RACE DAY

ROBERT DeBERRY/Frontiersman Mike Morgan goes airborn after
hitting a small bump on Big Lake Sunday during the start of the
2009 Tesoro Iron Dog.
ROBERT DeBERRY/Frontiersman Mike Morgan goes airborn after hitting a small bump on Big Lake Sunday during the start of the 2009 Tesoro Iron Dog.

BIG LAKE — The 1,971-mile-long Iron Dog trail does not care much for rider notoriety.

The double-digit negative temperatures, the pounding river ice, and the constant breakdown of man and machine are just as real no matter what your last name is.

And that’s exactly how Alaskans like it.

“This race requires strength, endurance and courage. This mentality epitomizes not only this country, but Alaska as well,” said Wasilla Mayor Verne Rupright in his commencement address.

It is in this spirit Alaskans cheered the start Sunday, standing on a frozen lake. While the crowd might have been a bit louder for one team or the next, each pair got a warm send off into the cold North.

The extremes of the Iron Dog are perhaps why it so perfectly suited for Alaskans. With only three racers from out-of-state, there are more than enough hometown stories to satisfy race fans.

Stewart Pitka, running in his first Iron Dog, is worried most about the first day.

“It is very rough and all the equipment is tested. The goal is to get up the Gorge and the Stairs,” says Pitka referring to infamous obstacles riders encounter the first day. “There are other parts of other days that are as rough as some of the stuff on the first day, but the first day has the roughest stuff.”

Pitka says this as he spills gas all over his fuel tank. His partner forgot to screw the spout on tight enough.

“Very good communication between teammates is very important,” says Jim Wilber, rookie racer from Wasilla. “You can only win if he wins with you.”

Local veterans Tyson Johnson and Tyler Aklestad agree. Despite their youth, 23-year-old Aklestad and 29-year-old Johnson have 14 Iron Dogs between them. Many fans think they are contenders for the $25,000 first-place purse this year.

“You need to run a smart race,” says Aklestad, “and you and your partner need to be well-balanced in terms of riding ability.”

Johnson adds that your “partnership is like a marriage. Things can get bad if your not getting along.”

Besides teamwork, Johnson says the race is all about preparation.

“You need to get as much knowledge as you can. Every year you learn something new. You have to take all that and build on it for the next year.”

While this gives a definite advantage to veterans, Johnson did offer some advice for rookie riders.

“It’s all about riding smart, not just fast. This is a hard mental thing to overcome,” says Johnson.

Jim Wilber agrees, saying he will ride to his ability: “Don’t push too hard because you don’t win the race on the first day.”

Some might think this is especially important for Wilber’s Team 15, with his partner, Ralph Wright, being the oldest in the race field at 61, but to Jim “age is not a factor at all.”

One factor that all veteran racers know too well is machine breakdowns. How much assistance one crew gives to another is often a gray area on the trail.

Wasilla resident Myles Wilson raced in 2002 but did not finish due to a sled breakdown. He’s got a brand-new Polaris this year but remains hesitant about how much he would help another team.

“From my understanding of the rules, you should stop. But if they are just wrenching, you know…” says Wilson.

Other racers feel the same ambivalence.

“If hurt, we’ll stop. If broke, we’ll stop and ask but head out if everything’s OK,” says Wilber.

Kane Richardson, Stewart Pitka’s teammate on Team 7, says “we would stop, but if they were just broke down, we would probably just leave them there.”

Veteran Johnson seems to take a more brotherly approach: “We’ll stop if someone is stuck; you never know when you’re going to need a hand too.”

Last year, in fact, Johnson helped out a team that returned the favor later when Johnson was stuck.

“It is still a race,” adds Johnson’s partner, Aklestad, meaning there is only so much you can do for another team.

Thirty minutes before the race starts, the tone was still very friendly. The drivers shared handshakes in their orange helmets. The crowd cheered the shivering anthem singer when he completed the final, freezing note. And the smell of exhaust permeated everything.

More than just a race, this is Alaska expressing itself.

Perhaps Gov. Sarah Palin was right when she said we are all living vicariously through the racers.

For up to the minute race updates, go to http://irondog.org.

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

ROBERT DeBERRY/Frontiersman Wasilla resident Todd Minnick
autographs the shirt of Calen Wilbur before the start of the 2009
Tesoro Iron Dog Sunday on Big Lake.
ROBERT DeBERRY/Frontiersman Wasilla resident Todd Minnick autographs the shirt of Calen Wilbur before the start of the 2009 Tesoro Iron Dog Sunday on Big Lake.
ROBERT DeBERRY/Frontiersman Wasilla’s Andrew Zwink powers off of
Big Lake and into the woods at the start of Sunday’s Iron Dog. This
is Zwink’s and teammate James Spikes’ second attempt at the Iron
Dog. They ran the race in 2008, but did not finish due to a blown
engine.
ROBERT DeBERRY/Frontiersman Wasilla’s Andrew Zwink powers off of Big Lake and into the woods at the start of Sunday’s Iron Dog. This is Zwink’s and teammate James Spikes’ second attempt at the Iron Dog. They ran the race in 2008, but did not finish due to a blown engine.
ROBERT DeBERRY/Frontiersman A reminder not to slow down is
written in Sharpie on the windshield of Andrew Zwink's
snowmachine.
ROBERT DeBERRY/Frontiersman A reminder not to slow down is written in Sharpie on the windshield of Andrew Zwink's snowmachine.

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