I like to think of the Iditarod race as a cruise ship vacation. Each checkpoint is a new port of call, and the food might be served buffet style rather than made to order, but it鈥檚 a very good buffet. The offerings are varied enough that the route has some texture. For instance, one evening鈥檚 meal might feature chicken thighs, wild-caught Alaskan salmon, scrambled eggs, a variety of cheeses, and some kind of fatty frozen dessert. In the morning, there might be strips of tender red beef, pork medallions, whole eggs, some kind of crunchy dried snack, and canned fish in oil.

One staple is chicken legs. I pack over 300 raw chicken legs for the Iditarod race. Something about grabbing the bone and tossing it in the snow and watching my teammates wolf it down nearly whole 鈥攚ell, let鈥檚 just say I know well the origin of the term 鈥渨olf it down.鈥�

I pack everything. Sometimes gummy worms, sometimes little pats of butter. When you鈥檙e tired, it鈥檚 hard to get enough calories, so I like to pack fatty foods like bacon, ham, and cheesecake. This year, I went heavy on herring, and I tend to pack a lot of calcium supplements. Probiotics are essential, because travel can do weird things to digestion. I make little sandwiches full of honey. Sometimes I fry bacon; sometimes I serve it raw.

Good old-fashioned Gatorade works wonders for electrolyte balance. I often thaw it in my armpits while driving the sled.

Occasionally I鈥檒l even resort to cat food. Literally. You never know. Packs of ramen noodles. Usually I don鈥檛 bother seasoning or even cooking them. The crunch is satisfying, but easy on the mouth. I also tend to favor peanut butter鈥攁gain, warmed in the armpits or the front pocket of my pants.

But that鈥檚 just what I feed the dogs.

I sent a ton of food up the trail for our dogs to enjoy at every checkpoint. The race is like a great expedition for them, punctuated by fun feasts among lots of new friends, when they happen to camp near other teams. It has all the drama of a Caribbean cruise, but without all the heat. Plenty of HEET, though. We carry bottles of HEET methanol antifreeze for our alcohol cookers, so we can melt snow and heat dog food on the trail.

When I say I sent a ton of dog food up the trail, I do mean a ton, or nearly so. My drop bags weighed 1976 pounds when I weighed them to ship them up-trail. My team鈥檚 food packages weren鈥檛 the heaviest, nor the lightest. But what do I eat?

What I Eat During the Iditarod

A single sled dog needs about 10,000 calories per day while running the Iditarod. Mushers run less, but we鈥檙e bigger, so I鈥檇 guess we burn about the same. We spend 12 to 16 hours a day behind the sled, often jogging, pushing it up hills, or muscling over rough terrain. Even when the dogs rest, we鈥檙e often still working: melting snow for water or chopping through ice, fixing equipment, arranging and packing up camp. I鈥檓 sure my parka will be loose by the time I reach the Bering Sea.

Thank goodness for Sarah Hamilton, a longtime sled dog booster who happens to run Trail Center Lodge along the Gunflint Trail in Minnesota鈥檚 Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness. She makes heat-and-eat trail meals called , and if a box of them hadn鈥檛 arrived literally hours before my dogs and I left for Alaska, I would be fighting my dogs for pork.

Which of course I would never do, because the dogs come first. Moms and dads feed their children. Mushers feed their dogs. We take much delight in their hearty appetites. We try to get everything just how they like it, so they can focus on their race. Cutting off the proverbial crusts, if that鈥檚 what they need. We鈥檙e kind of useless out there compared to the dogs, so this also makes us feel a little better about ourselves. By the time we鈥檙e a few hundred miles in, they鈥檒l eat just about anything.

Sarah鈥檚 CAMP CHOW meals can be made with hot water or even cold water. She sends me the gluten-free ones, which are incredible. T丑别谤别鈥檚 a blueberry parfait that I don鈥檛 think I could ever get sick of, which is saying something, because it鈥檚 hard to eat when you鈥檙e so tired. I鈥檓 thirsty out there. My teeth are practically furry. All I want to do is sleep. I am the last creature I feed, and it鈥檚 hard to cajole myself into eating, but it鈥檚 necessary, and Camp Chow makes it possible.

Other mushers have their own techniques. One friend asked me to pick up 20 McChicken sandwiches right before the Iditarod start a few years back. He kept them in his sled, and thawed them one by one in his armpits when he got hungry. My wife, also a musher, swears by frozen cheesecakes, because she loses her appetite completely on the trail, and they鈥檙e caloric and never freeze too hard to take a bite. She likes Twizzlers, too. They freeze solid, but she can hang one out of her mouth like a farmer with a blade of straw, thawing and gnawing it inch by inch. The sugar keeps her warm and the taste keeps her awake.

What about drinks? We mushers drink a lot of hot Tang. Sometimes it鈥檚 available at checkpoints, steeping in a big thermos next to coffee that might or might not taste like coffee, although no one cares for taste at that point. I packed bottles of iced tea and coconut water in my drop bags, because I can drop them (frozen) into my cooker when I鈥檓 making dog food. When they thaw just enough, I gulp down the slush.

Unless, of course, the dogs decided they want what鈥檚 mine. In that case, it becomes theirs. I鈥檓 happy to live on the crumbs.

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Last fall, at a dryland dogsled race in Pearson,Wisconsin, one canine athlete stood out from the rest. While her competition鈥攎ostly pointers and Alaskan huskies鈥攔an one- to three-mile sprints, then rested, she entered multiple divisions in such quick succession that she once hurried straight from the finish line to the starting line without slowing down. Her gaze is stoic. Her fur is orange. Her legs are four inches long.

Musher Betsy Heidt of Wausau, Wisconsin, didn鈥檛 plan for her 18-pound dachshund mix, Muppy, to become one of the most recognizable sled dogs in the Midwest. As it turns out, that was all Muppy鈥檚 idea.

鈥淚 could never get Muppy to walk on a leash,鈥� Betsy told me over the phone. (I鈥檓 a dogsledder myself, and cheer for Muppy at races, but I don鈥檛 know Betsy well; I reached out to learn the full story.) 鈥淪omeone commented that I should walk faster, so I walked faster, and then Muppy started running, so I started running, and then she started running faster. I don鈥檛 have the cardio for that, so I hooked her up to a bike and off she went. I was like, oh, I guess this is a thing.鈥�

Betsy grew up on a dairy farm in the southern part of the state. As a kid, she sometimes hooked up the farm collies to a plastic sled with bailer twine, then threw snowballs for them to chase so they鈥檇 pull her. But those experiments, plus the movie Snow Dogs, were the only context she had for sled dog sports. So she turned to YouTube for urban mushing tutorials, which explained the basics of , , and : dogs pulling bikes, scooters, and human runners, respectively. The videos were helpful, but geared toward folks with huskies and other big dogs. They didn鈥檛 address many of the problems she encountered, like that Muppy was so short that she had to swim through puddles. Plus, where do you find a good harness that size?

But Muppy loved pulling so much that Betsy was determined to figure it out. She contacted a harness company called , ordering their smallest adjustable size, and got some goggles so that Muppy鈥檚 eyes were protected from sticks and burdock. They trained on deer trails in the woods by their house. Muppy was ecstatic to pull, and her never-ending energy felt like magic鈥攅ven when she turned to chase critters, and Betsy went flying. 鈥淚 got really good at reading her body language,鈥� she told me. 鈥淚 can tell by the way she holds her tail if she鈥檚 locked into something ahead of us, whether it鈥檚 a person in the distance or an unsuspecting rabbit.鈥� Betsy learned to brace herself, and Muppy learned not to swerve: 鈥淪he throws into the harness even more to get out that frustration.鈥�

When Muppy was four, in 2021, Betsy posted a picture on Facebook, and a page called Twin Cities Dog-Powered Sports liked her post. 鈥淚 sent some messages to their page, asking them 900 different questions, and they were super helpful.鈥� When she saw that they were hosting a first-time race in Minnesota, she signed up for the 1.3 mile bikejoring event. She was terrified.

For one thing, Betsy didn鈥檛 know if other mushers would accept her. 鈥淏ut my biggest fear,鈥� she said, 鈥渨as that someone would pass us.鈥� That summer, Muppy had been attacked by three golden retrievers at a park, and she鈥檇 been sketchy around strange dogs ever since. How would she react to a team coming up behind them? Betsy made a plan: if another team approached, she would veer off-trail and sit on the ground, holding Muppy, until they were gone. As it turned out, she and Muppy both had so much adrenaline鈥斺�淲e were pedal to the metal!鈥濃�攖hat no other teams came close. They finished the course in just five and a half minutes, averaging over 14 miles per hour. The duo didn鈥檛 make the podium, but they weren鈥檛 on the bottom, either.

