Iditarod

The Historic Iditarod Trail

Sarah · January 13, 2015 ·

The Historic Iditarod Trail

Long before there was a dogsled race, the Iditarod trail served as a vital part of the early Alaskan economy. The historic Iditarod trail ran from Seward, Alaska to Nome, Alaska. The purpose of the trail was to get freight from the northern most ice free port of Seward into the interior of the state. The trail was primarily a dog sled trail — although the portion from Seward to Nenana was eventually taken over by the Alaska railroad.

According to the Alaskan Bureau of Land Management, from 1880 to the early 1900s “the non-Native population [of Alaska] boomed from 430 people in 1880 to some 36,400 in 1910” due to the gold that was being found in Nome, Iditarod, Hope, Ophir and Ruby. The trail provided a valuable lifeline and dog sledding became the preferred method of travel.

The 1908 discovery of gold in Ophir and Ruby was one of the largest gold discovered with approximately $30 million worth of gold being removed from the areas. Although river traffic could provide transportation in the summer months, after freeze-up transportation relied solely upon the dogs.

Traveling on these trails was made easier for mail carriers by establishing cabins along the way, approximately every 20 or so miles. These roadhouses served as a convenient place for the couriers to rest their dogs at days end so they could continue down the trail. The mail the couriers brought was a welcome relief from the isolation that the long, dark Alaskan winters often brought the prospectors. Most couriers only ran a small section of the Iditarod trail, relying on relays to get mail and other essential freight in and out of the interior.

But as quickly as the miners came, the onset of world war 1, the rise of the airplane, the “drying” up and the consolidation of the gold field claims, saw the miners leave. By the mid 1930s all but a few of the dog sled mail couriers had been replaced by bush pilots.

The trail then fell into limited use until the Iditarod Sled Dog Race began in 1973 as a way to help preserve dog sledding in the state of Alaska.

The Historic Iditarod Trail with other significant Alaskan Routes — The Historic Iditarod Trail. This map is great as it also shows the 1925 serum run that helped make dogsledding famous!

The Iditarod Sled Dog Race

Against popular belief, The Iditarod Sled Dog Race does not commemorate the famous 1925 serum run to Nome (the green dotted line on the map above) ; the race commemorates the famous gold & mail trail that ran through the interior part of the state. By 1977 the Iditarod trail had become a national historic trail. Not only did the race serve as a way to help mushing stay alive, it also helped the trail become a national landmark. You can learn more about the Iditarod sled dog race on our blog post What Is The Iditarod Sled Dog Race.

Additional Resources

There are a number of resources available for those wanting to learn more about the historic Iditarod trail. The Alaska Bureau of Land Management has a great website with lots of historical information. You can check that out here. The Iditarod Historic Trail Alliance is a group of individuals dedicated to the continued preservation of the Iditarod trail. They have some great information for anyone wanting to learn more. You can visit their website here. Additional trail information is also available from the Alaska Department of Natural Resources.

Signing Up For Iditarod 2015

Sarah · July 1, 2014 ·

Wow. The last month has been truly exhilarating. With Travis sick, I’ve spent a lot more time running dogs…mainly puppies. I have to say, its due to their enthusiasm and their talent that really encourage me to sign up for Iditarod.

Iditarod has been something I’ve wanted to do since I was 6 years old. I remember sitting on the couch watching Iron Will, sometimes on repeat. I don’t really know when it happened or when I first said it, but for as long as I can remember I have wanted to be a musher, run sled dogs, and of course, run Iditarod.

When you let passion by your guide it’s amazing the places it will take you. It brought me from Boston, MA to Seward, AK. It’s taken me from a place of being a humble employee to the co-owner of two growing businesses. It’s showed me that choosing to follow what you love can do big things and introduce you to some really incredible people.

On Saturday that love, enthusiasm, and passion woke me at 4:30am. Despite being sick for the last month, Travis somehow still couldn’t contain his excitement.

