Tim is back in Sundell

Hey All;

This is Tim writing, completely humbled by what the dogs and I just went through. Words can't express the feelings that I went through over the course of the race, intense ups and downs, both severe when they occurred. I knew that would happen and it was one of the main reasons I undertook this adventure back in September. I needed what some might call a vision quest to clean out the drawers in my brain and it did work. I shook those drawers out upside down and the only ones there to witness this were some of my best friends, my dogs. Sounds corny, is corny, but I want to share this with you. The support that has come through from all those following has been immense and very powerful to me and will not be forgotten. In some ways I wish I had done this many years ago but, honestly, this was the correct year for us to tackle this monster of a race. And it worked. Holy cow and maybe I can finally grow some hair on my chest.

So, sitting here with a glass of single malt scotch and trying to reflect on different aspects of the race is actually quite difficult, there just is so much to rein in. Different parts of the trail and different times during the race all offered up completely opposite thoughts for me to process. Intense quiet, intense, long stretches of no human contact and the seemingly lost thread of time all contributed to me feeling completely in control for the first time in many years. What a great feeling that I allowed myself to experience, encourage and embrace. What a trip.

Speaking of trips, the hallucinations that happened I can't start to relate; it was like being back in college and about as expensive. The team broke into 2 separate strings of dogs running side by side. The dogs fannies all turned into the Muppets with Ms. Piggy being Eleanor, who was coming into heat. I was on the trail too long. Strip malls, radio shows in my head, the smell of creamed corn and my Mother's voice for the first time since she passed away last year. Sleep deprivation and exhaustion lead to some fascinating stuff. I felt like a monk out there. I found myself talking to the Guy in the sky. Again.

Cold. Yes, it was very cold. Went from 20 degrees to 35 below in 30 miles from Takotna to Ophir and never relented until the coast. The winds kicked up after leaving Iditarod and was right in your face for nearly 350 miles after that. Anywhere from 15 to 50 miles an hour and the dogs blossomed in that. We slept outside many times in this weather on the river, in the woods, at a few cabins. We had a party. Shit, it was the hardest thing I have ever done but found myself thinking it was the most fun I have ever had. Fifteen and one-half days behind a dog team. Yahoo!!

We conquered the trail in little bits and our mantra was "One tripod at a time." A tripod is a marker on the trail constructed of 3 poles lashed together and is a permanent fixture on the barren landscape. Anymore than that and I found myself getting sour about how far we had to go. Small bits, chewable bits, allowable bits of trail and the dogs understood that. We got stronger as we went, both mentally and physically; we were a team in the same endeavour and we depended on each other to get through it. I was told I would never be the same person after finishing the Iditarod and I hope that is true. Complete, content and headed in the right direction.

So, a few more highlights and low lights. Having Egil Ellis and George Attla as handlers at the restart was like having Babe Ruth and Cy Young telling me I can play baseball. Lou Packer saved my race in Nikolai when I was ready to scratch because I hit the wall and his Knute Rockne speech in (honestly) a locker room in the local school pulled me out of my downer state. I am so, so saddened that he had dogs die. He got stuck in a bad storm that some of us scooted through in the daylight and he tackled in the dark. Life can be so fragile and fleeting - he was lucky to make out it out himself -but I am sure he wished it was himself and not the dogs. I know I would have as well.

So much to share but I can't go on forever. Many folks to thank, especially Mary for her support and this hilarious blog. Next time we need Tom to add more as he is a fantastic writer as well. Too bad he wants to be a doctor verses a script writer for a comedy show. And thanks to my wonderful staff at the hospital for putting up with me and taking care of the shop. And thank you George. You are an elder to more than you know.


What is next? I am not sure but I am finding myself wanting to tackle the race again and see the northern route next year. The dogs have seen the trail and we all learned much this year. It is the hardest race we have ever attempted and I told myself a million times I was retiring from racing after this year's Iditarod. What the heck am I considering it again for? Stay tuned, I suppose.

