Racing

Sarah Stokey and the 2016 Copper Basin 300: Sourdough

Sarah · January 30, 2016 ·

This is a multi part series on my copper basin 300 race. Please check out the other posts:

As we left Meier’s lake for Sourdough, I realized I wouldn’t be indoors for another 120+ miles. I knew I needed to make every effort to keep my gear dry on this run as it would be virtually impossible to dry it out until I reached Mendeltna.

Taking off from Meier’s lake, I expected the trail to be flat. I don’t know why had this assumption. Most of the Copper basin is very very hilly. So when we reached an enormous hill about a mile and a half out of the checkpoint I quickly realized that I had made a big mistake putting him on my cold-weather gear.

I knew by now that wearing it up the hill would be fool hardy – especially given that if I got particularly sweaty I wouldn’t be able to dry anything out. So I stopped the team, they barked and lurched with excitement, and I hastily removed my parka and jacket.

Up we go! I told myself and the team. And up, up, up, we went. We were in rolling hills. I enjoyed mushing for some time in the daylight and enjoyed the warm colors of the sun on the snow.

One of the things mushing reminds me of is how vivid and beautiful the natural world is. I’ve always loved color. I’ve never been exceptionally talented at drawing but really enjoy working with color. Everything is so vivid and wonderful. Even the trees have so many colors to them and the subtleness of the different colors brings me such joy. I really love being outside with the dogs.

Whenever we crested hills I enjoyed the clearness of the day and how far I could see. Mostly I enjoyed the rythm my dogs created in their movements and thinking about who on the team I thought would make my Iditarod team.

To be honest, I think in terms of sled driving this was my favorite run. It was also my emotional low point. The terrain varied and was mostly hills with dips and twists and woods – my favorite type of mushing – but it was also a long run for us despite the short mileage.

I expected to be in be in the checkpoint sooner than I was. Anticipation is the worst part of racing in my eyes. When you anticipate something that isn’t there. Expecting something to be the checkpoint, only to find out it isn’t. Calling the dogs up, perking their attitude only disappoint yourself and them. This happened once when we neared the road and I thought the lights of a semi were the checkpoint lights. How bitterly it felt to here the woosh as it went by.

My dogs seemed stuck in an endless trudge that we couldn’t break. Our speed was slow but steady. We moved, albeit slow. At times, I thought I could probably walk faster.

I got frustrated but never let it show. I wanted to be moving faster than we were but couldn’t. There was no way to get the dogs moving. So I reminded myself of the positives and the dynamics of my team. They were young. Everyone but Madori was 2 or under and it was their first race. We were in sugary snow, stuff we hadn’t trained in. My expectations for them to be moving faster was unrealistic and unfair. They were happy, eating, and we were doing it. That was something.

I got passed by one team that left me in the dust. It was fine but I kept wondering why the teams around me were moving so much faster. Were my dogs sick? Was it the trail – but others so had this problem of not training on sugary snow – was it their age? Had I gone too fast on my first run? Were my dogs undertrained? Had I simply trained too slowly throughout the season?

I started questioning everything I had done, not out of a lack of confidence in myself or my team but in an analytical approach. What could I have done differently up to this point to get better results? Were better results possible?

I knew there had to be a way to have a faster team but wondered what exactly needed to be done. Was I overlooking something simple?

These questions stuck with me throughout the run and still do. I was also haunted by the fact that I knew that if Travis was driving this group of dogs that they would be moving faster. They would be performing better. And that of course opened up more questions: what did he do that I didn’t? What did he have in him or in his relationship with the dogs that always seemed to allowed a strong performance?

We continued down the trail. I stopped and noticed that Check, who had not been eating his snacks, was somewhat dehydrated. I considered bagging him. I also considered camping because I had no idea where the checkpoint was. My GPS had died and although I thought I was close I had thought that many times before and been wrong. I decided I’d go another 30 minutes and if we didn’t hit the checkpoint or see it, I’d stop for an hour. The dogs started barking and we went about another 200 yards before the checkpoint came into view. We were that close and I had had no idea! I was relieved I hadn’t simply stopped and camped – I would have been so frustrated!

