Happiest musher to reach Nome award goes to Haltmann

Most mushers are grinning ear to ear when they pull up to the burled arch, regardless of their position in the race. But Sven Haltmann was downright pumped when his sharp, energetic team trotted neatly up the finish chute in 36th place Thursday night.

Mushers want their dogs to be crisp right up to the end, and Haltmann was obviously happy with his self-discipline to stick to a conservative schedule instead of busting loose with short rest or super long runs in order to move up in the standings. “The further we went, the better we got,” he said. As a rookie, his mission was to introduce his young team to the race and gain experience. Haltmann, an apprentice of Martin Buser with dogs from the bloodlines of Buser and Jeff King, obviously is a musher to watch in the future.

“We’re just warming up,” he told spectators with a grin. “We’ll be back next year, and the next year, and the next year, and the next year…” As his team was led out of the chute, Haltmann showed some leaping ability, jumping up to slap the beam of the burled arch with the palm of his hand.

Jason Mackey, younger brother of two-time Iditarod champion and four-time Yukon Quest champ, Lance Mackey, was on his runners in the Bering Sea as Lance was on his way to a second victory. “The trip from Shaktoolik to Koyuk was one emotional ride,” Jason Mackey said at the finish line, after a strong burst of speed propelled his young team to 33rd place.

“He’s one crazy guy,” he said of Lance. “He seems to pull magic tricks out of his hat.”

If Lance was dealing with all kinds of issues at the front of the pack, so was Jason Mackey. He said his second Iditarod was an up and down ride. It started from the beginning, when a key leader was left home. Mackey realized this team would need TLC right from the start and he scrapped any intentions of a top 20 finish. He used his printed run-rest schedule to light his first campfire on the trail.

He would feel the dogs speed up, then slow down, and if they flagged, he’d rest them.

Mackey said he does indeed have aspirations to be the fourth Mackey to win the Iditarod someday, following his father, Dick, and brothers Rick and Lance. “I won’t give up until I do win this thing,” he said. First, though, Jason Mackey wants to run the Yukon Quest next year, returning to the Iditarod in 2010.

One musher who was already planning as the trail unfolded beneath his runners was William Kleedehn, the 2008 rookie of the year. Kleedehn’s mission was never to be the fastest rookie up the trail, but as everyone who races against him says, Kleedehn doesn’t know how to travel slow. His mission was to get a core group of young dogs to the finish line and build leaders, which he did. He had five solid leaders at the finish line, he said.

The 11-year veteran of the Yukon Quest, which he’s come as close as eight minutes from winning, said the biggest surprise thrown at him by the Iditarod was its hills. Everyone always says the Iditarod is flat and the Quest has hills, a notion Kleedehn described as bull manure. The photos of the race always show mushers running over the flat sea ice or along the Yukon River, or some other flat surface, which is because most photos are taken near checkpoints.

“Nobody talked to me about those Topkok Hills,” Kleedehn said, referring to some of the last hills near White Mountain in the final 77-mile stretch to the finish. “There’s just as many climbs in the Topkok Hills as in the Black Hills,” which is a section of the Quest trail between Scroggie Creek and Dawson City.

“The Quest is just as flat as the Iditarod, if you ask me,” he said, indicating that neither race is flat, as he sat down for a burger and coffee at Fat Freddie’s, joining fellow Yukoners Hans Gatt, Sebastian Schnuelle and Gerry Willomitzer. “The Iditarod’s a lot tougher than it gets credit for,” Gatt chimed in.

For example, Little McKinley is a hill mushers must climb near the tail end of the race, when their teams are tired. It’s just one of several exposed knobs along the coast, which were thankfully tame this year due to calm winds. The Quest has its big hills with nasty, windy conditions, like Eagle Summit, but they’re typically up and over with quickly. He said he was grateful for being lucky enough to avoid high winds along the coast in his rookie Iditarod. “With a storm (on the Bering Sea), it could be 250 miles of Eagle Summit, thank you very much!,” he said, getting a big laugh from the veterans sitting around the table.

Kleedehn said he used to scoff at the Iditarod’s nickname as the “Last Great Race,” but has changed his mind, citing the way the trail covers such varied terrain and cultures such as the Athabaskan villages along the Yukon and Upik villages up the coast.

“I don’t think I finished a race. I think I finished a journey,” he said.

NOME — About the first thing Hans Gatt did when he set his hook under the burled arch was ask head checker Leo Rasmussen where Mitch Seavey was. Don’t worry, Rasmussen said, the race is over. He can’t catch you. “Don’t worry about where Mitch Seavey is.”

Gatt had perhaps the most surreal run of the top 10 overnight Wednesday. He lost at least an hour on the 50-mile leg from White Mountain to Safety by simply dallying, enjoying the view and falling asleep on the runners. He felt his team didn’t have the energy to chase Rayme Smyth, Ken Anderson and Martin Buser for third place, and he assumed he had enough padding behind him so that nobody could pass. “I was asleep so many times, I didn’t think of anyone catching up,” he said. “I was sight-seeing a lot. I just about blew it.”

Read More »