At the start of Iditarod 2013. Thank you Joseph Campbell.
A fine line. As this years race played out, and now replays in my mind the fine line became a reoccurring theme for me. The trail on the map is a fine line; the line is clear and smooth as it traces its path across the state or Alaska. Well I am here to tell you in real life a fine line need not be easy nor smooth, in fact they rarely are. But that fine line comes up time and time again this year. A fine line between alert and asleep as I traveled the many miles on minimal rest. Fine line between comfortable and prickly being outside in the elements for hours on end. And it is a fine line that separates the roller coaster ride of emotional highs and lows you experience over the course of 1000 miles. Not to mention the fine line between sane and not so, that each March mushers find ourselves questioning which side we fall on.
The line reaches its destination in Nome, and so did we. Despite some challenges (Not just 1 but 2 broken runners! really?) and less then ideal trail conditions in places (Kelley Griffin writes, “With the crazy warm weather on the 2013 Iditarod, and the soft, deteriorating, slush and grabby, grindy, bottomless sugar snow along the entire 1000 miles, the Iditarod became very physically demanding!”) I am happy to report that 9 strong happy dogs and I made it to Nome. For 2 of them, Thistle and Ribdon, it was there first 1000 mile race, and for everyone but Orchid it was their first time under the burled arch. For the past few years I have had the luxury of running a team of experienced race dogs on Iditarod. But this year was different, I went into the race with the responsibility of making sure these young dogs had a positive experience that would prepare them for years to come. I knew it would be a challenge, and this year did not disappoint. I also knew it would be an adventure & opportunity, spiked with extremes, and played out in one of the most gorgeous places on earth. Again I was not disappointed.
Before I begin sharing with you my tails from the trail~
Leaders Sparrow and Orchid at the start of Iditarod 2013.
Mush Thanks must be given to the amazing companies & people who make up Team Dew Claw, and the Checkpoint Sponsors. I may be traveling alone out there, but this is absolutely a team effort. Dan and I are very grateful for the continued encouragement and support! Along with many wonderful friends and family Team Dew Claw was joined this year by returning team members: Halliburton, Usibelli Coal Mine, TJ’s LandClearing, Bailey Farms, Neos Overshoes & Intuition Liners. We were also very pleased to be joined this year by ManMat, our team proudly wears ManMat distance harnesses; we depend on the quality and rely on the performance. So many people came together to make this year possible, and I am very thankful to you all for helping make this years adventure possible. And thank you to my photographer friends who generously shared their photos* with me.
*Please note all work is copyright protected.
And even though they will never read this, and are more interested in getting fed and pet I still want to take a minute and publicly thank my kids, the amazing dogs of Dew Claw who joined me for the 2013 Iditarod. I Love My Dogs!!!
Now my friends, let me share with you the 2013 Iditarod trail as I saw it. In chronological order, but otherwise my rambling collection of impressions and memories.
The Ceremonial Start:
Thanks to Robert Parsons for this great shot of the ceremonial start.
Always a big event, and more like a parade then a race, the Anchorage start was once again this year fun for everyone. Dan rides my tag sled as we make our way through downtown Anchorage, through tunnels, across highway overpass bridges, down roads, and past a sea of excited Idita-fans. This year our Iditarider (a guest who won a spot in our sled at the Iditarod auction) was a wonderful young lady named Brittany Savercool, and we had a lot of fun introducing her to our team. She was sporting a GoPro camera and has posted some fun videos of her ride online if you want to see first hand what it’s like to be a part of the ceremonial start. The first video starts on Second Ave in the chute, and the second shows the finish at Campbell Airstrip. As we made the last turn off the trail to the airstrip I stopped the team and told Brittney, OK your turn. She got to ride the runners, and I relaxed in the bed of the sled waving at the fans, whom I am sure were a little confused to see the role reversal between musher and rider.
With photos of the ceremonial start in Anchorage as well as the real start in Willow Photography on the Kenai’s Robert Parsons captured the excitement and energy of the team in motion, but also gives you a behind the scenes look at preparation as well.
You can enjoy his photos here.
Willow on to Yentna:
Packing at the start. Thanks to Dawn Beckwell for the photo and moral support.