When we got in to the checkpoint, Travis and Dwayne were cheering us in. There upbeat attitudes removed any doubt I had in myself or my dogs. Travis rode the sled with me because the checkers were far from the place we parked the team and said the dogs looked great. I told him I thought they were slow but he brushed my concern off. My confidence was restored.

When I parked the team , I started melting snow and immediately got my cooker going. Then came the straw and removing booties. As the cooker melted, I massaged dogs and organized my sled. I got chicken skins out and put them in my bucket to thaw and feed with kibble. They seemed to be the favorite food amongst my dogs. I fed the team and then started water for a feeding later on, warming up a burrito and some liquids so I could continue to stay hydrated. It was the worst meal I had the entire race at a checkpoint.

There was nowhere to sleep so after Justin and Wyatt left, they were now hours ahead of me, Travis raked the straw up and told me to sleep on it. I set my alarm, took my boots off and passed out in my sleeping bag.

I woke easily to the beeping. I slid my feet into my boots which were now icy. Taking them off, I realized, had been a big mistake. My feet would remain cold for hours until I ran into another musher who was kind enough to give me some toe warmers.

The team ate well, which raised my confidence but Check was sore though and still somewhat dehydrated. I made the decision to drop him, which was disappointing although necessary.

The checkpoint was spread out and before I left I had to go on a hike to find the bathroom and sign out. I signed out and got the team going, knowing I had another long run with a camp out before me.

I was looking forward to this run: it was the second to last of the race. Completing it would mean I was one step closer finishing.

I pulled hook and the dogs and I headed off into the night and lit up the trail.

If you enjoyed this post, please consider giving a donation to my Iditarod fundraiser.

Sarah Stokey and the 2016 Copper Basin 300: Meier’s Lake

Sarah · January 28, 2016 ·

This is the 3rd installment in a multi part blog series on the 2016 Copper Basin 300.

Sarah’s 2016 Copper basin 300 team overview

part 1: The Starting Line
Part 2: Chistochina

I pulled hook in Chistochina and found myself dragging the straw my dogs had slept in down the trail. Whoops. That was going to be a hassle for Travis and Dwayne. In the Copper Basin 300, your handling crew is responsible for picking up after you. This means all your straw, trash, even dog poop because all the checkpoints are lodges – it wouldn’t exactly be fair to the lodge owners after their gracious hospitality to leave a huge mess for them.

I glanced back once, before rounding a corner out of the checkpoint and got a quick wave from Travis. As soon as I rounded the bend, I found myself behind Justin and Wyatt, their headlamps two little white beacons in front of me.

The boys love running together and spent much of the race together. My dogs settled in nicely behind them but I knew that they had stronger teams. We’d given them the race dogs, I had the puppies so I was prepared for them to have faster run times as well as a stronger finish then me. That was fine. They had things they needed to learn as mushers, I had things I needed to learn about my puppies.

One of the things I love about mushing is the open trail, not knowing where the next twist or turn will take me. I know that is the same for my dogs. So, as much as I love and appreciate the help we have from Justin and Wyatt, when I found myself stuck behind them I wasn’t exactly thrilled. Instead of seeing the trail, all I could see was Wyatt, and just a bit in front of him, Justin. The darkness that usually envelopes us at night was instead replaced by the glow of their not-so-distant headlamps.

No. I thought to myself. No no no. I could not endure 75 miles of being behind someone else. Where was the open country I craved? I knew if I passed them, they would eventually pass me back. I’d probably sacrifice a little something it of my team but the dogs are like me. They want the open trail. That’s why following another team and can be detrimental: if the two teams aren’t trained exactly the same the second team will try to keep up because, in my opinion, they want to get around and have the freedom of an empty trail in front of them.

So I passed them knowing full well it wouldn’t last but at the very least I would have a little space.

We were in a fun, woodsy section with a few little hills and dips. Our pace was ok but not great and we played leap frog with several teams throughout the run. After an hour, Justin and Wyatt passed me back. I never saw them on the trail again.

