By GB Jones
The 2007 Iditarod had the makings of being my best Iditarod adventure ever! I had trained harder for this race than any previous race. I also had a stronger and faster dog team that was comprised of younger canine athletics born here at the kennel. In addition, I was outfitted with the best cold weather gear available! (New Cabela's extreme cold weather boots, Cabela's extreme cold weather suit, etc.) I was very confident that this would be my fastest trip to Nome via dog team!
Before the race, and at the musher's banquet in Anchorage, I selected bib number 82 (the same number as to the number of mushers competing in the Iditarod 2007 race). At the time I selected this number, I felt that my team was slower than most. I felt that the trip to Nome would simplybe better for all if I let the faster teams get ahead of me, and then I could focus on passing teams that were slower than mine. At the ceremonial start in Anchorage we left the starting chute with twelve dogs in harness, with Duke and Waldo leading the way. Riding in the basket of my "Freedom Sled" was Sarah Phillips-Benbury from Florida. (Sarah carried with her a net to help catch the muffins and hotdogs thrown our way during the race!)
Pam Barr of Texas drove the tag sled. Pam did a great job in maneuvering the tag sled through the streets and trails of Anchorage. At one point we took a sharp turn that whipped Pam's sled into a tree and busted her brush bow! (Later my friend Weylin reminded me that it was probably my fault that the tag sled fishtailed into that obnoxious tree, as I had told Pam not to ride the drag too much!)
The following day at the re-start in Willow, things were a little less light-hearted for me, and the moment of truth was fast approaching. I was eager to get out on the trail with the sixteen dogs - and just go for it!While at the re-start, people began to sign their names on the yellow sled bag, wishing me and the team well, on our long journey to Nome. I had several helpers at the re-start to assist me in the harnessing of the dogs and placing protective booties on their feet.
I elected to run the team without any dog coats - except for one dog only - Aafes. This dog is our smallest dog and she has short hair, so I decided to have her run with her coat on. I glanced over at Aafes and saw one of my helpers (Manny Wrase) place the blue neoprene dog coat on her, as well as the purple harness that only a small dog like Aafes could fit into.
It is relevant that I tell you how Aafes received her name, as many have asked! When Aafes was a little puppy four years ago she was named by a contract service employee at Elmendorf Air Force Base who worked for the Army and Air Force Exchange Service (AAFES). The employee named Aafes in honor of the organization she worked for.
Aafes was still wearing the special bandana from the ceremonial start the day before, and none of us removed it. The bandana had an imprint of the American flag on it.
At long last, team number 82 was at the starting chute. Inasmuch as Waldo and Duke did such a great job the day before, I elected to retain them as the leaders of the pack. As we left Willow we almost immediately began to pass a couple of teams, and we were on our way to Yentna. I was very proud of the team, and at long last I was out on the trails again - just me and the team.
A few miles outside of Willow I was given a boost of energy when we were buzzed by an aircraft being piloted by Allen Winkelman, who dipped his wings in a show of support for us!
Upon arrival at the Yentna Roadhouse, we stopped just a few minutes to take a very brief break and say hello to a couple of volunteers there, and then proceeded up the frozen river to Skwentna.
We arrived at the Skwentna checkpoint with all sixteen dogs and musher doing great! "It was a great day to be alive." Dan Studybaker (from California) met me at the checkpoint and we visited briefly. After the dogs were provided a hot meal and fresh straw to bed down
on, I too went into a deep sleep. Early Monday morning and the day after the Willow re-start, I left Skwentna and we traveled to Finger Lake. Upon arrival at Finger Lake, the dogs were given another warm meal, and given a few hours rest. We left Finger Lake just as it was getting dark. We didn't stay too long at Finger Lake, as I was anxious to negotiate the trail from Finger Lake to the Rainy Pass checkpoint in as much daylight as possible. I also did not want the team to be too rested up while going to Rainy Pass, as this portion of the trail has not been very kind to me in previous years.
We arrived at the Rainy Pass checkpoint and parked our team on Puntilla Lake. Art Church had met us at the checkpoint and commented that my face was frost bitten. Going into this checkpoint the winds had picked up and it became a little menacing to traverse through.
While at Puntilla Lake, I sheltered the dogs as much as I could from the wind. After I fed Pearl and Aafes, I placed both of these smaller dogs into my sled bag that contained a bed of straw and zipped up the bag to protect them from the wind.
The following morning the winds were just as prevalent as the night before. As I prepared to depart the checkpoint and make my way across the range and into Rohn, Perry Solmonson walked over to me and recommended that I wait out the storm. Hearing reports that the winds were expected to subside that morning, I decided to press on.
A few miles outside of the Rainy Pass checkpoint, the winds dramatically increased and rendered us no mercy whatsoever. As we went into those headwinds, we passed another team going back to the Rainy Pass checkpoint. As both of the sleds were passing, I yelled to the other musher if he was okay. I never heard a response from that musher, and the winds were very fierce.
Movement was very slow going over the pass, and we saw several more teams scattered about the mountain - and all were headed back to the checkpoint!
