5PM Cripple checkpoint—We land in a pillow of new snow, wait for the Pack

Part of the Insider Crew departs for Cripple, the very remote checkpoint which communicates Ophir with the village of Ruby on the Yukon. 

First, a description of the now more rested front runners we left in Takotna.   Just before departure, Andy Baker,  Iditarod Trail Committee Board President and Dave Olson, this year’s 2012 Honorary musher, arrive Takotna for a brief visit.

Andy has worked hard with his board members not only to strengthen the race for mushers but broaden the support and community involvement of Alaskans.  Part of that vision is his belief that communities of people make everyone more productive.

Dave Olson, Honorary musher, meets Aliy Zirkle.  Aliy was first into Takotna, but explains to Dave that she’s a wimp compared to the tough going Dave and the early trail breakers experienced putting in trail and pioneering the first Iditarod.   Dave assures her that it was a lot of fun and a grand adventure.

 

 

 

Find a photo Andy Baker, Board President, Dave Olson, musher and also board member Aaron Burmeister, and 2012 champ John Baker.

Aaron Burmeister

Incidentally, Aaron also is running in the top five.  Asking all the usual questions, he answered that his dogs were holding weight phenomenally, in part he thinks, because of a new very palatable meat mix he has designed.  Regardless of location, Aaron’s strategy is to feed punctually every eight hours no matter if he stops somewhere on the trail.  He has also been very disciplined, pointing to the gps mounted on the handle bar of his sled, to keep the dogs at 8.5 miles an hour or slower.  8.5 mph, for a new breed of mushers, is a magic number.  Go faster than that over long distance and the belief is athletic and stress injuries are invited.  

Aaron told me he was passed  five or more times on every run, but incredibly, he is now in the top ten of the race.  Gradually over time, he tells me, the steady speed—-which reduces the inevitably of injury or fatigue—became comparatively faster.  Commenting on the next several days after the mandatory 24 hour rest,  “Dog teams will be fresh coming off the 24 so I’ll get passed again, but by Ruby I should be going faster and I’ll leave them behind.”   To keep in theory—witness practicioners like John Baker—requires a tremendous amount of patience and self control.  Aaron could unleash his dogs, put a fast leader in front, and exhibit some speed, but now is not the time.

Additionally, the steady strategy has other benefits.  Because the dogs are in a work zone, these steady run mushers can cut rest, but still travel at the same speed.  The mushers who let their dogs go faster will probably find they cannot compete on less rest.

After all that long winded explanation, I should get to the point.  After you understand the theory, it’s a lot more fun to watch the race unfold.  It may take a day for the theory to reveal itself, but once you understand why a zippy out of control musher in the first stages of the race is doomed you begin to appreciate the steady mind state of the top mushers. 

Jim Lanier decides to go for Cripple

A hero emerges.  I see Jim Lanier in Takotna at the checker.  I really enjoy Jim Lanier—good guy, funny, tough, wry sense of irony, and adventurous.  I yell out, “Tell me you are going to get the half-way money at Cripple!!”

Jim,  in the same baritone he sang the Anthem at the Musher Banquet in Anchorage, replies, “ I am not stopping. I am going to Cripple.”  

“That’s our man, somebody has finally accepted the challenge and will forge alone to the half way prize.”  A few people nod in agreement

 Jim repeats, “I am not stopping, I am going to Cripple.”  He then pulls the hook and the nearly all white team of huskies (a couple of them are various husky colors) starts the long climb on the old mining road bed to Ophir. 

After arriving in Cripple, I started to think about Jims chances of actually beating the front runners to Cripple.  To be honest, it will be close since Jim is stopping for a rest in Ophir.  Realistically, he will probably find the trail soft and need to take another break mid-wqy on the expansive tundra to Cripple.  Remember, the distance from Ophir to Cripple is huge—estimated by trail breakers I just talked with at 77 miles.

A big running front runner leaving at about 1AM (always check resources at the Insider ) may eclipse Lanier.  It will be tight.

 

Huge Correction for King comments 

Luckily, Trish Brown, editor extrordinaire, caught an interesting slip.  I said Kings leader was Cold Train, but that is a ridiculous mistreatment of its actual name, Coltrane.   Trish was the editor for Cold Hands, Warm Heart and The lance Mackey Story.  I also worked with both Lance and Jeff in putting their books together.

Flying over the trail to Cripple

Surprisingly, the distances from Takotna to Ophir to Cripple to Ruby remain debatable.  Generally, a musher coming off the 24 hour in Takotna expects to run 25 miles to Ophir, then 73 to Cripple, for a grand total of 98 miles.  Competitive mushers anticipate they will come off the 24 hr and travel all the way to Cripple with minimal rest.  

Cripple is an isolated, remote checkpoint, and the long distance to the Yukon creates huge strategic problems for competitive mushers.  After a rest, the musher is faced with another monstrous 65 mile run to Ruby.  

Why not camp halfway?   Well, it just doesn’t work very well because camping requires extra gear, food, inconvenience, and most importantly,  a lot of extra work.  It means you have to change booties, give the dogs a rest, and just basically is a big time loser.

To win, you have to have dogs that can snack and run and snack and run , take a LITTLE  break, and travel 90 miles.  That’s it in a nut shell.  Otherwise, you are camping and not going to win the Iditarod.

Wes Erb, a Federal Express pilot for his day job, was my pilot, and this guy is great.  We followed the trail out of Takotna and watched it climb up and over to the Innoko river drainage where we saw Ophir, an old mining enclave and the present Iditarod checkpoint (recall the Buser’s are ensconced here for their 24 hour mandatory)

From this point, one has the feeling of remoteness, wilderness, untouched boundaries, limitless horizons, and primitive existentialism.  If I got any more descriptive it could get emotional.  This part of Alaska is easily regarded as a huge uninhabited refuge the size of New Jersey and maybe Wisconsin.

 

The trail parallels the Innoko all the way to Cripple.  The river is convoluted, twisting as a helix on itself, with confusing oxbow sloughs, old channels intersecting, bordered by spruce trees big enough to build a trapping cabin.  Away from the flood plain, black spruce dominates the tundrascape.

 Interestingly, as far as I know, Cripple has no historical basis other than the fact its halfway to Ruby, and somewhere in this long stretch of trail, trailbreakers set up a camp.  Over time, the present location was selected as a good landing area,  tent structures constructed, and a more or less permanent Iditarod camp resulted. 

Cripple is used only every other year, and therefore I am amazed that bears have not completely demolished the camp.

We land, the Rolling stone’s “No satisfaction” playing prominently in the headphones, onto a virtual three foot pillow pile of snow which has accumulated over the last two weeks.

The camp consists of a comm  tent, musher tent, vet tent, cook shack, and a few etceteras all connected by little trails looking like tunnels in the new snow.   Often wondering how rabbits feel, it seemed we had just been deposited into a warren, as I carried my sleeping bag to the musher shack.

Some of the volunteers were busy fueling oil stoves,  checking latches on doors and making sure they opened and closed, and even constructing a new musher retreat, including bunk beds.   Debski, known to all veteran volunteers as an exceptional cook, stopped by our “office” in the comm tent to advise that dinner would be served.

In effect, it’s a community.

Final Thoughts

Weather remains balmy at  10F, a relief  to volunteers and mushers.  Cripple is notorious for temps to -55F, which just about puts all into rigor mortis.