At this point, I started getting tired and, truthfully, my memory is rather fuzzy. It’s a good alert to me though that I should get some sort of voice recorder for Iditarod if I hope to do such an extensive blog post series!

Truthfully, this was the run where I learned how to be a fish. Fish can never stop moving as their movement is what keeps water passing through their gills, allowing them to breathe. So fish sleep with half of their brain still awake.

As a musher, when you are in he checkpoint most of your time is spent taking care of the dogs. In the true depths of night, watching my team move down the trail, part of my brain shuts down. I don’t know how to explain it except that I am both aware and unaware all at once. Thoughts do not travel through my brain. There is no real registration of what is or isn’t happening, just a general awareness, a general ability to see the trail, understand what it means in terms of what I must do, and react. Should something significant occur, my brain pops itself back on, Resets itself, but if things are going well and we are moving steady there is just sort of this feeling of being awake but not, being alert but not really with it.

This was the first part of my run. This vagueness of being both awake and asleep, of registering things around me and reacting to them. Cruising on auto-pilot if you will.

At some point, we ended up in what I would call high country. I can’t remember the trail getting to there only that I was became vaguely aware that the trees had faded and we were encapsulated by mountains. Stars tried to shimmer through the hazy clouds and in some open patches of sky they maintained their full radiance.

These were our first hills. Ups and downs. Quiet and beautiful we hummed along. I got off the sled a lot, my feet moving and pushing as I joined in and became a working member of the team. We climbed steadily up and up and then went down and down.

I knew that there was supposed to be one really big climb this run with a false summit. I wondered how far off we were from it and what it would look like.

I knew at this point that I would certainly camp my team and decided that I wanted to rest them after we did the big climb. I knew a lot of mushers were planning to camp before it, in fact I think everyone who did camp camped before it, but I thought it was more beneficial to do after to Teach my dogs to have a little grit and not to worry. If they worked hard, we would rest and recover when they needed.

I hadn’t planned on camping but had plenty of food and bottles of fuel for my cooker. I worried my handlers might get nervous but reminded myself that we all carried trackers so they could see I’d camped.

I saw top dome long before we got to it. There was one lone musher struggling up. At first I thought I had to be mistaken. Were we really going up that? It was a huge mountain. In the dark it loomed before me.

At the base several teams were camped. I debated joining them but hated being stuck by other teams on the trail, especially in difficult sections. If I camped and someone in front of me had problems, it would be difficult to pass on the steep terrain. Getting stuck behind a team going up hill didn’t seem like a good thing to teach my young dogs so it reaffirmed my decision. We would camp after.

As we approached Top Dome I knew it was going to be a battle. It was steep, tall and I had been warned about the false summit. But we started up it and never looked back. Bud, the work horse of the team, earned his spot on the team simply for his performance on this section of trail. I’d drop him in the next checkpoint but he worked hard.

We would go for a bit, climbing and climbing. It seemed like we I found myself getting drenched in sweat and at a lull in the climb we stopped and I took off almost every layer I had on.

We did not move with great speed as we ascended the mountain. But each small step brought us closer and closer to what looked like the top.

When we reached the false summit, we stopped shortly. A quick 5 minute recovery, a brief snack, and a few minutes to take in the valley below. You could see for miles, everything etched in darkness but glimmering with the lightness that winter snow brings. The climb was worth it. It’s always worth it.

We continued up, up, up and finally we were at the top. In front of us was the edge where our descent would begin, I started on my brake early and we began a slow descent. What took us so long to climb took mere minutes, it seemed, to descend. The dogs enjoyed the slow rush that going down hills can bring. We twisted and weaved and eventually came to a long flat section of trail a few miles from the base of Top Dome.

We pulled off to the side to camp. I started my cooker, removed booties, and gave the dogs a meal. I sat on my sled and pulled my parka over my head, waking once when a team went by. Many others passed in the stillness of our camp but the dogs did not stir and neither did I. We woke in the early morning light, Having slept for about 3 hours. We were all groggy, with thatWhat out of sleep haze settled over us. I stretched the dogs, got their booties on, attached their tugs and then we were off.

