6am Friday—Ruby —The Yukon—Crowd of spectators mills at the checkpoint by Joe Runyan

“Four miles out,” resounds through the log cabin community hall in Ruby. All know that Mitch Seavey, the 1x champ leads the race. His son  follows a half hour or so behind and the fans all have that instinctive feeling he and his dogs look great.  A few comment, “That guy is going to win the Iditarod.” Anecdotally, we all know that Dallas,  the very fit former nationally ranked wrestler,  remains  alert, clear thinking, and organized throughout a race.  You now have Mitch, the veteran, and Dallas the Younger, leading your 2012 Iditarod.

 

As a note, Mitch and Dallas maintain completely separate kennels and completely separate lives.  They are both independent with no father son hand holding.   Mitch doesn’t care if it’s son immediately behind him, he’s racing to win, and vice versa for Dallas.

Leslie and her crew of communication experts, located in the nw corner of the hall, have been following the GPS locator (available at the Insider) through the night, noting surges at the lead pack.  I find an internet connection at the school, situated further up the hill from the checkpoint, comfortably summarizing the race in the kindergarten classroom.

After a very hectic  yesterday at Cripple, I have to admit a  renewal here in Ruby.  While skies cleared, with now visible displays of shimmering sheets of northern lights,   mushers on the trail, our crew got some sleep.  We seem to have our bearings.

Here’s where we’re at.  After a 100 mile push from Takotna to Cripple, our lead pack took a small break  at the Cripple Checkpoint.   In theory, these mushers in the lead are trying to carve out an unassailable position by making several declarations of strength which include the run to Cripple and then the 70 mile run from Cripple to Ruby.   The distances are  immense,  and the trail seldom travelled.   It’s possible, save for the lone trapper, this section of trail will not be used until the next race in 2014. 

Breaking out the trail required specialized equipment, very experienced trail breakers, 7 machines and a lot of fuel.  Its unlikely that an individual, with gas pegged locally at $6.00 gallon, will go to the effort of establishing a trail.   One snowstorm and all the work you did is destroyed.

The trail from Cripple is not technically difficult but it burns some energy as it rolls up and down a small mountain range guarding the Yukon.  This region is known as big snow country, and locals that I know in Ruby said this was a big snow winter.  “Absolutely, you cannot go off the trail with a machine or you are buried.”  In the Ruby village, heavy equipment  has laboriously cleared the roads, immense berms giving the impression of tunnels rather than roads.   Wind blown drifts climb to the roofs of several unoccupied houses here in the village.  The principal at the school told me Gary Kangas worked for hours last  week clearing the main road in anticipation of the Iditarod, but then another snowstorm dumped 2 feet and he had to clean up all over again.  The expense in operating machinery in the villages is considerable.

  The dogs and musher work hard climbing and descending on the trail from Cripple.   If you want, you can flip over on some wicked side hills, the trail running obliquely on huge windblown drifts, but you probably won’t get dinged up on the pillow soft snow.  It does keep the mushers alert, at least temporarily.

 

The biggest problem for the mushers is the interminable night.  Over and over, I heard anecdotes from former mushers in the community hall recalling the agony of fighting sleep thru the night.  Focused on a narrow headlight beam dancing on the white trail, the rhythm of the dogs cadence never changing, the quiet and isolation, all combine to seduce the musher to lullaby land.

Even the crowd of fans greeting Mitch at the check chute were noticeably subdued, barely awake with a few muffled “good mornings” the extent of the conversation.

What happens in Ruby?

Standard musher practice is to stay eight hours in Ruby.  This satisfies the “Mandatory 8 hr rest somewhere on the Yukon” rule that requires mushers to take a big rest at Ruby, Galena, Nulato or Kaltag.   The way it works out , schedule wise, most mushers peg Ruby as the place to rest.

The dogs are so trail hardened that 8 hrs is a great rest.

After this welcome sleep (there’s a big difference between being sleepy and being tired), the mushers will depart down a long hill to the bed of the Yukon River.

The Yukon River

I lived and trapped about 70 miles west of Ruby, so I know the Yukon well and must admit a nostalgic recognition when we flew into Ruby yesterday evening.

