Coverage of the 2013 Iditarod Ceremonial Start got off to a bumpy smart this morning. Iditarod.com was supposed to start its broadcast at 9:30am AKST, but it didn’t actually get underway until 10am, just as the first musher, Martin Buser, was lining up to start. Over on the Iditarod.com forum, there was a lot of frustration, especially as no one from Iditarod.com bothered to let people know what was going on for twenty minutes.

At 9:50, the site finally posted a message saying coverage would begin in a few minutes, thank you for your patience, etc. In the meantime, a few enterprising forum members discovered that pre-start coverage was taking place on KTUU’s website (KTUU is the NBC affiliate serving Anchorage), so I jumped over there and watched Kevin Wells and Libby Riddles engage in a pre-race chat. Riddles is the first woman to win the Iditarod back in 1985.

Iditarod.com coverage finally started at 10am, which was fortunate because KTUU ended its broadcast before the 10am start. As with past Iditarod.com broadcasts, sports announcer Greg Heister and Iditarod race veteran Bruce Lee provided the commentary. Lee pointed out that it was an unusually warm day in Anchorage, the warmest he’s experienced for an Iditarod ceremonial start. Temperatures crept into the thirties, which is roasting for Anchorage this time of year. Helping cool things down a bit was a blanket of fog that descended on the coastal town, obscuring the Chugach mountains.

Buser and his dog team looked good and were eager to go. It will be interesting to see this year if his drawing the top position helps or hurts the four-time winner. Scott Janssen, the “Mushing Mortician” (Janssen owns a funeral home), was wearing a Beatles beanie. I wonder if he’ll be listening to “A Hard Day’s Night” on his iPod on the trail.

It’s been a hard day’s night, and I’ve been working like a dog.

It’s been a hard day’s night, I should be sleeping like a log.

Maybe not.

Jamaican musher Newton Marshall (who looks about 12 by the way) should be easy to spot on the trail with his bright orange earflap hat and neon yellow parka. Before he departed, someone handed him a Jamaican flag, which he proudly waved as his dogs pulled him down Fourth Avenue. Brazilian rookie Luan Ramos Marques also stood out with his giant Brazilian flag and neon green sled bag.

If there were a competition for best winter hat, it would have to go to Karin Hendrickson, who sported a blue beanie with what appeared to be long, knitted dreadlocks dangling from it. The winner of the most handsome dog team would go to Russian musher Mikhail Telpin, with his sturdy-looking, thick-furred Chukotka coastal dogs. As Bruce Lee pointed out, his sled dogs resemble the big dogs from Alaska’s gold rush era.

It was nice seeing Jeff King, the four-time Iditarod champion known for his seriousness and competitive drive, looking so relaxed, hugging his lead dogs, smiling and waving to the crowd. He looked like he was having a blast. Iditarod veteran Sebastian Schnuelle also brought fun to the proceedings. Schnuelle has retired from mushing (though Iditarod veterans have a way of coming out of retirement eventually) and is now working the media side of things for Iditarod.com, but he was having a bit of fun as fellow German immigrant and musher Gerry Willomitzer stepped off his sled at the start to say goodbye to family and friends. Schnuelle took the opportunity to hop on Willomitzer’s vacant sled and mug for the cameras as if he were going to take it down Fourth Avenue. His mad professor hairdo made it even funnier.

There are a few old-timers running the race this year, legends of an earlier Iditarod era. Ray Demoski Jr. and Sonny Linder were all smiles. Demoski, at age 67, looked fit, especially as the countdown wound down while he tended his dogs and he had to make a quick run to his sled. Mike Williams Sr. looked all business. Jim Lanier had his signature team of all white huskies.

Greg Heister spoke with Sebastian Schnuelle and Joe Runyon between musher starts. Schnuelle said he was enjoying the media side of the race. He picked Aliy Zirkle, who was all smiles as usual,  as his favorite to win this year. Joe Runyon picked Jeff King. Runyon also provided some insight into where competitive mushers might take their mandatory 24-hour rests. In recent years, musher strategy has been to try and take it further down the trail, in Iditarod or even Anvik. However, with the warm weather this year that might prove difficult. Warm weather is harder on the dogs, and if the long trail between Ophir and Iditarod has less snowfall than usual, the rough conditions may influence mushers to take their long rest in Takotna before tackling it.

Back tomorrow for the restart in Willow. Coverage of the restart begins at 2pm ASKT. Let’s hope Iditarod.com has gotten the glitches worked out.

Several weeks ago, I linked to this article in the New York Times about Alaska experiencing warmer than usual weather late last year, forcing race officials to cancel or postpone several Iditarod qualifying races. Well, it seems things have gotten better on the trail since January. On Feb. 14, Joe Runyon posted on his blog that he had spoken to a few mushers and race officials who had been on the trail and said snowfall looks good, especially south of the Alaska Range. Two days ago, AccuWeather.com reported that snowfall in Nome has been 31 inches since January, and that Iditarod officials have “no concerns” about snow on the trail.

Yesterday on his blog, Runyon confirmed that snowfall has blanketed the entire trail and mushers should have good conditions all the way to Nome. He adds a caveat, however: the treacherous Dalzell Gorge, the steep downhill run following Rainy Pass summit that takes mushers out of the Alaska Range. Winds blowing through this side of the Range have downed trees in the Gorge, and officials have been out with chainsaws cleaning the area up.

Even more potentially dangerous are areas along the river at the bottom of the Gorge where drum ice appears. Drum ice occurs when the water below the ice drains out or recedes, leaving a thin layer of ice over a gaping hole. When covered with snow, such areas can appear safe to mushers, but if hit just right can act like a trap door swallowing dogs and musher. Mushers will need to be careful to stay on the trail in this part of the Gorge.

If you’re planning on watching the Iditarod ceremonial start tomorrow morning, either on Iditarod.com*or on Alaska television, you’ll see only a small part of what takes place as the mushers wind their way through the streets of Anchorage and its suburbs. Just showing 66 mushers line up and depart in two-minute intervals takes up more than a couple hours of television time, and that’s pretty much all viewers get to see.