We had a good run the rest of the trip into Meier’s lake, though it seemed long and we never had much speed. Still, we moved steadily and that was enough. I’d eaten and drank all my snacks by the time we got to the checkpoint due to the unexpected camp but it was worth it.

The dogs came into Meier’s lake happy, with wagging tails. Our checker was Meret, a summertime employee of ours and it was great to see her.

Travis said the team looked great and was impressed with my decision to camp. That praise alone was worth it.

Once we were parked, I got a meal into my team and the vets came by. I was concerned about Crazy as she had lots of diaharrea and they confirmed my fear that she was dehydrated. They suggested dropping her but I intended to stay for 6 hours so asked that they revaluate before I left.

My goal became to get as much water in the team as possible. I fed the dogs, then went into the lodge where Travis had a cheeseburger waiting. I dove in and ate in it big gloshing bites, eager to have the fatty food fill my empty stomach. Then, I went to a room that Travis had rented, curled up on the floor because Justin was in the bed, and fell asleep.

I woke an hour later and watched Justin and Wyatt leave and fed my dogs again. Everyone lapped up the meal. Then more sleep. I slept another half hour, went out and bootied my team and then went inside where I inhaled another cheeseburger.

As I got ready to pull my hook, Bud looked less than thrilled to go and as I took off had a slight hobble.

“Drop him!” Travis shouted at me.I knew Travis was right. I’d gone about 10 feet, set my hooks again, found the necessary paperwork and dropped Bud.

He was too big to carry if he had problems and I could see already the way he held himself that his shoulder was going to be an issue.

Better safe then sorry.

With Bud now removed from the team and heading to the dog truck, we headed off on our run to Sourdough excited about what the new section of trail would bring.

If you enjoyed this post, please consider giving a donation to my Iditarod fundraiser.

Sarah Stokey and the 2016 Copper Basin: The Starting Line

Sarah · January 26, 2016 ·

If you haven’t already read the overview of my dog team’s performance during the 2016 Cooper Basin 300 you may want to start with that. Although it is not necessary to enjoy this post, it will add another layer of depth and understanding for the reader.

The 2016 Copper Basin: Part One – The Starting line

The 2016 Copper basin 300 marked a departure for me from all my previous racing experiences. Butterflies never filled my stomach. Anxiety about what lay ahead never danced around in my brain. For once, it seemed that hooking up my team was not about to cause a panic attack that, at times, can only be stopped by the early intervention of my mediciation.

No, today was race day. Today was when I could finally escape from life – if only for a few days – and simply run dogs. There was a lot of things that weighed heavily on my mind both from weeks and even years before. But I wasn’t going to think about any of it. Just racing. Just dogs. Just having fun.

Travis, who was handling for Wyatt and Justin, and myself, was far more nervous than I was. As I unpacked my things and slowly got ready, he’d buzz about with the nervous energy he thought I should be exhibiting. He paced arround the truck from team to team trying to assess how Justin, Wyatt, and I were doing. Dwayne, Travis’s uncle and our other handler, was taking photos and fully absorbed in the moment. Every few moments Dwayne would lift his camera away from his face just long enough to say things like “oh my god this is so cool!” and “I can’t believe I’m at a real dogsled race!” and “wow!” to simply “This is so awesome!” Dwayne was clearly having a great time, completely absorbed in the controlled chaos that every dog race starts with. His enthusiasm spread to this around him and we all filled with giddy excitement.

That morning, I felt completely in control of everything around me – Not just myself, but my dogs, and my expectations for my amazingly young team. I was slow and methodical as I readied myself. This was my third 300 mile race and by now I had the routine down. I knew what gear I wanted to take for myself and for my dogs and I slowly began packing it into my sled.

There was of course, the mandatory gear: ax, snowshoes, sleeping bag, dog booties, dog food, human food, and of course the all important dog food cooker. Those, of course, were loaded first. I had borrowed a sled from my good friend Lev Schvarts, who had given me my first real mushing experiences and my first race back in the winter of 2010. The sled I had been training on suffered a devastating blow a few days before the race, and I knew I could count on Lev to help me out. He gave me a custom-built sled that he had designed with a blue sled bag that had reflective silver flames dancing on its front. It was pretty awesome.

