Alaska Dogs and Iditarod Mushers

by Mike Dillingham

  The rear part of the sled basket is the handlebar, which is the driver’s only hold on the sled—and on the team. Some mushers attach themselves to their sleds in case they inadvertently depart for some reason. (Losing a team is a major sin for a musher—and additionally usually makes for a long, cold, embarrassing walk.)

  In the sled bag is an assortment of items. Mandatory gear for the Iditarod (and most other races) includes basic survival gear: snowshoes, an ax, an arctic-quality sleeping bag, at least two pounds of food and two sets of booties for every dog, and an alcohol stove with a three-or-four-gallon pot (for melting snow and making hot water for dog food).

  Mushers will also include warm clothing items (temperatures can range from 40 above to 60 below), food for themselves, spare lines and snaps, and a small tool kit. A Thermos of drinking water is critical: dehydration is a major threat in the cold, dry climate. Most drivers will also include a camera and a Walkman with their favorite cassettes to help fight the interminable hours of boredom on the long, wide-open stretches of the trail.

  Dogs are hooked up in pairs on either side of a central gangline of heavy braided rope with a cable core, which in turn is attached to the sled bridle with carabiners. Gangline is made in two-dog sections with loops on the ends; the loops allow the sections to be linked together to handle as many dogs as are required. A 16-dog team stretches 70 to 80 feet from the leader’s nose to the musher on the back on the sled—as long as a highway 18-wheeler.

  A stout tugline connects the rear of each dog’s harness to the gangline. Each dog also has a neckline hooked to its collar to keep it from straying too far away from the gangline. The thin neckline is designed to break if the dog should get wrapped around a tree or other obstacle which might cause choking.

  On very cold days or on rough trails, the dogs will usually wear booties of tough fabric to protect their feet. Thin-coated dogs may also be fitted with special warming blankets. Sled dogs are never muzzled and are free to jump back and forth across the gangline as the sled cuts across sharp bends.

  Each Iditarod team is limited to 16 dogs, of which at least five must be on the gangline at the finish. This constitutes an incredibly powerful pulling machine, fully capable of dragging a pickup truck with its brakes set on packed snow. The musher’s only real control of this juggernaut is voice commands to the lead dogs (the drag brake on the sled is often only marginally effective). This cleverly takes advantage of the dogs’ wolf heritage: a dog team is basically a pack, and a pack always follows the leader, who in turn follows the commands of the driver.

  Most mushers run a pair of leaders up front (one of which is usually primary), while a few run a solo leader. Iditarod mushers will include as many leaders as possible in their teams, rotating them to take advantage of each dog’s particular strengths as the trail conditions vary. Regardless how many leaders are in the team, the “pack” will always follow the dog(s) in the actual lead position.

  Lead dogs (like all good sled dogs, for that matter) are superbly bred and trained, and tend to be smarter than average. Some dogs will run in lead but don’t know commands very well; they are sometimes called “trail leaders” and can be very important to help set a team’s speed. Other leaders are especially good at following commands under all conditions; they are called “command leaders” and are very valuable in bad weather and on tight or confusing trails.

  Usually a trail leader will be paired with a command leader, although trail leaders can run by themselves quite satisfactorily in many cases. The basic commands for the leaders are “Gee” (turn right), “Haw” (turn left), “On by” (pass or go straight) and “Whoa.” The usual command to start the team is “Hike” or “Okay.” Only Hollywood believes dog drivers shout “Mush!” at their dogs. (“Mush” is from the French “marchon,” which means to move.)

  The dogs just behind the leaders are called the swing dogs; they are often leaders in their own right. Just in front of the sled are the wheel dogs; they are very important to help guide the sled through turns. The other dogs are team dogs, although most of them can handle swing or wheel or even lead when needed. Indeed, most Iditarod mushers try to load their team with as many leaders as they can.

  There is no special type of dog used on the Iditarod. Some mushers run specific AKC-recognized breeds such as Malamutes and Siberians, but most sled dogs are called by the generic term “Alaska husky,” which usually means any critter with four legs and a tail capable of pulling a sled.