After that, they were hooked.

When most people picture sled dogs, they imagine huskies racing 1,000 miles through snowy wilderness. But in dryland racing, an ever-growing corner of the sport, teams consisting of one to six dogs compete in parks, cities, and small towns worldwide. Mushers gather at trailheads and parking lots for long weekends of racing, with world-champion sprinters (often huge, muscular pointers with legs a mile long) competing alongside teams of purebred Siberians and assorted mutts. When Betsy and Muppy first started showing up at races, people assumed that Muppy belonged to a spectator, or that she was a pet accompanying another team. But it wasn鈥檛 long before they took her seriously, as both a friend and competition.

Muppy鈥檚 not the fastest dog on the race circuit, but she鈥檚 among the most recognizeable, and crowds will sometimes gather to chant her name. The affection is mutual: t丑别谤别鈥檚 a bar on the country road that leads to one of the race sites, and whenever Betsy makes the turn in her car, Muppy starts screeching with excitement. In the starting chute, while the judge counts down, she wails, eyes glued to the trail ahead鈥攁nd the moment Betsy releases the brake, they take off at top speed. She鈥檚 become a pro at some of the more technical aspects of racing, like getting passed鈥攐r, just as often, passing. 鈥淭he dog parts of the other team, sometimes they just stare as they鈥檙e running, trying to decide if she鈥檚 food or friend,鈥� Betsy recalled, laughing. 鈥淎nd their mushers will say, 鈥楥ome on, Snowball! You鈥檙e getting passed by a wiener dog!鈥�

For the past four years, during dryland season, Muppy races frequently, and trains by pulling Betsy or her husband two to three miles up to four times a week. Betsy works at a composting facility, and even brings Muppy to work sometimes, so she can practice running up and down the compost rows鈥攚hich smell enticing, making them perfect practice for resisting distraction. Until this year, winter鈥檚 been Muppy鈥檚 off-season; she spends the snowy months digging and shredding sticks. But Betsy recently bought a fatbike, and the duo have been training for fatbikejoring races on snow.

Last May, Betsy and her husband adopted a second dog, Journey, who鈥檚 a terrier-shepherd mix. Journey鈥檚 bigger than Muppy, and not that into pulling, but she does love running, so sometimes they enter two-dog races together. Muppy pulls, and Journey simply runs alongside her. Betsy doesn鈥檛 mind. The point of dog-powered sports, as she sees it, is to make dogs鈥� lives richer, and that means embracing each dog鈥檚 skills and interests鈥攕o as long as Journey鈥檚 happy, she鈥檚 happy too.

As for Muppy, she鈥檚 fully embraced her role as an icon; she prances when fans call her name. Betsy鈥檚 thrilled to be her ambassador. 鈥淚f someone has a pet with boundless energy, a sport like this is a great opportunity for them,鈥� she told me. 鈥淓ven for a dog who doesn鈥檛 pull a lot, like Journey, being out in front and making decisions seems to tucker her out more than games of fetch ever did.鈥�

But Betsy鈥檚 favorite thing has been seeing how much joy and inspiration Muppy鈥檚 athleticism brings to people. 鈥淚 want to show that little dogs can do things,鈥� she said proudly, 鈥渁nd help more dogs live enriching lives!鈥�

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More than 40 years ago, the then park ranger Jon Waterman took his first journey to Alaska鈥檚 Noatak River. Captivated by the profusion of wildlife, the rich habitat, and the unfamiliar landscape, he spent years kayaking, packrafting, skiing, dogsledding, and backpacking in Arctic North America鈥攐ften alone for weeks at a time. After three decades away from the Noatak, he returned with his 15-year-old son, Alistair, in 2021 to find a flooded river and a scarcity of the once abundant caribou. The Arctic had warmed nearly four times faster than the rest of the world.

The next year, 2022, Waterman took a last journey to document the changes. The following is excerpted and adapted from his prologue in Into the Thaw: Witnessing Wonder amid the Arctic Climate Crisis (Patagonia Books, November 12).

A former ranger in Rocky Mountain听补苍诲 Denali national parks, Waterman is the author of 17 books, including (National Geographic Books), In the Shadow of Denali, Kayaking the Vermilion Sea, Running Dry, and Arctic Crossing. He has made five films about adventure and wild places.

If you buy through our links, we may earn an affiliate commission. This supports our mission to get more people active and outside. Learn more.

The below is adapted from Into the Thaw: Witnessing Wonder amid the Arctic Climate Crisis.

A Certain Type of Fun, July 10-12, 2022

My hands, thighs, and calves have repeatedly locked up in painful dehydration cramps, undoubtedly caused by our toil with leaden packs in eighty-degree heat up the steep streambed or its slippery, egg-shaped boulders. After my water bottle slid out of an outside pack pocket and disappeared amid one of several waist-deep stream fords or in thick alders yesterday, I carefully slide the bear spray can (looped in a sling around my shoulders) to the side so it doesn鈥檛 get knocked out of its pouch, an action I will come to regret. Now, to slake my thirst, I submerge my head in Kalulutok Creek like a water dog.

Kalulutok Creek would be called a river in most parts of the world. Here in Gates of the Arctic National Park and Preserve, amid the largest span of legislated wilderness in the United States, it鈥檚 just a creek compared to the massive Noatak River that we鈥檙e bound for. But in my mind鈥攁fter we splash-walked packrafts and forded its depths at least 30 times yesterday鈥擪alulutok will always be an ice-cold, wild river.

It drains the Endicott and Schwatka Mountains, which are filled with the most spectacular granite and limestone spires of the entire Brooks Range. One valley to the east of us is sky-lined with sharp, flinty peaks called the Arrigetch, or 鈥渇ingers of the outstretched hand鈥� in I帽upiaq.

As the continent鈥檚 most northerly mountains, the sea-fossil-filled Brooks Range鈥攚ith more than a half-dozen time-worn peaks over 8,000 feet high鈥攊s seen on a map as the last curl of the Rocky Mountains before they stairstep into foothills and coastal plains along the Arctic Ocean. The Brooks Range stretches 200 miles south to north and 700 miles to the east, where it jabs into Canada. Although there are more than 400 named peaks, since the Brooks Range is remote and relatively untraveled, it鈥檚 rare that anyone bothers to climb these mountains. My river-slogger companion, Chris, and I will be exceptions.

We carry a water filter, but it would be silly to use it. We鈥檙e higher and farther north than giardiasis-infected beavers and there is no sign of caribou. The creek is fed from the pure ice of shrunken glaciers above and ancient permafrost in the ground below. In what seems like prodigious heat for the Arctic, the taps here are all wide-open.

Thirty-nine years ago, I decided to learn all I could about life above the Arctic Circle. As a climber, I traded my worship of high mountains for the High Arctic. I felt that unlike the study of crevasse extrication and avalanche avoidance鈥攜ou couldn鈥檛 just read about the Arctic or sign up for courses. You have to go on immersive journeys and figure out how the interlocked parts of the natural world fit together. Along this path, acts of curiosity out on the land and the water can open an earned universe of wonders. But you must spend time in the villages, too, with the kindhearted people of the North to make sure you get it right. And you can鈥檛 call the Arctic 鈥渢he Far North鈥濃�攊t is 鈥渉ome鈥� rather than 鈥渇ar鈥� to the many people who live there.

So, after twoscore of Arctic journeys, in the summer of 2022, I鈥檓 on one more trip. I could not be on such an ambitious trip without all the previous experiences. (The more I learn, it sometimes feels like the less I know about the Arctic.)

But this time the agenda is different. I hope to understand the climate crisis better.

Chris Korbulic and I are here to document it however we can. Since my first trip above the Arctic Circle in 1983, I have seen extraordinary changes in the landscape. Only three days underway and we鈥檝e already flown over a wildfire to access our Walker Lake drop-off point. And yesterday we trudged underneath several bizarre, tear-drop-shaped landslide thaw slumps鈥攁.k.a. thermokarsts鈥攃aused by the permafrost thaw.

In much of Alaska, the Arctic Monitoring and Assessment Programme (AMAP) says that permafrost thaw from 2005 to 2010 has caused the ground to sink more than four inches, and in places to the north of us, twice that. The land collapses as the permafrost below it thaws, like logs pulled out from beneath a woodpile. AMAP believes this will amount to a 鈥渓arge-scale degradation of near-surface permafrost by the end of the twenty-first century.鈥� Roads and buildings and pipelines鈥攁long with hillsides, I帽upiat homes, forests, and even lakes鈥攚ill fall crazily aslant, or get sucked into the ground as if taken by an earthquake.