Although the sled was heavy, it was also reassuring in its weight – it meant that a tumble here or crash there wasn’t going to destroy it. The sled bag was also huge which meant I would have no problem fitting all the gear I wanted to take and I packed heavy. I was driving what I thought was going to be the youngest team on the Copper basin 300.

I had handled two times on this race, once with a freshly broken arm, and I knew that conditions could change quickly. In one race, we saw temperatures as high as 40 above and raining and then a few checkpoints later back to 20 below zero. Mushers struggled because they had no way to get gear dry at the remote checkpoint of Sourdough. I wanted to be ready for anything because this was the first race for 10 of my dogs, and I was going to completely cater to their needs.

In the end, I packed what I usually pack when I go camping with the team. I had a new water bottle from my sister that prove to be more than useful, at times it was the only thing that kept my liquids from freezing. I also had a backpack that I filled with my extra cold weather gear. Travis couldn’t understand why I wanted to take the backpack. I’ll admit it did take up a lot of room in my sled compared to the compression sacks and other things that I typically used. But, at a checkpoint, I love having my backpack. I can quickly put layers in that need to dry or food or drinks that need to thaw. I can put my sleeping bag or any other odds and ends that need to go inside either in the backpack or strapped to it outside. In the end it allows me to make fewer trips from my sled to the nearest bed where I can go inside why down and let them thaw. I may have taken up a little extra space, but it always saves me a little time and a lot of my own energy – so for me, it is completely worth taking. Not disturbing the team by going back and forth between my sled and the checkpoint building also allows my dogs to sleep more restfully.

Trying to get three dog teams set up and ready to go off of one dog truck and trailer proved to be easier than expected. Justin and Wyatt each took a side of the truck and trailer and I tied off to a nearby tree. I unraveled my gang line, went through it for the umpteenth time to make sure that all my snaps were good and all my necklines were solid and then began laying out harnesses for my dogs. Each dog wears a different size harness. The size varies based on their weight, their body type, and their overall size. I had a rather small, younger team. Most of my dogs wore small or a small/medium sized harness. Bud, the freight horse of my team, was the only dog who wore a large and wriggled into it with zealous delight when I came around to him.

Although I was offered help numerous times, I preferred to harness and booty my dogs on my own. Because I drew number 37, I knew I needed to take my time – if I got ready too early, got the dogs harnessed, got them bootied, and then had them stand around for 30 or worse 45 minutes, they would bark and scream and they would end up taking away from themselves and their performance because of their excitement. All that barking and jumping and screaming would most likely lead to them losing a little water and getting dehydrated more easily. You never want a dehydrated dog team.

Justin was the first to take off out of our three teams, as he drew the 24th position. We got a bit of a scare because before it was his turn to go, the rope he tied from his team to the truck to hold them in place, snapped. For a brief moment we watched, stupefied, as his team took off without him. Miraculously, his snow hook got caught in the cable of my gangline and snapped the team to an immediate stop.

It was a bit of a mess getting Justin’s snow hook out of my gang line but once we did, Travis helped secure the team to a tree in front of us. Justin finished hooking up his remaining dogs, and with spots now open on the truck, I began dropping my team.

An air of excitement settled over the dogs: they could hear and smell hundreds of their brethren filling the parking My team spinned about on their drop chains, tongues hanging happily out of their wide grins, and peed on anything they could reach. With so many dogs around the need to mark territory seemed like a high priority amongst the males on the team.

Dwayne Beals captured this early morning. photo of the 2016 Copper Basin before the fans arrived

I slowly started to put booties on my dogs. They squirmed anxiously unsure of the commotion around them. Out of 12 dogs, I had 2 five-year-olds and the rest were two years old or younger. The 10 pups that I had brought as the soul of my team had no racing experience whatsoever. Most mushers, would have considered this rather foolhardy. But I wasn’t about to race the Copper basin, I was using it as a training run for the Iditarod. I was also using it as a way to gauge the ability of some of the youngest athletes in my training pool. Doubt never crossed my mind. Why would it? I was a capable driver and these dogs were plenty prepared.

