Here are the stories of the 5 scratches so far this year. Information gleaned from iditarodblogs.com, alaskadispatch.com, and.com and Jon Little at drtims.com/blog, among others.
Kirk Barnum left Finger Lake with 12 dogs so he could scratch at Rainy Pass, where he had enough food to hold out until the weather cleared. He didn’t want to push his team too hard attempting to get to Nome with so few dogs this early in the race.
Rookie Pat Moon hit a tree in the infamous Dalzell Gorge and was knocked unconscious. Moon was airlifted to the hospital and later released. He was running a team for Ed & Tasha Stielstra’s Nature’s Kennel, and had postponed cancer treatments to make the race.
Michael Suprenant scratched at the Rainy Pass Checkpoint for medical reasons. No other information available at this time.
Zoya DeNure developed a breast infection that spread to her left arm and required antibiotics, according to husband John Schandelmeier. She had been nursing her daughter until the race.
Karin Hendrickson also scratched at the Rainy Pass Checkpoint, because of broken runners on her sled.
Showing posts with label wreck. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wreck. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Iditarod Update #18
Reports are coming in that a dog in Jeff Holt's team died today between the Rainy Pass and Rohn checkpoints, according to a press release from the Iditarod Trail Committee. A necropsy will be conducted by a board-certified pathologist to try to determine why he died, the press release said
While that is the same section of the trail that rookie musher Nancy Yoshida had trouble, it is not clear if the two incidents are related.
A rescue attempt was made, as it was reported that Yoshida had lost both of her sled runners and her team blocked the narrow trail, causing wrecks behind her.
More information as it comes available.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Mrs. Loon's Mushing Adventure
From the "Looney Talk" blog:
Mushing in a blizzard-Iowa style
By Angie
Saturday's blizzard was my first opportunity in weeks to take advantage of a little mushing. Brownie was already outside, on the loose. I went into the barn and harnessed up Biscuit, leaving Krunchy alone in the barn, crying to come along. No way was I going to let Krunchy come along with us. He ran half a mile ahead of us and did whatever he wanted to do. It is not fun when he gets the other two all excited and not paying any attention to me. After harnessing up Biscuit I brought the pretty vivid red harness for Brownie. She sat at my feet and let me put it on her. She usually is hard to get dressed but today she wanted to go for a run. Got everyone hitched and went to get the sled that hangs in the garage. We headed east to the waterway. There was about 4 inches of snow on the ground in places, and just covering the grass in others. Temperature was 12 degrees but falling. We saw a big green Chevy truck and thought it was Dad so we ran back home. It was not him. So we attempted for the second time to head east to the waterway. When we went about 30 yards and got to the same spot we were at when we saw the other truck, there was dad. So we ran back to the house to talk with him. Then we headed west out to the cornfield.The wind from the northwest was howling and blowing hard snow pellets into our face. I walked alongside the sled and let the dogs trot ahead not having to pull any wait. It is hard walking in the earth turned field. Bumpy and the remnants of corn stalks sometimes snags the sled. Alas, we made it to the waterway that goes to the timber. This was great, smooth sailing for the most part. The dogs were happy to run along and I would push off with my left foot keeping my right foot on the sled. Then we came to the edge of the timber. I stopped to get the newly made brake out because I knew the hill down to the river bottom was steep and fast as that is the one the Loon wiped out on weeks ago. So I checked out the new brakes and decided it would be safe and worked. SO mushing the dogs down the trail, ever so slowly we walked down the trail. The snow was too deep, it got caught up on the brake so every 10 yards I would have to stop to clear it. So much for going fast. When we got to the bottom of the hill I could see the river, the Wapsipinicon or the Wapsi as everyone calls it. IT was moving fast for this time of the year. I wanted a closer looked so anchoring the dogs I walked quietly and carefully to the edge of the river. IT has a steep bank and the edge of the river is frozen unlike the other side that was moving swiftly. I laid down on my belly to watch. I had to keep the dogs a distance from me or they would have given me kisses and licks and jumps and more kisses and licks and jumps. Biscuit loves to love. Getting up carefully, we left to continue on the trail. It is a snowmobile trail but no one had been along for weeks. The dogs did pretty good until we were on ice. Now, I didn't know how deep the water was where we were on. Usually during the winter months, the river is low and the bottom timber is dried up. But we were walking on ice. The dogs decided they didn't want to pull so much, so I ended up just walking behind the sled, laying my arms across the handle bar on the sled. The ice was cracking and we were watching closely, because the last thing I