The “Latin Iditarod" Dog Sledding Project Week, led by Upper School history teacher Greg Gaczol and Upper School English teacher and dean Lenny Goldman, returned home after five days of kennel work, numb fingers, and group bonding—with only a few bruises and broken bones.

We left the Upper School at 5:45 a.m. Sunday, splitting into two cars for a 12-hour drive to Ely, Minnesota. After a couple of stops for food and gas, we arrived at the Wintergreen Dog Sledding Lodge around 5:30 p.m., where we were welcomed with a home-cooked meal.

After waking up bright and early at 7:30 a.m. on Monday, we were assigned chores at the dog kennel—picking up waste, filling water bowls, and feeding the dogs—before a pancake breakfast. We left the cabin around 9 a.m. and began our first day of dog sledding. Within 10 seconds of the sleds taking off, senior Enrique Toledo and I heard screaming from behind us and turned to see a loose sled barreling down the path.

Seniors Emma Vallenilla and Autumn Mendoza had fallen off their sled, sending it barreling toward two guides, knocking both of them down and marking the first four-person wipeout of the trip.

After stopping for lunch at the cabin, a few falls, and six hours of dog sledding, the group returned to the lodge around 5 p.m. for the night. After eating dinner, playing a charades-like game called “Salad Bowl,” and watching a movie, the group got a good night’s sleep.

Tuesday was another long day—six more hours of dog sledding—but was the most intense of the trip: frigid and windy. “A favorite moment of mine was dog sledding on the second day when you and I were going on really fast,” sophomore Dixie Szczerba said. “Because it was really windy, the dogs ran faster than they had the rest of the trip, which meant less work for us and higher speeds.”

On Wednesday, the guides let us know that a family would be dog sledding at the same time; therefore, we would only be able to have half of the group dog sledding at a time. Our solution: skijoring. The Scandinavian sport, simplified for us, includes wearing cross-country skis, being tethered to a dog, and falling down repeatedly.

After a short hike to the campsite and a thermos lunch, we switched, and my group got our chance on the sleds. Students swapped partners every day; on Wednesday, Emma and junior Ariya Desai “mushed” on the second sled of the group of four. On one downhill run, things went wrong, and the pair crashed into a tree, snapping it and leaving Ariya laughing hysterically on the ground beside it. The crash snapped the front of the sled, and the guides tied it back together with ropes.

Shortly afterward, Ariya asked the guide to move back to another sled, leading to Autumn and me being moved onto the newly broken sled.

With about 20 minutes left before returning to the cabin and finishing dogsledding for the trip, the guides brought all of the sleds to a halt and informed us of a steep downhill ahead with ice and exposed rocks. The conditions of the hill meant you were not allowed to use the brake because the sled could be permanently damaged. Therefore, the guides informed us to go slow at the top and hope for the best on the downhill.

After going slow on the short uphill, the dogs suddenly took off at full speed on the icy downhill, and straight ahead I saw a sharp turn with a tree at the corner. As the dogs began turning, the sled was whiplashed into the tree, the broken part of the sled making initial contact with the tree and throwing us off the sled.

I got jolted off the left side and thrown shoulder-first into the tree, and I hit my head on the ground on impact. After flying off the sled to the left side, Autumn hit her head on the ground and again on the sled.

As I slowly looked up from being face down in the snow, I saw Autumn lying half on the pathway, half in the snow to the side, and she was barely moving. I realized the next sled was going to come down soon, so I rose, using the only strength I had left, to pick up Autumn’s legs and move them out of the path so she wouldn’t get run over.

Then I turned around and began screaming, “Help!,” “Don’t come down the hill,” and “We crashed” as loud as possible, but as I saw the next sled approaching the downhill and gliding down the icy path, I jumped out of the way at the last second and into a pile of snow, which was when the adrenaline started to fade, and I felt something in my shoulder was off.

After everyone realized what had happened and tied the sleds up, the guides walked to tell Mr. Goldman what had happened and create a plan, while Enrique, Dixie, and Emma stayed with us.

“The sled you and Autumn were on was already broken, so you should never have been on it in the first place,” Dixie said. “It was just unnecessary danger that [the guides] put you in.”

The guides and teachers decided the next step was to get to the emergency room, and the only way possible was to walk through the woods, across the frozen lake, and up a hill to be met by a car on the road.

Mr. Goldman and I slowly made the journey as Autumn got back on the sled—with one of the guides this time—and after about 25 minutes and a half mile of walking, we reached the truck and went to the Ely Emergency Room. After a few scans and tests, the doctor diagnosed Autumn with a severe concussion and me with a broken collarbone.

After getting me into a sling, without anything else for the hospital to do for either of us, they sent us back to the cabin with some medication. The next morning, the two of us stayed in the cabin, accompanied by Mr. Goldman, as the rest of the group took a hike. We joined the others for a walk in town that day.

Friday morning, everyone packed their bags and reloaded the cars, which somehow felt 10 times smaller and even more cramped than before. But nonetheless, after driving through hours of blizzards, open roads, and a stop at Raising Cane’s, we made it home around 10 p.m. on Friday evening.

Besides a broken clavicle—which required surgery the following Tuesday, where I had six screws and a metal plate placed in my shoulder—the week was complete and marked the end of Project Week 2026 (and the final Project Week for the four seniors on the trip).

“Even though we had a rough ending, I would still go on this P-Week again,” Autumn said. “The crash ended up bringing our group closer together and it made the trip even more memorable.”

Gallery • 3 Photos

Anderson Miller

The view of the frozen lake outside of the cabin in Ely, Minnesota.