I got the harnesses on one at a time, taking a moment to pet each dog and the love on them. They danced joyously unsure of what exactly was going on but certain of one thing: we were going mushing. Once everybody had been harness I threw a snack of frozen chicken to the team. The dogs crunched on it delightedly.

When it came time to hook up, we got the dogs on the line in less than five minutes. A Side-by-side ATV pulled up to my sled and we attached one of the snow hooks to it so that we could have a smooth ride up to the starting line. Travis rode on the ATV, Dwayne having already walked up to get pictures of Justin and Wyatt taking off, and we started off.

I really wasn’t thinking much about anything as we approached the starting chute. I focused on the dogs, tries to keep my sled from tipping on the hard corner before I got into the start chute. The atv was putting pressure on the wrong side of my sled and it wanted to rip badly. Thankfully, it stayed up right.

I reminded myself how a few years ago I told myself that the Copper Basin 300 was my favorite to handle on – you learned so much – so I was somewhat surprised when I signed up. I love everything about the copper basin and was excited for the 2016 race to begin. What could be better than running dogs from lodge to lodge and eating good food? Handling was worthwhile – I certainly credit a majority of what I know in terms of vet care due to this particular race and the fine handling experiences I’ve had on in the past. But here I was, now I the driver’s seat. This was it. The toughest 300 mile race out there: The Copper Basin.

I approached the starting chute and I watched Robert Redington, the musher before me, another 2016 Copper basin rookie and also a 2016 Iditarod rookie, take off ahead of me. Word on the street was he had one of the teams to beat. A lot of his dogs were on Nick Petite’s sixth place Iditarod team back in 2014. So he certainly wasn’t lacking athleticism, maturity, or experience. All of which, I feltmy own team was sorely lacking – we were young and inexperienced.

Robert took off, and then I pulled my hook and was in the chute. I had two minutes under the starting line before I could take off. Volunteers stood on my sled and. I went up and said hi most of my dogs, although not all because some were too freaked out by all the bystanders to want to do much of anything except bark and scream and get the hell out of there. To be honest, I was more than willing to oblige.

Pulling the hook is always the best part of a race. All the work you’ve done to get to the point is now behind you. Ahead of you, lays an unknown trail and unknown adventures. You’ve done the work to get here and now, all you have left to do, is run, take care of your dogs, rest, Eat, drink, and do it all over again day after day until you reach the finish line.

On the race trail, there is no worrying about bills, or phone calls, or what you did or didn’t do, or the stack of unopened mail you left on your desk, or the fact that you don’t have a race sled for Iditarod yet, there is none of that. All there is is your team, the trail in front of you, and the desire to travel.

I was more than ready when the volunteers told me I had 15 seconds, then 10 seconds, then five seconds, and then it was time to go.

Part 2: Chistochina will be released soon.

If you are able, please consider donating to my Iditarod fundraiser. I am woefully short on necessary gear!

Northern Lights 300: Getting Prepped

Sarah · January 21, 2016 ·

We start the Northern Lights 300 tomorrow. I am looking forward to hitting the race trail, to that magical “take off” moment because leading up to it has been stressful. Unlike Copper Basin where I felt on top of everything, this go around I am scrambling to get ready — I mean I still haven’t published my race reports from copper basin! Talk about being delinquent. (they are first priority after this race)

The moon has been so bright recently. I am looking forward to hopefully having a clear sky though the forecast calls for light snow. I was excited about the prospect of a hard trail but perhaps we will again be in soft conditions. No matter.

Today has been so stressful that at times I close my eyes, breath in, smell the air around me, and try to plant myself in the moment: what needs to be done next? And then I do it. Then again, what needs to be done next. And I accomplish that. So on and so on. Breaking down impossible tasks into small mangable pieces.

My sled still isn’t packed and theee of the doors ripped off my dog box today so we will all be snuggling close for the ride to the start line!

My race team:

Zema, Athena, Lena, Rowdy, Hammer, Crazy, Coda, Bensen, Penny, Check, Dolly, Varden, Hank, and Trunk.