wanted to do was to fall into some waterhole that had just enough water to soak me, without drowning and I would have to walk back to the house pulling the sled. As we followed the river, I noticed we were below the level of the river, not sure what it meant but beginning to feel a little edgy. Just as I thought we were close to being out I slipped and fell. Oh shit. Was the ice going to break? That was my first thought. Quickly, I jumped up before the dogs could jump all over me. I notice the creaking of the ice and needed to get off this stuff right away. Looking to the south I saw we had a bank to go up and we would be high enough the water would not get us if there were a flash flood. We weren't in any real danger, but I think about stuff happening so I will know what to do if and when it ever does happen. Living on the edge. So there I was, just steps from climbing out of the river bottom and I couldn't climb up the bank, it was ice covered. I couldn't get a grip. I was yelling at the dogs, pull me pull me get going but they wanted to love me, kiss me, jump on me, and love me, kiss me and jump onto my face. WHY? Didn't they know we could be trapped out here, never to return until the spring thaw? After finally getting Biscuit to relax was I able to crawl on my knees and fingers to the top of the bank. And running as far as we could away from there. Walking thru yet another cornfield, partial plowed with cornstalks sticking up to grab onto the sled every twenty steps, and Brownie not wanting to pull at all now, it was still a blizzard and I was sore from falling on the ice, twice. About every 10 steps there would be a different smell. Rabbit? Deer? Fox? Squirrel? Only the dogs knew for sure and they wanted to check out every smell, one at a time. By now, the blizzard was rolling strong and I was having to just walk behind the sled. They would not pull me at all, not even with me pushing with my left foot. I had a good mile plus to walk. And I forgot to go to the bathroom before I left. I just wanted to get out there and forgot to go. Now I am a mile from home, beat up from falling on the ice, twice, and I have two dogs that only want to stop every ten steps to smell what lies below the snow. Needless to say, it was a long journey for half a mile until we reached the eastern waterway. Now, we were within site of home and I fell again. Into a big hole. I didn't see it, but it was there and so was Biscuit right on top of me. Love and kisses and jumping. Double duty for Biscuit. And Brownie didn't want to pull at all. I finally stopped the sled and tried to see what was bothering her. She let me take off her harness but in the process she began overly excited and ended up putting her mouth into my nose. OUCH! It hurt and she didn't mean to bite me, but that is what happened. So now she is loose, I am sore and have a bloody nose and it is a blizzard, and I have now almost wet my pants. I didn't have a phone with me and my husband was not around. I forgot to tell him where I was going and when I would be home. As good fortune would have it, he pulled in the driveway with his big-ass truck. He noticed my nose and wondered what happened. I told him he could read all about it on our blog. The blizzard continued for several hours, and I felt fine until the next day. Sore all over. My nose is ok and Brownie and Biscuit are ready for some more mushing fun. Tune in next week to see what happens.
Mushing in a blizzard-Iowa style
By Angie
Saturday's blizzard was my first opportunity in weeks to take advantage of a little mushing. Brownie was already outside, on the loose. I went into the barn and harnessed up Biscuit, leaving Krunchy alone in the barn, crying to come along. No way was I going to let Krunchy come along with us. He ran half a mile ahead of us and did whatever he wanted to do. It is not fun when he gets the other two all excited and not paying any attention to me. After harnessing up Biscuit I brought the pretty vivid red harness for Brownie. She sat at my feet and let me put it on her. She usually is hard to get dressed but today she wanted to go for a run. Got everyone hitched and went to get the sled that hangs in the garage. We headed east to the waterway. There was about 4 inches of snow on the ground in places, and just covering the grass in others. Temperature was 12 degrees but falling. We saw a big green Chevy truck and thought it was Dad so we ran back home. It was not him. So we attempted for the second time to head east to the waterway. When we went about 30 yards and got to the same spot we were at when we saw the other truck, there was dad. So we ran back to the house to talk with him. Then we headed west out to the cornfield.The wind from the northwest was howling and blowing hard snow pellets into our face. I walked alongside the sled and let the dogs trot ahead not having to pull any wait. It is hard walking in the earth turned field. Bumpy and the remnants of corn stalks sometimes snags the sled. Alas, we made it to the waterway that goes to the timber. This was great, smooth sailing for the most part. The dogs were happy to run along and I would push off with my left foot keeping my right foot on the sled. Then we came to the edge of the timber. I stopped to get the newly made brake out because I knew the hill down to the river bottom was steep and fast as that