The winds continued to pound on us, oh those damnable, menacing r elentless winds. We were constantly looking for the trail and there was not a single trail marker. At long last we stopped and all of us put her backs to the wind and hunkered down to wait out the storm.
After about three or four hours, the winds let up a little, and we proceeded to head towards the steep decline into the Dalzell Gorge. Visibility was poor and the winds once again picked up as we snailed our way into the headwinds.
We missed a critical right turn and went down the wrong trail of Ptarmigan Pass. After an hour or two I realized that I had by-passed the gorge and was going down the wrong trail. The trail I was on was the one used by the Iron dog snow machine race. I knew that the trail used by the Iron dog race also led into Rohn, so rather than backtrack to the top of the pass, we continued on.
There were lots of sled tracks at the beginning of ptarmigan pass. Previous teams that also had made the wrong turn made these tracks - and as I would learn later - all these other teams had turned back and went down the Iditarod Trail through the gorge.
Darkness came upon us and the winds continued to harass us in an unforgiving manner. The Iron dog trail was difficult to follow, and the lead dogs were doing their best to follow the trail, but winds and river overflow made it increasingly difficult to follow. I finally parked the team near some willows and melted snow and gave the team a feeding and covered all the dogs in blankets and retired for the night - extremely disappointed about how such a great and promising Iditarod start was now starting to fade away.
Besides losing a lot of precious time and energy by going down the wrong trail, I began to feel the intense pain of the frostbite on my feet. Tonight I did not place Pearl and Aafes in the sled bag, but covered them in blankets and I tried to sleep in the sled bag, but sleep did not readily come.
As I lay there in my sled bag I began to think of how just a couple of days ago there were hundreds of people all around me - cheering us on, everyone - dogs and all - excited about the adventures that wait ahead. And now it was so very quiet - hauntingly quiet. No other people had been seen since I left the top of the mountain.
I love being out in the wilderness all alone with my team, but not tonight. It was so lonely and disappointing, and I very much regretted that I had taken the team all the way down Ptarmigan Pass and to be confronted with all this overflow muck. Over and over again I kept thinking "why?"
The following morning I departed the campsite with all sixteen dogs. Waldo and Tina were now the leaders and we searched for and found the trail and proceeded to the Rohn checkpoint.
The overflow worsened considerably and there was also open water, which we stayed clear of. At one point the trail veered off the river's ice into a small wooded area and then went back onto the
river. To get back on the river's trail we had to go across a steep ice ledge that angled into deep open water. Chunks of ice were observed going down stream and being sucked under the river's ice. We very carefully crossed over the ice ledge and continued on.
I frequently had to lead the team over the thin ice to keep us on the trail - and just as frequently, the ice would collapse and we would fall into river overflow that would come to above my knees. The winds were not near as bad as from the day before, but they were still annoying.
This would be the worst overflow I have ever experienced in my life and the agony of falling into the overflow continued on and on and on. The team wanted nothing to do with all this mess - and neither did I.
Frequently I led the team, moving very slowly to the Rohn checkpoint, and just as frequent was the necessity of untangling lines, best done by unhooking snaps, re-aligning the team and hooking back up. Under windy and overflow conditions - and moving on ice, it is both difficult and challenging to prevent the team from "balling up" and moving as one big fur ball!
It was becoming more and more challenging to walk, and without examining, knew that I had frostbite in both feet!
At long last I arrived at Rohn - coming into the checkpoint from a trail that no previous team had arrived on. As I arrived, the team was somewhat clustered up and I was asked how many dogs I was arriving with. "Sixteen" came my response, and sixteen dogs in for musher number 82 was recorded at the Rohn checkpoint for the official Iditarod record.
I was surprised to learn that even though I had arrived long past due at the Rohn checkpoint, I was still ahead of several teams. I was also surprised to learn that my ordeal had taken me an additional 22 miles and untold wasted hours.
It was so sweet to finally be at Rohn and I knew that I could make up time by keeping my checkpoint time to a minimum, and hustle up the trail.
As I began to line out my team to give them their bed of straw, a very sickening feeling came upon me. Aafes was no longer with us! A search around the checkpoint failed to locate this little black and white female. I immediately informed the Iditarod checker that Aafes was missing.
I remained confident that Aafes most likely became separated from the team just outside the checkpoint, and that she would come in throughout the night. It was not to be.
The following day Aafes was still missing, and my concern was escalating considerably.Not only would I have to scratch from the race, but more importantly little Aafes was "out there" somewhere in the cold, the wind and the overflow.
Aafes was not just another sled dog. Besides being a very fast and impressive sled dog, she was also my pet that lived indoors with me.
The sharp throbbing pain in both my feet was over-showed by the loss of Aafes.
I waited throughout the day for the trail sweeps to come down Ptarmigan Pass to check on the welfare of another musher who had followed me down the wrong trail. It was hoped that the trail sweeps would find Aafes - or perhaps the other musher would find her.
Finally, in the afternoon of the day following my arrival to Rohn, I hooked up six dogs to my empty sled and was getting ready to go back through all that overflow and look for Aafes, as well as the missing musher.
