A Rising Tide Sinks All Sleds, But Not an Iron Dog’s Drive

Randy Gravatt dropped by my cabin to retell his experiences in Alaska’s 2015 Iron Dog Race. His hands were still healing from the blisters he incurred during the race. Void of any solicitation of sympathy, Randy related how difficult the conditions were due to a lack of snow and warm temperatures.

From the start at Big Lake (near Wasilla), the snow wasn’t bad. Optimism prevailed, though his team drew a low starting position. Randy and Dieter Strobel made it to Rohn Roadhouse without incident. The race’s next leg was to cross the Farewell Burn, a flat area known for tree stumps that required dodging. While the stumps were clearly visible, a complete lack of snow revealed mounds of tundra grass called tussocks. As Team 22 made their way through these tall green moguls, Randy’s ski snagged a clump, forcing his sled into a tree and breaking an A arm (front suspension). After a failed attempt at a field fix, the Team 22 chopper was eventually able to fly in a replacement part. Up and rolling again, they made good time and passed 4 teams in route to the half-way-point of Nome. They stopped wherever they found snow, gathering up handfuls and applying it to cool their engines.  

Randy and Dieter were within a hundred miles of Nome as they approached the Golovnin Lagoon. Unbeknownst to the team, an alternate route around the water had been recently established but not clearly marked. Following the original course, Randy and Dieter set out on their ten mile ride across the frozen lagoon. They were not aware that an unusually high tide had come in and flooded the ice. By the time they had gotten within 3 miles of the far shore, they were skimming across 5 feet of frigid artic water. Forty mile-an-hour winds drove waves and swells towards the riders, forcing the sleds’ noses down until they swamped. Randy and Dieter held their dry bags containing clothes and supplies above their heads and began the three mile trek in chest-high artic water to land.

As dawn broke, a resident in the nearby village of Golivan spotted the team and sent out a rescue boat. After being warmed and fed by the hospitable residents, the team’s sleds were found high and almost dry as the tide receded. Towing them back to the villiage, the machines were cleaned and repaired.

The race was over for Team 22. The window had closed for their Nome arrival. Randy and Dieter rode their sleds the rest of the way to Nome. Along their route, they approached the still active competitors racing from Nome to Fairbanks. Randy was humble and proud as he recounted how each passing team slowed to fist bump the members of Team 22. Their exploits were already widely known.

Reaching Nome, the team flew to Anchorage and drove to Fairbanks. They were present when the remaining racers crossed the finish line. The night of the awards dinner, Randy and Dieter received a standing ovation from the attendees.

“What did you learn from your experience?” I asked Randy.

“First, check the tide charts before crossing a body of water. Second, beef up my sled’s cooling system if I am running in warm temperatures.” “And Randy, what did you learn about yourself?” I queried. “I am getting too old for this. I don’t heal as fast I use to.” Randy replied. “This was my last Iron Dog.”

Driving a snowmobile on ground better suited to a four-wheeler and a boat for almost a thousand miles was truly a race for an Iron Dog. Team 22 made us all proud to be their friends.