However, once the cameras turn away, the seemingly well-choreographed conga line through Anchorage does not always go as smoothly as you might think. Mushers must negotiate the streets of a fairly large city with a 60 – 70 foot long team of excitable dogs, and as they cross intersections, they compete with cars, motorcycles, scooters, bicycles, and snow machines. Although one might expect a cordoned parade route to be easier to follow than the sometimes snowed over Iditarod trail, things can still go wrong. A musher managing a sharp turn can suddenly find him- or herself face down in the snow, dragged along by an oblivious team of loping dogs. What’s more, mushers often carry passengers during the ceremonial start, the “Idita-riders” who pay to sit in the sled baskets and the tow sled drivers who trail the main sleds to help slow eager dog teams to an easy parade gait. Idita-riders can get dumped like a wheelbarrow full of mulch. Tow sleds can get hooked on traffic light poles or stop signs or swing wide into curbs.

In his book Winterdance, Gary Paulsen describes his disastrous rookie start in the 1983 Iditarod. After his lead dog, Wilson, misses a turn, Paulsen and his dog team tear through a stunned crowd and into a residential Anchorage neighborhood:

We went through people’s yards, ripped down fences, knocked over garbage cans. At one point I found myself going through a carport and across a backyard with fifteen dogs and a fully loaded Iditarod sled. A woman standing over the kitchen sink looked out with wide eyes as we passed through her yard and I snapped a wave at her before clawing the handlebar again to hang on while we tore down her picket fence when Wilson tried to thread through a hole not much bigger than a house cat.

One could chalk up Paulsen’s error as a rookie mistake. Yet even seasoned veterans sometimes take in more of Anchorage than they bargained for. In Race Across Alaska, which details her 1985 Iditarod victory, Libby Riddles describes an early mishap she experiences in Anchorage with her partner, Joe Garnie, tagging along on the tow sled.

Then Dugan and Bugs [Riddles’ lead dogs] started down some sort of narrow trail, following a couple of sets of tracks. By the time I saw this new adventure, it was already too late. Two by two the dogs jumped over an old wringer washing machine iced into the trail. The sled hit it and I flew over the top. I heard Joe shout just as he was knocked off the second sled and then my sled went over. I hung on to the drive bow while the dogs dragged me until I righted the sled and regained the runners and stopped. I set the hook into the snow and waited for Joe to catch up. He’d slammed into a tree and banged his knuckle badly. I shook my head and shrugged. A washing machine in the trail of all things.

I think I may have seen an episode of Jackass very much like this.

So if you’re watching tomorrow, just remember: there may be more happening off camera than on.

Coverage of the ceremonial start begins tomorrow at 9:30am (ASKT), with the first musher leaving the chute at 10am.

*Iditarod.com will be showing the ceremonial start for free. You don’t need to be a member. However, you will have to buy an Iditarod Insider membership if you want to watch the restart in Willow and the finish in Nome.

ANCHORAGE, Alaska (AP) — The world’s most famous sled dog race kicks off Saturday with an 11-mile-long trot through Alaska’s largest city.

Think of the short jaunt in Anchorage as the festival part of the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race. This is the time relaxed mushers will smile and pose for photos, waving at crowds as they leisurely sail along streets covered with trucked-in snow.

But watch out for Sunday, when the real competition begins in Willow, 50 miles to the north.

Gone will be the big easy grins as tense mushers and their leaping dogs begin the 1,000-mile trek through unpredictable wilderness to the old gold rush town of Nome on Alaska’s western coast. Along the way, the teams will climb mountains, cross forests and gorges and frozen rivers. They’ll sign in at village checkpoints. They’ll face blizzards and brutal winds and temperatures that can plummet to 50 below. Some of the 66 teams starting the race will scratch from the running far from the finish line.

Contenders can’t wait to get to the trail.

“As far as I’m concerned, the weather is one of the easiest things because it’s the one thing I have no control over whatsoever,” said defending champion Dallas Seavey, 25, the youngest Iditarod winner ever. “My job as a musher is to train a team and train myself to work with whatever conditions Mother Nature throws at us, and the worse it is, the better we do.”

The Willow musher is among six past Iditarod winners, including his father, Mitch Seavey, in the 41st running of the race. Dallas Seavey also is among six past winners of the 1,000-mile Yukon Quest International Sled Dog Race, held just weeks before the Iditarod.

Lance Mackey of Fairbanks is the only musher to win both races the same year —accomplishing dual championships not once, but two years in a row. Mackey, a throat cancer survivor, has won both races four times and was hoping for a comeback to his last Iditarod championship in 2010.

But the 42-year-old musher said he doesn’t expect a good run after having just scratched in the Quest in February because of a team of ailing veteran dogs. His Iditarod team consists mostly of a bunch of puppies — his words.

The only reason he’s going through with the race is because he has a film crew following him for a documentary, he said.

“I fully expected this year to be the year to fully redeem myself, with the best team I ever had,” he said. “And they got sick on me.”

Mackey, however, has been known to talk like that even during his championship races, so longtime fans know not to count him out of the running.

Whoever reaches Nome first wins a new truck and a cash prize of $50,400. The rest of the $600,000 purse will be split between the next 29 mushers to cross the finish line.

Unseasonably warm weather earlier this year complicated training for mushers in some areas, but Iditarod officials never worried it would affect the race.

Now, there is plenty of snow along the trail, even too much during one stretch, race marshal Mark Nordman said this week. High winds knocked trees over in another section, but trail breakers have been building bridges there.

“So far, we’re set to go,” Nordman said.

The starting positions for the 41^st Iditarod were drawn at last night’s banquet in Anchorage. This year’s honorary musher is Jan Newton, a 40-year race volunteer who over the years earned the affectionate title “Queen of Takotna.” Forty years ago, before Takotna was even an official race checkpoint, Jan and her husband, Dick, began feeding the mushers who passed through their small village chili and moose stew. The couple managed the checkpoint until Jan’s death last year at age 75. In 2008, Jan and Dick were inducted into the Iditarod Hall of Fame.

