January 23, 2005

• Iditarod News:
  
  The “Blind” Girl Is Back

  No, it’s not time for the big dog race yet.  The ceremonial start
  on Fourth Avenue in Anchorage (AKA “skid row”) will be March 5, but
  this is the time of year for the rookie qualifiers such as the
  Kuskokwim 200.  There are dog mushing stories in every day’s news
  now.  In case “rookie qualifiers” is not a common term in your
  lexicon, I’ll explain:  The Iditarod Trail Committee doesn’t allow
  just anyone to run the thousand-mile sled dog race.  According to
  Rule 41:

  To
  qualify as an entrant to the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race, mushers must
  be 18 years old. A rookie (someone who has never completed Iditarod)
  must complete two approved qualifying races with an accumulated total
  of 500 miles or one race of at least 800 miles within the last five
  racing seasons and a 300 mile race in either the current or previous
  racing season. A musher must complete any qualifying race in the top
  75% of the field or in no more than twice the elapsed time of the race
  winner. After written documentation from qualifier race organizations
  of completing the requirements, rookies are still subject to evaluation
  by the qualifying board and executive committee.

  There is also a mandatory rookie meeting each December.  In
  addition to those initial qualifications, even veteran mushers must
  meet a number of requirements including such details as the number of
  dogs in their teams, the food and supplies they have airdropped ahead
  of time at the race checkpoints, and the equipment they carry on their
  sleds.  If there is ever a question about a musher’s
  qualifications, the Trail Committee has the final word.

  Last year, the committee rejected the plan
  of a “legally blind” 18-year-old girl from Alfalfa, Oregon, to run the
  race with the support of a team of snowmobilers running ahead and
  behind her to advise her by radio of terrain and trail
  conditions.   She has, according to the news story linked
  above, “congenital
  achromatopsia, a retinal condition that
  impairs her central visual acuity. But she has excellent peripheral
  vision and some depth perception, she said in a written report on her
  vision.”  But that little detail isn’t in all the stories about
  her.  Most of the hype surrounding this girl leaves us with an
  image of a brave young thing mushing in the dark, perhaps behind a team
  of seeing-eye huskies.

  The committee didn’t say the girl couldn’t race last year.  They
  just said the snowmobile plan was out.  That put the girl out
  because her father had arranged most of her financial sponsorship from
  a snowmobile manufacturer who expected to have his machines out there
  on the trail generating publicity.  When the sponsor pulled out,
  so did the girl’s father.  The entire incident last year left a
  bad taste for a lot of Alaskans.  Mushers in particular were
  aghast that anyone would even consider bringing along snowmachines on a
  sled dog race.  The snowmachines they encounter along the way
  frighten the teams and tear up the trails, often causing injury to dogs or mushers.

  We didn’t get much of an impression at all of the girl herself last
  year.  We saw and heard a lot of her father, but almost nothing of
  her.  From what I saw and heard, the guy seems like an exemplar of
  the lowest form of stage mother, exploiting his kid and playing up her
  handicap for all it’s worth.  Apparently, he has been hustling
  since last winter.  Having lost the sponsorship of the snowmobile
  builder, he now has an insurance company behind him.

  Dog mushing at the Iditarod level is expensive.  Most of the top
  mushers are sponsored by businesses associated with the sport: 
  dog food makers, sports outfitters and the like.  My neighbor Dee
  Dee Jonrowe is a walking billboard for Iams and Eddie Bauer. 
  Martin Buser’s truck, which he won as part of his prize for one of his
  wins, carries several similar logos. 

  Other mushers, who haven’t won enough races to gain the attention of
  big-name companies, support their efforts with money they round up from
  friends, neighbors and local businesses.   Sheep Creek Lodge,
  just across the creek from the spring where we get our water, sponsored
  one of the local boys for several years until a new owner took
  over.  Greyfox was approached by Dave Straub about selling his
  promotional t-shirts, but I don’t know how that worked out. 
  Charlie Boulding is affectionately known as the duct tape musher
  because his clothing and equipment are patched with a lot of silver
  tape.  Charlie has won several lesser races and finished the
  Iditarod many times in the money, but it barely supports his
  dogs.  Charlie and his wife live a typical rural Alaskan
  subsistence lifestyle, fishing and trapping to keep themselves going.

  It isn’t like that for the “little blind girl” from Oregon. 
  Here’s how Beth Bragg expressed it in today’s Anchorage Daily News:

  We’re six weeks away from what could be the most widely publicized, closely watched and fiercely debated Iditarod in history.

