I’ve been visiting Greenville, Maine for over thirty years. This weekend, I’ve arranged to shoot the Wilderness Sled Dog Race. Back in 2011, I made a short documentary on the event, mostly because I’ve long been fascinated by the ancient relationship between canines and humans—especially when that partnership plays out in some of the coldest, most unforgiving conditions imaginable.
One of the most remarkable sled dog accounts I’ve ever read is 10,000 Miles on a Dog Sled by Archdeacon Hudson Stuck. His book describes extraordinary journeys through Alaska’s Arctic regions in the late 1800s, capturing both the hardship and the quiet beauty of long-distance winter travel by dog team.
Stuck later went on to organize a climb of Denali in 1913 with his friend Harry P. Karstens. Reading those early expedition accounts, it almost feels like he and his friends decided that climbing North America’s highest peak would be a good adventure and a worthwhile way to spend four months. Of course, they were experienced winter travelers, but the casual tone of the writing makes their achievement feel almost understated. They reached the south summit on June 7, 1913.
That was just one chapter in his time in Alaska. His original purpose there was serving as a missionary across a territory covering roughly 250,000 square miles. His accounts of winter travel with little more than basic bushcraft gear are astonishing. He must have loved it—I know I would have.
The Wilderness Sled Dog Race in Greenville is, I think, one of the few places on the East Coast where you can really see this world up close: the dogs, the mushers, and the people who genuinely love doing this. Of course, the Iditarod is the most famous sled dog race, but compared to almost every other commercialized sport, dog mushing is still far from mainstream.
Maybe that will change someday. I don’t know. But if you like dogs, watching these animals do what they were bred for—and clearly want to do—taps into something ancient. It feels like a glimpse into that deep evolutionary partnership between humans and canids, when survival depended on teamwork, trust, and shared endurance in harsh environments.
This year, conditions are good. Some years the race can’t even happen due to a lack of snow—which is its own quiet commentary on how things are changing.
Haw River Films 