watching you … I'll always remember that. I see the picture once in a while come up there and that was a good memory," he told me.
A lot of my own memories are of playing with the puppies. But these puppies turn into very large sled dogs that require a lot of exercise, energy, time and attention.
My own team?
Despite spending my entire life with my dad, watching how he cares for his dogs, I've never learned how to do it myself: how to cook for them, how to harness them, how to build the equipment they need for running.
Even just trying to wrap my head around everything he was doing as he explained it to me, there were so many steps that I felt a little overwhelmed trying to remember it all.
It's not something that you can take a day off from. Those dogs need you to care for them every single day. You are responsible for making sure they lead happy, healthy lives.
Still, it was fun learning all these things. I remember trying to wrangle a dog in a harness when it is jumping and wiggling, excited to run. My dad and I made memories that I am sure I will never forget. I can see how the dogs make my dad's life happier and healthier.
I know how important it is to my family and my culture to keep this tradition alive. But at 25, it feels like a big commitment to take it on myself.
I have little savings, no land of my own, none of the things I need to start — such as harnesses, dog houses, qamutiks or a snowmobile. I don't even have land to keep them on, and I constantly feel like I am pressed for time.
But if I don't do it, who will? There are far fewer teams than there once were. People don't need dog teams like they once did for transportation, delivering mail, hunting and hauling firewood.
My father is skeptical when thinking about what the future of dogsledding will be in our area.
"Another 10 years or something we might be able to hang on to [it] … but I think it'll all soon be over, that way of life," he told me.
I asked him what he would think of me starting a team. He said it would make him "awful happy." But he still reminded me of all of the work that goes into it.
The truth is, as much as I would love to have the opportunity to spend every day surrounded by huskies, I still don't know if running my own team is something that I can do. The responsibility is a big one.
It's one I don't think that I can take on right now, but things can change. And the day may come where it is something I can do. And when it does, I'll be ready.
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About the producer
Regan Burden is a NunatuKavut member working for Labrador Morning on CBC Radio, based in Happy Valley-Goose Bay (Newfoundland and Labrador).
Regan grew up in Labrador and after attending university in St. John's, returned to work with CBC. She has since focused on sharing stories from Labrador's Indigenous communities, a dream of Regan's since she was first interviewed by Labrador Morning as a teenager.
This documentary was produced with Alison Cook and made through the Doc Mentorship Program.