is the one the Loon wiped out on weeks ago. So I checked out the new brakes and decided it would be safe and worked. SO mushing the dogs down the trail, ever so slowly we walked down the trail. The snow was too deep, it got caught up on the brake so every 10 yards I would have to stop to clear it. So much for going fast. When we got to the bottom of the hill I could see the river, the Wapsipinicon or the Wapsi as everyone calls it. IT was moving fast for this time of the year. I wanted a closer looked so anchoring the dogs I walked quietly and carefully to the edge of the river. IT has a steep bank and the edge of the river is frozen unlike the other side that was moving swiftly. I laid down on my belly to watch. I had to keep the dogs a distance from me or they would have given me kisses and licks and jumps and more kisses and licks and jumps. Biscuit loves to love. Getting up carefully, we left to continue on the trail. It is a snowmobile trail but no one had been along for weeks. The dogs did pretty good until we were on ice. Now, I didn't know how deep the water was where we were on. Usually during the winter months, the river is low and the bottom timber is dried up. But we were walking on ice. The dogs decided they didn't want to pull so much, so I ended up just walking behind the sled, laying my arms across the handle bar on the sled. The ice was cracking and we were watching closely, because the last thing I wanted to do was to fall into some waterhole that had just enough water to soak me, without drowning and I would have to walk back to the house pulling the sled. As we followed the river, I noticed we were below the level of the river, not sure what it meant but beginning to feel a little edgy. Just as I thought we were close to being out I slipped and fell. Oh shit. Was the ice going to break? That was my first thought. Quickly, I jumped up before the dogs could jump all over me. I notice the creaking of the ice and needed to get off this stuff right away. Looking to the south I saw we had a bank to go up and we would be high enough the water would not get us if there were a flash flood. We weren't in any real danger, but I think about stuff happening so I will know what to do if and when it ever does happen. Living on the edge. So there I was, just steps from climbing out of the river bottom and I couldn't climb up the bank, it was ice covered. I couldn't get a grip. I was yelling at the dogs, pull me pull me get going but they wanted to love me, kiss me, jump on me, and love me, kiss me and jump onto my face. WHY? Didn't they know we could be trapped out here, never to return until the spring thaw? After finally getting Biscuit to relax was I able to crawl on my knees and fingers to the top of the bank. And running as far as we could away from there. Walking thru yet another cornfield, partial plowed with cornstalks sticking up to grab onto the sled every twenty steps, and Brownie not wanting to pull at all now, it was still a blizzard and I was sore from falling on the ice, twice. About every 10 steps there would be a different smell. Rabbit? Deer? Fox? Squirrel? Only the dogs knew for sure and they wanted to check out every smell, one at a time. By now, the blizzard was rolling strong and I was having to just walk behind the sled. They would not pull me at all, not even with me pushing with my left foot. I had a good mile plus to walk. And I forgot to go to the bathroom before I left. I just wanted to get out there and forgot to go. Now I am a mile from home, beat up from falling on the ice, twice, and I have two dogs that only want to stop every ten steps to smell what lies below the snow. Needless to say, it was a long journey for half a mile until we reached the eastern waterway. Now, we were within site of home and I fell again. Into a big hole. I didn't see it, but it was there and so was Biscuit right on top of me. Love and kisses and jumping. Double duty for Biscuit. And Brownie didn't want to pull at all. I finally stopped the sled and tried to see what was bothering her. She let me take off her harness but in the process she began overly excited and ended up putting her mouth into my nose. OUCH! It hurt and she didn't mean to bite me, but that is what happened. So now she is loose, I am sore and have a bloody nose and it is a blizzard, and I have now almost wet my pants. I didn't have a phone with me and my husband was not around. I forgot to tell him where I was going and when I would be home. As good fortune would have it, he pulled in the driveway with his big-ass truck. He noticed my nose and wondered what happened. I told him he could read all about it on our blog. The blizzard continued for several hours, and I felt fine until the next day. Sore all over. My nose is ok and Brownie and Biscuit are ready for some more mushing fun. Tune in next week to see what happens.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Loon's Big Mushing Wreck
Angie and I have started mushing with our farm dogs. Well, not so much “mushing” as “walking behind the sled yelling at the dogs.” We bought harnesses and lines and a little kick sled. Unfortunately, our biggest dog, Krunchy, doesn’t want to pull. But Brownie does pretty well, she doesn’t mind being hooked up, she usually just walks. Biscuit pulls along with her, but at 35 pounds, he doesn’t have much strength.