And a very, very heartfelt thank you to all those that supported us and gave all sorts of encouragement and love. We did feel it out there, especially in the tough situations. It kept me going.

All the best and happy trails,

Tim

THEY DID IT!

I'm sitting on the floor of the nearly lifeless Iditarod HQ in Nome; Tim and Colleen are prepping the dogs and cages for the flight to Anchorage this evening, God willing, and we'll all be on the plane together (some sort of combo cargo/passenger plane).

HOW ABOUT THAT TEAM?!?!?!?!??!?! A lonesome fire siren blows off twice when any team is 2 miles out from the finish, so when we heard that I almost threw up; outside a crowd was gathering and before we knew it a squad car flipped it's lights and escorted the team as they turned up onto Front Street from the Bering Sea! I couldn't get NEAR Tim once they stopped under the arch but muscled my way to the dogs and they were rolling on their backs, digging their noses in the snow....talk about a flood of tears...and the whole event illuminated by hundreds of big, colored Christmas lights strung across Front Street from utility pole to utility pole, those too at the mercy of the vicious arctic wind. It was grand.

I haven't asked Tim about his underwear; I noticed he was wearing someone else's long johns when he got to the business of peeling off later that morning, and when inquiries were made regarding such he could offer no explanation. He also told me he smelled creamed corn on the trail and that I should measure my teeth and go to sleep. HAHAHAHAHAHA!

The "dog water" here in Nome is in a very humid, very hot building with huge concrete sinks and valves and pulleys and rollers everywhere - and also the building where the locals bring their "honey buckets" for disposal. I pull my neck warmer over my mouth and nose every time I go in there, but the stench has taken hold, imagined or not. Yech. Tim, on the other hand, can't smell anything in there, and I wonder if he "burnt" something, olfactory wise, on the trail because he says he can't taste anything, either. Maybe a self-preservation/survival mechanism kicked in somewhere along the way, given the pickled muktuc and stink seal flipper offered in the villages and the perfume of his own wardrobe.

By the way, you will never get a whiff of a woodstove or campfire up here; there is no wood to burn. But you will see an alarming amount of crematoriums and houses on stilts - the ground is frozen solid year-round.

More later - we need to get going.

Blunder Alert!

WE MADE A HUGE CALCULATION BLUNDER. It's 3:15 am and Tim is 5 miles out. We're at headquarters. The officials just bellowed, "GET THE RED LANTERN!" and we're about to head out to the arch. YAHOOOOOOOOO!

The photo shows what we've been calling the Arctic thong: long underwear hanging out of snow pants.

Tim left White Mountain around 5:45 and we expect it will take 10 hours to get to Safety; once there, they'll presumably rest for 6 hours and then make the trek to Nome. God willing, we'll see him between 1 and 2 PM Alaska time on Tuesday. Again, I'd like to sincerely thank everyone for their encouragement and support throughout this amazing ordeal; it truly is uplifting and meaningful.

The volcano: nobody's flying anywhere today and the rumor mill is cranking full tilt. The National Forest Service peppered the town a.s.a.p. with flyers encouraging folks to visit their office and watch ice age videos "if you're in town for a few extra days and looking for something to do". In a risky move, I booked our flights out of Nome for Wednesday evening.

Saturday, Colleen and I flew to Nome after a terrific lunch of tea, beer and Zanax. We flew to Kotzebu first, which is in the Arctic Circle - and very, very treeless - and the flight afforded us a spectacular view of the sea ice; nature's shattered windshield on a grand scale. They unloaded case after case of Mug root beer, chest coolers and bananas from the plane; I know - I can't figure it out either. The runway is IMPOSSIBLY short in Kotzebu with a big...hill...at the end of the runway, so needless to say our landing and takeoff was exhilarating to the point of terrifying.

