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Iditarod: The Last Great Race

March 18, 2016July 30, 2018
by Ashley Gossens

The relationship between dogs and people in the Arctic spans thousands of years. In winter, the harsh Arctic landscape is covered in snow and ice and a sled was the most practical way to travel for the indigenous people. Dogs have incredible endurance and strength, and their thick coats keep them warm in cold weather. This makes them perfect for pulling sleds and large loads throughout the north.

In the late 1800’s and early 1900’s during the Klondike Gold Rush, people flocked to the Yukon and Alaska. In Alaska, fortune-seekers sailed to Seward and then made their way north overland through the heart of the territory to Nome. They established a route that connected trails originally established by the native people. Dogs were indispensable at this time. They hauled people, cargo, and mail to these places unsuitable for horses and roads. The route became known as the Seward-to-Nome Mail Trail, and later the Iditarod Trail.

In 1925, during an outbreak of diptheria, 20 mushers and 150 sled dogs relayed life-saving serum from Nenana, near Fairbanks, to Nome. The run was completed in five and a half days and saved the town from an epidemic. The race became known as the Great Serum Run and the lead dog on the last leg to Nome was famous thereafter. You can still see the statue of Balto in New York City’s Central Park.

But not long after the Serum Run, the airplane began to take over the duties of the sled dog and the sport soon fell out of favor. Native Alaskans continued to use the dogs as a means of transportation and for hunting until the snowmobile, or “iron dog”, made it’s way to the north in the 1960’s. At the end of the decade, there was an effort to restore and preserve the historic Iditarod trail and to commemorate the trail with a sled dog race.

The first official Iditarod race took place in 1973 with twenty-two finishers. It took twenty days to complete, about twice as long as it takes these days. The race started a resurgence in dog sledding that continues to this day. About 50 or more mushers enter the race every year and many of the mushers and their dogs are local celebrities. The Iditarod starts on the first Monday of March with a ceremonial start in Anchorage. The race’s official start is the following day in the smaller town of Willow.

When our friends asked my husband and I to join them in Anchorage for the Iditarod start, we jumped at the chance. People from all over the world travel to Anchorage for the event and the town is full of energy and excitement. Early on Saturday morning we made our way downtown to check out the dogs. The main street was closed off and they hauled in snow to cover the road. It snowed a few inches the day before, but it was the first snow in a while and certainly not enough to cover the route.

The main street was lined with trucks with dogs chained up around them. Most of them were snoozing away in the snow or in their quarters and others expressed their joy with excited yips. Surely they were aware that their journey would start soon. We read off all the dog names and chatted with some of the mushers, wishing them luck. We even got a special souvenir, a real homemade stinky used dog booty! Honestly, we were totally thrilled.

Finally we heard the announcement for the first musher and caught a glimpse of them through the crowds. We walked further down the street to find a less crowded spot and get a better view of the dogs as they charged by us. We felt the excitement of each team as they sped by and we gave them a hardy cheer and wished them godspeed.

Later, after all the mushers had completed their ceremonial run, we lined ourselves up on the snowy street to run with the reindeer. Yep, reindeer. Male ones with huge antlers. We weren’t alone, though. Thousands of people flee from the reindeer down a few blocks of the main street. A thrilling end to a exciting day in Alaska.

Fast into the Night by Debbie Clarke Moderow

Debbie fell in love with mushing after a friend gave her an old sled dog, Salt, for a pet during a hard time in her life. She was in her forties and a mother of two when she finally decided to run the Iditarod. She had experience running other races and had the full support of her family, all mushers in their own right, but unfortunately had to scratch on her first try. Two years later, Debbie was back on the trail with her memorable dogs Kanga, Juliet, Lil’ Su, Piney, Creek, Zeppy, Nacho and Taiga. This time, her tenacity and resilience got her to the finish line on Nome. This is a beautiful story of love and dedication between a family and their dogs.

Trailblazers

Barbara Washburn

June 30, 2015August 7, 2018
by Ashley Gossens

Shortly after Barbara Polk married Bradford Washburn she found herself at the summit of Mt Bertha in southeast Alaska. She knew that Bradford was an mountaineer but she did not realize that she would soon be joining in the adventures and making several first ascents in Alaska. It was the 1940’s and men did not often take their wives on such adventures, but this couple did everything together. In her memoir, Barbara calls herself an “accidental adventurer” because she says she simply followed her husband on his journeys. But she was much more than just a follower.