On this remote wilderness trip, we don鈥檛 expect a picnic鈥攌nown as Type 1 Fun to modern-day adventurers. A journey across the thaw on foot and by packraft for 500-plus miles won鈥檛 resemble a backcountry ski trip or a long weekend backpack on Lower 48 trails. We have planned for Type 2 Fun: an ambitious expedition that will make us suffer and give us the potential to extend ourselves just enough that there will be hours, or even days, that won鈥檛 seem like fun until much later when we鈥檙e back home. Then our short-circuited memories will allow us to plan the next trip as if nothing went wrong on this one. An important part of wilderness mastery is to avoid Type 3 Fun: a wreckage of accidents, injuries, near-starvation, or rescue. We鈥檝e both been on Type 3 Fun trips that we鈥檇 rather forget.

Today, to get Chris, a caffeine connoisseur, to stop, I simply utter, 鈥淐offee?鈥� His face lights up as he throws off his pack and pulls out the stove. I pull out the fuel bottle. Since Chris isn鈥檛 a conversational bon vivant, I鈥檝e learned not to ask too many questions, but a cup of coffee might stimulate a considerate comment or two about the weather. As I fire up the trusty MSR stove with a lighter, we crowd around and toast our hands over the hot windscreen as if it鈥檚 our humble campfire. We鈥檙e cold and wet with sweat and we shiver in the wind. But at least we鈥檙e out of the forest-fire smoke鈥攖his summer more than two million acres have burned in dried-out Alaska.

Today, with the all-day uphill climb and inevitable back-and-forth route decisions through the gorge ahead, we鈥檒l be lucky to trudge even five miles to the lake below the pass. Why, I ask myself, as Chris puts on his pack and shifts into high gear, could we not have simply flown into the headwaters of the Noatak River instead of crossing the Brooks Range to get here? I heave on my pack and wonder how I鈥檒l catch Chris, already far ahead.

Shards of caribou bones and antlers lie on the tundra as ghostly business cards of a bygone migration, greened with mold, and minutely chiseled and mined for calcium by tiny vole teeth. We kick steps across a snowfield, then work our way down a steep, multicolored boulderfield, whorled red and peppered with white quartz unlike any rocks I鈥檝e seen before. As rain shakes out of the sky like Parmesan cheese from a can, we weave in and out of leafy alder thickets while I examine yet another fresh pile of grizzly feces. I stop to pick apart the scat and thumb through stems and leaves and root pieces. This griz appears to be on a vegetarian diet.

鈥淗ey, bear!鈥� We yell the old cautionary refrain again and again until we鈥檙e hoarse. I hold tight to the pepper spray looped over my shoulder to keep it from grabby alder branches.

A half mile farther the route dead-ends so we鈥檙e forced to descend into the gorge again. With Chris 20 yards behind, I plunge step down through a near-vertical slope of alders and play Tarzan for my descent as I hang onto a flexible yet stout branch, and swing down a short cliff into another alder thicket. A branch whacks me in the chest and knocks off the pepper-spray safety plug. When I swing onto the ground, I get caught on another branch that depresses the trigger in an abrupt explosion that shoots straight out from my chest in a surreal orange cloud. Instinctively I hold my breath and close my eyes and continue to shimmy downward, but I know I鈥檓 covered in red-hot pepper spray.

When I run out of breath, I squint, keep my mouth closed, breathe carefully through my nose, and scurry out of the orange capsaicin cloud. Down in a boulderfield that pulses with a stream, I open my mouth, take a deep breath, and yell to Chris that I鈥檓 O.K. as I strip off my shirt and try to wring it out in the stream. I tie the contaminated shirt on the outside of my pack and put on a sweater. My hands prickle with pepper.

Then we鈥檙e off again. As we clamber up steep scree to exit the gorge, my lips, nasal passages, forehead, and thighs burn from the pepper. The pepper spray spreads from my thighs to my crotch like a troop of red ants, but I can hardly remove my pants amid the incoming storm clouds and wind. With the last of the alders below us, we enter the alpine world above the tree line. By the time we reach the lake, the drizzle has become a steady rain. I鈥檓 nauseous and overheated underneath my rain jacket with the red pepper spray that I wish I had saved for an aggressive bear instead of a self-douche. Atop wet tundra that feels like a sponge underfoot, we pitch the Megamid tent with a paddle lashed to a ski pole and guy out the corners with four of the several million surrounding boulders left by the reduction of tectonic litter.

I fire up the stove and boil the water, and we inhale four portions of freeze-dried pasta inside the tent. We depart from wilderness bear decorum to cook outside and away from the tent because it鈥檚 cold and we鈥檙e tired. Chris immediately heads out with his camera. His eyes are watery from just being within several feet of me.

I鈥檝e been reduced like this before鈥攚ounded and exhausted and temporarily knocked off my game. So, I tell myself that this too will pass, that I鈥檒l get in gear and regain my mojo. That maybe, I can eventually get my shy partner to loosen up and talk. That we will discover an extraordinary new world鈥攖he headwaters of the Noatak River鈥攆rom up on the pass in the morning. And that I will find a way to withstand my transformation into a spicy human burrito.

Snow feels likely tonight. It’s mid-July, yet winter has slid in like a glacier over the Kalulutok Valley.

I am too brain-dead to write in my journal, too physically wiped out and overheated in the wrong places to even think of a simple jaunt through the flowers to see the view that awaits us. I pull down my orange-stained pants and red underwear, grab a cup filled with ice water. I try not to moan as I put in my extra-hot penis and let it go numb.

Type 2 Fun for sure.

Jon Waterman lives in Carbondale, Colorado. An all-round adventurer, he has climbed the famous Cassin Ridge on Denali in winter; soloed the Northwest Passage; sailed to Hawaii picking up microplastics; dogsledded into and up Canada鈥檚 Mount Logan; and run the Colorado River 1,450 miles from source to sea. He is a recipient of the National Endowment for the Arts Literature Fellowship and three grants from the National Geographic Society Expeditions Council. Into the Thaw is available to purchase from Patagonia Books and for pre-order on Amazon for November 19.

For more by this author:

A Former National Park Ranger Reveals His Favorite Wild Places in the U.S.

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If you鈥檝e never heard the legend of Blowhole, I can tell you all about it, because I was there from the start.

My husband and I are dogsledders. , though we travel; when your life revolves around sled dogs, you鈥檙e always chasing snow. We met Blowhole in April 2018. I had entered the , an unsupported, 440-mile race between seven remote villages in the Alaskan Arctic, and I鈥檇 borrowed dogs from a few friends to fill out my team. One of them was a shaggy black and white two-year-old owned by Inupiaq musher Ryan Redington. Like most modern sled dogs, he was an Alaskan husky: a thick-furred, super-athletic mutt. He was named for the vicious wind tunnels that form on the Bering coast, the ones that threaten to throw you out to sea and, heck, halfway to Siberia. Blowhole.

The race started on ice. Blowhole pulled hard, muscles rippling under fur, as we crossed the wind-carved surface of Kotzebue Sound. No sooner had we reached land than he stepped into a moose hole鈥攁 deep, tube-shaped footprint left by the antlered beast. He charged on, but his gait was off; he鈥檇 tweaked a wrist. I unhooked his harness and made him ride with me in the sled.

It feels heartless, carrying a dog that wants to run, but not as heartless as what I did next鈥攖hough I acted with genuine concern. In the village of Selawik, I left Blowhole with race volunteers so his wrist could rest and heal. He was given warm food, a straw bed, attention, and massages. I knew we鈥檇 see each other again when the race was over. But he was distraught. All he wanted was to keep going. He howled desperately as the other dogs and I continued down the trail without him.

Days later, after the race, my husband and I brought Blowhole back to Ryan鈥檚 place in Knik. Immediately after we left, we discovered that the brakes on our truck were barely working. We white-knuckled it to a repair shop, where a mechanic diagnosed the problem and scrawled it on our $1,200 bill: Brake lines chewed by dog.

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What’s the weirdest rule in endurance sports? A few come to mind:

Regulations governing the New York City Marathon explicitly on the pavement at the starting line. prohibits nakedness in transition areas. And don’t get me started on the wackadoo bylaws enforced by pro cycling’s governing body, the Union Cycliste International, which govern the minutiae of oh so many aspects of bike racing, from the to the size and shape of his or her ugly helmet.

But in all my time covering professional outdoor competitions, I’ve never come across anything like governing Alaska’s Iditarod, the Tour de France of dogsledding. The law, titled 鈥淜illing of Game Animals,” is below:

In the event that an edible big game animal, i.e., moose, caribou, buffalo, is killed in defense of life or property, the musher must gut the animal and report the incident to a race official at the next checkpoint. Following teams must help gut the animal when possible. No teams may pass until the animal has been gutted and the musher killing the animal has proceeded. Any other animal killed in defense of life or property must be reported to a race official, but need not be gutted.听

Yes, the Iditarod requires you to disembowel the big mammals that you kill along the way. Not only that鈥攐fficials will scrutinize the efficacy of your job gutting the animal in question.