Below is a list of the starting positions for this year’s race. The ceremonial start begins tomorrow at 10am Alaska time.

1 Jan Newton – 2013 Honorary Musher
2 Martin Buser
3 Scott Janssen
4 Jodi Bailey
5 Lance Mackey
6 Ken Anderson
7 Michelle Phillips
8 Newton Marshall
9 Kelley Griffin
10 Peter Kaiser
11 Paul Gebhardt
12 Jason Mackey, Sr.
13 John Baker
14 Paige Drobny
15 Charley Bejna
16 Nicolas Petit
17 Cindy Gallea
18 Jeff King
19 Dallas Seavey
20 Kristy Berington
21 Gerry Willomitzer
22 Travis Beals
23 Robert Bundtzen
24 Aaron Burmeister
25 Kelly Maixner
26 Jan Steves
27 Aily Zirkle
28 DeeDee Jonrowe
29 Karin Hendrickson
30 Jessie Royer
31 Anna Berington
32 Joar Lleifseth Ulsom
33 Michael Suprenant
34 Justin Savidis
35 Mike Williams, Sr.
36 Mitch Seavey
37 Christine Roalofs
38 Ramey Smyth
39 Rudy Demoski, Sr.
40 Angie Taggart
41 Ed Stielstra
42 Linwood Fiedler
43 Bob Chlupach
44 Jake Berkowitz
45 Curt Perano
46 Michael Williams, Jr.
47 Luan Ramos Marques
48 Allen Moore
49 Gerald Sousa
50 Mike Ellis
51 Cim Smyth
52 Ray Redington, Jr.
53 Louie Ambrose
54 Jessica Hendricks
55 Josh Cadzow
56 David Sawatzky
57 Wade Marrs
58 Aaron Peck
59 Jim Lanier
60 Cindy Abbott
61 Matt Failor
62 Brent Sass
63 Mikhail Telpin
64 Matt Giblin
65 Richie Diehl
66 James Volek
67 Sonny Lindner

http://iditarod.com/race/rules/

The one rule I’ll note regards the supplies and equipment that must be carried by mushers in their sleds at all times:

• Proper cold weather sleeping bag weighing a minimum of 5 lbs.
• Ax, head to weigh a minimum of 1-3/4 lbs., handle to be at least 22” long.
• One operational pair of snowshoes with bindings, each snowshoe to be at least 252 square inches in size.
• Any promotional material provided by the ITC.
• Eight booties for each dog in the sled or in use.
• One operational cooker and pot capable of boiling at least three (3) gallons of water at one time.
• Veterinarian notebook, to be presented to the veterinarian at each checkpoint.
• An adequate amount of fuel to bring three (3) gallons of water to a boil.
• Cable gang line or cable tie out capable of securing dog team.
• Functional non chafing harness for each dog in team.

The “promotional material” refers to envelopes stamped in Anchorage and later postmarked in Nome, then sold to fans to raise funds for the race. This tradition goes back to the first Iditarod in 1973 and commemorates the Iditarod Trail as, among other things, a mail route.

Also, something relevant to Saturday’s ceremonial start: tonight, a banquet was held in Anchorage where mushers drew their starting positions for the race. Their position numbers will be listed on their bibs, which they must wear at the ceremonial start, the restart, from the White Mountain checkpoint to the Safety checkpoint, and from the Safety checkpoint to the Nome finish line.

At the ceremonial start and the restart, mushers and their dog teams will leave in two-minute intervals according to their position/bib number. The time differential is adjusted during each musher’s mandatory 24-hour layover.

The article describes how she’s working with a medical imaging service called Raven Infrared to “map” her dogs and create a digital library of them showing areas of increased blood flow. Such areas could suggest the early stages of injury–for example, where a dog is pulling too hard or having some other difficulty. Such information allows a musher or veterinarian to catch problems early and address them before they become serious.

Full story here: http://www.alaskadispatch.com/article/armed-technology-jonrowe-bids-elusive-iditarod-win

Four-time Iditarod champion Lance Mackey won’t be mushing his main dog team in this year’s race. In an interview with Iditarod Insider, Mackey says the team he ran in February’s Yukon Quest is “not up to par” for the 2013 Iditarod.

Mackey had a disappointing Quest race this year. After dropping half of his original 14-dog team, he was forced to scratch at the Dawson City checkpoint, only a third of the way down the trail. Mackey will be using only four of those Quest dogs for the Iditarod, the fewest he’s used in years that he has run both races.

The new team is made up of young dogs Mackey was preparing for next year’s Iditarod, as well as dogs that didn’t make the cut for the main team. Mackey likens his predicament to an NFL team going to the Super Bowl without its key players. “My main guys are sitting on the bench,” he says.

Mackey dominated the Iditarod from 2007 through 2010. He is the only musher to win the 1,000-mile race four consecutive times. After his 2010 victory, however, the bottom seemed to fall out of his racing. In the 2011 Iditarod, he came in 16th place. He did even worse in last year’s race, placing 22nd in a field of 52 finishers. With the scratch in this year’s Yukon Quest, Mackey is just looking for a clean race. “I am in the Iditarod,” he says. “I don’t know how much of the racing part of it I’ll be in.”

Speaking of the finish line in Nome, Mackey declares, “I’ll still have a smile on my face when I get there, you know? And I will get there. It just might take me a little while.”

Above is a cool video (in two parts) of musher Aliy Zirkle showing off her dog sled. She has used the same sled for all 12 of the Iditarods she has raced in thus far, and she’ll use it again for the 2013 race.

In Part 1, Aliy describes the sled’s exterior. In Part 2, she shows all of the supplies and equipment that go into the sled basket and how the basket is packed.

These Iditarod mushers carry a lot of equipment on the trail. I think the only thing she’s missing is a television set.

Back to the IronLine rundown, or run-over…already in progress:

Mushers were already starting to hit up the website. They were even beginning to register in October! Our Facebook started buzzing with a community of people who’s names were now starting to become pretty familiar. My wife and I felt like we were starting to get a handle on some things.

