March 17, 2006

• Ben Valks reaches the coast!

  The Red Lantern (the musher bringing up the rear of this year’s
  Iditarod), Nederlander rookie Ben Valks, a famous equestrian in his
  homeland who is reportedly mushing dogs in the Iditarod because “horses
  aren’t allowed,” is in Unalakleet on the Bering Sea Coast.  Jeff
  King, this year’s champion, checked into Unalakleet just about exactly
  five days ago.  Valks and his team have been resting there for
  about two and a half hours.

  I’m posting this picture by Marc Lester of tenth-place finisher Lance Mackey as eye candy, for LuckyStars and for me, and anyone else who appreciates his rugged good looks.

  Lance didn’t win that new truck he needs, but he was more than
  satisfied with his dogs’ performance.  “Might be tenth place in
  the Iditarod, but this is the best team in the world to me,” he
  said.  They did, after all, win their second Yukon Quest in a row
  this year, and that prize plus tenth place in the Iditarod might at
  least get his old truck repaired.  Lance is the father of four
  teenagers, and his musher profile says he “enjoys anything others find
  strange.”  I can relate.

  Forty-six of the seventy-two
  mushers in this year’s race have made it to the finish in Nome. 
  Tom Knolmayer, my neighbor Lynda Plettner, and Gregg Hickmann are out
  of the last checkpoint, Safety, on their way to Nome right now. 
  Judy Currier is in Safety.

  Cindy Gallea, Paul Ellering, and
  Peter Bartlett have completed their mandatory 8-hour rests in White
  Mountain and are on the trail to Safety.  Noah Burmeister and
  Danny Seavey, who are training puppy teams this year for other members
  of their mushing families, are resting in White Mountain.  Also
  currently in White Mountain, having slipped back into 56th and 57th
  positions, are Tim Osmar and Rachael Scdoris.

  This year’s
  Rookie of the Year turned out not to be the Norwegian husband or wife
  or both.  They finished 28th and 29th, having been passed on the
  trail by Rookie of the Year Mike Jayne, who finished 25th.

  In
  one of my earlier race updates, when Paul Gebhardt was first to reach
  Ruby and the Yukon River, I mentioned Emmitt Peters, who was there to
  greet Paul and share the gourmet meal he had won.  Emmit, an
  Alaska Native, an Athabaskan Indian, was the first, last and only
  rookie (except for the first year when everyone was a rookie) ever to
  win the Iditarod.  That was the third year the race was run. 
  His 14 day, 14 hour time was almost six days faster than the previous
  year’s finish, but wouldn’t be competitive now.  He hasn’t run the
  race since 1992 because he had to sell his dogs to pay off the debts
  he’d incurred to compete in 1990 and 1992.

  In early years, the
  Iditarod competitors were mostly Alaska Natives and rural mushers, and
  every musher in those first years was an Alaska resident.  Joe
  Redington dreamed big when he started pushing the idea of this race,
  but I think he might be surprised at just how big it has grown and the
  directions it has taken.  Now, almost all of the mushers are white
  and many live in and around the towns and cities of the Railbelt. 
  Every year, more and more mushers come from the Lower 48 and from
  outside the U.S.  Few rural Alaskans or Alaska Natives can afford
  to compete in this race now.

  One
  of my longtime favorite mushers, Mike Williams of Akiak (at left in a
  photo by Bob Hallinan of the Anchorage Daily News) didn’t race this
  year.  I miss him, and the message he always carried.  Mike
  dedicated each of his Idiarod runs to the Sobriety Movement, the drive
  to save Alaskan villages from the violence and insanity that alcohol
  brings to the Bush.  “I don’t see any problem in putting a team
  together . . . of world-class caliber,” he says. “The problem is
  getting the money together.”

  Several people have expressed appreciation for these Iditarod updates.  sarginitial
  asked how long it takes me to prepare one.  It ranges from about
  two hours to about six hours, usually.  Since I’m not a sports fan
  at all, and not particularly a fan of dog mushing, one might wonder why
  I get so caught up in the Iditarod.

   I figured that out
  for myself one year when a musher got lost on the trail and a search
  was called out.  When I heard about it on the radio news, it
  explained to me why I had felt so uneasy and had that heavy, queasy
  feeling in my gut.  It was that accursed empathy with which I am
  blessed.

  I live in a neighborhood surrounded by mushers. 
  At feeding time, I can hear the yips and howls coming from dog yards in
  three directions (the railroad tracks are all that separate me from
  wilderness in the fourth direction).  Virtually everyone around me
  follows the race, and some of the top mushers train their teams on
  these backroads where I walk to take my photos.

  Following the
  Iditarod started out being, for me, a way to make some conscious sense
  out of the unconscious sense of excitement and anxiety that pervades
  this area every year around this time.  Since I pick up on the
  mood, I might as well try to understand what’s eliciting it.  In
  time, I have come to know some of the competitors and gain some
  knowledge about the trail.  I have fun sharing it with you here,
  too.  If this keeps up, someday I’ll have to start thinking of
  myself as a fan.

  • 5:47 pm
  • 5 Comments