The trail follows the Yukon downriver for 50 miles on the route to the next village checkpoint to Galena.  Technically it’s not complicated at all.  The trail is a simple line from point to point cutting off the immense bends of the Yukon.  Occassionally the trail takes a shortcut through old sloughs and then re emerges on the river.   The Yukon is one of the great rivers of the world,  with a drainage system over a 2000 miles and tributary systems covering immense regions.  Having lived in the Yukon village of Tanana (upriver from Ruby)  I can comment that the Yukon becomes a personality.   Conversationally, the “Mighty Uke” becomes a known entity, the provider of fish, a winter highway, carrier of driftwood, and a daily source of conversation.  Personally, I really like the Yukon.  For some, however, the Yukon is a relentless blow hole, constantly drifting, boring, with endless vistas, taking hours it seems to move from one never ending bend to the next serpentine change in direction.   A definite frame of mind is required to enjoy the Yukon in winter.

The downriver trail to Galena is good news for mushers.  In summer, the wind blows upriver.  In winter, every molecule of cold numbed air tumbles on the beds of tributaries down river to the Yukon, the lowest point.  The Yukon is cold in absolute terms (I often saw -60F at my camp) and combining this with a predictable wind that scallops the snow, carves beautiful curves on hard pack, and polishes the smooth ice where the wind hits directly, can be absolutely brutal. Mushers will layer on all clothes available, even if it seems balmy high on the hill at the ruby Checkpoint.

This is what I like about the Yukon in winter.   A ground storm of fine blowing particles  moves across the trail forming a kalaidascope of colors and patterns, moving around a dogs foot for an instance, swirling around the sled runners.   The Yukon can be a mile wide and in some places from here to Galena, including sloughs and channels four miles wide.  The sled bounces over drifts, knifes through blowing accumulations of blowing snow, and occasionally skates on long stretches of polished ice. By this time in winter, Yukon ice is four feet thick, still, you try to look into the dark  ice like a window to the clear water and river bottom, usually never more than 25 feet deep.  Mainly, if you like it, travel on the Yukon is a place to think, with uninterrupted vistas, monstrous bends in the river, providing the material for profound ideas like learning Spanish in your spare time.  For others, the Yukon is a treadmill, an endless  200 miles of trail.  

Dallas Seavey

Dallas arrives in Ruby, with my informants telling me he was predictably sharp, fast moving, and efficient.  His team appeared animated, a view backed up by his fast time from Cripple, nearly 25 minutes faster than his Dad.  Consensus opinion from my informants agrees he is now the leader of the race.

Sigrid Ekran

Next to me, in the Ruby school, Trudy Paulsson, writes for the Norwegian newspapers and particularly informs countrymen on Sigrid Ekran’s progress. She gave me some of her great photos, see in article   Trudy tells me she is running in about tenth place, a great accomplishment given that she has flown her team from Norway, and suffers all the negatives of being an out of town team.   Her food drops were prepared in Alaska, so her dogs had to adjust to all the subtle changes in diet.

Her story is a good one.   As a student at Uof Alaska in Fairbanks, she helped with team Bjorn Andersen of Norway.  In thanking her, Bjorn gave her a dog.  Now enthused, she bred this gift to Lance Mackeys famous dog Zorro.  From this litter, she obtained the core of her team—which has been racing to the front in Norway.   Mushing is a popular sport in Norway.  Robert Sorlie, fans will recall, flew from Norway and won the Iditarod in 2003 and 2005.  His style of mushing influenced lance mackey, the only 4x Iditarod musher to do it four times in a row.

Bjorn, she told me, jokes that “giving her that dog may have been my biggest mushing mistake.”  Sigrid regularly wins races in Norway.

At the start, I am told, Sigrid admitted to an almost overwhelming nervous anticipation.

Asked about the interest in Norway, Trudy told me the interest is very high, “not as good as cross country skiing, but certainly a lot of interest.”

 

Final thoughts

Friends ask why the coverage is so heavy to the front pack.  Unfortunately, the race has become so disconnectedfrom the front runners to the following pack that its geographically impossible to cover it all.   Our connections by bush plane have been logistical masterpieces, moving equipment and personnel down the trail, as the lead mushers push pace at over a 100 miles a day.

On the other, the front pack is a great place to understand the incredible physiological capacity of the Alaskan Husky.   Calorie intake of dogs to the front has been documented at over 10,000kcal per day, an incredible intake.  Watching the lead mushers, one can see the art and science in providing the rations necessary to fuel the teams.   Generally, feeding every two hours is standard practice.

Ahead, we are likely to see a duel with the top five or six teams on the Yukon.  For the moment, Dallas Seavey, and Mitch Seavey, are on a nice roll, but historical memories temper any convictions.  What I look for is an even consistency, and a little luck.

Galena, on the north side of the Yukon is about 50 miles distance.  A few mushers may stop here for a rest, but schedule wise,  the best strategy is a stop at an old fishing camp at Bishop Rock at about mile 70 on the Yukon.   This fits better with race strategy.