Leaving Willow is always such a rush and a relief. But the hours leading up to that point while you prepare your self, sled, and team to go is another matter entirely. I was fairly overwhelmed by how many people made the effort to come and wish me and the dogs a good safe race. I only I wish I had been more relaxed and able to enjoy it. But truth be told I was mostly nervous about making sure everything was perfect at the last minute. To be fair things actually went very well. My gear was all well organized at home, and I had packed the truck so that the race gear was all stowed together and could be left packed until race day. That mean race morning getting everything into the sled went smoothly. Except for one hitch (there always has to be something, right?)
With Dave (kneeling left), of peanut butter-bacon-brownie fame, who also helped bring my sled to the start chute. Thanks to TC for the photo.
I had left my nice bag of trail snacks and food for my first camping stop at the house where we stayed in Anchorage. It was the only thing I moved out of the truck, I put it in the fridge for safe keeping. But this was not an insurmountable problem. Luckily we carry a cooler with snacks and basic in the truck, so I had instant coffee, coco, and some bars. My friend Sarah got my thermoses filled at the concessions: one water, one vanilla latte. And the slam dunk save came from friends TC and Dave. They had made me a batch of the most amazing, calorie bomb, delicious, peanut butter & bacon brownies!!! Thanks TC & Dave. I thoroughly enjoyed them at our first 2 camps until we got to drop bags, and even manged to save a few so I could savor them for the first few hundred miles.
Dan with the leaders in the start chute as we wait for our turn to go.
And they are off!
Reaching out to fans.
Like many teams I rolled through Yetna only taking time to grab straw so I could camp with the team father down the trail. We found a nice place to pull off the main trail, and had a relaxing camp. By now it was dark, and it was fun to watch teams roll by only lit up by the mushers headlamps. It is way to early to even consider being worried that teams are passing. The race has just begun, miles before things shake out. So for now it is fun just to watch the big teams roll past, quite in the night.
on to Skwentna:
This year I rolled right through Skwentna, only stopping long enough to pick uo my drop bags. The checkpoint of Finger Lake does not have drop bags, so many mushers stash what they need for Finger here and grab it on the go. It is safe to say the team was feeling pretty good. I left the team with the vets doing one of the many mandatory vet checks the team will get. Got back and the team had moved about 10 feet. The vets informed me they had pulled the hook and were ready to chase another team out! Lucky for me the vets were there to grab the team. Thanks were given, more food was packed into the sled and we were off.
Leaving Skwentna there was a minor trail re-route to a well used local trail off the river. It was well marked and no problem to find. But leaving the river the trail got mushier and the snow deeper, and I fear it was the tougher trail conditions that may have caused Cricket and Lubbock to get sore. Although it may also have been overexertion in the hyper excitement of the first day. But I am happy to report that ALL of the Dew Claw drop dogs are sound and healthy now. We were very lucky to have the snow stay on our trails late into the season, which meant we were able to mush when we got home from Nome. The race dogs enjoyed the relaxing short runs in the spring sunshine. We had them mixed with newly harness broke Rascals litter, I really think the young dogs do well and learn when they run with the race dogs early.
on to Finger Lake:
Running into Finger Lake was smooth and fun. But I did notice Lubbock was not his usual self. When we got into Finger and I had a chance to really look I could tell he had a sore muscle in his hind leg, and I knew it was in his best interest to drop* him. Also I could see that Cricket had a sore wrist. Both got massage, and Cricket got a wrist wrap to see if there would be any improvement. But in the end it really was in the long term best intertest for both dogs to stop running, so I elected to leave them in Finger.
*Dropped dogs are given to vets at the checkpoint and cared for till they can be flow back to Anchorage. That is where Dave and TC step in, they get the call to come pick the dogs up. Then they take them home and care for them till we return.
Had a nice meal and rest in Finger. They make musher meals in the kitchen at the lodge. And along with a hot meal, water, and coffee, they usually have a small assortment of home made baked goods. Now my friend Erin had hooked me up with an amazing collection of healthy muffins to send out in my drop bags, think peanut butte- banana-chocolate chip, or chocolate-beet. And they were delicious! But when given a chance to eat fresh food that has not been packed, frozen, and hauled. You take advantage of that! The time saved in not having to defrost you own is enough to makes it worthwhile. Then I even had time to grab a quick nap in one of the heated tents before heading out to snack and bootie my team.
on to Rainy Pass:
On the trail again this time headed to Rainy Pass checkpoint. This section of trail is known for one thing… The Steps. Oh Yeah Baby, they stuff nightmares are made of. Although not impossible the steps do present one of the most formidable sections of trail I have ever had to deal with. The last 2 years I have crashed. Nothing bone shattering or sled destroying, but an abrupt unplanned stop requiring effort to get everything back in order and moving again. BAM! CRASH!
