What Happened to Jeff King?

I know I keep saying I am going on to other things, but so many stories have come out of this year's Iditarod that I feel like I must share one more.

Jeff King, a four time winner and the undisputed leader going into the finish run, ran afoul of Mother Nature and unexpectedly scratched.  "Scratched" is different than the designation "withdrawn" which indicates a decision by the musher not to continue on.  I was curious, like many others, as to what had happened. 

The weather, which had been mild most of the race, suddenly decided to deteriorate.  The wind, which is always a concern on the coast run into Nome, reached hurricane proportions.   Howling down the mountains it becomes funneled with much the same affect as wind blowing through Chicago's city canyons.  Or, to put it another way, much like the air being forced through an air hose.  The locals call these "blow holes".  King's sled and team ran into one of these blow holes about 50 miles from the end of the race.  The force of the wind, concentrated in that spot, literally blew his sled and the dog team off the trail and into a pile of driftwood.  King, faced with an overturned sled and a team of traumatized dogs (they aren't used to being picked up and tossed like Dixie cups) found himself unable to do anything but huddle behind the sled.  The wind literally was too strong for him to attempt to right the sled and untangle his dog harness.  So he did the only thing he could, he called his dogs to him and huddled them all together to wait out the wind. 

He had two choices.  His dogs were disorganized and tangled.  He couldn't get his sled ready to mush back to the check-point.  He could attempt to walk back and bring help for his dogs, but that meant leaving them on the trail.  Which is the one thing a musher isn't prepared to do.  His other choice was to wait out the wind.  He waited.  While he was stranded, he was passed by a local 84 year old miner, his son-in-law, and granddaughters on a snowmobile treck to Nome.  King asked them for a ride to Safety .  (Note:  The wind was so bad that one of the granddaughter's snow machine was blown over and rolled several times on the way back.  They were able to get the machine back on the trail and continue.  They are a hardy bunch of people!)  Once in Safety, King was able to get other snowmobilers to return with him to safeguard his dogs.

According to the rules, King had no option but to scratch when he asked outsiders for help.  He says he has no regrets about that decision because it ensured the safety of his dogs.

The wind did eventually die down and the mushers coming into Nome now are able to do so without the hurricane force winds.  However, all along the trail mushers have stories of bedding down and just waiting out the weather.  This Iditarod is already going down as one of the roughest and most dangerous in its history.  Musher after musher is coming in with tales of broken ribs, fingers, a nose or two, bruises and scrapes from the banging they have taken. 

I think about all the complaining we have done over the winter we have had here and I think about leaving on a camping trip in the middle of it.  Not to mention running, walking, and knocking about over 1000 miles of wilderness in the process.  My admiration for the hardy folks that live in and love Alaska knows no bounds, but the mushers in the Iditarod are truly a special breed!!