The 38th running of "The Last Great Race," known to Outsiders as the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race, begins Saturday, March 6, with a ceremonial start in downtown Anchorage, Alaska, followed by a formal, competitive start just outside Wasilla.
The 1,100-mile sled dog race is the most famous such event in the world, yet despite its popularity in the U.S. - and its global appeal for competitive dog racers - Iditarod 38 starts Saturday facing depleted finances that have slashed the winning purse even as mushers pay more for a shot at the glory.
More: Interactive Map of Iditarod Trail
Yet the mystique of sled-dogging across three mountain ranges, up frozen river "highways" and through some of the world's most unforgiving terrain keeps the mushers coming, from everywhere. This year, a rookie musher from Jamaica is among the hundreds racing to Nome.
Defending champion Lance Mackey, a throat cancer survivor from Fairbanks, seeks his fourth consecutive win. Mackey is coming off his first loss in another 1,000-mile sled dog race, the Yukon Quest International, since 2007.
The mushing world is watching for a Canadian upset this year, as Hans Gatt of Whitehorse, Saskatchawean, looks to beat Mackey. Gatt won the Yukon Quest a few weeks ago and has been running the Iditarod for several years, now.
All trails lead to Nome
The Iditarod begins with a ceremonial start in Anchorage. The actual competition gets under way Sunday in Willow, 50 miles north in the Chugach Mountains. From there, mushers leave festivities behind for a trail that crosses two mountain ranges, scores of native villages, then a stretch of the frozen Bering Sea shore before it reaches the finish line in the old gold rush town of Nome on Alaska's western coast.
Temperatures often plummet to 50 below zero.
It's a trail where temperatures can plunge to 50 below zero.
Two years ago the total purse for Iditarod was $925,000. This year mushers will split $590,000. Four-time champion dog musher Jeff King of Denali Park, Alaska, contributed $50,000 of his own money toward the prize. King is also running this year's race.
"We're certainly having to work harder in these challenging economic times to raise the revenue that we'd like to raise to restore that purse to levels we accomplished a couple years ago," Stan Hooley, executive director of the Iditarod Trail Committee, said this week.
Dogs, mushers face anti-doping tests
This year's race is the first time in Iditarod history in which mushers will be tested for drugs and alcohol, joining the canine athletes that have been tested for years.
Mackey, 39, has acknowledged using medical marijuana on the trail, but said he is abiding by the new rule. He believes it was implemented to single him out and that other competitors have complained about his pot use -- contentions Hooley is not denying.
"I don't think he's off base in what he's saying," Hooley said.
Most other mushers interviewed say they have no problem with the policy.
Hooley said one of the Iditarod's newer sponsors is a drug testing company that is providing the service at no charge.
"At a time when we've been forced to look and make some really hard budgetary decisions, it would not have been good timing to be spending new money on this program," he said.
Recession reaches Arctic
Race organizers blame the money woes on a poor economy that led to a loss of almost $1 million in funding, after major sponsors dropped their support and video deals collapsed.
Cushioning the blow somewhat, Exxon Mobil has pledged $250,000 annually in a five-year deal and earlier this year, the city of Nome donated $50,000 to the race. The Iditarod also retains a few dozen other supporters.
At the same time, the cost of the sport is escalating, including the $4,000 entry fee -- up $1,000 from the 2008 fee. Many wonder how long they can keep their teams, even though most get varying degrees of support from sponsors.
Iditarod veteran Paul Gebhardt, who has twice placed second in the race, figures it costs him $1,000 a year for each dog in his Kasilof kennel -- and he has 75 dogs.
"We don't make a lot of money," said Gebhardt, 53, a general contractor in the offseason. "Even if you win, you're not going to get rich or anything. We do this as a lifestyle. But it's nice if it can pay for itself, so you're not going to the poorhouse doing it."
Iditarod spokesman Chas St. George said the cost of staging the race over a vast terrain also has gone up. Fuel used for transporting human and dog food to checkpoints and for other reasons has increased. So has the cost of straw for bedding the dogs as well as other supplies and services the Iditarod provides to mushers at the checkpoints.
Go broke racing to Nome
Still, the lure of the world's longest sled dog race is too strong for some to resist, even from afar. More than a third of the field of 71 comes from seven other countries and nine other U.S. states.
Scottish rookie Wattie McDonald has spent about $100,000 preparing for the Iditarod, buying provisions, leasing a dog team, taking time off from work to train and race in Alaska.
McDonald, a Stonehaven resident, has been mushing for 10 years, but nothing close to the level of the Iditarod, which commemorates a run by sled dogs in 1925 to deliver lifesaving diphtheria serum to Nome. For him, the adventure is worth the expense, the chance to be one with his dog team across incredible wilderness.
"It's such a life-changing experience, so far out of my comfort zone," McDonald said. "Minus-50, people even mention it, I just start shaking in my boots. But to be honest with you, I just can't wait to go there."
