Until becoming trail boss five years ago, Cathy Sleeter had never ridden a snowmobile. Her first time, during a 60-mile ride, she tipped her snowmobile into a swamp and sunk into the waters. That very same day, she was rounding a corner when she hit a berm. The gentleman who was with her told her to keep her foot on the throttle but failed to tell her to stop, whence she flew off the berm for a few hundred feet before landing. “That was a shock,” she smiles as she recalls the story, but it was a necessary first step in learning how to do her job.
When most people think of the U.P. 200, mushers and sled dogs are the first things that come to mind. But what most people do not realize is that without trail boss Cathy Sleeter, the race would not be possible in the first place. “Without a trail boss this race couldn’t run. It’s pretty much that simple,” says Delbert Storms, vice president of the Upper Peninsula Sled Dog Association.
How she got started as trail boss is “a 20-year-old story.” Her family was living in Marquette when she looked out the window one day to see dogs pulling a sled whizzing past. “I had no clue what was going on,” she laughs. Her husband Terry started volunteering first, which led to her starting as a vet check volunteer, moving on to start-finish coordinator, and eventually becoming trail boss.
Although this is her fifth year in the volunteer position, she is modest about the importance of her job. Sleeter is the sole owner of a blue satin jacket with her title embroidered on the back, which she considers “both a blessing and a curse.” Although she is humble about it, referring to herself as “trail boss, trail coordinator, whatever you want to call it,” her job is vital to the February race and tasks must be completed year-round.
Sleeter and the volunteers she oversees start scouring the 240-mile trail—a round-trip run between Marquette and Grand Marais—during the June preceding each race. Besides removing fallen trees and clearing debris, much of this preparation involves paperwork such as getting permission from property owners; permits from the Forest Service and county road commissions; and collecting insurance information. Jan. 10 — some six weeks before the race—is the goal date for completing this paperwork.
Mid-January is also when Sleeter and her crew pack and brush the trials via snow machines brought by the volunteers. “We’re just making sure everything is in shape,” says Sleeter. Between three and five people are out at a time grooming the trails.
Every day during the week prior to the race, Sleeter and her volunteers mark the trail. A close inspection is done the night before the start to re-erect markers that may have gotten knocked down by snowmobilers. Road crossing signs are also put up. Sleeter says she and her crew do “whatever we can do to make mushers aware something dangerous is coming up.”
Preparing for the trail can be just as challenging as overseeing it during the race. On one occasion, it took Sleeter and her volunteers four hours to prep two miles of the trail because “we kept getting stuck over and over again” due to snow and fallen trees. And this is not typical volunteer work, as her mantra for working the trail is to “expect the unexpected.” Says Sleeter, “It gets mighty cold at three or four in the morning, no matter how warmly you’re dressed.”As for the hardest part of trail to prepare: “The wooded sections are tough because you never know what’s going to come down. But there are challenges on the trail no matter where you’re on it.”
During the night of the race, a lead crew finishes “tweaking of the trail” before the sled dog teams start running, says Sleeter. A sweep crew follows behind the last team to make sure teams get through road crossings and to check in with ham radio operators if mushers have problems or “need to scratch [the race]. The sweep team helps them recover or calls for more help,” according to Sleeter. Sleeter aims for no less than three people per crew to insure against problems like snowmobiles breaking down.
“You never know what’s going to happen,” Sleeter maintains. “There are always changes. It’s different every year due to weather conditions.”
The winter weather is one challenging variable. One year the sled dog teams were running on gravel at some points because the snow was so limited, Sleeter says. Too much snow poses threats as well. For example, if an unexpected snowstorm brings eight inches of snow, the sled dogs have trouble running even after the trail crew has gone through and prepared, as happened in 2006. “We had to cut the race short…due to a snowstorm that crept up on us. We had to end the race in Grand Marais because the storm backed up teams three to four hours.”
Because Cathy Sleeter’s job is a tough one, and unpaid at that, one might wonder what keeps her coming back. The answer is simple. “I do it because I love it!” she says. “It’s fun, it’s a nice winter break, it gives you something to look forward to.”
And for Sleeter, being trail boss is a family experience; her husband and son still help with the race, as did a daughter before she moved overseas. And she is no less proud of her volunteers. “[I have] a wonderful trail crew to work with.”
Terry Sleeter echoes his wife’s sentiments regarding why he continues volunteering for the U.P. 200. “I’ve been doing it for nineteen years and I enjoy helping out any way I can. There’s never a dull moment, you never know what to expect.”