  Over the years, mushers have mixed all sorts of breeds trying to find the perfect sled dog; some have been quite successful. When referring to sled dogs, most mushers don’t talk about what breed they are, but from whose kennel and what lineage they descend, such as “That’s a Buser dog,” or “This one’s a Victor grandson.” The average Iditarod sled dog is basically a mutt—albeit a carefully bred and highly prized one.

  The harness is an all-important item of gear. It must fit properly and allow the dog to run comfortably while still pulling smoothly. On most races, including the Iditarod, dogs usually wear their harnesses from start to finish.

  The chief distinguishing characteristics of a good long-distance sled dog are extreme endurance and almost unbelievable aerobic efficiency. Studies have shown the so-called Alaskan husky to be among Nature’s most extraordinary athletes. Long-haul sled dogs can directly metabolize fat and sometimes use 10,000 calories a day on extended races. They are quite literally born and bred for the trail, and can travel for more than 100 miles nonstop at better than 10 miles an hour if conditions are right—and do it again and again as long as they get sufficient rest and food.

  The dogs can easily outlast their human drivers and routinely do so on long races. Fortunately, a good team can run virtually on autopilot once underway, almost always choosing the correct trail. Indeed, the musher’s job on long runs often involves long hours of merely monitoring the team’s progress and making commands only when needed—and perhaps grabbing a short nap here and there on open stretches. Regardless, there is usually plenty of time for the driver to enjoy the scenery and appreciate the smooth workings of the finely tuned living machine that is an Iditarod dog team.

  The Race Behind the Race

  Although the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race is now incorporated, it’s a nonprofit organization (in more ways than one) and still relies on volunteers and donations to make it work. It has only a tiny permanent staff. In an average year, it takes a multi-million-dollar budget and a couple of thousand volunteers to stage the race.

  When considering the scope of the Iditarod and what’s required to put it on, it’s important to remember there are no roads or railroads west of the Anchorage-Fairbanks “railbelt,” and the only way to get to Nome in winter is by airplane or snowmachine—or dog sled. Because of this, the race logistics effort, including grooming the trail and handling the myriad of details in Anchorage and all of the enroute towns and villages, is similar to a major military operation.

  It’s also crucial to keep in mind a central premise of the race: mushers must generally be on their own for the trip to Nome. They must feed and care for their own dogs, and all dogs must be kept and fed in a common area at each checkpoint. They cannot add or replace dogs and must generally rely on what they have carried with them or sent ahead—just as in the old days when they had to rely on whatever was available at the roadhouses and villages. Mushers can help each other, of course, and often do on the trail, but they cannot otherwise receive outside assistance.

  Meals are usually available for the drivers at the checkpoints, including some notably sumptuous spreads provided by certain towns. Mushers are free to visit friends and even grab a beverage or a shower if they can find one and time permits. If necessary, they can even buy supplies in local stores or repair their sleds with locally available materials and tools. The goal is to make the race as much an individual effort as possible—within reason.

  While the enroute towns and villages provide some support, the vast bulk of food a
nd other items used by the teams and the volunteers must be shipped from Anchorage before the race. Every musher must provide a specified amount of food for his or her dogs at 20-odd checkpoints along the route (usually a total of about a ton or so). Each must also carry a required amount of equipment in the sled at all times, much of which is survival gear because the mushers are completely on their own between checkpoints, some of which are more than 90 miles apart.

  Each driver’s food and supplies for the checkpoints are shipped out of Anchorage by the race organization so as to be in place when the teams arrive. This provides the equivalent of an old-time network of roadhouses along the trail. A typical musher’s “food drop” shipment includes several 50-pound sacks for each checkpoint; the color-coded bags contain frozen dog food, “people food,” booties, spare lines and snaps, batteries, and other miscellaneous items necessary for what is, in effect, a major wilderness expedition.

  After climbing the seawall from the beach, teams must thread their way along Nome’s Front Street. Sometimes the snow has melted from the roadway and the dogs must run on the sidewalk.

