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“On by, on by!”

Quickly snapping to attention, Team Stormwatch’s Slick Willie responds to his musher’s voice.  The only difference this time is that musher Wayne Curtis’ voice is coming from the video playing in the living room of Willie’s new owner Paulette Jones.  Jones rode in Curtis’ sled in 1997.  Willie remembers his commands; he’s just a tad bewildered as to what he’s supposed to be going on by, it appears. 

“I started following Iditarod in 1988,” remembers Jones.  “1997 was the 25th anniversary of Iditarod as well as my 25th wedding anniversary, so we thought that might be a good anniversary trip.”

She made a list of 5-6 mushers, then decided she really couldn't afford any of the big name ones (Martin, Doug, Jeff, etc).  As a result, she chose Curtis’ all-Siberian team.   “I've owned Siberians since 1973,” she noted. 

I ask her what she remembers being told at the Idita-Rider meeting.

She laughs.  “The only thing I remember is to ‘keep your mouth closed,’ I guess because the dogs might throw flying poop at you.  I was so excited that I can't remember anything else they told me.  It was way too short a ride.  I would have loved to go another 50 miles.”
 
“My best memory was gliding under the start banner.

After all the years of seeing that in pictures, actually being there was the best,” she declares. 

“Then I heard MY name over the loudspeaker: ‘Paulette Jones from Maryland.’  That was really cool.  I never turned around to look at the musher (or tag sled driver), and I should have because that was fun, too.  I was so hypnotized by those 12 dogs, that long line of dogs out front listening to Wayne's voice, that I just wanted to watch them work.”

“Going around a corner, the sled was on one runner.  Wayne was laughing, assuring me, ‘I won't spill you, don't worry’.  Then we got passed by another team, and all I could hear was the hiss of the runners.”  She smiled, remembering.  “Oh, and the muffins.  That's so awesome to have the muffins tossed at you.  And people standing everywhere with the newspaper yelling ‘Good luck, Wayne’.  Tailgate parties, so to speak.  Going over the walkways over a major highway, that was neat, under the roads, inside those pipes.  Our team went right on through.”
 
“It was just so cool.  Nothing like it.  When I watched my video of it, I could hear Wayne's voice shouting ‘On by, on by.’  I had adopted one of his retired sled dogs and that dog, Willie, would stare at the TV and listen to Wayne's voice, trying to decide, I guess, "just WHAT am I supposed to be DOING right now?"  It was hilarious.”
 
Deep sigh.  “Just thinking about it again makes me want to do it again.  And I thought it was a once in a life time thing.”

It’s an enthusiasm others feel.

“Being from Texas I never see snow, much less have a chance to ride in/on a sled,” said Betty Walden.  “There's still a bit of a kid in me and I just had to do it!”

Walden rode with musher GB Jones, a natural as she had sponsored one of his dogs.  “What a thrill it was to wave back to the crowd and feel the cold wind in my face,” she remembers. 

Although she hasn’t done the Idita-Rider program a second time, she has gone one step further.  Jones, who wasn’t running in 2006, invited her out to his kennel where he has a short course set up to allow fans and friends to experience driving a team themselves. 

“I made two loops before falling down gracefully.”

“What a thrill," she laughs.  "I’d waited 76 years for this Idita-Ride and then got to play musher.”

Carole Parsons “loved being down in the trenches with the mushers,” she says.  She rode with Nelson Shughart in 2000.  It cost the equivalent of a month’s salary, she notes. 

Although she has returned to the Iditarod, she has done so as a handler, a common route for Idita-Riders physically capable of taking on this task. 

Teacher Kathy Kent was an Idita-rider in 2003 with Frank Sihler.  It was his rookie year.  She video taped the ride and an interview with Sihler as part of a DVD now used every year in school.

”I first heard about the program when I saw a report on the TV news about a celebrity having a ride and then saw the information on iditarod.com,” she recalls. 

Besides the obvious, she remembers the extraction part at the end of the trip. This is where the Idita-Riders experience ends with the musher and they have time to focus on other things, such as other Idita-Riders. 

“It was nice to meet the other riders since you were familiar with them in code during the bidding process,” says Kathy.  “One person would introduce himself and add his code name.  We would sigh or comment remembering this person getting his bid and bidding you out.”

Claudia Nowak, Ed Stielstra’s Idita-Rider for the last few years, remembers the kindness of the Stielstra’s. 

“Ed Stielstra, his family, and handlers were exceedingly nice to me.  They know that I have MS and they always had a spot for me to sit down while waiting.  They always bring a grill and have hot food and snacks galore.”

“There are always lots of hands helping me when I'm walking around and getting in and out of the sled.  Volunteers (called ejectors) are waiting to help you out of the sled.   There is always a warm place to wait for the bus and hot soup, cookies, and hot chocolate are provided.”

For anyone fearing certain health issues might hinder your participation, read on. 

“Deby Trosper (the program coordinator) has been wonderful to us,” continued Nowak.  “She knows that I have a visual impairment and my balance is not good.  She arranged for a snowmachine to give me a ride from the Cabela's bus down to the staging area where the dog trucks were.  I also rode the snowmachine back up the hill to the bus.  Idita-Riders have special seating at the restart too.”  There was a blind teacher who rode in a sled in 2006.

Nowak and her husband Lee have been Idita-Riders for the past three years. 