But then come the things that can make or break you, the nonnegotiables. Things like weather: you know, it takes a decent amount of snow to run a sled dog race. They don’t normally like running on rocks, gravel, ice or even a scant dusting of snow. The snow needs to be several inches deep, packed down, groomed and even have a few layers to it. Now, we live in the U.P. and, normally (I stress normally), we don’t have to mess with the idea of not having enough snow in January.

We started getting snow in mid to late November and then that melted off. We then got more in December and early January. Which looked good because our original race date (cough-cough) was set for January 18-19. Promotion, advertising, and all the rest. We had a Race Marshall coming from out of area, a seasoned and enthusiastic vet staff lined up, and a whole host of volunteers coming out of the woodwork—with some driving from three or four hours away!

To quote Nicholas Cage in Raising Arizona, “…And then the roof caved in.”

I’ve spent eight or nine winters in the U.P. and I’ve seen close to -40 below and -20 for two weeks at a time, but I could not have been prepared for 40 ABOVE zero, not in January!!! That’s right, spring weather—WITH RAIN! In two days we lost almost all our snow. It looked like an icy, muddy mess and our trail crew was a tad flabbergasted. Some negativity crept up on us. A lot of emotion on my part. Had to keep my head up at the meetings. I know God told us to do this crazy race; how could He do this? I still want to believe He knows what He is doing. Of course, in hindsight, He most definitely did. But, obviously, with barely a week lead time (which is what you need to change the game plan), we had to postpone the race and pray for snow in three weeks.

The God Audible.

New radio ad. New newspaper ads. Phone call after phone call after email after Facebook update and questions galore. It was kinda like starting all over again. Stress levels soared and emotions ran pretty high for a minute. A couple mushers had to back out and needed their registration money back. I kept telling people, when asked or not, that the only way I could describe the feeling was like training for the usual 26.2 mile marathon and being told it was two miles longer a mile from the finish. Just. Outta. Breath….

Yet, there is a peace that SURPASSES all understanding; it doesn’t come from understanding.

It came to a point, when Satan had thrown all he could at us, and God had allowed uncertainty and foul, sneezy weather…that all the dust started to settle and questions halted. THERE WAS NOTHING MORE WE COULD DO. This whole kit and caboodle was no longer in our hands. We were mere stewards of Gondor and not the Rightful King of a sled dog race. And it couldn’t have come at a better time. The peace. The happy and hopeful helplessness. The thrill of knowing we had given this thing all we had and more and if the ship went down, what a glorious end it might be.

Total reliance sunk in.

So we waited and the snow began to fall. Everything turned into a beautiful painting, some sorta illustration from an old Jack London story. The snow- globe after a good shaking. Then the ensuing soufflé of pure whiteness that brought pristine trails and a waiting community closer in. Peering through the glass had never been so anxious and expectant. We were all in awe really. It was like He knew what He was doing, the great Orchestrator, with His brilliance put on display.

Prayers were indeed answered. All we needed now was to watch it all come together for race weekend….

To be concluded….

http://iditarod.com/race/2013/mushers/

Clicking on the name beneath each photo takes you to a biography of the musher.

As in past Iditarods, most of the mushers in this year’s race are from Alaska. However, there are a few mushers from the lower-48 states and from outside the U.S.: Canada, Brazil, Norway, New Zealand, Russia, Jamaica.

Jamaica? Yes, you read that right. Oswald “Newton” Marshall from St. Anne’s is part of the Jamaica Dogsled Team, sponsored by songwriter and “Margaritaville” resident, Jimmy Buffet. In 2006, Marshall traveled to Whitehorse in the Yukon Territory to train with four-time Yukon Quest champion Hans Gatt. Marshall became the first Jamaican to complete the Yukon Quest in 2009, coming in 13th out of a field of 29 mushers. He also became the first Jamaican to finish the Iditarod in 2010, coming in 41st. He scratched in the 2011 race. Not wanting to end his Iditarod career with a scratch, Marshall arrived in Alaska this past summer to train with dogs from Kelley Griffin’s kennel for the 2013 race.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, there’s a healthy contingent of Native Alaskan mushers in this year’s race: Louie Ambrose, John Baker, Josh Cadzow, Rudy Demoski Sr., Michael Williams Sr., Michael Williams Jr. Demoski is something of a surprise. He ran in the second Iditarod in 1974, finishing 4th. He raced his last Iditarod in 1985. He says he’s missed training dogs for the past three decades, and in recent years, after watching friends compete, he decided he wasn’t getting any younger. This will be the 67-year-old Demoski’s seventh Iditarod try.

The Iditarod mushing dynasties will also be well-represented: Jason Mackey, Lance Mackey, Ray Redington Jr., Dallas Seavey, Mitch Seavey, Cim Smyth, Ramey Smyth.

Who am I looking to win this year’s race? With the Iditarod, you’re mushing on thin ice picking a single favorite, so I’ll name a few. Last year’s winner, Dallas Seavey, will definitely be the musher to beat. We’ll see if he’s at the beginning of a stretch of Iditarod wins. I’ll personally be rooting for Aliy Zirkle, mainly because she came so close last year, finishing second behind Dallas. Her husband, Allen Moore, won this year’s Yukon Quest and is also racing in this year’s Iditarod. However, Aliy will be running the best dogs from the Yukon Quest team, so that gives her an edge. Lance Mackey, who dominated the race from 2007 – 2010, has had problems with his dog teams the past few years and scratched from this year’s Yukon Quest. However, you can never count the four-time Iditarod champion out.

One name I’m not seeing on a lot of favorites lists this year is John Baker. The 2011 Iditarod champ holds the fastest time of any Iditarod winner, and he has finished in the top ten in 13 out of his 17 races. He’s definitely a musher to keep your eye on this year.

So who are your favorites?

Congratulations to 16-year-old Noah Pereira for becoming the first non-Alaskan to win the Jr. Iditarod Sled Dog Race. The Clarkson, New York, resident won the 150-mile race this weekend, beating last year’s winner, Conway Seavey, by only four minutes. Conway is the younger brother of Dallas Seavey, last year’s 1,000-mile Iditarod champion.