This is a 14 dog race. The new additions from Copper Basin are: Hank, Rowdy, Hanmer, Trunk and Bensen.

Staying back this time are: Bud, Madori, and Hoover.

Wyatt Suchecki’s 2016 Copper Basin 300 Team Recap

Sarah · January 15, 2016 ·

We are so proud of our handler, Wyatt Suchecki, for his incredible performance in his first 300 mile race. These are his thoughts, written (and in some cAaes expanded upon) by Sarah.

Wyatt finished in 24th places with a total run time of 41 hours and 8 minutes.

Granger, 3 year old, female

Granger was the 16th dog on Travis’s 2015 11th place Iditarod team. She only made it about 300 miles on Last year’s Iditarod, but Travis was happy with that as she was a last-minute addition and didn’t have quite the amount of training as the rest of the team. During the Copper basin 300 this year, Granger ran 300 miles in lead. In otherwords, she led the entire race. She was a very forward oriented dog and Wyatt ran her with no neckline. Wyatt was ecstatic to have had Granger done so well with him in part because they work so frequently together last year. Why it was one of the driving forces behind Grangers development as a lead dog. It must’ve been a very special moment for him to hook her up at the start of the race and lead and an even more gratifying moment when she came in at the finish line.

Fidget, 5 year old, female

Fidget has ran and finished every Iditarod with Travis. Wyatt described her as the rock of the team. We are not surprised by this description as Fidget has always been one of the most reliable, hard-working, energetic dogs in the team. Wyatt said that whether or not she was in lead, she was clearly the backbone of the team. She ran 150 miles of the race in lead and was the team cheerleader. Fidget was a great dog for Wyatt to have as she is one of those dogs that don’t require much attention, always works hard, and helps keep the dogs around her happy and motivated

Cricket, 2 year old, female

Cricket has always been a spunky dog. As a puppy, when we let her loose during free play, we always had to keep a close watch on Cricket. She is a very sassy little dog and thinks the world of herself. Although she may be small in size, she makes up for it inheart. Don’t be fooled, the small dog packs quite the punch.

Cricket ran 150 miles in lead during the Copper basin 300. When she wasn’t in the lead, she ran in swing. Going over the hump, the big mountain in the second leg of the race, she was one of the loudest, most eager dogs going up hill. Wyatt described her enthusiasm going over the hump as a real highlight for him during the race. This is one of Cricket’s first races and one of her best leading experiences.

Although she occasionally got a little distracted upfront, whenever Wyatt moved her out of lead she always resumed her hard-working attitude. We are excited to see what this little lady and her spunky attitude will bring to the main race team this year.

Tamere, 6 year old, female

Oh Tamere. Tamere, Tamere, Tamere. So much could be said about this little princess. To me here is one of those sassy dogs that always has to get her way and always has to be in charge whether or not she is leading the team. She is a total glory hound – she loves to bark with excitement and enthusiasm in front of a crowd, even if she is dead tired.

This race, Tamere ran exclusively in swing. She also really reminded us why female dogs are called bitches as she is always very haughty to the dogs around her sa and loves keeping other dogs in line. She is a real miss manners. As a swing dog, she thoroughly enjoyed reprimanding the lead dogs whenever they started messing around. Tamere simply loves being the goody two shoes. Tamere has been on all of Travis is Iditarod teams, finishing twice and making it about 700 miles in last year’s race. We expect another big performance from Tamere this year, although she will likely be on Sarah’s team instead of Travis’ as Travis has grown tired of dealing with her princess antics.

Zeus, 15 months, male

Zeuswas the young gun of this team. The Copper basin 300 was his first race. He primarily ran in the middle of the team. When he was on point, he was on point – working hard, cheering loudly, and busting butt. As a young dog, he occasionally got A little mentally fatigued but he never got physically tired. He met our expectations for his age and we were happy to see that he made it to the finish line. Zeus is going to be a real all star in our kennel in the years to come. He is a very hard-working dog, who are shown real potential of being a leader, and often runs upfront and training. He is beautifully gaited and is a real joy to work with. We were thrilled to see him finish the Copper basin 300.

