Vail Mountain Games Clinic Trains Border Collie Luna for Disc Catch

What happens when you take a dog that spends its life herding squirrels in the Chicago suburbs and drop it onto a stage in Vail for a national competition?

Keith and Joellen Gregie didn’t just come to the valley for the fresh mountain air and the chance to hike with their 11-year-old border collie, Luna. They came with a specific, slightly chaotic goal in mind: to see if Luna’s instinct to chase anything that moved could be translated into a winning disc catch under the bright lights of the GoPro Mountain Games.

It started on a Thursday in Lionshead Village, where the Gregies stumbled upon the Purina Incredible Dog Challenge Experience. Keith was flipping through local event listings, looking for something to add to their itinerary, when he saw the "Learn from the Pros" clinic. It wasn’t planned. It was opportunistic. And it turned out to be exactly the kind of spontaneous adventure that makes a vacation feel alive.

Luna is a typical border collie, Keith noted, which is to say he is a creature of pure, unadulterated impulse. He herds kids. He herds birds. He herds squirrels. If it moves, Luna wants to catch it. Jack Fahle, the trainer leading the clinic, recognized this immediately. He didn’t try to tame Luna’s nature; he channeled it.

"If the dog will fetch anything, you can get him to play disc," Fahle said, rolling a disc across the turf.

The transformation was subtle but profound. Luna didn’t just run; he circled Joellen, building speed like a wide receiver waiting for the snap. It was a dance of trust and timing. When Joellen threw her first disc a little too far, Fahle didn’t scold her. He simply adjusted her perspective. Wait until Luna is in your peripheral vision, he advised. Then let it fly.

Touchdown.

But the real work wasn’t in the throw; it was in the connection. In a stadium filled with noise, with kids eating cotton candy and crowds cheering, a dog can easily lose its focus. Fahle emphasized that the bond between handler and animal must hold firm against those distractions. "You’ve got to be connected with your dog," he said. "A lot of times, maybe after a miss or the dog sees something in the audience... they’ll get distracted. And all of a sudden, you’ve got to connect back with him."

Joellen was proud of Luna for staying locked in, resisting the urge to chase every fluttering leaf. But Fahle knows that working with a random dog is a gamble. Last year, he tried to work with a pair whose dog simply decided, "Nah, on second thought, I’m going to go in the shade and hang out."

This unpredictability is what makes the sport so compelling. Brittany Jordahl, an 11-year disc veteran, explained that the first thing she looks for is drive, followed by tracking — the ability to follow the object through space. It’s not just about athleticism; it’s about reading the room, both the human and the canine.

The clinic was part of a larger spectacle. Over the next four days, the Mountain Games’ condensed turf stage would host disc and agility performances, culminating in a grand finale on Sunday at 2 p.m. But for the Gregies, the value wasn’t in the trophy or the national qualification spots that top finishers earn in Missouri. It was in the moment Luna caught that disc, mid-air, against the backdrop of the Vail mountains.

It’s a reminder that even in a high-stakes, professional setting, there’s a warmth to the experience. It’s about the handshake between trainer and owner, the shared laugh when a throw goes wide, and the quiet pride when the dog delivers. You can feel it in the way the crowd leans in, not just for the points, but for the connection.

As the sun dipped lower over Lionshead, casting long shadows across the turf, Luna rested, his coat dusted with the fine powder of the mountain air. He wasn’t just a pet anymore; he was a partner, a competitor, and for one afternoon, a star.