The first journey from their home in Massachusetts to Alaska involved trains, planes and dog sleds. Barbara had to learn how to mush on the glaciers of Juneau to reach her first summit, Mt Bertha. She learned how to mush and how to climb, joining a group of men on the first ascent of that peak. She kept up and carried her weight only feeling a little sick at the end of the climb. Back in Juneau she found out she was pregnant.

Her second climb in Alaska was also a first ascent. This time she left her baby at home in Boston to travel with Bradford to Fairbanks to climb Mt Hayes. She led the team up the last 1000 feet along a narrow exposed ledge because she was the lightest and the team wanted her to test the cornices. She trained for her next ambitious climb pushing a baby carriage. On June 6, 1947 after spending nine days in camp riding out a blizzard, she became the first woman to climb Mt McKinley. The following day was Bradford’s birthday and instead of resting they spent the day climbing the North Peak of Mt McKinley.

My children sometimes tell me that I led “Dad’s life.” That is true- but what a fool I would have been to go my own way and miss all of those adventures. I was very lucky to have a husband who wanted me to share his life and who constantly gave me credit for what I did. He opened up a whole new life for me.

Barbara and Bradford continued their adventures after the Mt McKinley climb. When Barbara wasn’t teaching children with special needs, she was traveling with her family around the US and helping Bradford with his mapping jobs. They spent years in the Grand Canyon flying in helicopters and hiking the trails to create maps. They also traveled to Mt Everest in an effort to map the mountain from a plane to determine it’s official height. They didn’t get to complete the mapping on that trip, but colleagues later completed it using their plan.

Barbara may have become an adventurer because of her husband, but she became a trailblazer on her own. She proved herself to be an accomplished climber and adventurer at a time when few women were climbing mountains. She could have easily stayed home to raise the children but instead she followed her adventurous spirit and led a wonderful and full life. She died in September 2014 just a few weeks short of her 100th birthday.

More info about Barbara Washburn:

National Geographic Bio of Barbara and Bradford

Bio on Adventure Journal

Obituary in the Boston Globe

The Accidental Adventurer by Barbara Washburn

Barbara humbly recounts her climbs and life with her husband Bradford in this memoir from her college life in Massachusetts to how she met Bradford and her later years.

Outdoor Life

Juneau

June 20, 2015August 7, 2018
by Ashley Gossens

If you haven’t noticed by now, I kind of have a thing for Alaska. A few weeks ago Passage to Juneau watched me from the seatback pocket as I was once again giddy with joy on an airplane headed north. I had every intention of reading a good chunk of the book during the flight but I couldn’t tear my darn forehead from the window. I know. I should have been contemplating the epic journeys of Captain Vancouver and Jonathon Raban via sailboat from my hometown of Seattle along the inside passage to Juneau as that same brilliant blue water snaked along below me. After all, I was watching their entire route condensed in a few hour flight. But I wasn’t thinking of them.

I was thinking of my husband. He’s flown this exact route countless times and has never taken a single photo! He never calls me upon landing and exclaims the joys of the great fjords and glaciers he just witnessed! This I will never understand. But it didn’t really matter much, I was coming to see him. His work shift was ending and I had quit my job three weeks earlier. My quick trip to Juneau was my last hoorah before starting a new job. And the forecast was all sun and 75 degrees.

There were really only two things on my list to do in Juneau: visit the Mendenhall glacier and climb Mt Juneau. I left the rest up to my husband. We set up camp at Mendenhall Lake Campground (which is amazing) and headed out for an afternoon hike to Spaulding Meadow. The trail starts out on an old courderoy road and then quickly narrows into a muddy mess. But the views from the meadows are lovely, enticing us to explore more.

Later we had a barbeque dinner with friends on the beach. We chatted about life in Juneau and the differences between it and Seattle, and of course, the weather. A fishing boat pulled up on the beach and some more people joined us (sadly empty handed), and we watched the most beautiful sunset that seemed to go on forever.

The next morning we ate breakfast on the lakeshore near our campsite and then headed to the glacier. We were early enough to beat the crowds and enjoyed the short hike to the waterfall with only a few others. We slowly wandered back along the shoreline looking for an iceberg we could catch. We found one just a few feet out and my husband picked it up and raised it like a trophy as I snapped photos.

Later we headed out on the same boat that had visited us the night before. We spent the day chasing whale spouts and flukes and changing bait as we crept around the shoreline looking for the elusive king salmon. Late in the day we finally had a bite. Our captain friend reeled in a monster 35lb king salmon! He said it was the biggest fish he ever caught. On the way back we spotted two whales breaching and splashing about with their tails. They appeared to be playing in the water in front of us. We watched for awhile, mesmerized.