  Not because of animal-rights activists. And not because of rivalries
  between past champs or because of dog teams that are approaching new
  standards of speed and excellence.

  The world will be watching like never before because 19-year-old
  Rachael Scdoris, a legally blind musher from Oregon, is signed up for
  the 1,100-mile race from Anchorage to Nome.

  Already the “Today” show has televised a story about Scdoris. Her
  biography, “No End in Sight,” was just published and should be on
  bookshelves in time for the March 5 race start. Outside magazine’s most
  recent issue devotes two pages to her. And more, probably much more,
  will be written and said about her in the days leading up to the race.

  Scdoris is riding the biggest wave of hype ever to hit Alaska mushing,
  and certainly all the feel-good stories about her will inspire and
  touch people everywhere.

  Maybe only cynics will wonder why she had a sports agent before she’d
  even qualified for the Iditarod, or why the book isn’t on hold until
  she realizes her dream of running The Last Great Race. Seems a little
  like putting the sled in front of the dogs.

  But the story that really matters is the one that will unfold after the race begins. Any number of scenarios are possible:

  • Scdoris drives her team under Nome’s burled arch at the finish line
  and becomes one of the biggest stories in sports. The world applauds
  her courage and pluck, and a movie and another book follow. Some
  naysayers eat their words; others demand that an asterisk be placed
  next to Scdoris’ name on the list of official finishers, because she
  needed outside assistance — a dog team running ahead and warning her
  of hazards by radio.

  • Scdoris scratches early after struggling with unfamiliar terrain and
  a trail unlike any she’s experienced before. Scdoris is entered in this
  week’s Tustumena 200, a Kenai Peninsula race that will be her first in
  Alaska. All of her races have been in the Lower 48, some of them on
  trails that follow old mining and logging roads and offer far more
  definition than most Alaska race trails. In describing her toughness,
  the Outside article says, “… she’s been dragged down an asphalt road
  (and) up a railroad track” — but try finding either of those once the
  Iditarod Trail leaves Knik. Naysayers say “Told you so!” The Scdoris
  camp says the real victory was just making it to the starting line.

  • Scdoris makes it past the Farewell Burn, to Nikolai or beyond, before
  her dogs get sick, her sleds break or some other difficulty forces her
  to scratch. She proves she’s tough enough to handle some of the
  roughest parts of the race, including the roller coaster of the Dalzell
  Gorge. She proves she belongs on the Iditarod Trail, although naysayers
  still don’t approve of the special accommodations that got her there.

  • Scdoris or her dogs are injured (or worse) because her vision problem imperils them. She takes heat. The Iditarod takes heat.

  Taking heat is nothing new for the Iditarod, which survived the loss of
  numerous sponsors back in the 1990s when animal-rights activists made
  the race one of their favorite targets.

  But if something tragic happens to Scdoris or her dogs, the Iditarod could face a whole new firestorm.

  The flak the race gets now anytime a dog is killed or injured will be
  nothing compared to what we’ll hear if one of the Scdoris animals is
  hurt. Animal-rights activists will argue the Iditarod cavalierly
  ignored animal safety by accommodating a racer who, by her own
  admission, can’t clearly see her lead dogs during a race.

  The Iditarod Trail Committee in 2003 tweaked the rule prohibiting
  outside assistance so Scdoris can be accompanied by a “visual
  interpreter,” a musher who will race ahead and radio her with news of
  obstacles and hazards on the trail.

  The Iditarod changed the rule reluctantly. By doing so, it probably
  pre-empted a lawsuit based on the Americans with Disabilities Act, and
  it absolutely warded off complaints from those who believe the race is
  obligated to accommodate disabled mushers in ways it doesn’t
  accommodate other mushers.

  It traded those public-relations disasters for a feel-good story that
  may need more than one asterisk by the time this year’s race is over.
  Heaven help us if Scdoris finishes in the money and a musher behind her
  challenges the results because she didn’t abide by the same rules as
  everyone else.

  Hype Precedes Blind Musher on the Iditarod — Anchorage Daily News

  Given the facts of the matter here, it seems to me that the young woman
  herself won’t actually be a competitor in the race, nor will her dog
  team.  If that “visual interpreter” must stay ahead of her to
  relay information to her, Ms. Scdoris’s progress in the race will be
  determined by the speed of her support person’s dog team.  I
  wonder how many qualifying races they’ve completed.

  

  • 4:53 pm
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