Lumi: The Lead Dog with the Infallible Memory
Over the years, I’ve had the privilege of working with many incredible sled dogs, each with their own personalities, quirks, and talents. But today, I want to tell you about one who still stands out among the rest: Lumi.
Lumi wasn’t just any dog. She was a white-coated, blue-eyed female born in my yard and a result of a bit of an accidental (but brilliant) breeding between a dog named Pirkko and a male called Kurra. At the time, I had just acquired Pirkko from a friend of mine, Osmo, who was shifting his focus in racing. The pups arrived, and Lumi, even as a young one, was different.
From the start, she had a spark. An intelligence. A natural sense of leadership that you don’t often see, especially in such a young dog. By the time she was barely over a year old, she had already begun showing signs of wanting – no, needing – to lead.
The First Time Lumi Took the Lead
We didn’t plan for Lumi to become a lead dog so soon. It just happened.
We were short one lead dog for a job, and she’d shown promise during training. So, in a bit of a tight spot, we decided to give her a shot. We hooked her up in front, and from that moment on, she led like she was born to do it.
What made Lumi exceptional wasn’t just her ability to follow commands. She had a keen awareness, a way of reading me, predicting what I wanted, and responding before I even said anything. She paid attention, not just with her ears, but with her whole being.
Navigating the Open Wild
One of Lumi’s most impressive skills was her ability to navigate in wide, open spaces. Something that’s extremely difficult for most sled dogs. Without a trail to follow, many dogs get lost or wander. Not Lumi.
I remember one time we were crossing a large frozen lake, dotted with islands. From my vantage point on the sled, I could clearly see which island I wanted us to head toward. But Lumi’s eyes were much lower to the ground, her view was limited.
At first, she tried a bit left, a bit right. I corrected her gently. And soon, she figured it out, understood not just where we were, but where I wanted to go. After that, she locked in and drove us straight to that island without another command. Like she was reading my mind.
A Trail Remembered – A Year Later
Another unforgettable moment came during a tour early in the season. We were crossing a frozen swamp in the Pallas-Yllästunturi National Park, heading for a small, almost invisible gap in the trees that would take us onto a lake.
The terrain was tough: low snow, frozen bumps, hidden obstacles. I had to give Lumi constant commands – left, right, slow, straight – just to get us through.
Eventually, we found the gap and made it safely to the lake. A win.
Now here’s the kicker: a whole year later, we returned to that same swamp, early in the season again. No trail. No markers. And we weren’t allowed to prep the route with a snowmobile.
But Lumi remembered. Not only did she find the same invisible portage through the forest, but she also took the exact same little detours we’d made the year before – ones we hadn’t even planned. From memory. One year later.
It was jaw-dropping.
Too Smart for Her Own Good
Of course, with great intelligence comes a bit of mischief. Lumi had this one habit that used to drive me mad.
During tours, I’d sometimes stop after a junction to wait for the rest of the group to catch up. I’d already turned, but the teams behind us needed to see which way I’d gone.
But Lumi, being the overthinker she was, would start second-guessing. “Wait… he stopped. Did I go the wrong way?” Before I could reassure her, she’d whip the whole team around and head back to try the other trail. Not ideal … especially with guests on board!
Turning a team in full swing is no small feat. Most times, it ended in tangles and me yelling over the wind. But Lumi thought she was fixing a mistake.
Even when she was “wrong,” it was because she cared so much about getting it right.
The Legacy of Lumi
These days, we run our tours on well-prepared trails, and we don’t do as many wild expeditions as we used to. There’s less need for dogs to memorize terrain or read the landscape like Lumi did.
But she taught me something priceless: that sled dogs are far more intelligent and intuitive than we give them credit for. If you take the time to notice it, nurture it, and let it grow, you can form a connection and a working bond that’s beyond anything you’d expect.
Lumi had that kind of magic.
I’ve got more stories about her – too many to fit in one blog post – and I’ll share some in the future. But I’ll leave you with this:
Lumi, the little white dog with the infallible memory, showed me the true potential of what a lead dog could be.
And I’ve never looked at sled dogs the same way since.
— Valentijn Beets
Bearhill Husky