Just moments before I planned to leave Rohn, one of the trail sweeps (Carolyn) came out to where my team was and said that they had just had radio contact with a couple of friends of mine, and that they were about to land on the Rohn airstrip!
Manny and Allen had just arrived and were there to help in my search for Aafes! A second private aircraft also landed and was piloted by Robert Donhauser. He too was here to look for Aafes, along with his nephew who was to be a "spotter" from the aircraft.
The Rohn airstrip can become very tricky to land and takeoff from. The airstrip is hard packed and slippery with cross winds that blow down the canyon, and the airstrip is boxed in with mountains on each end. Only experienced pilots should land here.
Shortly after talking to the pilots, I left the checkpoint with my six-dog team in search for Aafes, and hoping to meet the other musher coming down Ptarmigan Pass. Perhaps this other musher will have Aafes with her.
A few miles outside of Rohn, I spotted the trail sweeps returning on their snow machines and trailing them was a slow moving dog team. Nobody had seen Aafes.
I turned my dog team around and helped this other musher get back to Rohn.
When I got back to Rohn I helped take care of the other musher`s team. Then I went into the cabin and once again stood in front of the wood stove and started to hit both of my legs with a hammer, to knock off the thick coating of ice that was caked on to my legs from just above the knees to my boots.
Aafes had now been missing for over 24 hours and I spoke with the race marshal a couple of times from the Rohn cabin via satellite phone. I told him that the race no longer mattered, that I would scratch from the race. On first light of the following day I would go back up Ptarmigan Pass with my remaining fifteen dogs and search for Aafes, then just continue on all the way back to my kennel in Knik, Alaska. The race marshal was not in agreement with my plan, and after some more serious thinking, I realized that such a plan could jeopardize me and the entire team given the bad frostbite in both of my feet.
On the following day my fifteen teammates and me were flown out of Rohn and into McGrath and eventually back to Anchorage.
Manny, Alan and Robert had now flown into the area twice, using two aircraft, and conducted ground and air searches. No Aafes.I was also informed that some of the Iditarod Air Force pilots had flown around the Rohn and Ptarmigan Pass area looking for Aafes, but saw no signs of the little dog.
Upon arrival in Anchorage I immediately began to organize yet another search for Aafes, and was getting very anxious that the ground winds were still extremely bad, and that aircraft could not land in the search area. There was also the extreme cold we had to deal with, making it difficult to start aircraft in such temperatures.
In addition to the perils of the weather, I was keenly aware of the wolves in the same area that Aafes was in. I had received several reports from the Rainy Pass Lodge, McGrath residents and pilots that there was a wolf pack in the Ptarmigan Pass area, as well as sightings of a single lone wolf.
Meanwhile, as soon as the weather lifted, I informed Manny and Allen that I would have them take me up to Rainy Pass, and that I would hike or mountain bike down to the Rohn cabin looking for my lost teammate Allen refused to take me on his aircraft, citing my bad feet as the
factor. It was difficult to admit that he was right on target with his decision.
At long last the winds subsided up on the pass, and Robert, Manny and Allen took two aircraft back up on the mountain. It would be the third trip that each of these men had made in search for Aafes.
After three days of continuous searching, Manny and Allen left the Rohn cabin and walked out to the airstrip to return to Anchorage without Aafes. The aircraft would not fire up; it had been too cold. Manny walked back to the cabin to rig up a makeshift aircraft heater while Allen continued in his attempts to start up the aircraft.
To Allen's surprise, he spotted Aafes on the airstrip and Aafes scampered away! Aafes was alive! Later, the two men began to search for the reclusive dog, and when Aafes spotted Manny, she came up to him! (Manny has mushed my team with Aafes!) Aafes was still wearing her blue coat and purple harness that Manny himself had placed on her at the start of the race almost two weeks ago!
The frozen aircraft and the finding of Aafes delayed the two men from departing Rohn, and on the following day they were successful in airlifting this little dog from harms way.
As they approached Anchorage, Manny telephoned me from the aircraft. My first question to him was if they had found Aafes? Yes came the response! Is she alive? Yes! Words can not express the exhilaration! Within two hours from the telephone call, I was reunited with Aafes - eleven days after she became missing in some of Alaska's most rugged territory.
Aafes was taken to the Bering Sea Animal Hospital and given a health examination by Dr. Karen A. Medkeff. Aafes was a little thin and had a couple of nicks on her feet, but otherwise was in good shape for having roamed the wilds of Alaska all alone for eleven days!
My sincere thanks to Allen and Manny for retrieving Aafes off the mountain. Thanks also to Robert and his "spotter" for their trips to the search area. There were other pilots too, who contributed to the search. People like Allen's dad and some of the Iditarod Air Force pilots had flown over the area searching for Aafes.
On her first night back at the kennel, Aafes once again slept inside the cabin, but this night was a little different. As I observed her sleeping, Aafes began to shake her leg, and I reached down and gently touched her. The shaking stopped. Perhaps Aafes was having a bad dream of being all-alone back out in the wilderness and perhaps evading a hungry wolf.
This little dog has captivated the attention of many good people throughout the world, but she doesn't know it.
As I told you at the beginning - Iditarod 2007 was to have been my best race ever, and it was indeed!