07. Yukon Quest Dogsled Race

February 21, 1994

Cold and Dogs

And here are more notes from North Pole as the saga of life in Alaska continues:

Life in Alaska gives warm and cold new meanings. In the winter, warm is when you can go outside without the fear of freezing exposed flesh. Warmer means being able to recognize male from female. Cold means layering: wearing regular underwear, insulated underwear, warm pants and shirt (dresses are not seen in winter), a sweater and a parka. On really cold days we add a down vest, face mask and insulated bib overalls. Gloves, heavy socks, insulated (felt liners) boots, gloves and stocking caps are simply a fact of life all winter long. Coming in from the cold means several minutes of stripping and looking for a place to put all of your gear.

A few weeks ago, we hit -36 degrees and got to experience some of the interesting features of Alaska cold. Diana went to get her hair done. Most stores have plug-ins for car heaters (oil pan, block and battery heaters). Not so the hair dressers salon. When she came out, the car did not want to start. Just before the battery gave out, it started. Then, she found that it took both hands to move the shift lever into low. Finally, she got it into motion; but, still had to reach down and shift gears with both hands! Then, Diana was introduced to the "square tire" syndrome. When a tire has been sitting in Alaska cold for a period of time, it goes flat on that side. Until a trip is of sufficient length to warm the tire up, it will remain flat. If parked again, there will be a second flat area (never on the now flat area). Winters up here can be a bumpy ride.

Meanwhile back at the house, frost builds up inside doors and windows and they freeze shut. We have to keep a heater blowing on the sliding door so it will work when we let the dog out. An open door lets an icy fog roll into the house. It is fun to take a warm cup of coffee outside, throw it into the air and listen for the frozen drops to hit the snow. Actually, we have been fortunate in that this has been a "warm" winter. Most times the temperature has wandered between -15 and about +10. We should normally be running about 20 degrees cooler on both ends.

We have just returned from a trip "outside". I have to admit that it was nice to head out from the cold and dark of Alaska. It is easy to make it to Christmas and New Years, but it is a long haul from there to the return of sunshine. With this in mind, Diana and I planned our vacation for late January and early February. We had everything an Alaskan dreams of in the wintertime. Temperatures in Arkansas and Louisiana were marvelous. The Guraedy's had a family reunion which nearly everyone attended (over 50 of us). We also made a trip back to central Louisiana, where I was raised, and it was springtime with Camellias in bloom. Since this was my first trip back since 1968, there were quite a few changes and I was lost most of the time. Too soon it was time to return to Alaska and fulfill my commitment to assist with the Yukon Quest International Dog Sled Race.

Our park plane was outfitted with skis and picked me up in Fairbanks. The temperature was -38 and we had to wait for it to go above -30 before our rules would let us fly. The pilot dropped me off at the Coal Creek runway (5 miles above the Yukon River). I have to admit that it felt kind of lonely as I watched my last contact with civilization roar down the snow covered runway and disappear over the mountains. A tarp covered snow machine was parked and ready for me to ride the 5 miles down to Slavens Roadhouse. Dog sleds and snow machines are the only reliable modes of transportation in the deep of winter. It would be a days ride but we could even make it to Eagle on our snow machines.

After nearly a half hour of yanking, the roar of that machine sounded wonderful. Normally, we would remove the battery and spark plugs, and take them inside with us. To start a trip we ran to the machine, attached the battery cables, screwed in the spark plugs and started yanking like hell on the cord. When the machine started we returned to the cabin. Ten-fifteen minutes later we would go out and run the track slowly to warm up all of the moving parts, so they would not shatter. The rear of the machine had been propped up off the ground and the track had to be started gently to keep it from coming apart. Finally we were ready to ride and could lower the back of the machine to the ground. I went through most of the preceding and started to follow the Coal Creek “road” through the willows, which requires going very slow. At these temperatures, a small branch hitting the windshield will shatter the plastic.

Slaven's is a two-story, un-insulated, log structure on the banks of the Yukon River. It was used during the gold rush as a stopping point for dog sleds and river boats and has been restored, by the NPS, to turn of the century time. It has an outhouse (with an insulated seat to keep people from freezing to the boards), and a wood stove for cooking, heating, and melting snow for water. Temperatures had dropped to -50 and a wind had started blowing along the Yukon. Frostbite was common even to the cautious. To keep from freezing, we kept a fire going most of the time. Even then the cabin could not be considered warm. I had taken several cans of fresca in my backpack. The second evening, I found that they had all frozen even though they were only about 10 feet from the stove. One morning I woke up to find that a tub of water, which was between me and the stove, had about a quarter inch of ice on the top. Each night, I would slide down in the sleeping bag, pull the top down around my head and leave only a small hole in front of my face for breathing. Even then, I woke each morning with ice in my beard.