“Today is the day!” He chirped.

I wearily got out of bed and we began the long journey north to Iditarod Headquarters to sign up for Iditarod 2015. It’s a long drive but at least in Alaska it was already light out and it made rising early on my one day off in the last month a little more palatable.

We jam packed a couple of crates into the back of our CR-V. Maybe we were going to pick up some new dogs… Travis ran into town and got coffee and suddenly we were driving north.

I couldn’t have slept on the drive if I wanted to. The nervous excitement ran through me like an electrical current. Every few minutes my face would light up in a smile or my stomach would clench into a tight ball. Travis kept the conversation light hearted and we’d talked about the last month, with him being down-and-out. He was ready to get back to work. In the back of our mind we were both thinking: How on earth are we going to do it all?

Honestly, we still don’t exactly know. We’ve skated by the last two years on hard work, dedication, and a whole lot of faith that these two things will see us through. So far they have and we hope (pray?) that they continue to.

In the quiet moments of the ride, I filled out paperwork in the car. Could I really be doing this? Iditarod 2015 sign ups?

On more than one occasion I thought as we drove Ok, this is it. Once I hand this in there is NO going back. $3,000 and 20 years of wanting, wishing, and working is way too much for a change of heart!

Yes. 20 years. I have wanted to run the Iditaord since I was 6 years old.

I talked about mushing non-stop and would write about my dog Samantha in class whenever we had writing assignments. I was terrified of the dark and hated sleeping (still do!) and my parents often tricked me into going to bed by bringing Samantha in to my room and saying, “Sammy’s tired Sarah, it’s time for you to go to bed now.” More often than not she would lie next to my bed and I would bring my blanket down and sleep on the floor next to her. In the morning, my parents would come in to find the dog on my bed and me still sound asleep on the floor.

I got every dog mushing book I could find and read them. At one point, I even convinced some of my friends to pretend they were dogs and pull me on a sled. But I didn’t go mushing for the first time until I was in the 4^th grade. My aunt Betsy finally took pity on me and took me for a 3 day mushing adventure. I still remember gearing up for my first run, putting on the warm fuzzy mukluks and making sure I had all the proper gear. When we pulled hook for the first time and took off into the woods of Maine, I was instantly hooked.

When I returned home, much to the chagrin of my parents, I immediately began asking for a dog team. I am fairly certain I asked for a sled dog every birthday and Christmas. In the 5^th grade I wrote Susan Butcher repeatedly and would write about how she was my biggest hero in my school assignments. I still have those journals.

So to finally be here, doing what I set out to do all these years ago, it’s exciting, it’s nerve wracking, and it’s joyful. My grandmother, Edith Stokey, was also an avid dog lover and hung pictures of her old dogs and told stories of them at dinner when I was a kid. I’d like to think she would be proud of me, knowing that I fulfilled my dream. She passed away a week before I ran my first Iditarod qualifier, The Tustumena 200, in 2012. I’d like to think she’d be proud of me.

On Sunday, the day after signing up, an 87 year old woman named Margaret visited our kennel. “This was the highlight of my trip,” she told Travis and me, “I have wanted to do this all my life.” Seeing her big smile, her enthusiasm, and the joy our tour gave her, brought tears to my eyes – I felt like Margaret’s visit was a sign from my own grandma, her blessing on my endeavor.

So here we are Monday afternoon. We’ve stayed busy with tours and are hoping that trend continues. After all, we know we will have some major expenses this season! However it all works out, I know that both Travis and I will make it to the starting line with happy dogs and smiles on our faces.

Our goal for the 2014-2015 season is to provide continually updates about training and a more in-depth look at what goes on in our kennel. My goal is to write as much as I can about our training process. We’re also hoping to do a lot of audio and video updates but are looking for a tech savy person to help us out 🙂 email us if you are interested: info@turningheadskennel.com

Thanks 🙂

Catching Up With Travis In Unalakleet

Sarah · March 12, 2014 ·

Unalakleet has been amazing so far. Flying in, I couldn’t believe how brown everything was. We flew over what must have been mud flats; land that’s supposed to be covered with snow was brown and barren with deep cracks running through it. The earth here looks like it is craving water.