The last morning we headed downtown and up the tiny narrow streets to the Mt Juneau trailhead. The trail starts out on the Perseverance Trail. This trail was originally used by the native people as a hunting and berry picking route and later became the first road ever built in Alaska. It was constructed after gold was found in the Silverbow Basin in the 1880’s. As we climbed up to the Mt Juneau trailhead, we passed an abandoned mine shaft and looked down on an old mining building turned into a museum and even spotted some tourists panning for gold in the creek.

From here the trail climbs quite abruptly to the meadows below the summit. The trail then weaves and eases ever so slightly into switchbacks. There were only a few patches of snow along the trail and at the summit, quite unheard of typically in early June. From the top we counted the cruise boats below and spotted the airport. We pondered the abandoned shack and cables that were built in the 1970’s intended for an aerial tramway from town. The tram project was cancelled for some reason (probably because it proved an impossible task) but was revitalized in the 1990’s. This time the tram was built on the adjacent Mt Roberts where it still operates today.

We took off that night for Seattle and climbed through rain clouds. The forecast in Juneau for the foreseeable future was rain and 60 degrees. I thought about how incredible the trip had been. Everything was perfect: the campsite, the glacier, sunsets, playful whales, king salmon catch, weather and, most importantly, the company.

Passage to Juneau by Jonathan Raban

Raban’s journey in the 1990’s was not quite as happy and romantic as mine, but then he did choose to sail from Seattle to Juneau alone on a 35-foot sailboat. His journey was more dark and foggy, riddled with loss and the realities of the hard hit logging and fishing towns of coastal Canada. Raban weaves his own narrative with the stories of Captain Vancouver and the first peoples of this once rich land. It’s long and contemplative and easy to get lost in, just like the inside passage.

See Also: A Wolf Called Romeo by Nick Jans (A plaque about Romeo is on a rock along the short path to Mendenhall Glacier)

More info about Juneau:

Mendenhall Glacier Visitor Center and Trail Maps

Perserverance Trail History

Hikes Featured in this Post:

Spaulding Meadow

Nugget Falls Trail to Mendenhall Glacier overlook

Mt Juneau

Outdoor Life

Backpacking Chugach: Part 2

February 11, 2015August 7, 2018
by Ashley Gossens

When we discovered our food stash had been raided by ground squirrels we panicked a little. But after taking inventory of our remaining stock we found we had enough meals to continue with no extras and little to snack on. We were thankful that we threw in some emergency ramen noodles when we packed. We spent our second night just below Ship Lake Pass relieved that we could continue.

The next day we wanted to climb a couple peaks before continuing on to the next camp. The Ramp and the Wedge rise above either side of Ship Lake Pass. We started with the Ramp, the higher of the two, and then traversed over to the Wedge like traveling from the horn to the cantle of a saddle. Ship Lake glittered below us like an aqua bike seat shaped jewel. Clouds clung to the tops of the high peaks around us saturating the vibrant green of the valley below.

Our destination for the day was Deep Lake in the next valley parallel to us. We could follow the trail back down the way we came and then climb up to a pass and up the Ball Park to Deep Lake or we could stay up high and traverse the scree around O’Malley Peak to meet up with the trail at the pass. We were hesitant to walk back down and then up another steep climb so we decided to off-road it in the alpine for a shortcut. Anyway, it didn’t look far to the pass.

Looks can be deceiving in Alaska. Things that look close are actually quite far, slopes that look gentle end up steep, rock that looks solid from afar can end up being unstable. I was cursing this land as I took two steps in the scree only to slide down three. Meanwhile the bottoms of my feet felt like they were being sheared off and my ankles ached from traveling perpendicular to a steeply sloped mountain for hours. We gingerly circumnavigated massive boulders in the scree. It was slow going to say the least. We didn’t get to the pass until early evening. I praised the joys of a level trail on my aching feet as we climbed the gradual trail through the Ball Park to Deep Lake. That night we longed for that extra food we lost to the squirrels. We made a list of all the food we could eat: pizza, burgers, snickers and faded to sleep.

On the fourth day we left our base camp at Deep Lake and took a day hike to the Walliwaw Lakes. We made our way to another pass and descended to Black Lake, a good description for this dark water lake. As we were walking down from the pass we saw some black dots moving above us. We took out the binoculars and watched two wolverines chasing each other in the snow.

Then we explored the Williwaw Lakes. The chain of picturesque lakes is nestled at the feet of colorful mountains. The lakes had a top layer of crystal clear water and below they were a pure blue. It was as if glacial silt had settled to the bottom of the lake and stayed undisturbed for millennia.