We kept coffee, hot chocolate, and chili ready for the dog drivers and hot water for the dogs. They were 300 miles (4 days) out from the start and had 700 miles (10-11 days) to go for the finish. One person admitted to only 7 hours of sleep in the past 3 days. All had learned to nap while standing on the runners of their sleds. Most of them would admit to hallucinations from lack of sleep. One said he was kind of shaken when he saw a train coming straight at him down the Yukon. Automobiles running up and down the river worried another.

The Yukon offered many real and beautiful sights also. There was a bright moon the first half of each night. From moonset to morning the northern lights were out so bright that we could walk around without flashlights. Several dog drivers reported wolves following them along the trail picking up dog food that had been dropped. We heard wolves each evening and watched a huge black one trotting along the trail.

The first few racers stopped only long enough to feed and care for their dogs. None had taken time to change clothes or clean up so we were more than a little curious when a musher came rushing into the cabin asking for a mirror. We dug through our supplies and finally handed him a small emergency-signal mirror.

He looked at his image and commented, "Thank God, I thought my nose was history.” He said, it’s one thing to lose toes and fingers, but, damn, losing your nose would be aggravating”.

Another guy was running the race a few weeks after having had knee surgery and was wearing a huge brace. He was also complaining of frozen toes on the that foot. We told him he was crazy for continuing. He said that it was better to risk a few toes than face his girl friend who had just spent $3,000 coming up to watch him run the race and was waiting up there in Eagle. Two days later, and a hundred miles further, the toes were black and the leg swollen to the size of the brace; he finally decided to scratch and was eventually airlifted to Fairbanks.

One evening a group of dog drivers showed up at the same time (participants coming through now have no chance of winning and are just running the Quest) and got to talking about the race and its problems. Most agreed that one of the complications was the press. This race, unlike its more famous brother the Iditarod is run along the un-inhabited Yukon River. Questers are only available during the first 100 and last 100 miles. The reporters all want their interview.

A lady driver had been quiet during this “cuss session”. Finally someone asked her about handling reporters. “Oh, they don’t bother me.”

“You gotta be kiddin'!” was the universal response. Even us non-drivers knew that a woman on the Quest would be interesting copy.

“Well, they used to,” she admitted.

Her reticence indicated a good story, “What happened?”

“Well a couple of years ago, we were going from Fairbanks to White Horse (the race reverses each year) and I had just gotten over the mountain, was dead tired, wanted to care for the dogs (no one other than the racer can help, except at Eagle) and get a little rest before heading out onto the river. A bunch of reporters came running over and all of a sudden click, click, click, bright lights went on everywhere, a microphone was pushed in my face, the dogs went crazy, and someone asked, ‘What is the worst thing about running the Quest?’ I got to admit I was a little irritated (laughter from the listeners indicated the understatement) and told him: It’s the inconvenience of having your period. Do you take that bloody tampax and throw it into the bush or…… All I heard is click, click, click as the lights went out, the microphone disappeared and the press retreated……….come to think about it that never did appear on TV. Anyway, they leave me alone.”

Alaska is as unforgiving of carelessness today as it was 100 years ago during the gold rush. I managed to demonstrate this when the temperature registerd -66°F. I took my glove off "just for a minute" to operate the camcorder. After a few seconds the feeling was gone in my hand and two fingers started to feel really hot. I put the glove back on but knew it was too late and I was in trouble when the fingers started to burn and ache. Luckily, the snow machine had me back at the cabin in a few minutes and I warmed my hand. By this time, the little finger had turned cherry red and was swollen to about thumb size. I got off real lucky with no permanent damage although I still may lose some flesh.

I have great admiration for those who lived on the Yukon even though I wonder about their sanity. It was amazing how much time was used in simply surviving. We melted snow for watering dogs, drinking, cooking and washing dishes. It takes a long time to cook on a barrel stove. Self-preservation forced us to make sure the snow machines would start. We had to split wood and feed the fire constantly.

This sounds like I had a terrible time, but just the opposite is true. I had a ball. Most of the inconveniences were either fascinating (effects of extreme cold on plastic) or funny (waiting until the absolute last minute to go to the bathroom because it took so long to undress/dress and because exposed flesh could lead to dire consequences so you did not want to linger too long). These are experiences that few are lucky enough to have and that I will relive someday when I sit in front of a roaring fire on a cold day at the ranch. I can see it now as I start a story "Let me tell you about real cold...". Everyone will simply think it is the imaginings of an old man, but I will know that “once upon a time” this all really happened. And once again, it's time to end this epistle from Paul.