Nome. Beautiful, desolate, wind-swept and so much human vomit on the sidewalks and streets it leaves every fraternity latrine in the dust. Colleen noticed it's particularly dominant outside of the drinking establishments. The townsfolk even haul their spent Christmas trees to the frozen Bering Sea and take bets on when the pile will float away with the breakup. What's not to like? It really is a brilliant, blinding, white and blue landscape, rife with perhaps the heartiest, kindest souls I've met. And a reindeer that rides around in the back of a pickup, wearing an orange collar.

At the Finisher's Banquet Sunday night, Martin Buser joked that if Sebastian Schnuelle had won the race, he would have been pinned down and sheered (see musher photo on website), so it was a blessing Lance won. Then Sebastian got on stage to claim his prize and proclaimed that if he won next year, he WOULD shave his head...then, when it was Lance's turn at the podium, he declared that if he won again next year, HE would shave HIS head. Gloves off!

Okay, we have to grab a bite. More later.

Thar she blows!

Very quick post: Tim's in White Mountain for the last of the mandatory rests. Dogs are eating seconds at every meal and they "became men" in the last few days and Tim says they're shaving now. Even Spots, the female. The team has really jelled over the last few runs and he is STOKED to get to Nome - as is every one else. Unfortunately, after a long, long struggle on the trail Alan Peck has pulled the plug. His sled broke, he had to go back to a checkpoint, more ground blizzards....so Tim is in the Red Lantern district, if you will.

Mount Redoubt, THE VOLCANO, made her voice heard last night near Anchorage and is still hollering and as a result, air space is closed everywhere. I know some mushers flew their handlers and dogs back to Anchorage Sunday while the rest of us were nodding off during the Finisher's Banquet, but that means the rest of us (from the big guns down to the broken arrows), are now just one big, stinky family holed up on the Bering Sea, waiting for a flight. Or a musher. The good news is the chute and the burled arch will be Times Square north on New Year's Eve, what with all the people trapped in Nome and all dressed down with nowhere to go. Literally. What a welcome for the red lantern!

Warren Palfry and Rick Larson, are thoughts and prayers are with you.

Tim is three miles out of Shaktoolik. The next leg (from Shaktoolik to Koyuk) in terms of terrain, is something better left un-thinked, at least by me. Click on the following link if you'd like an official description: http://www.iditarod.com/checkpoints/checkpoint21.html . Needless to say, I will be worried sick until I see his icon at the next checkpoint. Tim is one determined man at this point, with 229 miles left of what some are describing as the most difficult Iditarod to date. His emails from the Unalakleet checkpoint were riddled with mistakes and convoluted, God bless him, but absolutely no indication of jumping ship, so we will see him Sunday night or Monday morning in Nome with a table full of pancakes, scotch and crab legs and a bubble bath; everything he loves. The dogs? Fresh straw, sausages, movies, sleep number beds, deep ear scratches and belly rubs until they're sick of us.

Colleen and I fly to Nome today so we've got to run. I'll try to write more later and hope we have internet capabilities in the hotel lobby at the Golden Nugget

Hang in There, Tim!

Good Day, Y'alls -

Tim is just about to Kaltag and still running with the same gang - safety in numbers - and it looks like Jen Seavey splintered off from the pack and is making a run for the coast - go Jen! I imagine Tim and the rest of the crew rifled through the drop bags left behind at Eagle Island for food and supplies, as nobody thought they'd be on the Yukon this long. They will have fresh supplies once they get to Kaltag, but unless the weather turns they'll have to take previous mushers' dregs to stock up for the next leg, too. What an adventure!

Colleen flew back up Wednesday, and our original plan was to fly to Nome Wednesday and greet Tim Thursday under the burled arch.....but we changed our flights to Saturday, ate lunch at a delicious Korean restaurant instead of peanuts on the plane and now hope we can cut our umbilical cord to the computer and visit some local kennels or watch Belugas in the Cook Inlet. I guess if Tim's been on the Yukon for days in a ground blizzard we can be brave and abandon our hotel room for an afternoon.