This year’s Jr. Iditarod ran from Knik to Yentna and on to the finish line in Willow.

It was a surprisingly steady race given that Pereira reached the halfway point in Yentna ahead of Seavey—by four minutes! However, Pereira did say that in the last 50 miles, Seavey had closed the gap to one minute. Pereira made a push in the last 10 miles to extend his lead and cross the finish line first.

This was Pereira’s first outing in the Jr. Iditarod. He becomes the sixth rookie musher to win it.

Coming in third was 17-year-old Jenny Greger of Bozeman, Montana, 33-minutes behind Seavey.

Here’s a link to the final standings: http://www.jriditarod.com/racecurrent.php

In the middle of what became a twelve month process, my wife and I dove neck-deep into the world of dog-sled racing. You see, to back up a bit, my wife had been enamored with the magic of mushing and dog driving since she was a little kid and did a report on the subject in school. I was “hooked” the first time I ever watched the downtown start of the UP200 sled dog race in Marquette Michigan in 2004. This actually was one of those adventuresome selling points at which the Lord coaxed me into moving to the Upper Peninsula in the first place.

Oh how I had no clue how this would come back to haunt me in the best of ways….

Anyway, back to the educating of an Indiana boy and his eager-beaver wife into all things mushing. As the questions rolled in, as mushers called us, and even a couple attended our later meetings…we started hearing the true girth of the undertaking of what we were chewing on: how many dogs, six or eight or ten? How long will the trail be? The trail has to be well-groomed and smooth, not too dangerous, but fun and within the average training distances of a decent group of seasoned dog drivers. What about a stage race? What about mid-distance? Who will the race marshall be? How do you take care of your sponsors. Do you know you need vets on staff to take care of dogs? And on and on and on. Could have been truly daunting. Could have been….

So on we prayed.

Some of my deepest prayer concerns were that God would bring us the right people and put them in the right places. From sponsors to mushers to vets to mentors, we needed key people that would not try to take the race over, yet help us in our goals and encourage us along the way. I kept thinking, “This is a whole new ball game (with no ball, mind you) and these people don’t have to let us into their tight community…this has got to be the Lord, or it won’t work.” Looking back, it is truly awe-inspiring the people God pulled together to make the 2013 IronLine happen.

From a witty, older musher with loads of pragmatism and level-headedness as Race Marshall, to a headstrong and confident, über-organized Race Director as a logistics mentor, we seemed to have all the right pieces you could ever hope to have involved in a new race with wet-behind-the-ears organizers. We started getting phone calls from 20-year race vets who seemed to love to share knowledge and understanding and from mushers from all over the upper Midwest and Alaska (score!) who wanted to just chat about race formats and dogs and breeding and Iditarod and the fact that we were in community ministry and their families and more and more and more! I felt like we had just barely pushed on a door and it flew open and broke off the backside hinges and fell into a snow bank.

Grace and I found ourselves in the middle of something. We drove four hours in September to head to the Midwest Sled Dog Symposium and then back to the same area in early January for the first race of the season north of Newberry Michigan. There we met other organizers and mushers, both veterans and newer faces…some had already started to register for our race! It was surreal to say the least. I remember thinking, if this was God, we needed to jump in with all our feet. At that race, we tried dog handling, we talked to mushers about their training and their teams, we even watched the little things: what kind of bibs do they have? How many dogs? How far? Why do they have two chutes? Who does the timing? How? Oh crap, what is that chain running across the start line? Why are they hooking into it with their snow hooks? We haven’t even thought of that!!! Floods. Of. New. Knowledge.

And, at this point, you could be thinking…why would a pastor and his wife and four kids and a young-gun little church get caught up in all this? I mean, this could definitely be a tad off track, or really far off for that matter! We are/were with you. I called my mentor and friend John Higgins and several other pastors and confidants and told them everything I had thought God was showing us about this stupid sled dog idea and basically dared them and baited them to shoot us down for being out of pocket and off the backside of our rockers. Note: I don’t sit in “rockers” much.

Darn it! Wouldn’t you know it, we couldn’t get any other leaders or pastors or friends to tell us not to do it. I really think they didn’t want any blood on their hands either way. I guess, what I felt Jesus telling me about why this was all happening boiled down to this: Christians should set the tone for culture in their communities. Far too long have we let the beer companies and everything pertaining to sex, drugs, and rock & roll tell us how we should live and have a good time. We have prayed and agonized and prayed some more that our town would not just rot in depression and obscurity, but have a revival and spring to life. It is depressed with suicide, rife with alcoholism, pregnant with destructive sexual practices, and murder on the family. Single moms and absent dads are everywhere; kids got no hope. And then there’s the economy, very rough and very much struggling. People here needed something to hold on to, some identity and a chance to see things very differently. I was starting to believe that there was much more going on than just a fun and exciting event to promote “community vitality.” No, these were heaven-born seeds of revival, and this was just the beginning.

So forward we marched…down the snowy trail. Remind me later to tell you about how important it is to have snow at a sled dog race….

Stay tuned for more.

Years ago when my son was young we used to watch the sled dog races each year, and it was bittersweet to think of standing in the snow and holding his small hand as the dogs ran past again, bittersweet in that joyful way that also brings tears to the eyes.

Because these dogs love to run! And we were so close today that we could hear them panting, hear their paws hit the snow, hear the clucking as the mushers urged them on.

I think I love the dog races so much because they remind me of myself and my own yearnings, my own passions, and how much I love to run and write, and how it feels to allow myself to let loose and just go with it, go for it.

But enough talk of me. I’m sure that you’re all waiting to see the photographs, no?

The Burled Arch

During the first Iditarod in 1973, as leader Dick Wilmarth and his dogs made their way down Nome’s Front Street, someone in the crowd realized there was no official finish line. Thinking quickly, the person grabbed a package of Kool-Aid and poured the crystals across the snow where the finish line should have been. It was, arguably, the most delicious finish line in racing history.

