The UP200 Sled Dog Championship may be concluded for 2025, but one small town along the race route leaves a lasting impression.

On the shore of Lake Superior at the northeast tip of Alger County, the community of Grand Marais rallies each February with a purpose that belies its modest size.

The UP200, one of the premier mid-distance sled dog races in the lower 48 states, depends on this town of just 234 people. Grand Marais has not only become the critical halfway checkpoint but a hub of warmth, excitement and camaraderie.

The UP200 wasn’t always routed through Grand Marais. Before 2003, the race ran from Marquette south to Escanaba and back, until an unseasonably warm winter forced organizers to seek out a new checkpoint with guaranteed snow.

A chance encounter at a smalltown diner led organizers north to Grand Marais, where the Chamber of Commerce, Women’s Club and dozens of volunteers mobilized in just three weeks to create a fully operational race stop.

That first year, more than 100 volunteers turned out. The following year, Grand Marais was permanently enshrined as the race’s turnaround point.

What began as an emergency solution has become a legacy. Grand Marais proved that its people could meet the logistical challenges of hosting a world-class race with grit and enthusiasm. The remote town, surrounded by federal and state lands, was the perfect halfway point, offering the mushers and their teams a much-needed break from the grueling trail.

The numbers alone tell a remarkable story: Of the 234 residents of Grand Marais, roughly 120 volunteer in some capacity on race day.

Checkpoint coordinator Cathy Egerer, who has been organizing the town’s race efforts for over a decade, describes it as nothing short of magical.

“We’ve adopted it as ‘our’ checkpoint,” she said. “Being a small village in a remote area, it’s a fun day and a great reason to get out and see something special in mid-winter. The mushers know they’ll be taken care of here, and the community takes pride in that.”

The volunteers work across a wide array of roles. Some manage road crossings to ensure the safety of both teams and spectators. Others assist with timing, vet checks or hospitality.

Local businesses also contribute, staying open longer and providing warm food and a welcoming atmosphere. The Grand Marais Women’s Club orchestrates a popular luncheon, and local church members sell pies that draw lines long before the doors open.

One of the longest-standing volunteer efforts belongs to John Morrison, who built the town’s iconic finish gate back in 2003. Every year since, Morrison has taken care of putting it up and taking it down, ensuring that the mushers have a grand entrance upon their arrival.

For spectators, Grand Marais offers a welcoming experience. Ann Hilton Fisher, a race attendee, describes the stark contrast between the energy of Marquette’s bustling starting line and the intimate nature of Grand Marais.

“Grand Marais really welcomes the teams and visitors,” she said. “It’s a good opportunity to see the dogs getting fed and settled down for a rest and a chance to briefly talk with some of the handlers. I also enjoyed the opportunity to chat with a vet, Jean Wilcox. I don’t think I would have had those opportunities in Marquette.” Beyond watching the mushers and dogs, spectators enjoy the charm of the town itself.

“I enjoyed the photo booth and the pie, both courtesy of a local church,” Fisher said. “My friend and I discovered a cute store with a nice selection of books, socks, stickers, etc. We strolled through the silent auction and bought a bunch of raffle tickets.”

The “Mush Bus,” which shuttles spectators from Marquette to Grand Marais, has made the race even more accessible to those who want to witness the magic of the checkpoint without worrying about winter travel.

Passengers step off the bus to a festival-like atmosphere: a silent auction, UP200 merchandise and local shops filled with souvenirs. But beyond the festive offerings, it’s the human connections that make the biggest impression.

The level of dedication from Grand Marais residents is unparalleled. Darrow, who helps coordinate volunteers, describes how the community rallies together, even pulling from visitors when needed.

“If we’re in a pinch, we just grab someone from the crowd and ask for help. And they do!” Darrow said. “We’ve never had a moment where we couldn’t make things work.”

The event has even created traditions within families. Some volunteer teams return year after year, passing down responsibilities to younger generations. Crews working the road crossings have become family affairs.

One of those traditions, of volunteers roasting hot dogs and marshmallows, includes a humorous story from a past race.

“Some years back, the first team to get to Grand Marais was a musher with some young dogs,” Egerer said. “They smelled hot dogs cooking and veered right off the trail to go check it out. The musher hauled them around and got them moving again, but because the dogs tend to follow each other via scent, the next several teams wandered off to find the hot dogs as well. Finally, the volunteers made a human barricade to keep the teams on the trail.”

Beyond the logistical effort, there’s a profound sense of civic pride. The UP200 has become part of the town’s cultural identity, something locals talk about year-round. Residents plan their winter around the event, and families return to the area just to be part of the weekend.

In the weeks leading up to the race, volunteers plow roads, set up signs and prepare food and facilities for the influx of people. The Grand Marais Women’s Club organizes meals, and local churches provide warm treats.

Even when the race was canceled due to poor snow conditions in prior years, the town quickly adapted, turning the weekend into a winter festival with sled races and other events.

This year, Grand Marais honored the late Dave Pool, a longtime volunteer who played a critical role in managing the finish gate area and radio communications.

To commemorate his dedication, the last mile of the trail into town was renamed “Last Mile for Dave,” with a banner placed on the trail. Before the race, mushers signed the banner in his memory, and it was later presented to his family.

“Dave was an integral part of our checkpoint,” Egerer said. “We miss him dearly, but his spirit will always be a part of the UP200.”

The UP200 attracts mushers from around the country, and word of Grand Marais’ hospitality has traveled far. The checkpoint has earned a reputation among mushers as one of the best in the sport.

Egerer remembers a conversation with a musher from Alaska who decided to race in the UP200 after hearing other mushers rave about the event: “He said the mushers he talked to kept mentioning Grand Marais and talking about the great checkpoint and all we have going on here, and now he understood why they were so impressed.”

That reputation, built on kindness and efficiency, extends beyond mushers to race officials and veterinarians. Something as simple as a steady supply of hot water for dog food preparation — an often-overlooked necessity — makes a significant impact.

“What seems like a small thing can mean a lot,” Egerer said. “And we take pride in making things a little easier for everyone involved.”

For Grand Marais, the UP200 is a testament to the strength and spirit of a town that has embraced its role with open arms.

“We take a lot of pride in being the Grand Marais checkpoint,” Darrow said. “World-renowned athletes come through here, and they have great things to say about us. We make sure our volunteers hear that, because it gives them a sense of pride in what they’re doing.”