Gremlin, 4 years old, female

Gremlin is one of those tiny little females who has really come along way since she joined our kennel as an 8 week old puppy back in 2011. She and her sister Goblin have proven to be steadfast loyal hard-working dogs in our kennel — and many of the dogs in our race teams are Gremlin’s nieces and nephews.

Gremlin finished on Travis’s 11th Place Iditarod team last year and swing. For this race,Gremlin was the smallest dog on the team but she was also the dog who had the biggest heart. She was loud, reliable, and steadfast in her work ethic. Wyatt said that she was the dog he worried least about on the race trail. Gremlin simply did her job and did it well.

Star, 8 years old, female

Star has consistently been a member of Travis’s main race team over the last four years. She ran as part of the 11th place Iditarod team last year although she did not finish. On this race, she was Wyatt’s favorite dog to watch. Although she was one of the slower moving dogs and the team, she helped with her incredible strength. Why it wisely used her as the pacesetter for the team, traveling at a speed that was comfortable for Star. Star ran in wheel and one above wheel it was a real team player. Throughout the race, she willingly ran next to any dog and was always happy to do her job and eat her snacks.

Ray, 10 years old, male

Ray is one of those dogs who just keep surprising us. Last year, we couldn’t believe that he made the Iditarod team. We were even more surprised when he finished on the 11th Place team. Despite his age, Ray still has it! He is a smooth moving dog who loves to eat and is notorious for being pretty lazy. This race was no exception.

Wyatt reported that he was the laziest dog on the team, ate everything, and loved marking his territory whenever given the chance. In other words, he was typical Ray. Ray was a very rowdy always happy and always ready to travel further – this is pretty usual for Ray and is partially due to the fact that he knows how to pace himself so well. Despite his age, Travis and Sarah are duking it out to determine who will get Ray for their Iditarod team. Well done, old man!

Monroe, 7 years old, male

Monroe was the 17th dog last year though he has previously made Travis’ other two Iditarod teams. He was the slowest dog on Whitestine this year, but also the loudest. He ran with Ray, as usual, and they were the real cheerleaders of the team. Although slow, Munro was a consistent hard worker.

Aldawin, 2 years old, male
Alderman was routinely the best dog in Wyatts team although he got sick. He ended up needing to ride in the sled for approximately two hours during one of the runs but then performed even stronger. His weakness seem to be more mental than physical. Why reported that he was the dog that he watched most carefully because he got sick. He had a strong performance and we look forward to seeing Aldawin as an athlete.

Havoc, 3 years old, female

Havoc ran in a wheel for 220 miles of the Copper basin 300. She was dropped due to a slight wrist and shoulder injury. Until that point, she was the most impressive dog. She was also the biggest surprise because it was her very first race. Normally, we have seen Havoc be somewhat weak headed and lack the mental focus needed for a real race dog. Despite that reputation, Havoc was anything but. Haven’t really worked hard during the race because that she was one of the biggest surprises. Wyatt wished he did not have to drop her but did it because she is in contention for an Iditarod slot.

Wyatt

Why reported that his highlights were going over top dome, The infamous hump on the second leg of the race. The straight up vertical challenge was fun for him but the best part was seeing how excited cricket got going and leading up to hell. He really enjoyed being able to run with Justin and have Justin near him throughout the race but also not really running together and having alone time out on the trail. He had fun being with his team, watching and learning from other mushers, and seeing and mushing next to the infamous Alaska pipeline. One of his true low lights of the race was when Nick Petite went to pass him and Wyatt tipped his sled over. He felt a little dumb about this but Travis and I have both assured him that we have tipped over and phone many times ourselves. On this particular race I think I tipped my sled over some two dozen times so I could really empathize with how Wyatt was feeling. For Wyatt, the hardest run was leaving sourdough and heading to Mendeltna as the run seemed to take forever. His spirits were slightly bolstered by seeing my cousin, Andy, twice who encouraged Wyatt to keep going and that he was almost there.

Great race Wyatt and team!

Thank you to Dre Langefeld for some of these wonderful photos of our dogs.