This year I went through in broad daylight, and I totally knew when the steps were coming. It was easy to tell, they were just up ahead roughly where the helicopter and 2 small planes were flying. I knew what they were doing. They had come for the drama shot.
OK so here is the thing about photographers on the trail….
There are a few categories of really cool mushing shots: The musher-dog bond shot (at checkpoints doing chores, close ups of kisses, loving looks into each others eyes…). The classic action shot (crazed teams exploding from the start chute, lone team shouldering into a mighty wind, team rolling down the river or over mountain expanse while musher ski poles *cue breathtaking scenery). And the drama shot! (that amazing crash, the distraught look on a mushers face as they deal with glaciers, open water, and trail hazards). The drama shot is what lures photographers to the notorious places, the Steps, the Gorge. And so the old joke goes: a red x with trail markers means danger ahead, a red x and a photographer and you better hold on for dear life.
This year despite my dogs being totally excited by the air traffic overhead I MADE IT!
I actually made it down the Steps! Guess the third try was a charm. And in my mind I was graceful, focused, and athletic. Smoothly navigating the perilous drops, and uneven terrain, all while calmly giving commands to my well mannered team. Now should I actually get my hands on the video taken by the crew in the helicopter I am guessing I would look more like a monkey having a seizure with its hands glued to the handlebar while plummeting behind a pack of charging lunatics. But hey for purposes of this blog lets all just picture me calmly in control of the situation.
To be honest I don’t remember anything else about the trip to Rainy Pass checkpoint, I was still basking in the warm glow of satisfaction for having made it down the Steps.
Pleasant surprise when I got to Rainy, friends Claudia and Lee had flown out. They are long time Iditarod followers and were there to cheer on all the teams and enjoy the spectacle. Always nice to see a friendly face after a long run. And they were kind enough to take some photos of the Dew Claw dogs and I doing our checkpoint thing.
I eat a quick snack while dog food is soaking. You can see all the teams camped out around me at the Rainy Pass Checkpoint.
Preparing dog food. You can see how warm it is, I am not even wearing my gloves.
As the old saying goes, No Foot No Dog. A good amount of time is spent on foot care at checkpoints.
All feet got checked and everyone got ointment as a preventative measure.
on to Rhon:
Now you leave the Rainy Pass checkpoint and head up and over Rainy Pass itself. The climb was brutal, deep soft snow conditions with drifts made for slow uneven traveling. I was passed by Dallas Seavey who called out, “is this about the worst trail”
“yeah” I answered, “At least it’s not raining”
*laughs* “yeah you have to have a sense of humor about these things”
-I am paraphrasing this from sleep addled memories, but you get the gist
Once over the pass you head down to ultimately travel through the Denzall Gorge, simple called the Gorge by most mushers. Known for tricky turns on twisty trail with ice bridges and overflow. I am told it can be mind blowingly beautiful, but I have always managed to hit it at night and miss that show. This year we were warned of tricky ice bridges, but that would not end up being my issue.
My issue was Guetknecht the oldest dog on the team. In the climb to get over Rainy Pass he had over exerted himself, and all the warm weather had not helped him either. I was concerned about him, and decided to load him into the sled for a ride to Rhon. He was OK with this choice for awhile, but soon became bored with the whole passenger thing, and started to squirm. Sled dogs do not seem to have the slacker gene so strong in some species, like say – sloths. As the musher, part of our job is to make wise choices for our team, and make sure they are never allowed to compromise their long term health. What that meant for Guet is that no matter how much he wanted to I was not letting him pull with the team. We pulled into Rhon with him in the sled, and although it had not been the plan I had taken longer to travel there then planned and was now needed to drop Guet to the vets, so I elected to take a break in Rhon.