We returned for another night at Deep Lake (which should really be called lake in a deep, steep hole) and the next day returned to the busy trailhead. As we arrived some clean tourists were looking at something excitedly through the binoculars. A bear! they exclaimed. We laughed and exchanged knowing glances. We knew that the real threat out there was those darn ground squirrels. We got a ride back to town from a nice man and his young son and finally got the pizza we were craving at Moose’s Tooth.

It was quite an adventure for our first backpacking trip. We prepared the best we could- we studied the map, brought bear spray and extra food, but still there were issues unexpected. I don’t regret anything we did on this trip but rather remember it as creating an important foundation for life in the outdoors. I know I must take risks, make mistakes and learn in order to make myself a better person, both in outdoor endeavors and in life.

chugach_route — Our route in yellow (the dashed line is our approximate off-trail route), map from http://dnr.alaska.gov.

Chugach State Park: Alaska’s Backyard Wilderness by Bill Sherwonit with photos by Carl Battreall

If you have ever flown into the Anchorage International Airport then you’ve probably flown over Chugach State Park. Although these mountains dominate the skyline of the most populated city in Alaska, they are often overlooked by tourists. They are predominately visited by locals and few have witnessed the most remote parts of the park. This book shows off the beauties of this area over all four seasons, highlighting just some of the stunning scenery, plants, and wildlife in the park. I picked up this book in a tiny bookstore in Anchorage just after our backpack trip, it is now a treasured part of my book collection. Click on the title link above to see a slideshow of some of the photos in the book. You can also purchase a signed hardback version of the book on the website.

The great Alaskan photographer Carl Battreall is currently working on an ambitious project to document the entire Alaska Range for a large format photo book which has never been done before. You can see his photos and follow his story on his blog, The Alaska Range Project.

Hikes Featured in this Post:

Chugach State Park, AK

Outdoor Life

Backpacking Chugach: Part 1

February 6, 2015August 7, 2018
by Ashley Gossens

As the plane descended over the mountains I wondered what we got ourselves into. My forehead was glued to the window as I gazed out at the smooth emerald green mountains. They were so beautiful, but also rugged and desolate. I got butterflies in my stomach and a huge smile on my face. We were on our way to Anchorage for our first backpacking trip.

We planned for five days in the Chugach State Park just outside of Anchorage. We bought a brand spanking new tent, thankfully free of the suffocating wet dog smell of my husband’s hand me down tent of his youth. I suffered through a few car camps in the thing but I refused to spend a good portion of week in basically a leaky, smelly tarp, not to mention that it weighed approximately ten pounds.

So with our shiny new tent and lightweight gear we headed to REI to pick up fuel, bear spray and some dehydrated meals. We stopped next door at the Middle Way Cafe to get breakfast before hitting the trail. At that nondescript cafe nestled in a strip mall I had the best breakfast in my life: french toast with whipped blueberry butter and fresh blueberry compote. We were ready.

We took a shuttle van to the Glen Alps trailhead with other tourists looking to hike the popular Flattop Mountain. We waded through the people to find the Powerline Trail. We hoisted our packs and started our journey. The trail winds through low vegetation with a few stream crossings, gradually climbing up the valley. Not long into the hike some people told us there was a moose with her calf up ahead and to be careful. About ten minutes later I looked over and saw two brown humps poking out of the bushes. The moose looked up at me nonchalantly chewing leaves. I screamed and ran away, then returned to take a picture. Not exactly what you are supposed to do. Luckily the moose didn’t seem to mind.

We took a side trail to Hidden Lake and set up our first night’s camp. We blew up our sleeping pads for the first time (how luxurious!) and cooked our first dehydrated meals. We explored the rocky arm above the lake and wandered on the lichen rich scrub. We took in the alpine view and waited for a sunset that never came. We finally went to sleep in our cozy new outdoor habitat. It was comforting to know that the wildlife could not approach unseen and there was no darkness to be scared of.

On the second morning we packed up and headed to Ship Lake Pass. We set up camp before heading over the pass and down to Ship Lake so we wouldn’t have to carry our packs back up the pass. We decided not to keep the food in the tent but we were above treeline and there was nothing but rocks in all directions. We decided to bury the food under some rocks so a bear would not get to it and took off for the lake. We crested the top of the pass and were blown away, literally it was quite windy but the lake and the mountains towering behind it were breathtaking.

