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Iditarod

Spring is Here

Sarah · April 24, 2014 ·

The days go by one and then another in glorious sunshine. We spend our days outside, mostly, trying to clean up our yard and get ready for the oncoming tourist season. We’ve found new hobbies: Travis has been taking a part old sleds, sanding them, and re-staining the wood. I’ve been pretending to be a gardener. Our greenhouse is full of young plants that I still have nowhere to put. They ache for the sun.

Madison’s recovery is slow going. He keeps us full of laughter  The other day as I was coming in I got told, “Stay outside! I have to vaccuum up some maggots!” These are words no one wants to here. Apparently, Madison found a bone while out on a pee break and Travis let him bring it inside only to find that it was decomposing. The worms apparently got spread out all over our kitchen floor — but thankfully I never saw this.

We’ve been entertaining him with dog toys. His knew favorite is a pink hippo with a rubber kong inside of it. He parades it around proudly by its dangling streamers as if he found it. This is after the moose we got him — he accidentally tore that to shreds — and then was somewhat depressed that his “buddy” was gone. He is, for the most part, a good spirited happy dog who, I think, we have finally house-broken.

We haven’t run dogs much. They are recovering. This is their time off — between Iditarod and Summer — where they can rest and relax. We’ve been doing some of that too — though not much and have gone on a few runs with our pups. I forgot how wild puppies can be when they first start running. They are gawky, awkward athletes who often trip over the lines. They pull, they always pull, but they do the things a seasoned veteran doesn’t which is mostly get tangled, especially during hook up.

As the runs stack up, they learn to channel their energy better. They jump over lines less and don’t seem to get quite as tangled. But for now, they are a chaotic mess of limbs and high-pitched barks. The neighbors can hear us coming; these dogs like to bark and run which is unusual for us.

Our two youngest females are still running loose in the dog yard — Shark and Hoover — and it’s been fun watching how they play. Their brother, Mr. Clean, is tied up now but every day his sisters go to visit and play with him, usually for several hours.

Faraday, our wandering Siberian Husky, usually stays outside but has lately been seen crawling through our doggy door. While this is certainly allowed it always catches us off guard. Why, after two years, are you coming inside? We’ve been asking her. She never stays in long but occasionally finds a patch of rug to flop down on for an hour or two. When she’s outside, she plays with the pups — occasionally taking them on adventures they shouldn’t be having. Still, we are before the summer, before the tourists and what freedom we can give the dogs we will.

Our goal for the dog lot this year is to put in a big free run pen so we can let dogs loose to play on a regular basis. Unfortunately it will take a lot of work before we can get to this point — bringing gravel, buying fencing, putting it all in….I am excited for the end result, less excited for the work leading up to it.

We have a few small pens now and routinely put a few dogs in there to play. They enjoy being loose together and the more we loose run our dogs, the more we want to be able to do it on a routine basis. It’s good — not just for the puppies — who, if its not tourist season, run wild and free — but for the adults too.

Anyways, that’s where we are at. I’ll try to post more (I always say this) but I often find myself unsure of what to write. It’s easy during Iditarod, etc when we are constantly running the dogs and have “news” and although there are often things I want to write about, I wonder how relevant they are. I mainly try to keep our posts about our dogs, etc but have been wondering more and more if I should just write about the adventures we have both with dogs and without. Input here, from you readers, would most certainly be welcome

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.

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.

Dropped Dog: Willie Charlie

Sarah · March 9, 2014 ·

I got word last night about the 6th dropped dog of Travis. It was Willie-Charlie, as I was sort of expecting.

We got Willie-Charlie 3 years ago, about 6 months after Travis and I started dating, he was 7 months old at the time. He was always shy. Back then we actually just called him Willie. He was a skittish dog who didn’t like people. He’s still wary around Travis and I and almost always dartsaway from strangers or lies down flat on the ground. Although he’s a bit of a spook, he is really well behaved and we’ve never had issues loose dropping him or letting him go on dog walks. He’s a happy, excite dog as soon as he is in the team, usually jumping 3 or 4 feet in the air…unfortunately, I can’t seem to find a good picture of him to post

That summer when we got Willie-Charlie, Travis worked for Dallas Seavey up in Anchorage. While almost all the dogs stayed in Seward, Travis chose to bring up Willie. “This is going to be a great dog,” he said. “I need him to like me.” So Willie got loaded in a dog box and headed to Anchorage. When Travis was free, he’d take Willie on walks – if they could be called that – because Willie was stubborn; it took him forever to get used to the leash so for a long time, Travis and Willie simply did a lot of sitting around together.

About the same time, there was a video floating around on youtube. You’ve probably seen it. It got to Alaska a little bit later than other parts of the world, but it has two young british kids sitting together. In it, the older boy puts his fingers in the younger boy’s mouth and gets bit. He laughs. “Ouch Charlie! Charlie bit me!”

Well, long story short, one day when Travis was getting ready to load Willie into the dog truck to head back to Seward, a nearby car backfired. Scared, Willie bit Travis on the tip of his finger as he was getting loaded into the box. “Ouch Willie! Willie Bit me!”

We’ve called him Willie-Charlie ever since…

Two weeks ago when Travis went to vet-checks before the race to do his bloodwork and EKGS, the crew there asked him what Willie Charlie’s name was as they begin filling out paper work.

“It’s Willie-Charlie,” Travis said.
They stared at Travis for a minute. “So is it Willie? Or is it Charlie?”
“Uhhh, It’s Willie-Charlie,” he told them.
Silence. Then: “So would you prefer us to call him Willie? Or Charlie? Which one?”
“Both. It’s Willie-Charlie!”
They looked at him perplexed but wrote it down nonetheless…

If he drops another dog, I’m almost positive it will be Monroe. Monroe was dropped in Kaltag last year – which is now where Travis is. I’m hoping Monroe has improved over last year and continues down the trail…we’ll know in a few more hours as he seems to be playing things pretty conservatively. Keep sending the positive energy his way!

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