I had never stopped there before, usually traveling past to a camping spot a bit further down the trail. There is no dog water at Rhon. With its usually low snow there getting water requires a trip with a pull sled and buckets some distance to a river with open water. But this year I was double lucky. There was enough snow to make water with my cooker, which is far easier then hauling it. And Kelley Maxiner was parked next to me and had made more then he needed, so he let me have his extra to get things started. Much is made of the competitive nature of our sport. But truth be told, there is also great sportsmanship and friendship on the trail. Not at all uncommon to see mushers sharing food, or helping each other out.
on to Nikolai:
Leaving Rohn you head into notoriously bad trail, the glare ice of a river is the first thing you deal with less then 1/2 mile from the checkpoint. Then once you get past that you are in the Farewell Burn, where historically low snow cover with winds the remove what does fall make for nasty trail. Tree roots, tussocks, rocks, gravel, ice, you see it all. And then before you get to somewhat nicer trail, which continually improves all the way to Nikolia, you must navigate trail across a large, uneven, frozen ice flow, affectionately known as the Glacier. This is not a favorite section for me, and the rough trail usually beats people and sleds up pretty good. Last year I broke my brake bar. This year, not so bad. The sled plastic got ripped off my runner. This is technically an easy fix. Just slide on new plastic, put in a new cotter pin and keep going. Technically an easy fix. But-
the trail was so horrible that I had not even noticed when the plastic got ripped off. That will happen when you are traveling in mud, gravel, and dirt.
By the time I saw it was missing I had no idea how long it had been, but I did know right then I was not going to be able to run to my planned camping spot like that. A quick look at the underside and I knew it was not going to be quick or easy to fix, the trough the runner plastic slips into was full if dirt, sticks, rocks, and was going to need some major work before I was sliding any plastic on. So much for the best laid plans. I was able to stop at a spot with open water to make the dogs a nice meal while I fought with getting sled plastic back on the runners. Instead of one long break halfway to Nikolia I ended up taking 2 shorter breaks and diving the run into 3rds.
I always like Nikolia, it is the first Native village we stop at, and I love the hospitality. You are met by checkers right when you come off the river into the village. There is good parking and a huge wood fired boiler with hot water for the dogs right there. They open up the school to mushers, providing food, a place to dry gear, and best of all a warm dark locker room with those big thick blue school gym tumble mats spread out for people to sleep on. Had a good nap, and refueled with some moose stew at the school. Sweet Pea was stiff and not responding to massage, even after a rest she was not moving smoothly. I decided it was best for her to get dropped in Nikolia and sent home. She is a young dogs with years ahead of her, no need to push her if she is not feeling 100%
on to McGrath:
Pretty uneventful run to McGrath. Now you would think I would have more to say. But sometimes you are just moving along good, and you kind of zone out. Time passes in funny spurts when you are on the Iditarod. I remember bits and pieces, traveling through the trees of the portage. Thinking how clear and warm the night was.
I got to McGrath in the middle of the night, and pulled in long enough to repack the sled, snack the dogs, and refill my thermoses.
on to Takotna:
When we took off from McGrath it felt good to be moving. This section of trail is rolling hills, and I was pretty sure I remembered it being all downhill for like 7 miles, with mile marker signs, to Takotna. Well I was right about the signs leading in, but somehow I had managed to forget the last few little massive uphill climbs. Yeah, I bet next time I remember. And to be fair there was a great series of seriously fun downhills heading into Takotna, I had remembered them perfectly. I had just conveniently forgotten for every down there is an up.
In Takotna I made what I consider to be my most serious mistake. I was planning on running through. Regardless all mushers must stop long enough for a vet check and to get there vet book signed. One of the dogs in my team Big Dude (a wonderful dog from Jay Cadzow) was breathing hard, and did not eat his snack. He had been pulling and eating great, and I attributed him being slightly off to the large crowds all around him in Takotna, and I elected to keep an eye on him and let him stay with the team. In hindsight this was my big mistake.
Part way to Ophir it became apparent to me that he really was not feeling well. I took his temperature (at Dew Claw we always have a canine first aid kit with us on the trail) and saw that it was elevated. Knowing that where I was headed, Ophir a mining claim, was extremely remote with limited resources. Unlike Takotna which was an inhabited village. Plus weather was starting to turn, not cold but snowy. And with bad visibility planes would not be getting into or out of Ophir. Lastly it was almost all downhill form where I was back to Takotna. Although it meant turning back, while adding hours and an extra camp out with the team to my run, I knew it was the right thing to do. People may say turning back was the mistake, but in my heart I did what I felt was the best I could do for Big Dude in that situation.