  Additionally, the race sends several dozen bales of straw to every stop along the route, plus food and equipment for the volunteers ranging from food to tents to fuel. For a field of 75 mushers, 100 or so on-the-trail volunteers, and maybe 1,200 dogs, the total can be more than 200,000 pounds.

  Getting this mountain of goodies out to the checkpoints is a story all by itself. A few of the checkpoints are good-sized towns (good-sized for Alaska, anyway) with major airports; some are Native villages with small airports; a couple are ghost towns; several are conveniently located frozen lakes with a lodge or cabin; and some are just wide stretches of snow-covered river in the middle of nowhere with nobody around for miles. The resulting delivery system is truly Alaskan and definitely unique.

  First, all but about a half-dozen checkpoints have regular mail airfreight service, thanks to the U.S. Postal Service. The race organization ships truckloads of mailable supplies to every checkpoint with a zip code west of the Alaska Range. All told, it’s cheap to use the U.S. Mail to ship goods to the Bush, thanks to the subsidies given to Alaskan air carriers. The system isn’t very cost-effective for the taxpayer, but without it many Alaska Bush communities would have no air service at all.

  The main intake point for this continuous flood of packages is the mammoth Anchorage International Airport Post Office, which is open 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. It’s worth a visit all by itself to watch people carting in things like refrigerators and engine blocks to ship to some remote Bush village. One can only wonder what Carl Ben Eielson and other early airmail pilots have thought if they knew where their pioneering efforts would lead.

  For checkpoints without mail service, a slightly different method is used. Some checkpoints (McGrath, Unalakleet, Nome, and also Galena in even-numbered years) have major airports with regular passenger and air cargo service. The bundles for the boonies are mailed to the nearest of these “hubs” for onward shipment. Also, items which can’t be shipped through the mails (such as big disassembled tents, perishable vet supplies, and 30-odd cases of Heet to every checkpoint for use in mushers’ alcohol cook stoves) are airfreighted to the hubs.

  From these staging points, everything is entrusted to the “Iditarod Air Force” for movement to the outlying checkpoints. The IAF consists of volunteer pilots using their own planes, some on skis, some on wheels, some on both; the race committee pays for (or arranges donations of) gas, oil, and insurance, and provides food and warm places to throw a sleeping bag at night. This is far cheaper than an equivalent amount of charter airlift (estimated at more than a quarter of a million dollars), which the always strained race budget cannot afford.

  Flying for the race can be a lot of fun, but it is even more work—and is sometimes dangerous because of the places and conditions which are an inherent part of the race. In the history of the IAF and its tens of thousands of hours in the air, a few airplanes have been damaged or lost, but no IAF pilots or passengers have ever been seriously injured—which is just short of amazing, considering the abysmal conditions which often prevail. In any case, the informal selection process usually limits the IAF to experienced Alaskan pilots.

  Some of the loads in IAF planes run to the truly eclectic: everything from trail marking stakes to snowmachine fuel to tent stoves and the tents they go in. Sometimes this even includes the proverbial kitchen sink (in the form of portable camp kitchens). Packs and sleeping bags stuffed to the ceiling and dogs on passengers’ laps aren’t uncommon (and these aren’t even the really challenging loads!).

  Canines make particularly interesting passengers. A Cessna 185 or 206 with the seats removed can hold 18 or even 20 dogs, and race pilots have developed unique tricks and techniques to ensure harmony during flights which could otherwise be, well, eventful.

  An army of airline kennels holds dropped dogs waiting at Galena for an airplane ride back to Anchorage. Dogs with serious problems are given special flights directly to veterinary hospitals in Anchorage as quickly as possible.

  One ubiquitous commodity in IAF planes is dog food. The dogs dine like kings on the race, wolfing down 5,000 to 10,000 calories each day. Their food includes lots of protein, fat, and other high-energy stuff. Some mushers make their own concoctions from ingredients like fish, moose, caribou, and seal meat. (One musher from the Bering Sea coast likes to stuff seal carcasses in his bags—skin, hair, flippers, and all—because that’s what his dogs normally eat.)