At the moment, there’s a brewing controversy about the Iditarod’s Rule 34鈥攕pecifically, whether or not a star athlete gutted a moose the right way.

The race kicked off this past Sunday, March 3, and mushers embarked on the 1,000-mile trip from the town of Willow, near Anchorage, to Nome, near the arctic circle. On Monday, news circulated that five-time winner Dallas Seavey shortly after leaving a checkpoint in the town of Skwentna. Attacks by moose and other large mammals are rare, but do occasionally happen in sled dog racing. In 2022, a musher named Bridgrett Watkins was trampled by a bull just days before her rookie start in the Iditarod. In 1985, Susan Butcher was attacked while leading the Iditarod鈥攖he animal killed two of her dogs as she attempted to fight it off with an axe.

Seavey said the moose attacked his team at about 1:30 A.M. on Monday morning. It became entangled in his harness and sled and injured a female dog named Faloo so badly that she eventually had to be transported back to Anchorage. Seavey pulled out a handgun and shot the moose dead. 鈥淚t fell on my sled, it was sprawled on the trail,鈥� Seavey told an Iditarod Insider television crew. 鈥淚 gutted it the best I could, but it was ugly.鈥�

That’s where things get interesting. On Wednesday, March 6, the Iditarod announced that its panel of judges had issued Seavey a two-hour time penalty鈥攁 massive time gap in a race that’s sometimes decided by an hour or two. The reason for the sanction? Seavey did a substandard job of removing the animal鈥檚 innards. The race clarified exactly what gutting entails. “By definition, gutting: taking out the intestines and other internal organs of (a fish or other animal) before cooking it,鈥�听the race said in a public statement.

According to the investigation, Seavey spent about ten minutes at the kill site before mushing his dogs 11 miles to the next checkpoint, where he informed officials about the moose kill and also dropped off his injured dog (according to a Facebook post, !). A race communique said officials eventually retrieved the moose carcass, properly processed it, and will distribute the meat as food.

Seavey鈥檚 kennel published a after the ruling: “As members of Team Dallas we are thankful for the guidelines and officials who make this race possible. Each race is riddled with its own set of challenges and part of being a great musher is being able to navigate them.”

Back to this unorthodox rule. I think most normal people can understand the need to ban runners from pooping on the asphalt, and even to prohibit triathletes from displaying their uncovered nether regions during a race. But what’s the deal with cutting open a dead animal in sled dog racing? An Iditarod employee who answered the race’s general phone line reminded me that the Rule 34 simply reflects Alaska state law. I hunted around the state’s rules and regulations and came across Statue 16.30.010, titled .

It is a class A misdemeanor for a person who kills a big game animal or a species of wild fowl to fail intentionally, knowingly, recklessly, or with criminal negligence to salvage for human consumption the edible meat of the animal or fowl.听

Turns out the weirdest rule in endurance sports is an extension of a pragmatic law. A full-grown moose can weigh up to 1,600 pounds, which can feed a lot of human beings. Improperly handling the intestines from one can spoil the meat. And the Iditarod employee I spoke to emphatically said that removing the entrails from an animal of that size takes much longer than ten minutes.

Whether or not the two-hour penalty keeps Seavey from attaining win number six is yet to be seen. The two-hour penalty will be added to Seavey鈥檚 mandatory 24-hour rest later in the race. On Wednesday, he passed the in first place, nursing a 47-minute lead on Nicolas Petit of Big Lake, Alaska. Seavey needs to gain an hour and 14 minutes between Cripple and Nome to win.

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鈥淚 guess you could say I was born to mush,鈥� says Ryan Redington, an Inupiaq musher who grew up in the town of Knik, Alaska, not far from Anchorage. The first piece of evidence: his dad鈥檚 dad was Joe Redington, widely called the Father of the Iditarod, and the race鈥檚 founder. Then t丑别谤别鈥檚 his great-grandfather on his mother鈥檚 side, who carried mail to remote parts of Alaska via dog sled. Redington always knew he wanted to carry on the family legacy.

鈥淚 was fascinated with the dogs and their drive,鈥� Redington says. 鈥淢y brothers and I read all the newspaper articles about the race and the racers. We just lived and breathed it.鈥�

Just after noon on March 14, Redington claimed his birthright when he and his team of sled dogs crossed the Iditarod finish line in Nome. He was the sixth member of his family to complete the race鈥攂ut the first to win it, completing the 1,000-mile course in 8 days, 21 hours, 12 minutes, and 58 seconds.

Joe Redington dreamed up the original Iditarod, first run in 1973, alongside several other mushing enthusiasts who wanted to help preserve the tradition of dog-powered transit, which had faltered as snowmobiles proliferated in rural Alaska. They created a route that passed through dozens of Native villages, and tried to raise money for a championship pot. (Joe eventually funded it himself by refinancing his house.) Today, the course varies slightly from year to year, and prize money comes from sponsors, but the basic premise鈥攁 multiday push from Willow to Nome鈥攅ndures.

The event draws spectators and competitors from around the world but remains deeply intertwined with Native Alaskan cultures and communities. 鈥淲e get our food and supplies at the villages along the way, and it鈥檚 really special to have the support and excitement from these Native communities, and to get to represent them,鈥� says Redington, the third Inupiaq to win the Iditarod. After his victory, he visited rural schools to talk about mushing.

Redington credits his success to his top-notch dog team, led by Sven and Ghost, who guided him through a whiteout. The two Alaskan huskies were awarded the Golden Harness, which goes to the best lead dogs and is voted on by the mushers in the race. He also attributes his success to his life partner, Sarah Keefer, who ran the dogs in training races before the Iditarod.

Now his sights are on a second title. 鈥淚鈥檒l be back to defend my championship and keep proving my dogs are the best at the 1,000-mile distance,鈥� he says.

Redington鈥檚 win comes during a challenging time for the Iditarod and sled dog racing in general. This year鈥檚 event saw the smallest field ever, with just 33 competitors (the average is nearly twice that). And the sport faces existential threats: inflation has increased operational expenses, and climate change continues to diminish the snowpack needed to travel by sled. But Redington remains optimistic.

His eight-year-old daughter and seven-year-old son are 鈥渧ery doggy kids,鈥� he says. They have taken to kennel chores, training the dogs, and mushing, which gives him hope for the future.鈥� My family never pressured me to be a musher, and I鈥檓 not pressuring my kids. But boy, it鈥檚 a lot of fun, and [I feel] pride, watching them race and be around the dogs,鈥� Redington says. 鈥淚 love mushing, and the Alaskan husky, and I love being able to share that with them. I hope it can continue for many generations to come.鈥�

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When dogsledding in extreme environments, good gear isn鈥檛 just about comfort; it can be life-saving鈥攅specially if you fall through ice, get stuck or lost, or encounter rapidly changing conditions. I鈥檝e raced the Iditarod鈥攖he iconic 938-mile race through Alaska鈥檚 wild interior鈥攁s well as some of the other toughest dogsled races in the world, and I鈥檝e learned firsthand what gear cuts it in temperatures so cold that the mercury drops off the charts. Here are some of those items.

RefrigiWear Extreme Softshell Bib Overalls 0795 ($229-$244)

Sizing: S-5XL

I rarely see RefrigiWear recommended in outdoor circles; much of their gear is designed for people who work long hours in industrial freezers. That means it鈥檚 remarkably durable鈥揳nd relatively inexpensive, too. I鈥檝e tried countless bibs鈥攄own-filled and otherwise鈥攁nd these softshell bibs with synthetic insulation and a reflective twill lining are by far the warmest. They鈥檙e comfort-rated to negative-60 degrees Fahrenheit , and hold warmth even when they get damp. These bibs are simple鈥攖here aren鈥檛 a lot of technical details or extra seams, which probably helps keep the warmth trapped inside. I particularly like the side-zips on the legs, which offer quick ventilation, and the high bib that keeps my torso so warm, I can often get by without a parka.

LaCrosse Aero Insulator Boot ($230)

Sizing: 7-16 (men鈥檚)

Though I鈥檝e tried countless cold-weather boots, I keep coming back to these heavy-duty neoprene ones. I wouldn鈥檛 say my toes are toasty in thirty, forty, or fifty below, but I can still feel them鈥攑articularly when I add a thick wool insole鈥攚hich feels like a big achievement. They鈥檙e sleeker than other options, so it鈥檚 easier to run alongside my sled, shift between sled runners, and step on the brake at a moment鈥檚 notice. Plus, they鈥檙e completely waterproof, which comes in handy when I encounter river crossings, slush, and overflow. I like this Lacrosse model because the polyurethane shell adds durability; neoprene on its own tends to crack after a year or two of heavy use.