Sunday morning, we headed out to mush down the road, across a waterway to the woods. A snow machine trail goes down the ravine to the bottom land along the river. I’ve already gone down the trail there once, pretty fast. They can pull me because it’s downhill.
So today, I stopped them at the top while Angie walked down to the bottom. They were fired up, they wanted to go with her. When she got down, I stepped off the brake and yelled “hup!” We took off like a rocket!
Now, this little sled has a small claw brake which when stepped on, stops the sled – in theory. But on a snow packed, icy snow machine trail, it either stops it dead or has no effect – there’s really no in-between. And I’ve only been on it going fast one other time – down the same hill – so my feet don’t automatically know where to find the brake.
As we flew down the trail, the sled would take to the air over little jumps. I was yelling “Yee Haw!” as we went. But when I stepped for the brake, the act of raising one foot would cause the sled to become unbalanced and start to turn to the other direction. And the brake would jerk the sled around violently. I had to let it off and get my feet back on the sled to regain control, but as did, we picked up speed. And each jump got bigger as we careened out of control. Nearing the bottom, I didn’t dare take my feet off the runners, and the snow hook, a big claw attached to a separate line used to anchor the sled, bounced loose. I’ve read enough about mushing to know what might happen next. As we were just about to the bottom, the hook set itself in the trail, directly under the sled. Everything – sled, ropes, dogs – came to a complete and sudden halt. Everything, that is, except for the musher.
I hit the handlebars at full speed and was launched up and over the front of the sled. I came down hard on my front, with my left arm trapped beneath my chest. Gasping for air, my first words were, “I just broke some ribs!” I got to my feet and bent over, trying to breathe. The dogs were standing there, wagging their tails. The snow hook had performed perfectly. The sled was in one piece. Angie got a good laugh. She took the dogs through the woods for a ways, and then I went down the hill one more time – to be sure I could handle it.
I think I’m fine, but I am a bit sore now, and it’s only been a few hours.
Can’t wait to see how I feel on Monday!
Sunday morning, we headed out to mush down the road, across a waterway to the woods. A snow machine trail goes down the ravine to the bottom land along the river. I’ve already gone down the trail there once, pretty fast. They can pull me because it’s downhill.
So today, I stopped them at the top while Angie walked down to the bottom. They were fired up, they wanted to go with her. When she got down, I stepped off the brake and yelled “hup!” We took off like a rocket!
Now, this little sled has a small claw brake which when stepped on, stops the sled – in theory. But on a snow packed, icy snow machine trail, it either stops it dead or has no effect – there’s really no in-between. And I’ve only been on it going fast one other time – down the same hill – so my feet don’t automatically know where to find the brake.
As we flew down the trail, the sled would take to the air over little jumps. I was yelling “Yee Haw!” as we went. But when I stepped for the brake, the act of raising one foot would cause the sled to become unbalanced and start to turn to the other direction. And the brake would jerk the sled around violently. I had to let it off and get my feet back on the sled to regain control, but as did, we picked up speed. And each jump got bigger as we careened out of control. Nearing the bottom, I didn’t dare take my feet off the runners, and the snow hook, a big claw attached to a separate line used to anchor the sled, bounced loose. I’ve read enough about mushing to know what might happen next. As we were just about to the bottom, the hook set itself in the trail, directly under the sled. Everything – sled, ropes, dogs – came to a complete and sudden halt. Everything, that is, except for the musher.
I hit the handlebars at full speed and was launched up and over the front of the sled. I came down hard on my front, with my left arm trapped beneath my chest. Gasping for air, my first words were, “I just broke some ribs!” I got to my feet and bent over, trying to breathe. The dogs were standing there, wagging their tails. The snow hook had performed perfectly. The sled was in one piece. Angie got a good laugh. She took the dogs through the woods for a ways, and then I went down the hill one more time – to be sure I could handle it.
I think I’m fine, but I am a bit sore now, and it’s only been a few hours.
Can’t wait to see how I feel on Monday!
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