Husky News

Mushers find the trail to the trail has its share of pitfalls as well

WILLOW — Some Iditarod mushers faced miles of travel — and assorted misadventures — before they even got to the fan-packed frozen ice of Willow Lake for Sunday’s race restart.

Only about a third of the race’s 83 mushers enjoyed a quick drive from homes in Anchorage or the Mat-Su Borough, one last night at home in a comfortable bed, local trails for last-minute training and dogs bedded down in familiar kennels.

Spectators line up Sunday along the start chute at the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race restart on Willow Lake. Photos by STEPHEN NOWERS / Anchorage Daily News

Two-time Iditarod champion Robert Sorlie chats with fans. Photos by STEPHEN NOWERS / Anchorage Daily News

The rest?

A fair number came from Fairbanks, the Kenai Peninsula, the Denali area: places close enough to drive but not to commute. Five live off the road system, 28 live in other states or Canada, and five hail from other continents altogether.

Even some fans came from thousands of miles away.

Let the misadventures begin.

Sunday’s restart drew thousands along both sides of the starting line. From there, mushers headed across Willow Lake and about 50 miles to the next checkpoint at Yentna.

Among the crowd were four Dutch visitors in the bright orange regalia that got so much attention at the Winter Olympics in Turin, Italy. The quartet traveled here to cheer on countryman and friend Ben Valks, a rookie who trained with Big Lake race veteran Lynda Plettner.

Valks hadn’t handled dogs or a sled until recently, one Dutchman joked, though he is a great equestrian.

So why enter one of the toughest dog races around?

Musher Rachael Scdoris responds to a fan urging her to pass Tim Osmar, No. 41, while crossing Long Lake in Willow. Photos by STEPHEN NOWERS / Anchorage Daily News

“Because horses were not allowed,” said Paul HuisIn’tVeld, straight-faced in his orange windmill beanie.

Musher Ken Anderson only had to drive down from Fairbanks. But the 33-year-old earned the best getting-there story of the race.

As Anderson drove his dog truck the final blocks to the ceremonial start in downtown Anchorage on Saturday morning, a latch on the truck’s back gate flew open.

Anderson’s dog sled — his only sled, having already shipped a second sled to McGrath — dumped out on the hill leading up from Ship Creek.

Once Anderson and his wife, Gwen Holdman, pulled over, the sled was gone.

With his start looming, Anderson wangled loaner sleds from two other mushers. But just before he headed down Fourth Avenue, the five-time race veteran got good news: Police found the sled, undamaged, on C Street, probably dumped there.

The team hopes the sled caper bodes well, Holdman said Sunday morning as Anderson readied for the restart.

“The last time we had a major disaster barely averted at the starting line,” she said, “he had his best time ever.”

Training on unfamiliar Alaska trails left Norway’s Tove Sorensen nursing an eye temporarily blinded by an errant branch.

Sorensen and her husband, fellow musher Tore Albrigtsen, arrived in Alaska nearly two weeks ago and flew to Fairbanks to train. On their first run, the branch punctured the center of Sorensen’s eye.

Immediate surgery staved off permanent blindness, she said, but she still can’t see out of that eye.

Then Friday night, as the couple readied for the ceremonial start the next morning, fireworks at their Wasilla hotel spooked both dog teams, Albrigtsen said. “I was very happy I did not lose any dogs yesterday.”

Asked about home state advantage, John Baker, the 45-year-old perennial top 10 finisher from Kotzebue, said he has a great place to stay with friends in Knik. An air carrier ferries his dogs here.

Baker’s problem, he said, is with a race policy that requires his team to come in a week early for blood work.

“It’s an extreme disadvantage,” Baker said.

So what did he do to train his team after they left home?

“I didn’t,” he said. “They just sat.”

That’s not to say that a home near the starting line guarantees a smooth beginning.

Jerry Sousa, a 47-year-old from Talkeetna running his fifth race, said his easy drive to Willow on Sunday just provided more time to procrastinate. Sousa left for Willow at 10:30 a.m. — about the time he got everything packed and ready to go.

Home brings its own distractions, Sousa said, tucking bread bags into his sled bag to keep his feet dry.

“The more nervous we get, the more stuff we try to pound into the sled,” he said.

Big Lake’s Martin Buser, a four-time race winner, readied for the race in a veritable camp on the lake where Buser supporters cooked up moose bratwurst and burgers on a small grill.

Sure, Buser said, it was nice to share breakfast with his family Sunday morning. But the comforts of home fade fast once the race starts.

“Having a little fire right now doesn’t make my dogs run any faster,” he said.

Source: The Anchorage Daily News