Chasing the Iditarod

The Iditarod Sled Dog Race is known as the Last Great Race on Earth and covers a distance of over 1,000 miles from Willow to Nome, Alaska. This incredible 9+ day event takes you through remote villages and across the vast and diverse landscape of Alaska. Each year we fly the race with spectators, fans and media who want an up close look at all the behind-the-scenes action.  This year Paul and Jay flew a photographer from Japan and a radio reporter from Nome. Our friend Sohrab Gollogly tagged along in another super cub to experience this incredible event and one of a kind trip across Alaska. Here’s an account of his adventure.

Read more about following the Iditarod with us.

Iditarod Journal......


The 2013 and 41st consecutive iditarod dog sled race went down during
the first two weeks of March as part on an annual waking up from a
long winter's hibernation ritual in alaska.  This race was widely
viewed as one of the more exciting, competitive, and dramatic contests
in recent years.  Martin Buser, a former Swiss national, with solid
local credibility after 40+ years of Alaskan mushing experience and
four prior iditarod wins, opened the race with an unusual 180 mile
gambit that took him as far as Rohn within the first two days.  The
trailing pack of perplexed contenders were left wondering whether or
not they were going to burn their dogs out as they raced to catch up
with him, and whether or not they would have enough gas left in the
tank to fend off other rivals once they passed him.  

This year's weather was also notable for its unpredictability.  A low pressure
system with a spring like warm front worked its way along the coast of
the Bering Sea during the first couple of days of the race, bringing
temperatures in the 40's and 50's to the Alaska Range and turning the
normally frozen and windswept sections of the trail into a sticky and
sweaty slog for the huskies.  Overcast skies, low visibility, and
occasional snow flurries contributed to the carnival atmosphere
surrounding the wine tasting and snow machine racing set of spectators
who arrived at Rainy Pass Lodge and Puntilla lake in turbine
helicopters, single engine otters, and a fleet of 185's.  On the other
side of Rainy Pass, the accompanying airplanes and pilots whittled
themselves down to the stalwarts of the Iditarod Air Force, the Ultima
Thule squadron, and a few more sled dog fanatics who all seem to know
each other by name and have a long association with the race.

48 hours of low IFR conditions kept us on the ground in Takotna as we
enjoyed that village's legendary hospitality.   The racers, undeterred
by the weather, continued to leap frog back and forth through the
ghost towns of Iditarod and Ophir and push towards the first Yukon
checkpoint in the town of Anvik.  Fifteen air miles from the
checkpoint in Iditarod, Jay Claus spotted a section of overflow in the
creek just below the Moose Valley safety cabin and Hideo Satoh hiked
down to the trail to capture some of the more memorable photos from
the race as the teams were forced to navigate through three feet of
slush and freezing cold water.   Martin beat the rest of the pack into
Anvik and enjoyed a ceremonial meal of steak and crab legs specially
prepared by the executive chef from the Millennium Hotel in Anchorage
at two o'clock in the morning, collected his three thousand dollar
bonus, and departed after a brief rest. By the time Martin arrived at
the Kaltag checkpoint, it became apparent that his opening sprint was
not going to last and he walked into the community hall with a broad
smile on his windburnt face announcing, "Well, guys, it looks like I
lost the race on that section."  He promptly fell asleep on a wooden
bench with a half eaten handful of french fries in his outstretched
arm while the rest of the field starting sizing each other up with
renewed interest.

As the race turned towards the coast a high pressure system
established cold temperatures, clear skies, and improved visibility,
and the perennial contenders -- Mitch and Dallas Seavey, Ally Zirkel,
Jeff King, Aaron Burmeister, Dee Dee Jonroe, among others -- set out
across the sea ice for Nome in a war of attrition over the last 200
miles of the race.  By the time the racers arrived in White Mountain,
only 13 minutes separated the 1st and 2nd place teams of Mitch Seavey
and Ally Zirkel.  The expectant crowd in Nome, warming themselves up
with pre-finish festivities that included an all male "wet buns"
contest at the Polaris hotel, was hoping for a sprint photo finish
down Front Street but ultimately Mitch Seavey collected his fifty
thousand dollar winner's prize and the keys to a fire engine red Dodge
truck 40 minutes ahead of Ally Zirkel.

There is a surplus of extreme sporting competitions around the world
these days, and hardly a week goes by without some new, previously
unthinkable, Red Bull fueled daredevil eye candy.  What makes the
Iditarod race unique is its connection to a form of transportation
that was once commonplace and is now largely ceremonial.  It's an odd
breed that is motivated in the 21st century to keep a kennel of hungry
and howling sled dogs while the rest of the population tunes and
tinkers with their snow machines, but if you're looking for a reason
to take a trip to Alaska, come see the Iditarod.  The experience of
flying the trail of the Iditarod during the race is really about the
people you meet along the way.  There is no shortage of oversized
Alaskan personalities along the route.  Waking up from various forms
of a winter's slumber, they are invigorated by the arrival of the race
that marks the biggest day of the year in almost all of the villages
that serve as checkpoints along the route of the race.  Dick Newton,
the patriarch of the village of Takotna, whose recently deceased wife
Jan was this year's honorary musher, rode more than six hundred miles
on a snow machine in the company of his grandson just to watch the
finish of the race in Nome.  When was the last time that you met
someone's grandparents who were up for that sort of an adventure?

Flying the Iditarod trail is also the opportunity to witness first
hand the compressed and accelerated evolution of the Yupik,
Athabaskan, and Inupiat villages along the route as they contend with
the changes wrought by the replacement of sled dogs with two and four
stroke engines, chanting and ceremonial dance with the internet, and
annual marine mammal hunts with packaged convenience foods.  For a
pilot, its the adventure of a lifetime.  The sweep and scale of
alaskan geography and its proximity to the weather producing crucible
of the polar regions makes for some challenging flying that is best
done by someone who's been down the trail more than once.  With the
Claus family's 28+ years of experience with the Iditarod, there
probably isn't a better outfitter to get you to Nome and back safely.
Finally, it's fun.  It's an awesome adventure to follow 62 mushers and
nearly a thousand huskies across 1,049 miles of winter with all of the
freedom and visibility that ski equipped Super Cubs and a 185 offer.