Mike Dillingham - Alaska Dogs and Iditarod Mushers - The Adventures of Balto, Back of the Pack, Honor Bound, Rivers

Hopefully the long-awaited Iditarod lottery should be running for the 1997 race. It been officially authorized by the state, but as usual, the devil is in the details. Once it’s up and running it may ease the race’s fortunes somewhat and might provide more than enough income to give finishers and teams a free ride home.

The Idita-Rider program is still going strong. At the musher meeting this afternoon I met my passenger, Nancy Bee from San Mateo, California. (I keep thinking she’s from Sacramento because of the newspaper there with the same name, which is part of the chain which owns the Anchorage Daily News .) Last year the Idita-Riders generated $35,000; this year has been equally successful and the mushers think it’s a pretty good idea.

One of the program’s goals was to help drivers and their dogs get back from Nome, but this year the money will go to the race general fund. We’ve chalked it up to hard times for the Iditarod, which has already had to lower the ’96 purse from $350,000 to $300,000 (not that I’ll ever see any of it). But everyone agrees: before too much longer we need to make sure everybody who gets to Nome can get home without having to mortgage the dog lot.

Another topic which surfaced in the mushers’ meeting was the infamous Rule 18, better known as the Expired Dog Rule. Adopted last year, it says simply if a dog dies on the race by any cause other than external force over which the musher has no control, such as a moose or snowmachine, the musher will be automatically withdrawn from the race, or disqualified if there is evidence of negligence or abuse. The discussion was supposed to be strictly behind closed doors among the mushers and the race officials, but it leaked quickly to the press and was common conversation at the banquet this evening.

The rule may have been a well-intentioned attempt to reduce dog deaths on the race, but most mushers feel it was instituted as a knee-jerk response to placate supposedly jittery sponsors. In theory it might look good, but in practice, drivers feel it is a gross overreaction and will be unworkable because it leaves no room for good judgment and common sense. The bottom line is Rule 18 considers a musher guilty until proven innocent if a dog dies.

And unfortunately, dogs sometimes die on long races. Just like human marathon runners in perfect shape who drop dead in the middle of a run, apparently healthy dogs can expire of causes that are unknown — or more importantly, unforeseen and unpreventable. For example, a dog might be seriously injured or killed by, say, a branch sticking out into the trail. While everyone strongly agreed negligence and abuse should be swiftly and harshly punished, mushers argued long and forcefully they should not be expelled from the race for what effectively is an act of God.

The issue wasn’t really resolved. Mushers were unhappy because Rule 18 turns the race into a crap shoot: no matter how well we take care of our dogs and watch the trail, we’re history if a dog dies. And given nearly 1,000 dogs running to Nome over a two-week period, the odds are one or more won’t make it.

But as bad as this sounds, it’s still an extraordinary track record. For comparison, someone did a statistical study to show the rate of death would be far higher among the same number of ordinary “civilian” dogs over a two-week period, and no one would stigmatize the owners of the deceased dogs or fine them the tremendous investment a musher forfeits if he or she is pulled from the race. We’ll see how it works out, but the stage has been set for a really bad situation on the trail this year.

The other main issue in the meeting was the usual one: trail conditions. Snow cover is still far less than normal. This means brush and shrubs and even rocks will be showing through on some stretches of trail where they haven’t been seen for years, and the trailblazers will have a lot less leeway in where they put the actual trail. This will mean sharper curves, steeper slopes, rougher trails, and less direct routes in many areas.

What most worries everyone is the stretch from Ophir through Cripple to Ruby. There’s been a massive, unseasonable thaw in the area and trails are flooded or have refrozen into glare ice. The rivers are mostly open and no one is certain how the trail will cross them. Worst of all, planes have not been able to land anywhere near Cripple, a vital rest stop 55 miles into the wilderness, because of abominable overflow conditions and soft snow. More than likely, the food and equipment we’ve carefully planned for Cripple will be dropped back up the trail at Ophir, the nearest place with a serviceable runway.

This will leave us a 170-mile run over atrocious trail, and we must be completely self-sufficient for all of it. Even for the top mushers, the run will take almost 24 hours, including at least five or six hours of rest along the way. Extra dog food, extra booties, extra people food, extra Heet for the alcohol cookers — all must be carried from Ophir. There will probably be a checkpoint of sorts at Cripple, although no one is quite sure where it will be. Since it will probably have to be run in on snowmachines it will offer little besides a couple of tents, a checker, a veterinarian, and hot coffee. No one is looking forward to this torture test. Some mushers are already looking for tiedown straps to fasten extra bags of dog food atop their sleds. For this stretch, at least, we may well get a taste of the travails of the old-time freight drivers as they fought their unwieldy sleds over abysmal trails. It promises to be the ultimate camping trip for back-of-the-packers like me. I fully expect it will take me 30 or 40 hours to get to Ruby, maybe longer. That’s a long time between checkpoints in a race, especially for the Iditarod.

But there’s not much to do about it now. I file the airfare problem and Rule 18 and the Ophir-to-Ruby marathon in the back of my mind along with everything else and try to sort out what’s going to be critical for the next 24 hours. I’ve just dropped off to sleep when we pull up to my place. I thank Ron for the ride home, stumble into the cabin, and fall into bed still in my clothes. For me the race has already begun.

Sled dogs are the subject of many veterinary studies every year. Weighing selected dogs before and after the race is part of many such projects.

Anchorage to Eagle River (20 miles)

Ten o’clock on a bright Saturday morning: we’re on Fourth Avenue in Anchorage for the ceremonial start. The proverbial journey of a thousand miles is about to start with a single step, or rather, a whole bunch of steps by my frantically eager dogs. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, and the dogs certainly look to be up to the journey ahead. In any case, there’s no turning back now — it’s redemption time for me.

The bedlam is at its customary earsplitting level with almost 1,000 dogs in a frenzy to go to Nome. The temperature will be up around freezing for the 20-mile run out to Eagle River, which is great for the crowds but lousy for the dogs. Also, we’re only running 12 dogs for this leg as a result of a new rule designed to keep teams under better control when they’re frisky and full of energy at the start of the race.

We’ll still be pulling two people and two sleds plus carrying our Idita-Riders, for a total load of as much as 700 pounds. Most of the mushers think this may be a bit much for just 12 dogs, but then, this leg doesn’t count for time so we can take it easy. Like last year, everyone is worried about the heat affecting the dogs, especially those like mine and Steve Adkins’ and some of the ones from the Interior which have been training in subzero temperatures all season.