Getting off the plane, I had no idea where I would go. The flight attendant gave me a hug and said “Welcome to Unalakleet.” I was nervous and began trying to figure out how to get to the actual Iditarod checkpoint. A family, overhearing me asks for directions said, “it’s easy! Hop in Our Truck!” The hospitality of the people here reminds me why I love Alaska so much; everyone is full of smiles and is eager to lend a hand.

I throw my backpack in the bed of their pick up and we drive to the post-office where the checkpoint is located.

“Who’s your musher?” They ask on the short 2-minute drive.
I see a flash of blue and my heart stops. “HIM!” I say! I’d recognize that blue jack anywhere!

Travis is walking up the trail from the dog lot below. You can see him do a double take as we drive past.

“What the?’ He says, as I get out of the truck, and breaks into a grin as I walk over.

”Wow.” He says, still shaking his head. The family who drops me off is beaming as Travis’ continue to stare at me in disbelief. “I saw the backpack in the back of that truck,” he says “and then I saw the prettiest girl. And then I thought, HOLY SMOKES THAT’S SARAH.”

He hugs me and doesn’t let go. His eyes are a mile wide. “It’s good to see you,” I say.

“Better to see you,” he said. “Wow. Wow. Wow.”

He offers to take my backpack full of stuff but I won’t let him so he settles for holding the door open as we go into the checkpoint building. It’s filled with people – many are “tourists” like myself who are here checking out the race. He’s quick to introduce me to several of these people who have “shared” the checkpoints with him.

He’s still more or less speechless at my arrival but people are quick to talk to him.
Mostly, it seems like he is in good spirits as he recounts stories from his journey down the trail but there is a hint of frustration.

“My race was over in Rohn,” he admitted to me. “I lost my team going down the gorge. And I mean I lost my team. They were gone for 45 minutes and ended up missing the trail and shooting off a ravine. They were so far off the trail…I have not idea how I found them…” He trails off, visibly still shaken from the experience, “but we survived.”

“Are the dogs ok?”

“They are fine,” He says. “But after that they had a bunch of nicks and scrapes and sore muscles. They were in such a mess when I found them. It was bad. I’m grateful no one got seriously hurt.” He shakes his head and laughs because what else can you do about it at this point?

He continues, “I had to hike down this ravine way off the trail through a bunch of pine trees before I found the team. I think I had a guardian angel watching over me or something. I have no idea how I found them. And then, after that, I had ti tie off the dogs to trees, carry my sled up the ravine, and then carry the dogs.” He shakes his head, smiling. “Gosh it really sucked. What a low point.”

“But you know, I am not a quitter,” he says.

I nod. I’ve never met anyone more stubborn than Travis.

“And neither are the dogs,” he said. “We are here and we are eeking by. I think we are going to finish. I’m hoping we do. But man…this race has been such a let down.”

After his 24 he said the dogs started to get sick. He takes me into the yard to see them. They perk up a little, recognizing me, but not much. “They aren’t themselves still,” he admitted and I could see that too. They are usually very peppy dogs but there is something to them beyond the tiredness you would expect.

“But they’re eating,” he continues, “and when I say go, they go. But they aren’t the team the usually are. Still, they want to keep at it.”

“It’s ok though. I’m just disappointed for them. They are a top caliber team… and everything that could go wrong, went wrong. But we’re still here. That’s something, isn’t it?”

“For sure,” I say. “I mean look at how many people have scratched!”

“Yeah. Sometimes I don’t know how I haven’t. This is the toughest thing I’ve ever done.”

‘Worse than last year?”