The following year, an official banner was put up, but when the last musher crossed beneath it–a gold miner by the name of Red “Fox” Olson–he felt the race needed something more substantial, more permanent. Olson built the original Burled Arch as a gift to the race. It lasted from 1975 to 1999 before succumbing to dry rot. The arch was remade and added to the 2000 race and is still used today.

The arch is made from a spruce log with two distinct burls, or knots. One burl reads “Anchorage” across the top and “Nome” across the bottom, the cities where the race starts and finishes. The other burl reads “1049” across the top and “Miles” across the bottom. The crossbeam reads “End of Iditarod Sled Dog Race.”

1049 miles is the symbolic distance of the Iditarod. The 1,000 signifies that the race is at least 1,000 miles and the 49 commemorates Alaska as the 49th state added to the U.S. The actual distance varies depending on whether the northern or southern routes are followed, where the restart takes place, whether certain checkpoints are dropped as a result of bad weather, etc. The actual race distance usually falls between 1,100 and 1,200 miles.

The Widow’s Lamp

Each year on the first Sunday in March, the Iditarod Trail Committee lights a small gas lantern and hangs it from the Burled Arch. Called the Widow’s Lamp, it remains lit until the last musher is off the Iditarod trail. The extinguishing of the lamp by the final musher signals the official end of the race.

The ritual is somewhat similar to the lighting and extinguishing of the Olympic flame. However, the tradition actually replicates a practice followed during Alaska’s gold rush, when sled-dog teams hauled freight and mail over the Iditarod trail. Because freight and mail mushers often battled darkness and inclement weather, word would be relayed whenever a dog team was on the trail, and the roadhouses along the trail would each light a kerosene lamp and hang it outside to help the musher find his way. It also signaled to others that a dog team was on the trail and people should look out for it. The lamp would not be extinguished until the dog team safely reached its destination.

Ellen Halverson with her Red Lantern Award at the end of the 2011 Iditarod. Alaskapublic.org

The Red Lantern Award

The Red Lantern is an award given to the Iditarod’s last place finisher. The tradition began as a joke during the 1953 Fur Rendezvous Race and was passed on to the Iditarod. Over the years, however, it has become a symbol of perseverance. Today’s mushers feel a proud sense of accomplishment when receiving the Red Lantern Award.

It was early March, 2012. My wife was ready to birth our fourth baby girl. I was taking over the pastor duties at our young and bustling little U.P. church. So much was going on: rumors, uneasiness, trepidation, insecurity, gossip, backbiting…wow, yeah it was a tough time. So, along with trying to find the Lord’s good, pleasing, and perfect will…and simultaneously filling out a 30+ page pastors examination, drafting new bylaws (whatever those are), and not go crazy in the process…the Lord dropped another, even wilder, idea in our lap.

You wanna minister to your community, right? You wanna reach out with the love of Christ and show the world He loves them? You want to turn your world upside down and see revival, wasn’t that what you were praying for???

Yes. Ok, Jesus says, then do a sled dog race.

Uh….what? This can’t be the Lord. How past left-field is this?! Although, it is a bit exciting and adventurous (two things more Christians need), it has to be the craziest thing I have ever heard a small, transitioning church getting involved with. This can’t be You, whatever…I’ll just put it out of my mind.

Then it came back and my wife and I talked it over, while she was in birth and right after. Life is hectic and challenging, living by faith…let’s bring an utter logistical nightmare into our lives (NOT referring to baby #4). We better pray.

And pray we did.

Then I put out a fleece. Ok Father, if I send an email to the organizers of another race and they, some how, respond even a bit favorably, we will press on with this ridiculous venture. So we did, and they did. And we set up a meeting last April. We showed up, completely greenhorning it. They were nice, dropped a stack of fifty printed documents in our laps, tried to scare us off…and a challenge was presented. Then we left, swimming in possibilities. And prayed.

Men, especially adventurous northern pioneers and their tireless wives, should always pray and not lose heart. And pray all the more, we sure did.

We looked at everything, sought the Lord and His Word. Doors were opening. We called the organizers back. Invited them to our modest, little Iron River. Called a community meeting in May and asked a few progressive types (generous title for our town) to join us. Somewhere around 12 people showed up. Great presentation with videos from our friends from the Copperdog sled dog race. Lots of big eyes and cocked heads. Pray.

Pray and pray and pray. Some answers started to come.

So, we planned some monthly brainstorming meetings. And, until somewhere around October, we only had a few more than our core group of six to ten, really-new-at-this, folks. I hesitated even sharing this venture with the church, thinking, “I can’t put these people through this..they already have to deal with a bearded, spastic young pastor who’s cuckoo for the Holy Spirit and has huge holes in his ears.” And transition and poverty and everything else. Anyway, I think at least half of the people I told about this thing just patted me on the shoulder and thought—in Christ’s love—that I was probably off on this one and it might just fizzle. Honestly, I don’t blame them one bit. I seriously was starting to think that I was losing grip on reality a bit. I mean, I started getting crazy “words” and Scriptures and thoughts about mission trips to Alaska and building a sled dog kennel along with our ministry…which already had a coffee shop (with another on the way), a recording studio, a community garden, a struggling discipleship program, and too much more. And a congregation of 30-40 adults. What in the world was I thinking???!!!

I didn’t know…so I prayed.

And, in praying, things were snapping. It didn’t matter. I was already in WAY over my head. Living the poor, church-mouse dream…living off of scraps off of the Master’s table. We already had a HUGE old church basically given to us through a $137,500-miracle. We started a coffee shop/music venue…and then another one. The Spirit has been upon us through adultery and suicide and fastings and tribulation and backslidings and triumph and salvation. We travelled in a converted city bus across the nation three times with nothing—NOTHING! Ok…I don’t know Jesus…maybe this sled dog thing isn’t too crazy.

