The time Lumi found the lunch spot without a single cue

If you’ve read any of my previous stories about Lumi, you’ll know she was something special. A white blur of intelligence and intuition, with a memory like a steel trap. This story is another gem from her long list of hero moments: the time she saved the day by finding our hidden lunch stop when I had no idea where it was.

A Familiar Route, with a Twist

We were out on one of our longer expedition tours, returning from a cabin located on a quiet island. It was a route I knew well, and I had a favorite little lunch spot we’d always use on the return leg: a small, unofficial fireplace tucked away in the woods. It wasn’t marked on any maps, but it was perfect: protected, peaceful, and about halfway between two key cabins.

To get there, you’d travel along a snow-covered forest road, and at just the right spot, you’d turn off to the right and follow a small path into the trees. Simple enough, as long as you knew where to look.
And I did… or so I thought.

Surprise Snowbanks

Now, I’d done my usual routine: groomed the trail a couple days ahead of time, checked that the lunch spot was accessible, everything in order.

But when we arrived at the forest road, I realized something had changed.

The Forest Park Service had brought in a massive snowplow to clear the road, presumably to make access easier for logging. The road was still usable for dog teams, but here’s the catch: the plow had thrown up enormous snowbanks on both sides of the road. I’m talking taller than me. I couldn’t see anything over them.

Now, this creates a big problem when you’re driving a dog team.

First, you can’t see where the turnoff is anymore.
Second, once you’re on a ploughed road, you can’t safely stop as there are no trees nearby, and no place to set an anchor.
And third, if you do try to stop and climb over the snow to scout ahead, your team’s going to take off without you.

So I had no choice but to keep going and hope I’d recognize the right place by feel.

Lumi Takes Charge

I gave Lumi a few hints, calling “Gee” softly, trying to nudge her toward the right at the place I thought the turn might be.

Nothing.

We kept going a little further. I was getting worried we’d overshot it.

Then suddenly, Lumi stopped. She looked up – way up – at the massive snow wall to her right. And without hesitation, she climbed it.

Clambered right over that snowbank like it was just another bump in the trail.

All I could see was the top of her back disappearing down the other side. And then, my dogs followed her over.

Now, let me remind you – I couldn’t see over that wall. I had no idea what was on the other side. But Lumi did. Somehow, she knew.

The Hidden Trail Revealed

I called to the guests behind me: “Follow me!” and urged my team up and over the bank.

And there it was. The trail.

Exactly where it had always been. Completely hidden from view, but remembered perfectly by Lumi.

We made it safely down, found a spot to tie off the teams, and had our lunch in peace.

The Dog Who Always Knew

That day, Lumi didn’t need any commands. She didn’t need to see the trail. She just knew. Despite the snow, the plow, and the total lack of visual cues, she remembered the lunch spot better than I did.

She saved the tour that day, no question.

These kinds of stories might sound simple, but for those of us who work with sled dogs, they’re moments we never forget. They remind us that sometimes, no matter how experienced you are as a musher, your dog may just be smarter than you.

That was the time Lumi found the lunch spot and led us all safely home.

— Valentijn Beets

Bearhill Husky