WASILLA — At 44 and with only three years of mushing experience, it is easy to wonder why Wasilla doctor Lou Packer, a member of what he describes as the geriatric rookie division, is running in this year’s Iditarod.

“Individual responsibility doesn’t seem to be anything anymore,” said the doctor who has seen firsthand the epidemics of high cholesterol and diabetes hit this country.

“This race commemorates a few men who volunteered to carry vaccines. It was not done by some government program. This sprit is what makes this country great.”

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Before moving to Alaska, Packer studied medicine at UCLA and UC Berkeley. He grew tired of the Lower 48 and moved up in 1986.

When asked what brought him north, “An airplane, of course.”

“But seriously, I saw a film about Alaska in second grade,” he continued. “I went to one of the early Iditarods and thought this is pretty cool.”

In Alaska, Packer first met musher Linwood Fielder when he was working for the Urgent Care Center in Juneau where Fielder was running a sled dog tour company. One of Fielder’s trips was trapped on a glacier due to sever weather. A guide had an infection and went into shock. They tried to phone the emergency room, but the doctors there offered no help.

“Then, they called Urgent Care,” said Packer. “We went through what drugs they had for the dogs over the phone and figured out something that would work. They were stuck there for three days, but the guide came off the glacier in pretty good shape.”

Packer continued his friendship with Fielder and moved to Wasilla to start the Urgent Care Center there. He designed the building on the back of an envelope after firing the architect and opened the doors in 2006.

Moving to Wasilla was also a move closer to Fielder’s kennels in Willow. It’s no coincidence that this was when Packer started mushing seriously.

The nurses at the clinic said he has Balto in his blood, a common aliment of mushers. Packer admits he has a bad case of dog fever.

“It’s way worse than drugs, I imagine,” Packer said. “It’s like a primal exultation. I’m sure it goes back to something genetically, running the African plains with your wolf brother. You lose all sense of time, living moment to moment and going from one ever-present moment to the next. This is exactly how the dogs live and shows that humans and dogs really key off of each other.”

His addiction went over OK with his wife, Packer claimed. She is now his main sponsor, along with his Visa card.

“Every man goes through machopause in his own way. I guess this is better than a 28-year-old and a Corvette. I’m not sure it’s cheaper, though,” he said, with the price tag of each dog around $1,000.

As soon as he starts talking about his dogs, its obvious just how strong his addiction is. Packer currently has 13 race-ready dogs at Linwood’s kennel, and Linwood is loaning him three more for the race.

“You anthropomorphize the heck out of them,” said Packer. “You really do get to know them as individuals, and they get to know you as a person. They have a great time running the hundreds of miles each week. I ask them to come with me, I don’t command, because you can’t push a rope.”

Out of the 16 he plans on running, 10 are potential lead dogs. Having this many lead dogs, he said, is like having a Whitman’s sampler of chocolate.

“You can choose which dog you need for that day. You can’t be betting on one dog alone to lead you because something could happen to that dog,” said Packer. “Also, it’s very stressful on the lead dogs emotionally. They are making life and death decisions. The whole team and my life depend on the leaders. When I have 16 dogs, I am 84 feet long. I don’t know what’s coming. I can’t see the front, especially in white-out conditions.”

Out of these lead dogs, three are what he calls life-carrying dogs. He would unquestionably stake his life on their shoulders. One has to stay home because of an injury, and she knows it, he said, letting loose an angry bark when she didn’t go to the vet check on Tuesday.

“But again, I’m anthropomorphizing them,” said Packer.

It is easy to picture the doctor as a veterinarian, but Packer claims it’s much easier dealing with just one species.

He admits that he does have some advantage with his medical background. He knows what to look for and where to see it. He knows to carry birth control for the unspayed females because “you don’t know what hell is like until you see a female in heat on a race,” said Packer.

But he admits there is no substitute for on-trail experience, and that is the one thing he’s lacking.

“The speed of the dogs is pretty much the same,” Packer claimed. “So the difference between the riders is really about check-point efficiency. The Martin Busers of the race know exactly how long it takes to set up, usually about 45 minutes. They can sleep exactly up to that point. Whereas I get up two hours before departure time and fumble around setting up. This means they can be more well-rested in less time at the check-point. It takes them less time to travel the same distance, so they can take one less stop.

“Veterans also have the eye. They have the eye to take the team right up to the edge and stop. Rookies take their team past the line. Their dogs punish them for it, and they have to withdraw from the race.”

Because he doesn’t know where this line is, Packer is running a conservative race. He wants to keep his team together through the Alaska Range, then hopes to catch the competition after switching sleds in McGrath.

After only mushing for three years, Packer stills feels ready for the race. He feels confident about himself, confident about his dogs and confident about his winter survival skills. But he admits he learned most of his mushing knowledge the easy way: from other mushers.

All the other mushers and everyone associated with the race have been very supportive, according to Packer, because they know the race still comes down to self-reliance.

“There is no government program to send you food stamps if you get hungry,” said Packer.

Contact Todd L. Disher at todd.disher@frontiersman.com or 352-2252.