Logo. Website. Blog. I am writing a book in there, or was, somewhere. Newspaper article. A little money started showing up, making tiny dents in a $20,000 need. More people started showing up to meetings. Chamber of Commerce backed us (thanks!). Appeared before the City Board—interesting looks all around. Appeared before the DDA—downtown development authority—same looks. Then a second time, so they would know we were serious. Then came the County Board for use of the trail; that’s where The Lord told me to throw in there that I’m a pastor—could have framed those looks! Then DNR permits. Then some sponsors got on board. Then some more. By this time, mushers (the even crazier people who race sled dogs, care for them, and train them) started hitting up our Facebook and website with a barrage of questions we could barely answer. They WERE excited nonetheless.

We continued to pray. It was all starting to be this scattered, rocket-boosted blur. At that point, we had no idea what we were getting into….

To be continued.

According to the Anchorage Daily News, Rohn Buser, the 23-year-old son of four-time Iditarod champion Martin Buser, has withdrawn from this year’s race. Rohn has completed two Iditarods, coming in 18th place last year. In 2012, he won the Kuskokwim 300 and the Iditarod’s Most Improved Musher Award. However, according to Martin, Rohn’s disappointing sixth-place showing in this year’s Kuskokwim 300 may have contributed to his decision to withdraw.

Rohn is the fifth musher to withdraw from this year’s Iditarod.

There’s a silver lining for Martin. Each year, he and Rohn take turns picking the best dogs from their Happy Trails Kennel for their respective Iditarod teams. With Rohn bowing out, Martin will be have a bigger group of top dogs to choose from.

The full story can be found here: http://www.adn.com/2013/02/20/2796398/rohn-buser-withdraws-from-iditarod.html

Yesterday on his blog, Hugh Neff, the 2012 Yukon Quest champion, Iditarod veteran, and Cat-in-the-Hat enthusiast, slammed certain “egoist mushers from the 80s” who have raced in the Iditarod for decades but have thus far avoided the less famous Quest.

The Yukon Quest is another 1,000-mile-plus sled-dog race that takes place every February and runs between Whitehorse, in the Canadian Yukon, and Fairbanks, Alaska. Established in 1984 by mushers who wanted a long-distance sled-dog race with fewer checkpoints than the Iditarod, the Quest follows the more interior mail and transportation routes used during the Klondike Gold Rush of the late 1800s. It’s a race many mushers consider more physically demanding than the Iditarod, one that one of its founders, LeRoy Shank, hoped would “put a little woodsmanship in it.”

The Chicago-born Neff is a big supporter of the Quest and has completed it ten times. He placed 2nd in this year’s race behind another Quest and Iditarod veteran, Allen Moore, who, interestingly enough, lost last year’s Quest race to Neff by a mere 26 seconds.

However, according to Neff, there are other, unnamed mushers who look down their noses at the Quest, past Iditarod “champs” who “demean newer mushers on ‘their’ trail and treat their dogs with disrespect.” Neff goes on:

Is dog mushing all about sponsors and financial gain? “Well, the purse just isn’t big enough to be worth it…” Are they worried about how organized that other 1,ooo mile race is? Well then why not provide expertise in helping it evolve? Is it the cold Alaskan interior weather? Temps have hovered way above zero over the last few years– warmer on average than the Last Great Race’s have been. Whatever their excuses it really is pathetic. Alaskans lead by example, unfortunately these prominent mushers glued to earning incomes off of Mr. Redington’s dream are the worst role models the Greatland has.

Ouch!

Much of what is behind Neff’s displeasure is that he feels the Iditarod, with its focus on winners and expanding purses, has lost much of the spirit that its founder, Joe Redington Sr., was after: the spirit of adventure, the spirit of Alaska, and the spirit of sled-dog culture. Neff believes the Yukon Quest still embodies this spirit.

It will be interesting to see if Neff’s words lead to speculations about his reason for skipping this year’s Iditarod. Ostensibly, he’s skipping it to participate in the Finnmarksløpet in Norway, which starts March 9th. After reading his post, will anyone see his absence as a diss?

Stay tuned.

http://hughneff.com/2013/02/champs-or-chumps/

If you’re like me, you grew up associating dog sledding with the oft-heard command “Mush!” After all, there’s a reason they’re called “mushers.” Perhaps you saw it in a movie. Jack London uses the command in The Call of the Wild. According to Wikipedia, its derivation is the French-Canadian command “Marche!“ which means “Go!” or “Run!” English-Canadians may have heard this as “Mush!” and before you know it English-speaking sledders everywhere became mush-mouths.

Today, the more commonly used command for dogs to go is “Hike!” (don’t ask me its derivation), or, more simply, “Let’s go!” Sled dogs don’t need a lot of incentive to go–they’re usually bursting out of their harnesses when they sense it’s time–so a musher could probably use any command. “Purple azaleas!” might work just as well. Or “Discount checking!”

Here’s a list of commonly used musher commands.

Hike! Let’s go! All right! Commands to go.

Gee! Command to turn right.

Haw! Command to turn left.

Come gee! Command to turn right 180-degrees.

Come haw! Command to turn left 180-degrees.

Straight ahead! Obvious.

Easy! Command to slow down.

Whoa! Command to stop.

Trail! Request to other mushers to have the right-of-way on a trail.

Line out! Command telling lead dogs to pull the team straight out away from the sled. It is usually used while hooking dogs up to the gangline.

Iditarod.com has a complete list of mushing terminology and definitions here: http://iditarod.com/about/mushing-terminology/

So, what are you waiting for? Go grab your dog and a leash and give it a try with your bicycle or skateboard. (Toy dogs not recommended.)

In spite of these difficulties, my family was not to be deterred.  Instead of pulling a sled, I pulled a Kickbike, and sometimes my sister Sunny teamed up with me for a nice long run. Being able to run at full speed with ears and tongue flapping in the wind is quite exhilarating. Sunny and I even once participated in a race. After running a total of 4000 kilometers in my life, I felt quite experienced…that is until I arrived in Whitehorse, Yukon.