  Fortunately, the “dog food” is stored outside and is normally frozen solid. Now and again, however, a harried IAF pilot forgets what he’s hauling and turns up the cabin heat, resulting in a near in-flight emergency as acrid, eye-watering fumes from fish or seal oil waft forward from the thawing bags. (Yes, you can fly with your window open at 20 below zero if you have to.)

  At each checkpoint along the trail, there are numerous race personnel with specific functions. The first person the musher sees on pulling into a checkpoint will usually be the checker, often a local resident who is a musher himself. The checker will record the official times and count the dogs, and may formally inventory the sled for the required gear. The checker often has one or more assistants who help him keep track of the official arrival and departure times for each team, and make sure each musher’s pre-positioned food and supplies are readily available.

  A musher is automatically disqualified if he or she does not physically have every dog that left the previous checkpoint. If a dog becomes tired, sick, injured, or worse, it must be still be carried to the next checkpoint, which will usually be manned by at least three veterinarians (also volunteers, from the International Sled Dog Veterinary Medicine Association). Every dog on every team is given a quick exam at every checkpoint.

  The first concern is for the dogs. If a vet believes a dog is not fit to go on, or if the musher does not want to continue with a dog, it is dropped. The vet can also treat a dog on the spot and let it continue the race, if appropriate. Dogs dropped at outlying checkpoints are cared for by the vets until they can be flown by the IAF back to a hub, from which they are returned to Anchorage on donated air cargo runs.

  “Communicators” (amateur radio operators) are at the checkpoints; they run the race communications net using radios, telephones, or even fax machines. Operating at some locations in tents with generators and batteries, the hams pass arrival and departure times, relay logistics information along the trail, and handle personal messages. The communicators have saved lives on the trail by calling in emergency airlift to mushers—and dogs—who have had serious accidents or medical problems.

  Logistics staffs are located at the major hubs (Anchorage, McGrath, Unalakleet, Galena, and Nome). These can include half a dozen people, ranging from a logistics coordinator to dog handlers. The race pilots also base out of these hubs, which provide fuel, communications, and a safe place to tie down airplanes in the face of rapidly changing weather.

  A staff of
race judges, headed by the race marshal, works the entire trail. These are selected mushers who have previously run the Iditarod. They decide questions of race rules and conduct and can impose a broad range of penalties, including disqualification if necessary.

  There is also an overall race manager, who is the single person most responsible for the staging of the race; he is selected a year ahead of time and becomes one of the tiny cadre of full-time race employees. During the race, he and the race marshal usually have dedicated IAF airplanes to move them wherever they need to go along the trail.

  A highly select team of several volunteer trailbreakers gets one of the more enviable jobs of the entire race: riding high powered snowmachines from Anchorage to Nome at race expense. While some parts of the trail are routinely used for village-to-village snowmachine traffic during winter, many other segments must be groomed for the race or even built from scratch. Mushers could break the trail if required (and must sometimes do so in any case), but the lead mushers would be penalized for it by wearing out their teams. To keep it all fair, and to add to the safety margin, the race organization breaks and marks the trail.

  A dropped dog waits for a plane ride home. Tired, sick, injured, or unneeded dogs can be dropped at Iditarod checkpoints. They will be cared for by race vets and handlers until they return to Anchorage.

  The trailbreakers use special long-track snowmachines towing big freight sleds to pack the trail and to carry trail-marking supplies (usually four-foot wooden stakes with reflective tape which the mushers can see at night with their headlamps). On occasion, they also must build temporary bridges over open streams and clear brush and trees.

  They try to stay no more than six hours or so ahead of the lead teams; any farther ahead and the wind could drift the trail shut behind them. On the other hand, they can’t drop so far back they hinder the mushers, although weather sometimes gets so bad trailbreakers and mushers alike must hole up and wait it out. A team of trail sweeps brings up the rear of the race, picking up trash and dropped equipment and often shepherding the “red lantern” (last-place) musher along the trail.