Esther Kimoktoak has the perfect name for an Iditarod sled dog race fan. "My name means 'pulling,'" said the 84-year-old proudly as she waited for the race leader in Koyuk on Monday morning. She was taking a break from the single-digit temperatures outside by savoring a cup of coffee inside the City Building that had been transformed into a race checkpoint.
Kimoktoak is Koyuk's oldest resident. She was born in the beautifully wooded, coastal Norton Bay community, and her love of mushing goes way back. Her husband Albert was the last person in the village to operate a dog team, and she doesn't have a favorite racer. "I try to love them all," she says.
Kimoktoak never misses the first musher arriving in Koyuk, the fourth to last checkpoint in the 1000-mile, Anchorage-to-Nome competition. This year she almost watched Aaron Burmeister enter her community as the leader, but the Nenana-based musher, who was born and raised in Nome, was passed by Dallas Seavey of Willow on the sea ice just a half-mile outside of town.
The leaders arrive.
Blaze orange-tipped stakes lined the Iditarod trail like matchsticks. They stood in stark contrast to overcast skies. At 12:34 p.m., these markers led Seavey - and Burmeister three minutes afterward - up off the ice and past the checkpoint building to the closest level patch of road where their dogs would rest.
Darin Douglas has been the head checker in his hometown since taking over the job from his father, Raymond, in 2006. He and his crew of 15 fellow volunteers swiftly delivered bales of straw along with "drop bags" full of food and resupplies the mushers had prepared and sent out to each checkpoint weeks in advance.
The lead duo, their dogs, and their equipment produced mirror images on opposite sides of the narrow pathway. Although only a few feet apart, the competitors were unable to see each other because a swarm of heavily clad mushing supporters, media personnel, sightseers, and plenty of Koyuk's school-aged children on spring break, created a human partition down the center of the road.
As the party of three volunteer Iditarod veterinarians examined each of the team's 12 dogs, the mushers performed their ritual checkpoint dog-care duties and entertained questions from the press.
Burmeister told reporters that he left the last checkpoint an hour and 20 minutes before Seavey and thought he was making his "big move" when leaving Shaktoolik. Everything had gone right during his race until this last run. "I was expecting high winds, but I wasn't expecting a snow squall to dump six inches of fresh snow on us too."
"It started about three miles after we left Shaktoolik, and it continued 'til about six this morning," Burmeister proceeded to say as his dogs gobbled up their food. "It was coming down so hard with a headwind in your face that you couldn't see the leaders most of the time."
"There was no trail," Burmeister said, reflecting on the Norton Bay snow conditions that were at times belly-deep on his team. "We made the trail. There was the trail we made with the dog team, and everyone just followed me. It's time to give these guys a break, and let somebody else wear their dog team out."
With Burmeister, weary from a nearly 15-hour run from Unalakleet to Koyuk, reluctantly relinquishing the lead, Seavey, the two-time, and defending Iditarod champion, said he was would inevitably lead out of the Koyuk checkpoint.
While feeding his dogs, Seavey spoke confidently of his chances, but he was not willing to stake claim to his third title just yet. "If anyone should have learned their lesson about the race not being over until it's over, it should be me from last year. That's still too fresh in my mind to say, 'oh, this is ours,' " he said, referring to his come-from-behind victory on the homestretch in 2014.
As Seavey's crew bedded down in their trademark black coats for a post-meal snooze, he said his team of young dogs had worked hard to be in this position. He noted that if he keeps himself from falling further back than fifth, he would be the first musher since 1990 to have a top-5 finish five years in a row.
Seavey mentioned that his 2015 Iditarod had not gone without difficulties. The most exciting and challenging time came in the stretch between Kaltag and Unalakleet. "The hills were backward," he said, explaining that a tailwind was scouring the windward sides, forcing him to use his brake up the hills. Furthermore, the thick snow deposited on the backsides forced him to "pedal" on the runners, and push his sled on the way down.
The second wave.
Soon the crowd dispersed, and the front-running pair headed indoors to dry out gear, grab a meal, and take a nap. As the leaders rested, Aliy Zirkle of Two Rivers and Jessie Royer of Darby, Montana, were busy making their way across Norton Bay. Seavey's father, Mitch, himself a two-time Iditarod champion, was not far behind.
Zirkle pulled into Koyuk two-hours, 41-minutes after the younger Seavey, and 42 minutes ahead of Royer. "I was trying to hit the ball out of the park on the way out of Shaktoolik. I tried to catch Dallas, but we crawled here," she stated dejectedly. "Dallas is no longer in our ballpark."
An unusually placed trail stake caused Zirkle to lose her way during the blizzard near the Ungalik River. In the whiteout, she came across the elder Seavey. The conditions were so debilitating that the competitors turned into collaborators, and spent a half-hour relocating the trail. "We took turns," said Zirkle. "One of us would stay with the parked teams, while the other searched for the trail."
The top four were only in Koyuk together for a short time. After dropping a dog, Dallas Seavey pulled his team out of the staging area at 4:48 p.m. and headed back to the ice. The front runner was leaving Koyuk after a four-hour, 14-minute rest. At the same moment, Mitch Seavey pulled into the narrow lane. The uncanny timing left father and son close enough to see each other, but not close enough to say hello.
Burmeister hooked up his team of 11 dogs and departed Koyuk after a five-hour, 25-minute rest. His one-time lead had turned into a one-hour, 14-minute deficit. Mitch Seavey, who dropped two dogs, left in third place after resting just three-hours, 36-minutes. Later, Zirkle and Royer together made their way back to the trail nearly four and a half hours off the pace. Only Zirkle left the checkpoint with the same number of dogs in which she arrived.
The Norwegian connection.
As the leaders resumed racing, a contingent of Norwegians anxiously awaited countryman Joer Leifseth Ulsom, who was just 20 miles out of Koyuk in sixth place. In this group was Odd Kjosnes, co-founder of the Femundlopet sled dog race, and two-time Iditarod champion Robert Sorlie.
Also traveling with the group was Henrik Wessel, who is originally from Norway but now resides in Fairbanks. The group is touring the Iditarod by snowmachine as fans of racers Ulsom and Thomas Waerner. Wessel said the trip had been a remarkable cultural experience. They even saw a seal resting on the trail not far from town.
"The hospitality on the trail is amazing. I have a 600-pound sled full of gear and supplies, but I have not had to unload it once. People keep offering us lodging," said Wessel, reflecting on the generosity and warmth of Koyuk and other Iditarod villages.
Sorlie is the group's resident prognosticator. As he watched Seavey depart, he said, "nobody can catch Dallas."
But, as all the top mushers know, including, and especially, Dallas Seavey, the race is not over until someone reaches Nome.
(Author's note: Dallas Seavey would go on to win the 2015 Iditarod Sled Dog Race in a time of 8 days, 18 hours, 13 minutes, and 6 seconds. He was followed by his father Mitch, Aaron Burmeister, Jesse Royer, Ailey Zirkle, and Joar Leifseth Ulsom).
