My Journey: Iditarod Dreams

Jeeeee! Haaaaww! I’ve been using these commands on Denali since she first became part of our family. For those who aren’t familiar with them, those are the mushing commands for Right and Left.

Musher arriving in Unalakleet

The adventure of a lifetime began right here in Unalakleet as the first racers came through Saturday, March 12, around midnight. Brent Sass came racing in, all smiles, at the head of the pack with 14 of his original 16 dogs pulling and one exhausted pup riding on the sled with him. Vicki and I were out there standing on the dark, frozen river, amidst the lines of hay bales waiting to become bedding for the tired canines, our toes and fingers slowly freezing in the three-degree arctic night, surrounded by children and adults of all ages, Eskimos and non-Eskimos alike. TV reporters, photographers, dog handlers, veterinarians, and fans holding “Welcome to Unalakleet” and “Go Brent” signs made for a bustling midnight welcome for the tired mushers.

Unalakleet Checkpoint

Exhausted from a 15 hour run (with a two hour break halfway through) Brent patiently and lovingly went up and down his line of dogs, giving each plenty of loving care, spreading out hay for them to lay on, and then warming their food in a pot over a portable propone burner. Vicki and I marveled at the small stature of the beautiful animals. At 50 pounds, my own Denali was bigger than any of them. These competitive mushers must care for their dogs on their own, taking no help from anyone other than having a veterinarian there for assistance as needed.

Welcoming the Iditarod Mushers!

After the dogs were fed, loved, and bedded down even with blankets and weatherproof covers placed over them, Sass headed up the hill from the river to the Community Center located in the back of the blue building that also houses our local post office. Inside was a command center manned around the clock by Iditarod employees and volunteers keeping track of the mushers on the trail via GPS, and continually feeding updates to the media. The smell of pancakes and bacon filled the air with a warm aroma and drew visitors to the food table filled with home-cooked goods donated by the friendly community, while a volunteer continually cooked up fresh pancakes and bacon for mushers and visitors in need of nourishment. This food area was staffed 24 hours for over a week, with fresh baked goods continually being brought in, until the last musher came through. The warm room also contained long tables lined with chairs, some filled with locals resting in between Iditarod shifts or just visiting, media reporters, emergency service workers, and then… Iditarod mushers! The excitement when Sass entered the room was electric. Our local pizza joint, Peace on Earth, delivered a fresh, hot pizza to him, which he ate in big bites while talking with eager fans and reporters.

Unalakleet River - Iditarod Trail Marker

Dallas Seavey came into the Unalakleet checkpoint 45 minutes behind Sass. He was on a mission. His movement with the dogs was mechanical and to-the-point. As soon as he finished his chores, he was inside, alone at a table, gorging on pancakes, bacon, and race stats, keeping a slanted eye on Brent Sass the entire time.

When the mushers finished with their meals, they excused themselves to private rooms adjacent to the eating area, where each collapsed on a soft bed for a power nap.

An hour later, at 1:30am, Ally Zirkle came gliding into the checkpoint. Her demeanor was much like Sass, comforting her dogs and smiling widely as she spoke to, shook hands with, and hugged fans and friends shivering out on the ice.

Later that morning, after less than five hours of rest, Seavey left Unalakleet four minutes ahead of Sass, with Zirkle following an hour later.

Finish Line!

I mushed with my first team six years ago in Homer and was immediately hooked. Working with Jillian Rogers at the Bear Creek Winery during the summer, her addiction to dogs was infectious and I quickly caught the bug. Jillian let me hook Denali up to a team of four of her dogs and we were off, she with a separate team of six dogs. I was given an opportunity to help her exercise her sled dogs and the experience was exhilarating, every single time. That winter, Jillian was taking care of about 40 dogs and training to run the Iditarod a year or two down the road. Her boyfriend, Rich, had run the 1,000 mile race himself and had great stories to tell.

Having seen racers at the start of the Iditarod in Anchorage a couple of times, on the top of my bucket list was to be in Nome for the finish. Three weeks ago, I checked it off of my list, standing beside my bestie, Vicki, who shared my dream! We flew from Unalakleet to Nome on a quick 45 minute flight via PenAir on Monday, March 14. The small plane held eight passengers who kept their faces turned to the windows throughout the entire flight, taking in the grandeur of the Norton Sound sea ice and hilly landscape criss-crossed with an occasional trail. The islands we flew over were nothing more than large chunks of rock forcing their way up through the formidable sea.

2016 Iditarod Trail Route

As Nome appeared, it was difficult to tell where the land ended and the sea began because of the blanket of white over everything, including the ice ridge piled up along the shore caused by the strong tides continual push and pull on the ice. The town itself was reminiscent of the small northern towns in Wisconsin, Minnesota and North Dakota, a main street lined with bars and restaurants, all surrounded by residential neighborhoods. It felt familiar. It felt used and rugged. It felt like Alaska.

The Iditarod finish line was in the middle of the main drag, right in front of the Bering Sea Bar, just one block from the snow and ice-covered waterfront. We watched the rusty yellow dump trucks bring in loads of snow to pack down a smooth trail for the dog teams who would be racing down the street in less than eight hours. The track ran three blocks, where it dumped over a ledge and out onto the frozen sea through the Subway parking lot and into the vastness that is the Iditarod.

Ally Zirkle

We followed the racers throughout the day via their GPS units on Iditarod.com. We got word that Sass had some problems with his dogs and had to turn back at one point for more rest, which gave Seavey a chance to increase his lead, which he did. Because of our first hand experience with Seavey a few days before, Vicki and I just couldn’t get excited about the possibility of him winning the race. We were on Team Sass and there was no way around that! Therefore, when it finally became clear that Dallas Seavey would be coming across the finish line around 2am, and in first place, I elected to stay in bed. His father, Mitch, was about 45 minutes behind him and there would be no more racers for several hours and they would be coming through at more reasonable times the next day.

The finish line was an exciting place to be and Vicki and I were there early the next morning when Ally Zirkle drove her dogs to a third place victory, all smiles and greeted by her sister at the finish line.

Amazing animals at the end of their thousand-mile journal.

For the rest of our stay, we were at the finish line to welcome numerous mushers to the end of their 1,000 mile journey. A siren would blow downtown alerting folks every time an incoming musher was a mile away (about 10 minutes out) so that everyone could gather at the finish line, pouring out of the bars, restaurants, and convention center. With some teams, the dogs were excited and jumping against their lines. Others were exhausted, immediately laying down in the snow as soon as the sled stopped. All dogs on every team were treated with a frozen steak at the finish line, which they chewed eagerly as the musher answered media questions and gave interviews. Dog handlers get to work removing the dog booties and throwing them to the crowd as souvenirs. Vicki and I both brought home pockets full of dog booties, some with holes worn through, some almost new, all frozen with snow and ice and dog excrement which eventually melted into a smelly mess, but dried satisfactorily. These had been on the feet of dogs who had run the Iditarod!

Cheers! (Sitting at a window overlooking the Bering Sea)

Then, the musher drove his team down the hill to the dog yard where the dogs were cared for by experienced dog handlers and veterinarians until their eventual flight back to Anchorage, where they were delivered to a local women’s prison to be loved and pampered until they were either flown home or the musher picked them up.

This amazing bucket list trip was everything I ever dreamed it would be. I learned much about the Iditarod and mushing during those couple of weeks and have since looked into the possibility of adopting a retired sled dog. One of these days…