Canada Goose Snow Mantra Parka ($1,725)

Sizing: 2XS-3XL (men鈥檚), 2XS-2XL (women鈥檚)

I鈥檝e been using this parka consistently for a decade now, and it鈥檚 held up beautifully. It feels like I鈥檓 wearing insulated armor: it鈥檚 very heavy and very protective. Every design detail is thoughtful, from the recessed, rib-knit cuffs to the flap of windproof fleece that keeps my neck warm when it鈥檚 slightly unzipped.There are nine external pockets and five internal ones to store items that you need to keep from freezing, like a a thermos, snacks, headlamp, and extra batteries. The tunnel hood might be overkill, but I love the thick wire incorporated in the front seam to bend your ruff to block wind. The 675-fill goose down makes this jacket one of the warmest I鈥檝e ever worn. When I鈥檓 too tired to unpack my sleeping bag at night, I simply lie down in this parka and pull my arms inside.

Non-Stop Dogwear Long Distance Jacket ($89)

Sizing: S-XL

My dogs鈥� gear is at least as important as mine when I鈥檓 mushing. For serious wind or cold, I love Non-Stop鈥檚 long-distance dog coat. The synthetic insulation packs up a little bulky, but at 320 grams (for a size medium including the belly flap), the coat is still lightweight, even when I鈥檓 carrying a dozen in my sled. The biggest selling point: The water resistant ripstop shell sheds ice better than any other dog coat I鈥檝e tried; if one gets wet from water or urine, you can simply bend it back and forth and the ice will crack off. Bonus: A removable belly flap protects male dogs鈥� sensitive bits when it鈥檚 windy.

UnTapped Energy Gels ($2 for 1 packet, $11 for 5 packets, $20 for 10 packets, $37 for 20)

In deep cold, it becomes especially important to consume a steady supply of calories so the body can generate its own heat. Unfortunately, I tend to lose my appetite in serious cold. It doesn鈥檛 help that most foods freeze rock-hard, which turns eating into a real chore. Enter these packets of pure Vermont maple syrup. They go down easy and the low water content prevents them from freezing completely. I always keep a couple in my pockets for when my energy dips or I start to shiver. Plus, the coffee-infused ones keep me energized on long night runs.

Magic Gloves (From $1 each from different retailers)

I keep a stock of these stretchy, one-size-fits-all acrylic-spandex gloves in a waterproof bag in my dogsled, and trade them out whenever my hands get damp (which is often). They鈥檙e dirt cheap, so losing or tearing them isn鈥檛 a big deal, and they allow enough dexterity to care for dogs, light a cooker, and complete other tasks that require dexterity. I keep them on all the times in deep cold when I鈥檓 handling metal items like dog bowls and brass snaps to protect me from contact frostbite.

More From the 2024 Winter Gear Guide

The Best Winter Hiking Boots of the Year

The Best Snowshoes

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Quince Mountain told his story to producer Ann Marie Awad for an episode of The Daily Rally podcast. It has been edited for length and clarity.

My wife Blair always talks about how the wilderness doesn’t care about you. There’s a thunderstorm, it’s not there to make you afraid or even an animal who’s chasing you. It’s not personal.

That was kind of nice when I was a person who grew up suffering, often in very deliberate ways, because of classmates and other kids who were pretty awful to me.

I found solace in the indifference of the wilderness. But I think what I had to learn to do later was connect with other people and trust other people.

My friends call me Q. I live in the Northwoods of Wisconsin. I’m a dog musher and an outdoor educator who works online. I think of it as edutainment, I guess, and I get the privilege along with my wife, Blair Braverman, and our 25 sled dogs, of sharing the story of our journeys and the people we meet on Patreon and Twitter and other social media. It’s a lot of fun.

This is gonna sound funny, but I didn’t set out to be a professional dog sledder or go in the Iditarod or anything like that. It just kind of happened. I just fell in love with Blair, and it was something she had done.

Dog mushing is something that turns adults into children. If you think about sledding, you see people sled down a hill, how fun that is. The dogs are just pulling you. I dare you to get on the runners of a dog sled with a decent team on a bluebird day and not fall in love with it.

I’ve always loved animals, too. Some of that I think comes from a person who grew up with social difficulties with people. People know I’m trans; I’m very, uh, public as a trans person. But I’m also not neurotypical. So, I had a lot of social difficulties and a lot of sensory difficulties as a kid. It was just easier to understand the intentions of the animals around me.

It’s such a collaboration. When I’m out at night with the dogs, crossing a mountain range or something, people will say, 鈥淲ell, how can you do that? How can you be out there by yourself?鈥� But I’m not by myself. I’m with 14 of my best friends.

There was this moment at this dog led race near Kotzebue, Alaska. I wasn’t actually in this race, my wife was, and she didn’t need my support. I just sort of had a few days off, and I ended up renting a snow machine or a snowmobile with a photographer, Katie Olinsky. Katie and I took this snow machine and we followed a little bit behind the race, and we went to this town called Noorvik. There’s no road. You don’t take a car there. You can fly there, you can take a snowmobile there. You can take a dog sled there.

We went across the street to check out the checkpoint in this community building. And of course they had put out this beautiful spread of food. T丑别谤别鈥檚 moose stew and chili and coffee, and all this stuff. Just feeding the mushers. I saw, in one corner of the building, there were some people working on some kind of carpentry project with some wood. There’s a woman there, and she just starts wailing, crying. The saddest sound.

It’s kind of awkward because we’re outsiders. We don’t know what’s going on, but I’m not gonna pretend it’s not happening. So I just wanted to say, 鈥淗ey, do you care to share what’s happening?鈥� She had lost a grandson, I believe. They were getting ready to have this service. That’s what people had been building in the corner, the carpenters were working on a casket for this young man.

Then there’s a knock at the door, and it’s like a hunter who lives in the village. They had shot a moose, but it was not the season to do that, so I was kind of curious about it. It’s not really my business, but somebody just mentioned to me, 鈥淥h, well Fish and Game authorizes us to go get these animals, because there’s a food shortage.鈥�

I thought, There’s a food shortage, and these people had been entertaining the mushers, feeding everybody, building a casket, planning for a funeral, all these things. And the mushers didn’t even know it. I just thought, Wow, that is a community that can hold so much.

The race goes in a loop and then comes back through this community a few days later. So they said, 鈥淲ell, come on your way back, we’re gonna give you some stew meat.鈥� And I said, 鈥淣o thanks. We don’t need that. We鈥檒l be okay. I appreciate the offer.鈥� But they weren’t taking no for an answer.

A couple days later we’re riding back, and go through this village at three o’clock in the morning. Just crawling through slowly on our snow machine, not to make any noise, and we’re not gonna stop. It’s three o’clock in the morning, you know? But sure enough, this woman runs out of the community center and brings Katie and I this cooler of stew meat and just insists that we have some of it. And I thought, This is what this is about.

This isn’t about times or days. I don’t remember who came in what place in the race. Actually, my wife had a top five finish. It was amazing, but that’s not the point.

As a trans person, I’ve gone down to the Wisconsin State Capitol, and I’ve been to these debates about trans inclusion in sports and so on. It was just a half hour of somebody reading the high jump records from New Mexico from last year, and when this person went through transition, look how much better their scores got, and what’s that gonna do for the sport? I’m like, This is so missing the point. Sports for most people isn’t about a college scholarship or becoming a professional anything like that. It’s about the connections we make. I wish we could begin to have this conversation, not in terms of competitive advantage, but in terms of belonging.

I happen to be in a sport that men and women can be in and it doesn’t matter. So it doesn’t matter in that sense that I’m trans, nobody’s checking my gender card. Being able to be a part of something competitive at an elite level without having to worry that being trans will disqualify me has given me the perspective about how important it is that people are able to participate in the sports that they’re working on, that they care about, in the communities where they belong, being who they are.

I think here’s what I want to tell trans people and trans young people. Trans people, people who don’t fit in in all kinds of ways, and who doubt their own validity, and try to figure out where they belong, and maybe feel like they landed in a spaceship in their family and in a community, and no one’s like them, or a few people are, and they’re trying to find their way鈥eople like us have been here for hundreds of years, thousands of years. We’ve been here for millennia in human history, and somehow a lot of us have found ways to survive. We’ve found ways to find each other. So I want you to be able to find your people that you can trust, whether they’re adults, they’re other kids, whoever.