We wandered in the flowers around the lake for what seemed like hours. There were no trails here, it felt truly wild even though in reality we were not all that far from downtown Anchorage. We climbed back up to the pass and to our campsite. As we approached we saw that our things were disturbed. There was no sign of the much dreaded bear, but rather the tiny chew holes of the ground squirrel.

They chewed through our towel, our large collapsable water jug and chewed tiny holes through my backpack. Luckily the damage was minimal. Then we remembered the food we buried in the rocks nearby. We rushed over to see if they breached our cache and sure enough they did. We were horrified to find the remains of our tastiest meals and our big bag of gorp. We took inventory of what was left. Would there be enough to continue or would we have to turn back, cutting short our first backpack trip ever? Stay tuned for Part 2!

Outdoor Life

A Christmas Adventure in Alaska

December 18, 2014August 7, 2018
by Ashley Gossens

My husband was a bush pilot in Alaska for a few years. He was based in the tiny Inupiat village of Unalakleet (you-na-kleet) on the Norton Sound in northern Alaska. One year he had to work over Christmas so I flew up there to spend the holidays with him. He told me stories about the place and showed me some pictures, but I didn’t really know what to expect.

I flew to Anchorage and then got on a smaller plane to Unalakleet. We flew over jagged desolate mountains that melted into smaller hills and finally flattened into the sea. We landed on a gravel runway that was longer than the town itself. Everything was so white I couldn’t tell the difference between land and sea.

I spent the next few days flying around with my husband in an even smaller plane to even smaller villages with names like Shaktoolik, Koyuk and Kaltag delivering Christmas presents and food for the upcoming celebrations. We followed the mighty Yukon River inland to the Nulato Hills where the thermometer plummeted to 40 below zero. After flying we took a snowmobile up into the hills to soak in the views. One day we bundled up and walked down to the river to watch a dog sled race. The short days were a perpetual sunrise and sunset as the sun rose around 10am, hovered along the horizon, and then set around 4pm. My eyelashes froze together as we strolled the icy seaside watching for aurora in the endless and unobstructed night sky.

During my stay we spent a lot of time with the family that conducts flight operations in Unalakleet. They are some of the most hardworking and kindest people I know. They graciously invited us to a Christmas celebration with their extended family, which was predominately made up of Inupiat people. We had all the usual luxuries of a Christmas dinner in the lower 48 with turkey and mashed potatoes, they even had a lovely little Christmas tree.

We also had some native treats. I tried muktuk, which is a small piece of whale meat and blubber. It was as terrible as it sounds. I chewed it for a bit then gave up and swallowed it whole like a pill with eyes wide, nodding, and smiling, choking out an enthusiastic yum! I also tried akutaq (ah-goo-duk), sometimes called Eskimo ice cream. It’s a blend of white fish, crisco (traditionally moose or caribou fat), vegetable oil (traditionally seal or whale oil), sugar and wild berries sort of whipped up into creamy deliciousness. This was my favorite.

I had a lovely, adventurous and magical Christmas that year in Unalakleet. But I haven’t told you the whole story. The truth is that I feel very conflicted about sharing my story of spending a lovely Christmas with Native Americans, a holiday thrust upon them by white people. I also feel compelled to report that there is so much hardship in these native villages. Climate change is making it harder for the Inupiat people to continue their subsistence harvests and the later forming ice causes erosion that is destroying some coastal towns. Contact with the outside world has brought good things like medicine, education and healthcare, but along with those things come alcohol, drugs, loss of a sense of purpose and sadly, a high suicide rate.

Around this time of year it is easy to keep ourselves in a bubble and forget about the struggles of others while we drink and be merry. This can be either a coping mechanism or ignorance, but neither makes it ok. So let’s remember that there are so many people out there struggling to make ends meet. This Christmas I challenge you, dear reader, to be kind. Give a homeless person a meal, stand up for someone being discriminated against or just say hello to a stranger. Let’s make the world a better place even if it is just for one day of the year.

Ordinary Wolves by Seth Kanter

If you are at all interested in what life in the northern Alaskan tundra is really like then you should read this. The novel tells the story of a white boy known by his Inupiaq name Cutuk whose artist father brings the family to the Alaskan wilderness to live off the land in a sod igloo. Cutuk grows up and learns the ways of the land but never fits in with the Native American culture. He grows up and becomes curious about the outside world and when he travels to Anchorage is bewildered by modern day life. Seth weaves in realities of his own life growing up in northern Alaska with this sometimes harrowing tale of a boy reconciling two very different worlds. I picked up this book at the Anchorage airport on the way to Unalakleet and found it to be a great companion on my trip.