of the outdoors and dogs took her to Alaska in 1975. After three years of
training a team of dogs, she entered the Iditarod - a 1,000-mile dog-sled race
from Anchorage to Nome. She finished nineteenth, then ninth in 1979, and
fifth in 1980 and 1981. In 1982, she was determined to win. This is what she
wrote in her diary during the race:
Tekla, my most experienced dog, is limping, too tired to go on. I know he
has reached his limit. Tears roll down my cheeks. This dog, who led my team
all the way in my first three Iditarods, who has saved my life more than once,
now has to be left behind.
A wrong turn in a heavy snowstorm the first day of the race has taken me
20 miles out of my way. The four hours lost in getting back on the trail
(route) have put me far behind the front-runners:
With only 11 of my original 15 dogs left, I start out again for Nome, still
938 miles away. In these first two days on the trail, I have had only four
hours of sleep.
After a 24-hour rest at Rohn and four hot meals, my determination to stay
in the race is stronger than ever. The falling snow grows heavier, completely
covering the trail, but I keep going. I catch up with the leaders, who have lost
their way and are waiting for daylight. For four and a half days and 353
miles, we take turns in finding the way through the deep snow.
At the village of Ruby, the weather improves, but only temporarily. The
sky is clear, but the temperature drops to 45 degrees below zero as I start out
alone down the frozen Yukon River. If I stay too long on the sled, I riskserious frostbite. Jogging too long behind it can damage my lungs. So I
alternate between running and riding the sled.
A raging storm moves in, burying the trail. Those of us in the lead must
work together again to break the trail. After 50 miles, we find shelter for the
night.
Another day's travel brings us to Unalakleet. The weather worsens. Winds
rise to 60 miles an hour. Visibility drops to near zero. My eyelashes freeze
shut and so do the eyelashes of my dogs. I stop often to clear their eyes and
check their feet.
I reach Shaktoolik late that night with a frostbitten face. When I wake up
the next morning, the winds are gusting up to 80 miles an hour, and the
snowdrifts are 30 feet high. I wait for four days in the village before the
storm ends.
Only 231 miles to go, but all of them difficult. We push through the
continuing storm. Seven lead teams are travelling close together. Another
dog on my team must drop out, and I have just nine dogs left.
Thirty miles to go. I am in fifth place behind Rick Swenson, Jerry Austin,
Emmitt Peters, and Ernie Baumgartner. The final push is on.
I pass Ernie and pull away. I pass Emmitt, but he stays right behind me.
Only 22 miles now. "Go! Go! Go!" I shout to my dogs. I soon outdistance
Emmitt and pass Jerry. My hopes brighten. But there's still Rick, barely
visible in the distance. He beats us into Nome by 3 minutes and 43 seconds.
The race has lasted 16 days.
Now I have only one dream to go: to be Number One.