“By Far! My 3 main dogs are home this year. The trail has sucked. The dogs don’t have the pep in their step they usually do. I think there’s been 200 miles of snow this whole race. You know, some teams may be ok with that but…every time ours hits the dirt the dogs look back at me and I feel like they’re saying ‘Dad, what the hell! What is this!’”

He goes on, “I get its easier pulling, but… I don’t know… they perk up every time we are on snow, good snow… and every time we’re on dirt or ice they are sort of like ‘really, dad? Really? More of this shit?!’’”

He’s happy as he’s talking to me. He’s happy to share stories and there’s a visible air of optimism in him despite all this.

I talk about the dogs he dropped. He’s happy to learn they’ve made a full recovery. “I should have dropped Willie-Charlie sooner,” he admits. “I think he was the one who started not feeling well first. But WOAH is that dog good. He just kept going and going, I thought he was going to work through it. He didn’t want to be dropped and, honestly, I didn’t want to drop him…but he just wasn’t look right so finally I left him.”

“I thought you might have some problems with sick dogs,” I told him. “You were on the trail with Ramey a lot and in the same spots. When he scratched I really feared for you.”

“Yeah. I spent a lot of time with him. We were going to tare it up together. I parked next to him in McGrath for 6 hours during my 24 and then he moved on – I think to take his 24 in Takotna. I caught up with him later in Ophir and was like ‘RAMEY! LET’S GET THIS!’ and Ramey was like ‘Yeah man I think I’m in a world of trouble’ and then he scratched later on. And you know, the very next run was when these guys started having issues….I just camped and camped and camped….Gosh they picked at their food real, real slow, but they ate. When I asked them to go they all stood up and wagged their tales…but they weren’t right.”

I knew what he meant. Our dogs are usually leaping 3 feet off the ground to go. At the end of the Copper Basin this year every dog was on his feet, jumping and screaming ready to go further. Most mushers don’t have that peppiness; some actively try to discourage it. We love it.

“I thought about scratching, honestly. I thought about it a lot. But they always went,” he said. “I don’t have good leaders right now,” he said. “Fidget has been doing it mostly but she hates the glare ice so when we get there I have to get off the sled and run in front of the team. And man is that HARD to do! They’re fast and the ice is so slick… but she’s sort of got the hang of it now.”

“How far do you think you’ve run?” I ask.

“Maybe 75 miles?’ He said. “I mean, obviously not at once and sometimes I just run beside the sled. But I’m not afraid to be the lead dog. I knew that going in when I left Zema and Madori I might need to do this – and I have — and its been a good learning experience.’

“But you know, you just don’t want to have runs like this. It’s not fun. I mean, I am having a great time, but its frustrating. They’re pouring they’re hearts into it. They really are. They don’t want to throw the towel in and I don’t either. So we are doing it. But we are doing it on their terms, not mine. They need to stop a lot so we are stopping a lot. We’re taking our time. “

Still, when he thinks of where he is in the pack, he seemed frustrated. “They have so much potential. And For a lot of these dogs, this is their last run…I just wanted them to finish on a high note.”

I tell him its ok. It’s the journey that counts and to learn from it. He agrees, but when another musher comes in and teases him for where he is in the standings, Travis is visibly agitated and walks away from the conversation to works on drying his boots. I’m still stunned someone would actually say that.

He seems to take it in stride though. The whole time he’s beaming from ear to ear, “God Sarah, I need new boots.” He’s laughing, “we’re always like this aren’t we?”

“Yes,” I admit. We’ve both been without good, reliable boots for most of the winter at this point. Looking back, it seems stupid not to have invested in new a pair. “Sometimes,” I say laughing “I think we try to save money in all the wrong ways.”

“Yeah well next year we are buying like 10 pairs of boots each. I’m having a new set at each checkpoint cause these things are junk!” He asks the checkpoint staff if they have a dryer and they point him in the right direction. “I got to go dry this stuff out.”