on to Ophir:
Needless to say when I finally got to Ophir, much later then expected, I was very happy to be there. Ophir was my planned 24, and I was looking forward to some serious rest, and quality time with the dogs. Ophir is a remote privately owned mining claim. The cabin and outbuildings are opened up for Iditarod mushers and volunteers. Ophir has character, and the people who make it their annual winter vacation to come out and run the checkpoint are a big part of it. Being a small private property has other advantages as well. No crowds, no cameras, no visitors, nothing to distract you from what really matters on your 24 – taking care of your dogs. Just some wonderfully helpful, cheerful, funny, folks who every year come together for an Iditarod Ophir Vacation.
on to Iditarod:
The run to Iditarod is long, and I went as far as Don’s Cabin before camping. Some rough trail, but that is to be expected. No what this run will always be emblazoned in my memory for is the second half. And I can sum it up in one word. Water.
We had been told about the 3 bad water crossings before Iditarod, while we were still in Ophir. Often times trail reports are exaggerated. This was not one of those times. I was camped at Dons cabin with a number of mushers, including Mike Ellis. And as a precaution he and I were both putting large garbage bags over our feet inside our boots and up our legs. Just in case of deep water then our inner layers would stay dry. Heading out I was traveling alone ahead of Mike when I hit the first water crossing. In case you didn’t click the ‘water‘ link above go ahead and click it now to get a visual on what I mean when I say ‘water crossing’. My dogs are pretty awesome, but when they can’t touch the bottom they are not likely to dive right in. Meaning I get to be the fearless leader brave the water first, taking the team with me. I was lucky and my sled slid across without tipping over. My outer pants were wet to above the knees, but my feet were dry, and I was on the other side. Plus it was not that cold out, which was a double edged sword. It meant that once you got wet it was not such a critically dangerous situation. But a lot of that water would have been ice if it had been colder.
The crossing had taken some time, but I got going again only to be met with another one a few miles later. Mike Ellis caught up to me as I prepared to lead my team through another group swim. We decided to work together, one person leading the team, the other guiding the sled so it would remain upright and not get stuck on anything. After crossing 2 we rolled along together till the next. In Ophir I was pretty sure they had said 3 crossings, and that the last had a super steep bank as you came out the other side. So when we hit another crossing I was psyched, this was the last one, and the bank did not look nearly as bad as I expected. Together Mike and I pushed through another crossing.
When I turned the corner some time later and saw yet another crossing!!!!!! Yeah and this was the one with the steep bank. So steep that after leading the team across I had to grab a rope and help haul the sled up the steep slushy bank. By far the worst crossing, but I was pretty sure that was the last one, or at least I hoped it so bad I convinced myself. It was still warm but the winds were really picking up, and both Mike and I wanted to get to Iditarod as quick as possible so we could get our team a nice warm meal, then get out of our wet clothes and get things drying.
Pulled into Iditarod and found a few new changes that really made things nicer for mushers and teams. In the past they did not have water and you would have to melt snow, but this year they brought buckets of water right to the team. So all I needed to do was heat the water in my cooker, pour it on the meat to defrost, then add some kibble to make a nice meal. Also they had cleared some trees and made nice camping spots of the dogs off the river, this meant you were tucked out of the winds and closer to the mushers sleeping cabin.
As you can imagine I was very happy to be there, and as soon as meat was defrosting for the dogs I ducked into the mushers cabin to get out of my wet clothes and boots and get things drying. even though this years race had been up to that point unseasonable warm it is still important that your gear be completely dry before you head out on the trail. Especially your boots. I was thankful my Intuition Liners don’t hold water and dry out easily.
Mike Ellis actually posted his photos from this section of trail, so you can see what conditions were like as we traveled it. Including some pictures of yours truly at the water crossings.
on to Shageluk:
AH the run to Shageluk, the run that would test my attitude more then it had been tested before. And the checkpoint checkpoint where I was ever so glad Karen Ramstead was the race judge. Because when I pulled in on one runner completely dejected (yeah I know I am getting ahead of myself, just work with me) there is no one else I can think of with the grace, humor, and experience to handle the mental marshmallow I had become on that run. Thank you Karen.
to be continued…
and I promise to share with you the full misery that is breaking both your runners, why I love Tripod cabin, what I discovered about Shaktoolik, and what happens when your lights go out and you start to doubt your sense of direction.
Thank you Albert Marquez, Planet Earth Adventures for this great action shot of the team.