Participating in a real dog sled team was a series of new experiences and eye-opening revelations. First of all, I was astounded that some of these dogs actually sleep outside in little wooden houses rather than inside on the couch! Next, all the dogs started “talking” at once. It seemed that they all really, really, really wanted to go on our little 15 km run through the woods. Since I had never before been part of a sled dog team, I didn’t realize that I wouldn’t be the leader and wouldn’t be able to determine the pace. (As you can see, I am in the back left side position known as “wheel” dog.) After we were all hooked up, I decided that I wasn’t going on this excursion and simply expressed this decision very clearly by pulling out of my collar…twice. My musher (a.k.a. Joy), however, had other ideas. I must admit that once I decided to participate, it was a lot of fun dashing through the snow with the others. Then we reached a frozen creek! Even though the other dogs handled the ice just fine, for some reason my city legs went flying in all directions. And the other dogs did not even slow down for me to catch my balance! Obviously, I need a lot more practice.

Tired after dog sledding

By the end of the day, I developed a fresh appreciation for the life of the sled dog as well as an extreme appreciation for the comforts of my couch. Real sled dog athletes run in a season what I have run in my whole lifetime! Consequently – as an unofficial canine reporter for the Iditarod 2013 race – I have gained a much better respect for the training, the dedication, and the passion required to successfully compete in this event.

Traveling in: Anchorage, Alaska

On the road for: 160 days

Team Preparation
Is this chain really necessary?

On the trail

A beautiful day

A tribute to the canines and their companions who originally settled in the Yukon (Whitehorse)

The original Klondike, a steamboat on the Yukon River

Magestic mountain near Whitehorse

Rush hour in the Yukon

Rick Swenson

Well, after some good news about this year’s Iditarod, I guess it was inevitable there would be some bad news. According to the Fairbanks Daily News-Miner, five-time Iditarod champion Rick Swenson, the “King of the Iditarod,” has withdrawn from the 2013 race, citing “personal reasons.”

The 62-year-old Swenson is the winningest musher in Iditarod history, with victories in 1977, 1979, 1981, 1982, and 1991. He is the only musher to win the Iditarod in three different decades.

He’ll be missed in this year’s race.

Full story here: http://tinyurl.com/ce6uc2f

Sleds used in the Iditarod come in many designs, shapes, and sizes and are made from various natural and synthetic materials. Traditionally, and for the first Iditarod in 1973, sleds were made entirely of wood, typically birch. A few of today’s indigenous mushers still make their own sleds the way their ancestors have for centuries. However, most mushers today purchase commercial dog sleds. Such sleds have become pretty hi-tech over the years, utilizing toboggan-style designs, stanchions reinforced with carbon fiber or fiberglass, and even pull-down seats or collapsing handle bars. They can cost thousands of dollars. However, the basic parts of a professional dog sled remain pretty much the same. Above is a diagram showing the different parts of a sled. Here are some brief descriptions of the parts:

Brush Bow: An arched piece of heavy plastic or wood at the front of the sled that acts as a bumper. In a collision with a tree, snow bank, or other sled, the brush bow receives the shock of the impact and keeps the rest of the sled from being damaged.

Stanchions: Vertical pieces of wood between the runners and top rails, forming the framework upon which the rest of the sled is built.

Top Rail: Curved pieces of wood along the top of the sled that hold the stanchions in place and form the top of the cargo basket.

Cargo Basket: As the name suggests, this is where a musher stores his or her supplies while on the trail. A heavy-duty nylon sled bag fits over the basket to protect supplies. The basket is large enough for a musher to sleep in, using the sled bag as a tent to protect from bad weather. Also, if a dog gets sick or injured on the trail, a musher can carry the dog in the basket to the next checkpoint. You’ll often hear the expression “dog in basket” or “dog in bag.”

Runners: Two long strips at the bottom of the sled that slide along the snow, ice, or dirt (yes, dirt!). The runners extend beyond the back of the sled for the musher to stand on. Runners are made of wood or metal and topped by strips of plastic to protect them and help them slide more easily over the snow. The strips of plastic can be removed and replaced when they become worn or damaged.

Foot Boards: Strips of rubber or plastic that fit on the back of the runners for mushers to stand on. They give the musher traction so he or she won’t slip off.

Handle Bar: Arched piece of wood or metal at the back of the sled extending from the runners and forming the highest point of the sled. Used by the musher to hold onto the sled and steer. Tired mushers on the trail have been known to tie themselves to the handle bar so they won’t slide off the sled if they fall asleep.

Claw Brake: A spring-action steel claw that attaches to the rear of the sled brace running from front to back. It is positioned between the musher’s feet. When the musher steps on the brake, the claw digs into the snow, causing the sled to slow down (but not come to a full stop).

Snow Hook (not shown): A large steel or aluminum hook that attaches to the sled with a rope or other line and is used to anchor the sled when stopped. It looks something like a big two-pronged fish hook. Snow hooks are designed to dig into the snow when pulled to keep the dogs from running away with the sled. A horizontal piece between the two prongs allows the musher to dig the hook into the snow with a heel or pull it out with a hand. Snow hooks can also be anchored to a tree to keep the dog team and sled in place. Some mushers have snow hook holders attached to their sleds to keep the hook in place when not in use.

Next up: Who are these crazy mushers who dare to tackle the Iditarod, anyway?

I quickly got into it though, cheering for the leaders, thinking encouraging thoughts for the other mushers, checking FB every day for updates and how things were going, seeing the videos and just enjoying it as much as I can from my armchair place.

I learned, after reading through musher bio’s, that there was a musher from NB also in the race.  Rob Cooke of Shaytaan Siberians ( http://www.shaytaanhuskies.com/index.html ) was there after doing the YQ 300 last year and the moment I found this out, I was cheering him on, too.

I do admit to feeling a little jealous that these people were there doing this.  What would it be like to be out on the trail with just you and your dogs, mushing day and night.  Not just the romantic “perfect temps, perfect wind, perfect days and nights” people have, but also the “snow, blizzards, white out, mountains (like Eagle Summit), cold, freezing cold, sick/injured dogs” stuff too.

Still, even knowing the good and bad I’m jealous and if I had one big, huge dream, it’d be to go to do the YQ.

Dreams, I still have them :)