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Mushing Viewing 101

Meeting Iditarod legends of the past, present and future.

by June Price

03/05/2005

Have you ever wondered what it'd be like to have your favorite musher handy in a relaxed, unrushed atmosphere? If so, you should have been in the Millennium Hotel on Thursday. That day was the mandatory musher meeting and although that's closed to the public, if you just happened to be hanging out in the Fancy Moose Lounge in the hotel later that day, you would have been in musher heaven. Everywhere you looked, it seemed you spied a musher.

The musher meeting is what brought the mushers into Anchorage. It's where they are given important information about the trail and the logistics of the start and restart. It's a required meeting, no exceptions, and they're there for that and to meet with their Idita-Riders. As one of those who needs a scorecard to identify many mushers even now, it's something of a rush to be wandering around amidst the crush of mushers, Iditarod officials, assorted musher family members and the fan savvy enough to know where to be and when. You'll be walking across the room looking for one musher and turn your head and see another. In other words, while looking for, say, Aliy Zirkle, you may find Mike Williams, Rick Swenson, DeeDee Jonrowe and Canadian musher Karen Ramstead before you get to Aliy. Just to add to the rush, you're just as likely to see former Champions like Joe Runyan and Dean Osmar in the mix, so it pays to keep your eyes open although even they are asked to leave when the meeting turns serious and the exchange of information begins.

Of course, since most of the mushers have come some distance to be here for the meeting, unless they live quite close, it rarely makes sense for them to go home and then come back later that same night for the Musher's Banquet. As a result, fans sitting in the hotel may look up from their newspaper in the lobby or the basket of popcorn on their table in the lounge and discover they've suddenly gained some pretty heady company. I spent yesterday rubbing shoulders with four time champion Doug Swingley and his wife, Iditarod rookie Melanie Shirilla, for instance. Melanie and I spent quite some time hanging out in Nome last March when we were stranded in Nome together after the weather caused several outgoing flights to be cancelled, so it was a great chance to catch up with someone who, against all logic, had become a friend. I'll talk about the concept of the Iditarod Family in a later post but will simply say for now, it exists and for many, is what brings them back year after year.

After catching up with Melanie on what's been going on since Nome, I began to look around to see who else was around. I didn't have to look far as former race champion Joe Runyan came in with several Outdoor Life crew members in tow and sat down to interview Doug. Only a few days earlier, I had tagged along behind Joe at Iditarod Headquarters as he was interviewing Norway's Robert Sorlie. Nope, not sharing what was discussed, that's Joe's to share, but just as that interview took place in a very public place, the Swingley interview took place in the midst of a busy bar and any fan able to tune their ears toward the table could have picked up some, let's face it, probably not so secret race strategy, discussions of dogs, the current condition of Doug's eyes, and what Melanie's race plans were for this race. Not bad for hanging out, huh?

Another musher friend wandered in, Canadian Karen Ramstead. Karen was actually in search of my room key. Yes, even mushers have nap attacks. Bill Pinkham joined us, however, so Karen hung out a bit while Bill shared one of his experiences from Iditarod 2004. Seems GB Jones, whose duct taped boots became famous or maybe infamous last year, wasn't the only musher with boot problems. Basically, the soles of Bill's boots came off and despite all the super glue in the world, just weren't holding together as they should be. A call was put in to Cabela for a new pair of boots in mid-race.

"Did they deliver?" I asked. I was jokingly, or at least I thought I was. Much to my surprise, I discovered they HAD delivered. I looked at Karen to confirm for me that Bill wasn't just pulling my leg. No, Cabela delivered. Well, to be more accurate, they tried to deliver. As Bill moved up the trail, repeatedly having to repair his old boots, the new boots were always a checkpoint or so behind him all the way to Nome, where they finally caught up to him. This is the sort of news that often doesn't become widely know, a perfect example of how major sponsors of the race work with individual mushers in need.

The mushers aren't the only ones out and about, of course. Musher spouses and family members are usually seen in great numbers on this day, too. Barb Redington is a regular volunteer for the race and a familiar face, as is Peg Stout, DeeDee Jonrowe's mother. As luck would have it, I wound up parked beside Peg upon arrival at that evening's musher banquet and laughed to see her simply waving at her famous daughter as DeeDee entered the line several handfuls of people back. Believe it or not, the mushers get no special consideration. They're expected to stand in line with everyone else and do.

The Musher Banquet is, of course, the ultimate in musher viewing. For several hours, the mushers are essentially a captive audience, surrounded by fans armed with black markers, usually Sharpies, and items to be autographed. These run the gamut, from common items like posters and photos to tee shirts, books, calendars, ball caps and even pieces of sleds and harnesses. I'm thinking it might be interesting to ask some mushers someday what the most unusual item they've ever been asked to autograph was. Might be interesting.

Finding the mushers you want the autographs from, alas, isn't easy. There are some simple tactics you can employ, though, to make it easier. One common joke is that if you're looking for a "name musher," look for the crowd. For instance, even without eyeballing the decorated pennant with the table number marking my own table, I knew exactly where it was. I was privileged to share a table with author-musher Gary Paulsen and he was surrounded from the time he entered the building until he left.

The same was true for many mushers, though, to be honest, and not just the "name mushers." Fans wandered about the Sullivan Arena, eyes darting this way and that, seeking that familiar face they hoped to snag an autograph and photo with. This method involves perseverance, a great deal of walking and sharp eyes. Unfortunately, the mushers are as likely to be wandering about Sullivan Arena as the fans, at least early in the evening, so persistence is needed. It's usually quite crowded on the floor and the tables are closely grouped, so you're often dodging chairs, bags on the floor or coats that drape onto the floor.

For the less energetic but determined fan, there was still a way. In fact, if you're really ambitious and want to get the autographs of every musher in the race, it can be done with almost no wandering around. One of the traditions of the banquet is that each musher, as they leave the stage, stops to sign an autograph for those waiting in line off the stage. This year that line stretched from the stage to off to one corner, then nearly halfway back the floor. After receiving their starting position and exiting the stage, mushers stopped briefly for a photo, then moved slowly along what, quite honestly, had to occasionally seem like an endless line to them. The mushers know, however, that without the fans there would be no Iditarod, so it's a chore they may not look forward to but do with great grace. Seeing the huge smiles on fans as they walked away that evening with autographs clutched in their hands, you know it's appreciated.

By the time the evening is over, you may feel like you've walked a million miles but you've had the fun of meeting Iditarod legends of the past, present and future up close and person. Unlike other sports, they're fan friendly. That in itself is one of the things that makes this race so special.