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At first, the crowd seems incompatible. It’s as if someone took a wrong turn. Cowboy hats and helmets, saddles and ski boots, belt buckles and snowsuits – those two types of gear aren’t usually cut from the same cloth. But this weekend in the midwest, at this year’s Extreme Skijoring event, they go together like “Minnesota” and “nice”.
The sun is beating down on the snow-covered track at Canterbury Park, 25 minutes from downtown Minneapolis, where fur and fringe fill the stands and old-school country blares from the speakers. It’s noon, but people are already taking shotskis. There’s a bison named Kidd Buffalo off in the distance, and the American flag beats against the wind.
There’s no doubt about it, we’re in cowboy country now.
After an opening ceremony, prayer and the national anthem, it’s off to the races. At about 40mph, horse and rider fly down the snow-packed track while a skier or snowboarder holds on to a 30ft long rope attached to the saddle 8 to 10ft behind the horse. The courses include 6ft tall jumps and obstacles where the skier grabs plastic rings with their arm, all while maintaining balance, speed and the grip of the tow rope. Skiers fall, others crawl over the finish line, but most catch air.
In about 20 seconds, the entire run is finished.
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A rider and skier compete at the Extreme Skijoring event at Canterbury Park in Shakopee, Minnesota in February.
Skijøring, or skijoring in Norwegian, means “ski driving”, and it originated in Scandinavia, where reindeer pulled skiers for transportation.
Competitive skijoring first started in the Nordic Games in Sweden in 1901, and by 1949 a slower carnival event version was introduced to the United States in Colorado.
Today, the western US largely dominates the sport. Each year, the Skijoring World Championship is held in Whitefish, Montana, and dozens of races happen in Colorado, Idaho, Wyoming and Utah. Abroad, Switzerland, France, Poland, Norway, Sweden, Finland and Russia all have their hand in the sport, too.
It was once an exhibition sport in the Olympics, but it’s mostly a thrill sport for the people involved. The top teams receive prize money and rodeo belt buckles.
In the midwest, equine skijoring is less common, with skijorers harnessing themselves to one or several dogs instead. Oftentimes, people skijor on cross-country trails with their personal pup for an outing and not a competition.
But in good northern fashion, Minnesotans always find a way back to their Scandinavian roots. In 2018, Ted Slathar from Extreme Events MN introduced the skijoring event to the region at Canterbury, and the rest is history.
Slathar’s daughter Rachel has been skijoring since she was 13. She has long since lost her midwestern accent, carrying a western drawl while she pulls her chaps over her jeans and introduces us to her horses.
Six years ago, at just 17, she started her own business, Daisy If You Do Co, a western wear company. She says she took a wrong turn in Amarillo, Texas, and “caught the first ride out of there” to Stillwater, Oklahoma, where she says she found God.
Slathar teams up with the snowboarder Benton Obregon, who race under the name “the Winning Team”. Obregon, a native Minnesotan, now lives in Bismarck, North Dakota. The pair travel back to their home state together every year to compete in the event.
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Above: Rider Rachel Slather of Stillwater, Oklahoma, chats with a friend as she prepares for the opening ceremonies at the Extreme Skijoring event. Below: Snowboarder Nathan Obregon flies through the air after taking a jump during the freestyle race.
“Trust and chemistry are everything in skijoring,” he says. “Rachel and I have been partners since the beginning, and her skill as a rider makes my job easier. While we can’t exactly talk during runs, our practice sessions help us fine-tune everything from timing to path selection.”
There’s a lot of magic that happens between the rope and the skier. It’s no easy feat. Holding the tow rope is an art in its own right, plus the added athleticism need to stay upright on their skis. During the run, the rope will travel up, down and through the skier’s hands. They’ll hold it with one hand, turn it taut, and let it rip.
Obregon began snowboarding when he was five years old. By eight, he was competing in regional events. This will be his seventh year competing with Slathar at Canterbury Park.
The skijoring event is scheduled by different categories: youth, novice, snowboard, freestyle and open. Race winners are determined by the fastest time and attaining all of the rings. If a ring is missed or dropped, the team gets a 2-second penalty added per ring. Winners in freestyle, which is when a skier gets towed into a jump and lets go of the rope to do a trick, are judged on style, difficulty and overall impression.
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Above: A skier is towed by his teammate at the Extreme Skijoring event. Below: A line of snowboarders and skiers enter the track for the opening ceremonies.
As a team, Slathar and Obregon are racing champions and have earned titles in freestyle. “We even have a claim on throwing the first double backflip in competitive skijoring,” says Obregon.
Nick Franta, a skier from the small town of LaCrescent, Minnesota, says: “Being able to rely on my rider to keep the pace up on the straights and make minor adjustments during the run is key to success. As the skier, the rider needs to be able to depend on me to make adjustments on the fly depending on how fast he and the horse are going, not to mention holding on and not falling.”
And fall, they do.
The crowd roars with “oohs” and “aahs” as skiers and snowboarders land on their backs or lose the rope, tumbling toward the snow. Last year, someone broke both of their arms.
Franta, sporting chaps with a turquoise design, and his teammate, Spencer Sansevere, made their skijoring debut in 2023. “Since I have been skiing for over 20 years and Spencer has been riding since before he could walk, we thought we would make a pretty good team,” says Franta.
Last year they placed second in the novice division. This year, the competition is more intense as they participate in the open division.
Franta says: “Ever since I can remember, the streams and bluffs of the Driftless region have provided me with endless outdoor activities.” But, he says, the midwest “hasn’t caught on to how much fun skijoring is” just yet.
Whether more areas in the region pick up equine skijoring or not, Franta says: “You will definitely find me competing in skijoring as long as I have a horse and rider to pull me.”
Obregon echoes this sentiment. He says the uniqueness of skijoring keeps him coming back, despite his retirement from snowboarding as a professional career last year.
He says that the event is special to the region. “I’m grateful to be part of it. Seeing the sport grow in the midwest, especially here in Minnesota, is exciting.”
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A rider and skier team compete.