If you feel that love and openness from people, move toward that. And you’ll be able to get through this. I don’t know how, but there’s gonna be a way, it’s gonna open up. It’s not gonna come from politicians, or your school principal, or your teacher, or me, or anyone else. It’s just gonna be a journey that you find and it’s gonna be a really cool one, and I hope you stick around for it.

I want to hear about it.

Quince Mountain is an outdoor educator and dog musher living in Wisconsin. He is one half of the BraverMountain mushing team with his wife, Blair Braverman. Quince is the first openly trans person to compete in the Iditarod and on the reality TV show Naked and Afraid. Learn more about Quince at .

You can follow听The Daily Rally听on听,听, or wherever you like to listen. and to be featured on the show.

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Olivia Bee began watching the Iditarod on TV with her parents when she was a first-grader. 鈥淲e would pick a musher, and make a little sled out of popsicle sticks, and hope that the musher we picked would win,鈥� says Bee, who lives in eastern Oregon. The 28-year-old photographer largely forgot about her childhood love for dogsled racing until an unexpected backcountry escapade with her husky mix in early 2020: she was wrapping up a day of cross-country skiing when the puppy bolted, and she held on to the leash as he pulled for what felt like miles through the snow. The episode got her thinking about mushing again. 鈥淚 know what it鈥檚 like to get through extreme weather with an animal,鈥� says Bee, who herds cattle on horseback at an Oregon ranch between photo assignments. 鈥淚t feels magical when you鈥檙e connected to another being that can鈥檛 talk.鈥� Last winter she traveled to western Oregon, Washington, Wyoming, and Alaska to document women mushers, who are outnumbered in the male-dominated sport. Originally, Bee set out to photograph teams practicing for the Iditarod, but those plans were shelved by the mushers鈥� intense training schedules. Instead, she connected with a group of racers who are perhaps less competitive but just as dedicated. Some of them participate in amateur events, while others just run with their dogs on their own. Each time she hopped on a motor sled to capture the teams鈥� dashes through the snow, she struggled to keep up in freezing, blustery conditions. 鈥淪led-dog racing is hard. You can鈥檛 do it if you don鈥檛 love it with all of your heart,鈥� Bee says. She managed to grab plenty of action shots, but her images revel in quieter moments, too. 鈥淢ost of the coverage I鈥檝e seen has been about competitions,鈥� she says. 鈥淚 wanted to bring in the human experience of this crazy sport.鈥�

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Sure, you might feel a little party-pooped after the busy holiday season, but right now is the best time to drum up ways to fill your 2023 festival card. To help, we鈥檝e pulled together our top picks for some of the most fun, varied, and can鈥檛-miss outdoor and outdoor-oriented experiences across the United States over the next 12 months. Whether you鈥檙e an adventure junkie, a culture vulture, a music nerd, a party animal, a diehard foodie, or a parent of toddlers, we promise t丑别谤别鈥檚 something entertaining here for everyone.

JANUARY

Saint Paul Winter Carnival

Saint Paul, Minnesota听 / January 26 to February 5

Launched in 1886, in jubilant defiance of a bunch of visiting East Coast journalists who ripped on the state capital as an uninhabitable midwestern Siberia, this 鈥攖he oldest wintertime festival in the U.S.鈥攊s a raucous celebration of the season. Ruled by an appointed King Boreas, and Aurora, Queen of the Snows, and backed by a royal court of nearly two dozen equally fantastic characters, the carnival has a vaguely Nordic, sorta Greek mythological backstory to get lost within, if that鈥檚 your thing. But really, all you need to know is that Minnesotans take their winter fun seriously and are seriously competitive. If you want to play along, lace up for an icy running series, angle for bass and walleye during an ice-fishing tournament, scour the streets in a citywide scavenger hunt, join an all-ages jigsaw-puzzle contest, and flex your follicular prowess in a burly beard competition. If spectating is more your thing, enjoy a casual stroll through Vulcan Snow Park to admire frosty sculptures on display.

Sundance Film Festival

Park City, Utah / January 19 to 29

An offshoot of the Sundance Institute, the creative-arts nonprofit founded by legendary actor-director Robert Redford, this isn鈥檛 just the largest indie film fest in the nation, but one of the most venerated, awash in Oscar bait. While offerings run the topical gamut, it has always featured plenty of adventure-oriented and environmentally conscious gems鈥�An Inconvenient Truth premiered here in 2006, and critically acclaimed documentaries like Chasing Ice, Crip Camp, and Meru have followed suit. Offscreen, a plethora of panels, parties, and meet and greets round out the action, and nearby resorts offer a powdery alternative to hours in the theater. While this year鈥檚 event is the first in-person gathering after a pandemic-driven two-year hiatus, you can also screen entries from the comfort of home鈥攁lthough you鈥檒l be a lot less likely to bump into, say, Issa Rae or Jason Momoa when you get up for popcorn.

Honorable January Mentions:

• in Breckenridge, Colorado / January 23 to February 1
• in Ouray, Colorado / January 19 to 22
• in Aspen, Colorado / January 27 to 29

FEBRUARY

Anchorage Fur Rendezvous

Anchorage, Alaska / February 23 to March 5

Known to its faithful as the or just Rondy, this tradition began in 1936 to mark the arrival of fur-trading season and give folks a way to shake off some cabin fever. While you can still eyeball (and purchase) an array of pelts during its three-day trade fair, this is your chance to interact with locals in lively ways over ten days. Find a spot to watch any stage of the multiday World Championship Sled Dog Race, get out there and try to beat Dasher and Dancer in a footrace during the Running of the Reindeer, or sidle up to see a bag-flinging throwdown at the Alaska Cornhole Championships. For something quirkier, strap on a pair of classic metal snowshoes for a chilly softball tourney, or wrangle your best wrangle your best toilet-on-skis (people are literally plopping toilets and outhouses onto a pair of skis for this race) and go for gold in the World鈥檚 Largest Outhouse Race.

Fire and Ice Winterfest

Lava Hot Springs, Idaho / February 4 to 5

If you鈥檙e the kind of person who enjoys chugging Fireball and getting cozy in the sauna after a day spent frolicking in the snow, make a beeline for southeastern Idaho to experience both extremes of the temperature scale. The Polar Bear Float involves donning a wacky costume, then settling in on an inflatable for a brisk quarter-mile cruise down the Portneuf River. Luckily, opportunities abound to thaw out and relax with cozier pursuits, such as wine-tasting events, a torch-light ski run, and a fire-dancing show. To experience the best of both worlds, however, brave souls strip down to their Speedos for the Running of the Bulls, a mad dash through town that ends, mercifully, with a sizzling soak at the natural hot-spring pools.

Honorable February Mentions:

• in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania / February 2
• in Saranac Lake, New York / February 2 to 12

MARCH

Flash Foxy Climbing Festival

Bishop, California / March 17 to 19

What was created in 2016 as a small gathering for female rockhounds has evolved into a celebration of community and climbing that now includes genderqueer, gender nonconforming, and nonbinary people. The main draw of this is, of course, the excellent climbing scattered around the eastern Sierra鈥檚 jaw-droppingly scenic Payahuunadu region (also known as the Owens Valley), with clinics and workshops offered for all levels of experience. The event maintains deep ties to the local Bishop Paiute community and area businesses and organizes beneficial stewardship projects such as crag clean-ups.

National Cherry Blossom Festival

Washington, D.C. / March 20 to April 16

Banish the winter blahs with a trip to witness the vibrant emergence of spring, as nearly 4,000 cherry-blossom trees around our nation鈥檚 capital hit their pretty peak in a massive explosion of pink and white blooms. A 2.1-mile loop around the Tidal Basin reservoir puts you right in the floral action, but peel yourself away to revel in the sights and sounds of the PetalPalooza arts and music shindig, admire a different kind of colorful display at the Washington Monument鈥檚 Blossom Kite Festival, and check out various cultural happenings around town that celebrate the long history of goodwill between the U.S. and Japan. In fact, the seeds of this whole petal-peeping gala were planted way back in 1909, when Yukio Ozaki, mayor of Tokyo, gifted 2,000 trees to Washington, D.C., to honor the countries鈥� growing friendship.

Sedona Mountain Bike Festival

Sedona, Arizona / March 3 to 5

Not that you need an excuse to pull out your mountain bike, but t丑别谤别鈥檚 no better place to bid adieu to the dreary gray of a long winter than the sun-soaked red rock of Sedona. A loaded schedule of group rides at this presents the perfect opportunity to explore the nearly 250 miles of world-class singletrack laced throughout the nearby Coconino National Forest, with many trails launching straight from town. At night, kick back with your new dirt-covered besties in a craft-beer garden, settle in for a film screening, or boogie down at a concert. Ride hard, party hard.

