Danger on the Trail

The Iditarod winners have arrived, tended their dogs, greeted their families, gotten some sleep and still  mushers are crossing the finish line.  The race, while it has been won, is not over until the last musher crosses the finish line and collects the red lantern.

Before I move on to other things, I have one story that caught my attention from the race.  I think it illustrates the rugged individuals that take on the challenge as well as the unpredictableness of racing through a winter wilderness.

Scott Janssen is  a very successful mortician with a chain of funeral homes in the Anchorage area.  He had been a sponsor and friend of Paul Gebhardt for years and decided in 2007 to try mushing himself.  He is an ardent outdoorsman with a wry sense of humor.  You can learn more about him on his Facebook page, the Mushing Mortician. 

This year is Scott's third Iditarod and although the conditions were far from ideal he was enjoying his experience.  The going was rough, over ground that was just sparsely covered with snow.  The dogs were strung out in front and going at a good clip, which means the sled is banging along behind like the end of "crack the whip" when Scott looked up and saw a tree stump directly in the path.  Sleds don't come equipped with steering wheels so he lurched to one side of the sled in an attempt to by-pass the stump.  Unfortunately, he hit a tussock of grass that caused the sled to turn over and slammed him into the stump.  In Scott's words, he then went "night-night".  He awoke to find his dogs had returned and were huddled around him sleeping.  He thought that was odd, especially when he noticed a light covering of snow on them.  Instead of being out for a minute, like he had thought, he actually had been unconscious for about 2 hours. 

In true mushing tradition, he checked himself out, decided he was o.k. and proceeded to repair his sled.  He admits it probably took him a little longer than it normally would but he eventually got his dogs and sled back on the trail.  He's getting along down the trail and thinking he's got everything under control when one of his dogs runs on the opposite side of a tree from the gang-line.  (On this part of the trail they are literally running through the woods.)  Fortunately the harness is designed for just such an event and breaks away, freeing the dog.  The dog runs ahead of the team and down the trail.  Scott, fearing that the dog would get lost, calls to him and begins to run after him.  In by-passing the team (which has stopped) he hits a thin spot in the stream he must cross and breaks through the ice.  The dog meanwhile has returned to the team, so Scott climbs out of the shallow water to run to the sled to reattach the dog.  The water on his boots turns to ice and he slips, falling and breaking his right leg. 

Now he is lying down hill from his sled and unable to drag himself to it.  He does manage to get out of the water, but he is wet and doesn't have his gloves on.  It doesn't take long before he begins to fear hypothermia and frostbite.  He knows that there are mushers behind him on the trail, but he doesn't know when they will come.  He can only hope it is in time.  Just when he is beginning to wonder if he'll turn into an ice cube he hears the approach of a team.  Soon he is looking into the concerned face of Newton Marshall, the Jamaican musher who has run in three previous Iditarods.  "Hey, Mon.  What can I do to help?"  Newton locates Scott's sleeping bag and ground cloth and is able to begin getting him warm.  He then retrieves the GPS tracker device that is mandatory for each musher and is attached to the sled.  This device also has a SOS button which they activate.  Newton, then stays with Scott until help arrives in the form of some of the snowmobile riders that travel up and down the trail doing some of the thousands of jobs needed to keep the trail clear and the race running.  Rescues, being one of the jobs.  Assured that his fellow musher will be taken care of, he continues with his race.  (Note:  During a race only another musher may help a musher.  Accepting assistance from anyone else is an automatic scratch.  In this case, a moot point, since Scott is out of the race anyway.)

Because of the inaccessibility of the location the only way to get Scott out and to a hospital is by air.  The Army sends a Black Hawk helicopter to swoop down and retrieve the injured musher.  The snowmobilers will gather up his gear and dogs and take them to the closest check-point for them to be returned to Anchorage.

Scott was checked for head injuries - not serious- and had his leg set and in 24 hrs. was ready to head for Nome to welcome in the winning mushers. 

Comments from Scott:  "Maybe helmets should be required equipment."  "The coolest thing was refueling the helicopter in mid-air on the way to Anchorage.  They propped me up so I could watch.  Neat!"  On a serious note, he does think that the GPS trackers should be worn by the mushers at all times instead of on the sled.  Because he couldn't reach his tracker to signal for help, he very well could have died.