Mike Ellis comes up and starts talking. “I think we should do this first part of the run together,” he tells Travis. “There aren’t any trail markers.” They’ve been travelling on and off it seems down the trail. I don’t Mike but his easy-does-it attitude is contagious. He’s someone I’d want to be around a race in too

Apparently the trail markers blew away or were marked down after the front runners went through; they haven’t had anything marking the trail in over a day. It doesn’t seem to phase either of them – though they sound wary of the idea of an unmarked trail — but other mushers are quick to vocalize their frustration later on. “You’ve known for a day there aren’t any trail markers out there! Why haven’t you gone out and put new ones up!” There are exasperated sighs, as if this is what mushers have now come to expect with this race.

We leave before the arguments heat up – they were headed in that direction it seemed so he could boot his dogs. He works through the team bootying the dogs, they stand and wag their tales. “Good dogs, good dogs,” he tells them.

Mike is hooking up his team next to Travis, singing to them. I can’t help but think if I had to travel down the trail with any musher besides Travis, it would probably be Mike. He just radiates happiness.

Before you know it, all the dogs are on their feet. Monroe, who I was so sure would be the weak link in the team, is standing in wheel howling with delight. Soon the whole team is singing.

“I love you,” he tells me as he grabs his hook.

“I’ll see you in Nome,” I tell him.

His smile lights up his face. “I can’t wait,” he says. “I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

Hopefully I’ll Get To Unalakleet In Time

Sarah · March 10, 2014 ·

I’ve heard Travis is on the move again, but accessing the tracker from a cellphone is hard. From what I was told, it sounds like he and I will arrive at roughly the same time.

Assuming I can correctly navigate Unalakleet and find the checkpoint, I may even get to watch the team come in. If I’m lucky, the team is traveling fast and he will beat me. Part of me thinks if I’m REALLY lucky he won’t stop and will just keep traveling down the trail. Maybe I’ll see him, maybe I won’t. It’s the effort, after all…

Regardless, I’m happy. I’ve been to one other Iditarod checkpoint – Skwentna, the very first stop on the trail. I went last year via snowmachine with my cousin Andy and it was the coolest experience watching so many teams coming and going.

700 miles into this thing its going to be different. Teams will show a little more wear. Mushers will be tired. I’ll likely be seeing other friends too and can give them an encouraging word and a hug before they continue down the trail.

I have no idea what sort of cell service I’ll have when I get there, but if I can I’ll post some pictures if I get any. I have a laptop so if I can score wi-fi anywhere, you’ll definitely get something…but chances are slim.

I’m still in shock that this all came together last minute, that I scored a plane ticket, and that I had friends and family who said “SWEET! We’ll take care of things here!” Thanks to everyone who is helping out back home in Seward and here in Anchorage…

Here we go….it’s lift off time.

I’m Heading to Unalakleet…

Sarah · March 10, 2014 ·

Scored a cheap last minute flight… on my way to Unalakleet I’ll be in there tomorrow at 2:00pm. The timing is going to be real real close… but, if I’m lucky, I’ll get to cheer on Travis!

***

it’s 6:15 am and Travis is at mile 679. His tracker hasn’t updated so I assume he is resting; the trackers, apparently, stop updating when there is no movement…. Looks like he has been there for about 4 hours. This is the spot of a popular shelter cabin called, old woman cabin. He may stay here a little longer or he may get going soon… either way, it’s another 36 miles to Unalakleet. Or about 4-5 hours.

If he leaves now, he’ll get in to Unalakleet sometime between 10-11am. Assuming he stays another hour, he won’t get there until 12pm. He will almost certainly rest in Unalakleet…. so I’m hoping the timing all works out on this.

***

I’ve heard Travis is on the move again, but accessing the tracker from a cellphone is hard. From what I was told, it sounds like he and I will arrive at roughly the same time.

Here we go….it’s lift off time.