Honorable March Mentions:

• in Estes Park, Colorado / March 17 to 19
• in Denver, Colorado / March 3 to 4
• in Tahoe City, California / March 2 to 12
• in Boise, Idaho / March 22 to 26

APRIL

Gathering of Nations Powwow

Albuquerque, New Mexico / April 27 to 29

Once a small, hyperlocal celebration of culture, the has grown to become the largest powwow in North America, drawing upward of 700 tribes from the United States and Canada. While the traditional drummers, singers, and dancers are all Indigenous, everyone is welcome to enjoy festivities that include contemporary music, an extensive arts and crafts market, a Horse and Rider Regalia parade, and the Miss Indian World pageant, which is less a contest than a means of preserving and elevating Native heritage. Come here hungry鈥攖he food court brims with tasty bites, including favorite dishes like mutton stew and fry-bread tacos.

High Water Festival

North Charleston, South Carolina / April 15 to 16

Held at the bucolic Riverfront Park on the banks of the Cooper River, and helmed by the Carolinian alt-country duo Shovels and Rope, this intimate indie-music is now in its fifth year. The lineup is small but mighty, with an emphasis on rootsy, homegrown sounds and regional acts. This year鈥檚 marquee names include Wilco, Angel Olsen, Big Boi, Orville Peck, and Lucius. Low Country cuisine shares top billing; if you鈥檙e feeling adventurous, sign up for an oyster-education class and learn how to shuck and slurp the briny mollusks.

Vermont Maple Festival

Saint Albans, Vermont / April 28 to 30

Looking for something sweet, sticky, and traditional as heck? Tap (ahem) into the all-ages fun at this 50-plus-year-old of 鈥渢he official flavor of Vermont.鈥� The good stuff takes center stage, of course, with cooking and maple-syrup contests, and plenty of opportunities to indulge in divine confections. This is also an active event, where you can lace up for the 8.5-mile Sap Run, stroll through a maple-themed art show, enjoy kid-friendly entertainment at Taylor Park, and tour a family-run sugarhouse that boils up liquid magic from nearly 30,000 local trees.

Honorable April Mentions:

• in Carbondale, Colorado / April 20 to 23
• in Wilkesboro, North Carolina / April 27 to 30
• in Monterey, California / April 20 to 23

MAY

Dominion Energy Riverrock

Richmond, Virginia / May 19 to 21

The western U.S. steals a lot of the outdoor-rec thunder, but this massive music-and-adventure sports serves it up hot in the Mid-Atlantic. Spread across various parks and trail systems along the roiling James River, Riverrock cranks up the fun with a stacked schedule of trail races, climbing contests, mountain-bike competitions, and fishing tourneys. You can also peruse art installations, take in an indie-rock-heavy concert lineup, watch doggos catch some vert at the Subaru Ultimate Air Dogs event, give back through stewardship events, stretch out with some yoga, or try your hand at activities including kayaking and slacklining.

Mountainfilm

Telluride, Colorado / May 25 to 29

If t丑别谤别鈥檚 one word that appears more times than you can count on the website, it鈥檚 鈥渋nspiring.鈥� But honestly, that鈥檚 an apt descriptor. Once focused squarely on mountain-based adventure storytelling, the festival has grown into a much broader showcase for indie films from around the world that uplift spirits and spark thought and action. While screenings pop up around the country, it鈥檚 worth showing up in person for the flagship event to bask in the (sorry) inspiring company alone. Past speakers have ranged from environmental activist Julia Butterfly Hill to groundbreaking climber Lynn Hill, acclaimed climate author Bill McKibben, and Arctic photographer Subhankar Banerjee.

New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival

New Orleans, Lousiana / April 28 to May 7

Don鈥檛 let the name fool you鈥攜ou don鈥檛 need to own a single Miles Davis record to enjoy this It might sound like sacrilege, but even though the lineup usually includes a pretty stellar top billing (last year The Who, Willie Nelson, and Lionel Ritchie headlined), the true heart of this musical bacchanal beats on its smaller stages and in tents, where local legends and knockout upstarts abound. Sway to the good vibes at the gospel tent, get down at the larger stages to regional icons like Big Freedia and the Preservation Hall Jazz Band, and if you鈥檙e feeling frisky, wander over to the Fais Do Do area and let someone sporting a crawfish-patterned outfit guide you on the dance floor. Between sets, fuel up on a smorgasbord of southern delights that might just be the best grub on offer at any music festival in the States.

Honorable May Mentions:

• in Buena Vista Lake, California / May 24 to 29
• in Damascus, Virginia / May 19 to 21

JUNE

GoPro Mountain Games

Vail, Colorado / June 8 to 11

For most folks, the word Vail is probably synonymous with epic powder days or back bowls, but the prove that playtime in the Rockies shines just as brightly in the summer sun. Pros and amateurs alike compete in almost a dozen different disciplines鈥攎ountain biking, climbing, paddle sports, trail running, fly-fishing, and even disc golf鈥攁ngling to nab a share of the $130,000 kitty. But the fun isn鈥檛 limited to humans; adventure pups can test their mettle in trail runs, swimming events, a DockDogs Big Air competition, and a slew of canine-friendly parties. In the evenings, the Mountains of Music concert series draws rootsy headliners; last year鈥檚 picks included Gov鈥檛 Mule, Grace Potter, and the Wailers.

Waynestock Outdoor 国产吃瓜黑料 and Music Festival

Fayetteville, West Virginia / June 8 to 11

This which kicked off in the late 1990s as nothing more than a bunch of friends (including, you guessed it, a guy named Wayne) enjoying an annual rafting trip, is now a celebrated jamboree, a mash-up of a backyard Bonnaroo and an adventure-sports summer camp. A ticket snags you a spot at a communal campsite, where festivities involve nightly bonfires, local brews, and an assortment of regional bands that tend toward the jammier side of things. During the day, choose your own adventure, with options on or near the New River Gorge. Set off on your own or sign up with local guides to tackle the area鈥檚 famed whitewater, rip through the forest along endless singletrack, or rope up to ascend one of the estimated 3,000 routes lining the steep sandstone cliffs. They don鈥檛 call it the Endless Wall for nothing.

Honorable June Mentions:

• in Manchester, Tennessee / June 15 to 18
• in New York, New York / TBD
• in Milwaukee, Wisconsin / June 22 to July 8
• in Telluride, Colorado / June 15 to 18

JULY

Lumberjack World Championships

Hayward, Wisconsin / July 20 to 22

Each summer, flannel-clad masses flock to a tiny lumber town in the Wisconsin Northwoods to get their Paul Bunyan on at this of all things timber. It鈥檚 high profile enough that major TV networks often stream the action, as the Olympics of the Forest draws an international field of ax-wielding competitors vying for a share of a roughly $50,000 pot in woodsy tests of agility, precision, and brute strength. T丑别谤别鈥檚 chopping and sawing, of course, but the biggest treat for spectators might be watching folks speed-race up 90-foot-tall cedar poles or attempt to outlast their nemeses in a wet and wild log-rolling competition.

Newport Folk Festival

Newport, Rhode Island / July 28 to 30

Held at the idyllic harborside Fort Adams State Park, this historic pays homage to the countless forms of American folk music. That doesn鈥檛 mean you鈥檙e in for pure plucking; after all, this is the festival where Bob Dylan plugged in to go electric for the first time, much to the annoyance of purists. The original iteration featured icons like Pete Seeger, Odetta, and a then teenaged Joan Baez in her debut performance. Some of the legends still pop up today鈥攁nd part of the fun is that they鈥檙e not always announced in advance. Last year鈥檚 event featured a surprise festival-closing appearance by Joni Mitchell in her first performance in over two decades. Grab tickets early; they often sell out before the lineup is revealed.

Honorable July Mentions:

• in Chicago, Illinois / TBD
• in Roswell, New Mexico / June 30 to July 2
• in Huntington Beach, California / July 30 to August 7

AUGUST

Maine Lobster Festival

Rockland, Maine / August 2 to 6

There might be no better place in the world to stuff your face with an ocean鈥檚 worth of crustaceans than this on the North Atlantic seaboard. Put down stakes at the seductively named Main Eating Tent, where thousands of pounds of fresh Maine lobster are served every which way鈥攂oiled in butter, swirled into a bisque, stuffed into gooey mac and cheese, spread across a toasted roll, and more. If you鈥檙e feeling creative, live out your best Iron Chef fantasies as part of the amateur seafood-cooking contest. Then take a break at the Marine Experience Tent, where you can handle and learn about local sea critters, or cheer for your favorites at a pageant where competitors vie for the coveted title of Sea Goddess. Shake off the lobster overload by signing up for the 蹿别蝉迟颈惫补濒鈥檚 fun-run series, or try your luck at the International Great Crate Race, where participants attempt to blast across a line of wobbly floating boxes without tipping into the drink.

