Broken nose, but no broken spirit for Ekran
GRAYLING, Alaska — The broken nose happened so many days ago that Sigrid Ekran keeps forgetting about it, until people start staring. Ekran has two black eyes and a mildly swollen nose after being catapulted from her sled back in the Dalzell Gorge.
“I feel fine, I think it broke straight, huh?,” she asked an observer.
Other than a broken face, Ekran said she’s having a great run and that the Iditarod is everything the rookie expected it to be. “It was tough to Rohn and to Iditarod, but I guess it’s been special this year,” the Norwegian exchange student said. Nobody else in this race has described the miles of snowless hummocks as “special” but it is a perfect word. Low snow issues have cropped up before but not to this extent in recent memory. It has been special to the 2007 Iditarod.
The top rookie in the race at this point, sitting at 14th place at Grayling, Ekran said she’s been pleasantly surprised with how well her dogs have handled the difficult trail. She has a tiny kennel, made up of dogs purchased from Robert Sorlie and others in Alaska. She did drop one of her main leaders at Shageluk, which was tough for her, but there’s more than one team experiencing far greater setbacks at this stage in the race.
Ekran said she was also happy to be traveling with the other top rookie through much of the race, and that is Sylvia Willis. They were friends before the race, and have enjoyed spending time on the trail. They camped together at Don’s cabin part way to Iditarod.
Willis hadn’t shown up to Grayling while we talked, and Ekran showed she’s paying attention to the standings. Every rookie secretly desires to be rookie of the year, and Ekran’s no exception. Regarding Willis, she said, “Her team is doing good – it’s still a long ways,” then she added that Gerry Willomitzer isn’t far behind.
The story behind her nose is sketchy because Ekran isn’t too sure what she hit. It was night and she had her headlamp on going down the rock-strewn Dalzell Gorge. She said it took all her effort to wrench her sled from side to side, avoiding trees and rocks as the dogs rocketed downhill. At full speed, her sled caught on a rock but Ekran kept going, over the handlebar, face first into something, “a stump maybe,” she said. She didn’t black out and she didn’t let go of the sled, but she saw stars for a long time and she felt a little dizzy.
Ekran said she’s learning lots of lessons that will help her next time she runs, if there is a next time. This race is very expensive and she’s blown her budget just getting here this year.
Grayling was fairly quiet Saturday morning. Only a few teams trickled in as the sun rose toward noon. Hans Gatt’s outfit trotted neatly up the road and into the checkpoint. He, like several other veterans, was resigned and worried about the 9.5-hour slog other teams have experienced up to Eagle Island. Gatt and others planned a long rest here before making that push.
Robert Sorlie calls his dogs over towards the trail on the Yukon River.
Robert Sorlie calls his dogs over towards the trail on the Yukon River.
Purchase this photo by Jon Little.
Indeed, the race has stretched out quite a bit. In some cases, racing has either ceased or is suspended until teams get to Unalakleet to gauge what they’ve got under the hood. At this point, the mushers are all about keeping their teams positive and cohesive and basically surviving the long runs to Eagle Island and up to Kaltag. The 10 to 20 mph head wind at zero degrees is tough mentally on the dogs.
Robert Sørlie had a mild issue convincing his dogs to run into the wind as he departed Grayling. They wanted to away from it, but the trail leads straight into it. It only took five minutes to call them over, but it illustrates the mental strain of going more than nine hours into this stuff.
Driverless dog team parks self
Jim Lanier was firmly planted on his sled’s seat this morning as the sun rose over the Yukon River on the way to Grayling. “It was a bright, sunny, windy morning,” Lanier said. “I was so relaxed, I fell asleep on my sit-down sled, and the next thing I know I’m off it, and the dogs are gone.”
One of the residents of this Athabaskan village who lives closest to the trail looked out the window to see a nicely trotting team of all-white dogs run by, without a driver. “They ran on to the checkpoint, and the don’t really need me,” Lanier dead-panned, noting he might drop himself and let the team continue on as he relaxed inside the Grayling community hall.
He would have hiked for five miles if Cim Smyth hadn’t come by and picked him up. The two rode the runners briefly, then Lanier sat on the sled bag, complementing Smyth’s strong dogs. Smyth would blow through Grayling, making a move from Anvik to make up ground on the teams in front of him.
Damage control for Barron
“I’m not racing, I’m limping down the trail,” was how Jason Barron summed up his 2007 Iditarod so far. It isn’t so bad – he’s in roughly 9th place at the moment – but Barron had bigger dreams coming in, and a dog team that never really got up on step. Every musher knows what’s possible, and if the team falls short of that, it is disappointing.
He was one of the dog drivers who said he was going to make the safest possible run up the Yukon, and over to Unalakleet, then see if there was a way to race for a higher finish. Some dog teams have the magic touch this year – look at Zack Steer – while the vast majority is struggling with one issue or another. It’s like that every year.
“That’s the strange alchemy that we don’t have any control over,” Barron noted. “We like to think we do, but we don’t.”