By Joe Runyan
The run from Rohn river checkpoint to Nikolai is easily my favorite section of the Iditarod trail. On one run I saw buffalo, caribou, and moose crossing the trail. Buffalo running in a herd across a tundra flat, remote and dead quiet, in front of the dogs, is visceral and nostalgic. Without thinking, I thought, “It’s good to see the buffalo again” as if I had seen them a couple of weeks ago stampeding across the Great Plains.The trail is notoriously rough just out of Rohn river as it negotiates glare ice on the river, then cuts to a portage to the Post River, through some gnarly tunnels of willows wallowed out by the buffalo (ergo, the “Buffalo tunnels”) and onto the flats of the Nikolai burn where the going is at least on level ground. From here the trail heads more or less in a monotonous straight line following an old cat trail, made during the fire suppression effort, and hits the Salmon River at a trapping cabin. The trail then winds through some swamps and river bottom to the remote village of Nikolai.
Susan Butcher, the famous four-time winner of the event, Timmy Osmar, and I once left Rohn in a train together and encountered a young bull buffalo on the trail. Timmy blasted his revolver a couple of times to put him on alert, but he remained as determined as ever to hold the trail. After about 15 minutes, with the dogs going nuts, Susan walked away from her dogs, and started on the trail towards Timmy. For whatever reason, maybe the bright red suit Susan was wearing, the big guy eased off the trail. The last thing any of us wanted to do was shoot a buffalo and spend the rest of the night gutting him out while the rest of the race passed us by. As a footnote, the rules require that any animal shot on the trail must be gutted and properly cooled. Any musher following behind must help before he or she can legally pass.
The reasons behind this rule are a little oblique, but I was on the rules committee when the rule was made, and might have some insights. First, no one wants to shoot anything while they are racing, unless they are a real fruitcake. However, having said that, it sometimes is necessary to bring out the shooting iron when a moose or buffalo is stomping the team and killing dogs. Susan Butcher, as a matter of fact, was forced to scratch in l985 when a moose walked through her team and caused some major damage.
In very deep snow years, the moose tend to congregate on the trails because the walking is easy. If they are hungry and tired, they generally adopt the strategy, dangerous for humans, of turning belligerent on the trail. The savvy mushers really keep alert and do anything to avoid a confrontation. If you can see a dangerous situation developing, for example, one might snowshoe around the moose. All too often, however, the encounter happens too fast for this precaution to work.
It is up to the individual musher to take care of the team. Some mushers take the responsibility seriously and pack a pistol. As in many aspects of life, some mushers adopt the “it won’t happen to me” and “I’ll let somebody else shoot a moose if things get bad” attitude.
Some mushers, remaining unnamed of course, even consciously follow other teams out of checkpoint so that the front running teams can act like the point control and take the hit from the moose if one is out there to make war. Therefore, we made the rule to accommodate the shirkers of responsibility. If a moose or buffalo goes on the attack mode and needs to be shot, the following mushers must wait until the moose is properly handled. Most mushers would help. In answer to your question, it hasn’t happened for the last 10 years to my knowledge, probably as a result of increased snowmachine activity and normal to light snow years. Buffalo have postured aggressively, but have never followed through on their bluff.
The trail across the Nikolai burn flats is good due to the efforts of the BLM and trail breakers who have removed the tangle of fallen fire-killed trees from the trail and put in good markers. In the early years of the race, it could take a day or more to negotiate the wind blown flats and decipher the faint trail. Today, front runners can burn the Nikolai trail in seven to eight hours.
The small Athabascan village of Nikolai (pop. 125) provides a place for the mushers to spread out their bags in the heated city maintenance shop. For three days the mushers have run and rested in the open. Particularly in a cold year when the temperatures can very easily dip to 40 below at Rohn River checkpoint, the thought of a good three-hour nap in a heated building is irresistible. Most mushers park their dogs in Nikolai for a good eight-hour rest.
As a destination point, I have always enjoyed Nikolai and the friendly people living in this natural and remote setting. Every year the Iditarod entourage gets an update. “How did the salmon run last summer? How was the buffalo hunt? Did the geese come and stay long last spring? Who went out marten trapping? What are the fur prices this year for beaver?” and so on. The people of Nikolai are good judges of sled dogs but it is too early in the race for an informed assessment of a winner.
Nikolai is a village of about 200 people, mostly Athabascan. It’s the first sign of civilization for the mushers since Knik. A big contingent of villagers greets the first mushers into the checkpoint and shows them where to park their dogs and get water. A heated room at the village workshop is usually available for sleeping and drying out clothes. Even a musher who has been hammered by the trail finds it hard not to smile in the midst of these very hospitable people. I am looking forward to seeing old friends again in Nikolai. The terrain is flat and uneventful to McGrath, which is typical of the Interior. The trail follows the Kuskowkwim River, or portages across the big loops of the river, through swamps of willows and stunted black spruce. The fifty-mile run to McGrath can be done in less than five hours.
Most of the competitive mushers will push on to McGrath, but some mushers may decide to stop their teams in Nikolai for their mandatory 24-hour break. The rules require that the mushers shut their team down for 24 hours in a checkpoint of their choosing. Sometimes Nikolai comes at the right time to rest a tired dog team and repair a broken sled, even though it is barely a third of the way on the trail. Incidentally, the Iditarod veterinarians check the dogs at every checkpoint but really make an effort to scrutinize the team on the 24-hour break.