Refuge Outdoor Festival

Carnation, Washington / August 18 to 20

Held at Tolt MacDonald Park in the mountain-ringed, river-cut Snoqualmie Valley east of Seattle, this celebrates the diverse experiences of Black, Indigenous, and other people of color in the outdoors, although it鈥檚 open to all. The events on tap honor the myriad ways we find connection in nature, with a schedule that carves out equal space for those who crave adrenaline or those who would rather seek a quieter experience. Tons of traditional recreation activities are on offer, including mountain biking, hiking, fishing, stargazing, and birding, but attendees can also get their groove on at a silent disco or join an array of workshops on outdoor skills, poetry, and spirituality. Just like with any campout, however, the secret sauce is the community formed around the campfire each night.

Honorable August Mentions:

• in Milford, Connecticut / August 19
• in San Francisco, California / August 11 to 13
• in Cascade Locks, Oregon / August 18 to 19
• in Telluride, Colorado / August 16 to 21

SEPTEMBER

Afropunk Festival

Brooklyn, New York / TBD

Inspired by a 2003 documentary film of the same name that explored Black punk-rock culture, this transcends boundaries to celebrate Blackness in all its forms. While you鈥檒l still spot plenty of guitars on stage, the eclectic lineup has formerly included genre-busting performers like Erykah Badu, the Roots, H.E.R., Doechii, and Janelle Monae. Between sets, indulge in a massage, stretch out in a yoga class, join a meditation practice, shop in a massive craft market, take a drum lesson, or just post up with a drink and admire the mind-blowing fashions on parade.

Aloha Festivals

Oahu, Hawaii / TBD

Forget winter break鈥攖he best time to visit Hawaii is in September, when the archipelago vibrates with aloha spirit during a monthlong, statewide of culture and heritage. While dozens of events happen around the islands, the three signature happenings take place in Honolulu. The Royal Court Investiture kicks things off in old-school style with a coronation that pays homage to Hawaiian nobility of yore. Choose a lei, browse traditional crafts, and snack on tasty grindz (street food, in Hawaii) at Waikiki Hoolaulea, a massive block party that shuts down the beach鈥檚 main drag. Head back later for the Floral Parade, where in a centuries-old practice, P鈥檃u听riders pass by on horseback, their long skirts billowing in a blaze of color.

Ohana Festival

Dana Point, California / September 29 to October 1

You might not be able to hear them over the music, but the crashing waves of the Pacific serve as backdrop for this three-day of sun and sound, held at SoCal鈥檚 Doheny State Beach. The lineup is usually pretty heavy on indie and alt-rock鈥攚hich should come as no surprise, since it鈥檚 curated by Pearl Jam frontman Eddie Vedder.. Considering that last year鈥檚 headliners included Stevie Nicks, Jack White, and Pink, however, the offerings are eclectic enough to give most festival-goers a reason to head-bob. Train your ears on something a little different at the Storytellers Cove stage, where conservation-minded adventurers, artists, and athletes share inspiring tales; past speakers have included freediver Kimi Werner and pro surfer Greg Long. At the end of the day, your ticket dollars go to an array of local and national nonprofits working toward environmental and social justice.

Honorable September Mentions:

• in Custer State Park, South Dakota / September 28 to October 1
• in Denver, Colorado / September 21 to 23
• in Monterey, California / September 22 to 24

OCTOBER

Dirtybird Campout

Modesto, California / TBD

If you always wanted to attend summer camp as a kid鈥攁nd don鈥檛 mind doing it a few decades later鈥� your chance. This rowdy bacchanalia, with every action set to a backdrop of thumping music, is something like what you鈥檇 get if you crossed Wet Hot American Summer with an EDM festival. Campers are faced with a wide array of ways to pass the time, from traditional camp activities (see: capture the flag, kayaking, archery, making friendship bracelets) to those that are a bit more inventive, such as twerking classes, drag shows, lap-dancing contests, and an opportunity to wake and bake with your favorite counselors at the Ganja Garden.

Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival

San Francisco, California / TBD

Funded by a banjo-loving venture capitalist who just wanted to bring a little finger-plucked joy to Bay Area music lovers, might just be the best darn absolutely free, completely noncommercial concert event in the world. While acclaimed folk stars like Emmylou Harris, Gillian Welch, and Buddy Miller have graced its stages, the 鈥渉ardly鈥� in the fest鈥檚 name alludes to the fact that the genres aren鈥檛 limited to just bluegrass. Grab some friends, spread out a blanket, and settle in for a series of sonic delights. Past artists have included Henry Rollins, Big Freedia, Elvis Costello, and M. Ward.

Salmon Days

Issaquah, Washington / October 7 to 8

They say you can鈥檛 go home again, but try telling that to the thousands of Chinook, coho, and sockeye salmon that swim back upriver each year to spawn in the cool waters of Issaquah Creek, east of Seattle. The whole town turns out to revel in their return with a that include a welcome parade, fish hatchery tours, fun runs, a DockDogs competition, and an aquatic-themed sidewalk chalk contest. If you can stomach the thought of noshing on these hometown heroes, the local Kiwanis Club also hosts a barbecue of alder-grilled salmon.

Honorable October Mentions:

• in Fayetteville, West Virginia / October 21
• in Ketchum, Idaho / October 4 to 8

NOVEMBER

Blk Out Retreat and Boulderfest

Chattanooga, Tennessee / TBD

Tiffany Blount founded the Black Girls Boulder climbing club as a way to create community and draw more Black women into the sport; the builds on that promise. Open to all, but centered on Black climbers of all genders, the beginner-friendly event takes place in and around the Crash Pad, an adventure-oriented hostel in downtown Chattanooga. Attendees can hop a shuttle to the Wauhatchie Boulders for guided climbing, attend outdoor-film screenings, share in a group dinner, pitch in with stewardship projects, and join conversations and workshops to build skills and open horizons.

Florida Seafood Festival

Apalachicola, Florida / November 3 to 4

Billed as the state鈥檚 oldest maritime event, of the fruits de mer takes place on the Gulf of Mexico, in a town that touts itself as the Oyster Capital of the Southeast. That鈥檚 good news for bivalve lovers, who descend in droves to shuck and slurp. Beyond that, choose from a range of gustatory delights like fried shrimp, crab cakes, steaming paella, and boiled crawfish. Take a break from stuffing your maw at a host of family-friendly events, including a parade, a blessing of the local fleet, the Redfish Run 5K, and Blue Crab Races, where the crustaceans make a mad dash for glory.

Honorable November Mentions:

• in Austin, Texas / TBD
• in Bishop, California / TBD

DECEMBER

Indio International Tamale Festival

Indio, California / December TBD

It鈥檚 best to arrive at this sprawling billed as the largest tamale festival in the world, with an empty stomach. Unlike food events where celebrity chefs draw big crowds, the stars here are everyday people, with street vendors and home cooks alike slinging thousands of sweet, savory, and salsa-smothered masa creations. It鈥檒l be tough to pry yourself away from their steamy wares, but a host of distractions provide (almost) equal temptation. Enjoy dozens of performers on stages scattered around town, cheer on masked luchadores competing in traditional Mexican wrestling matches, and try not to lose your lunch while whooping it up on an array of carnival rides. Stick around for the Mercadito de Noche, a night market that sparkles with holiday light displays.

Ullr Fest

Breckenridge, Colorado / TBD

Your local weather anchor might read the forecast, but only the mighty Norse god Ullr knows the score. Each year the wintry faithful don Viking helmets and raise a glass to praise his glory in hopes of a ski season for the record books. While the mythology might seem a little suspect, the partying is solid, especially when you consider the organizers鈥� 2022 quest to draw over 1,300 people to partake in the world鈥檚 longest shotski. There are also comedy shows, an ice-skating extravaganza, and a parade, where inventive float builders have a chance at a $1,000 prize. Remember, though鈥攖his whole thing is about honoring the mighty Ullr; be sure to toss a Christmas tree on the fest鈥檚 ritual bonfire to appease him so that your calendar may be stacked with endless powder days.

Honorable December Mentions:

• in Bozeman, Montana / December 7 to 10
• in Fort Lauderdale, Florida / TBD

Shawnt茅 Salabert is a SoCal-based outdoor and travel writer who generally prefers listening to sweet birdsong instead of thumping bass while out in nature. That said, she鈥檚 been a music festival nerd since the tender age of five, when she caught her first concert (Huey Lewis and the News) at Milwaukee鈥檚 55-years-strong Summerfest.

听

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