“It makes us feel a part of the race.  We always ride on sleds of Michigan mushers.  I have been on Ed Stielstra's sled all three years.  Lee has been on Jim Warren's sled twice.  He was on Gregg Hickmann's sled once.” 

The Nowaks live in Michigan.  “We have volunteered at almost 30 sled dog races in the past 6 winters here in Michigan.  We personally know all these guys.  We have visited their kennels, gone out on training runs, and held their sleds in the chutes.  We take pictures of them at races and mail the pictures to them.  We are big supporters of sled dog races in Michigan, hence our choice of Michigan mushers.”

“Everything about being an Idita-Rider is great fun.

We were issued VIP passes which allowed us to go anywhere in restricted areas at the ceremonial start and the restart.  We really liked walking around talking with mushers that we know and making new friends of mushers that we didn't know.”

“For us the ride itself was the best part. We loved being pulled by dogs that we knew.  The tunnels and pedestrian bridges over traffic were fun.  Cordova Hill is always exciting!  It is always so nice to see all of the people lining the trail.  They gave mushers and riders things like hot dogs, muffins, cookies, candy bars, water and even beer if you want it!  Ed took a hot dog and a little ways down the trail we stopped and he fed a bite to each of the dogs.  Vinnie and Lucas (in lead) got the biggest pieces!”

“Many of the people lining the trail held the list from the newspaper and would call out "Good Luck Ed" or "Go Michigan".  There were people sitting in lawn chairs, some in tent wind breaks, and playing instruments.  The Buser boosters always have a banner strung across the trail that wishes Martin a good race.”  She saw signs for many others, some well known, some not. 

“The people all yelled words of encouragement.  We always stop once to change the booties on the dogs.  The ‘trucked in snow’ had sand and gravel in it and that tears up the booties so they get holes in them quickly.  Everyone seems to be in a good mood and the mushers ride their drag brake a lot to slow down their teams.  The person riding the second sled gets whipped around the corners and usually goes over and drags or falls off,” she adds with a laugh.

Having done the program three times, Nowak remembers the Idita-Rider meetings well, classifying them as a “nice but serious affair.  As a rider you are checked into the meeting and given a packet of information.  A couple people that work for the ITC speak.  One gal then goes through the packet explaining the information and answering questions.  One sheet in the packet contains a drawing of where all of the dog trucks will be parked so you know where to find them for the ceremonial start.” 

“When we get down there (4th Avenue) we have to check in with a certain volunteer so they know that we are there.  At the meeting we get VIP passes which are on a lanyard. 

The pass is like a credit card with a picture of you and your musher (which was taken at the banquet) on the back.  At the meeting they give dos and don'ts for riding the sled and waiting for the bus at Campbell air strip.”

“After the mandatory meeting is over, people are invited to go outside the Millennium where Dean Osmar has his dog truck, sleds, and dogs.   He does a mini in-service on how to act around the dogs and tells what the musher will be doing when harnessing the dogs.  He demonstrates and takes his team back and forth so folks who have never even seen a dog sled will know what to expect.“

Camera woman Donna Quante not only was an Idita-Rider, but made a movie of the experience.  She first heard of the program via a brief story in the Travel Section of her hometown newspaper.  She rode with Nils Hawn, who she won from the general pool.  This means she didn’t specifically bid on any musher, but as one of the winning bidders, she won a ride with him. 

She laughs, remembering the young girls along the trail flirting with Hahn.  “He is pretty cute,” she admits. 

“It was an absolutely gorgeous day and I remember how very quiet it was out on the trail in the woods.”  She laughs again.  “I remember the muffin stop, too.  That’s where one of the dogs lifted its leg on a volunteer.”

Georgia’s Linda Birchall heard about the program her first year at the Iditarod:  1995.  That was also the first year for riders.   “I almost did it that year,” she says, “but decided just to watch the start from the street, and see all the mushers.”

“I became a rider in 2001,” she continues, “because I always regretted that I didn't do it the first time!  I wanted the experience of coming up the chute to the starting line, seeing the team all lined out ahead, and wanted to feel the thrill of the start, with all its emotions and ceremony.  I also wanted to see what it was like going down Cordova Hill.”

She rode with Mike Nosko, whom she had met in 1995 when he was still dreaming about running the race. “I thought it was fitting to reconnect with Mike since I had my own Iditarod dreams, too:  they just didn't involve running 1100 miles, more like 11,” she laughs.

“Coming up the chute lived up to my dreams and expectations.  The power of the team could be felt as the handlers struggled to hold them back.  As we moved along up the street, the waves and good wishes from other mushers and volunteers made me feel part of the race in a very special way.”

“I couldn't believe this little ole Georgia gal was heading down 4th Avenue at the Start of the Iditarod.  Wow!  Cordova Hill was thrilling, of course, but my main memory is of being alone on a long stretch of trail with Mike and the dogs.  It was heavily wooded.  The sky was that deep, rich Alaskan blue, with hoarfrost on some of the trees sparkling in the midday sun.  The soft shush of the runners on the snow, the gentle breathing of the dogs, and the wind in my face all combined in a symphony of sounds which spoke of peace, of joy, and of beauty.  Mike and I chatted a bit, and then we would round a corner where a small group of spectators would be waiting, throwing candy bars and muffins, shouting encouragement to Mike and the dogs, and even greeting me.”

“I heard a voice once, gently calling, ‘Trail,’ and we pulled over to let Dee Dee Jonrowe and her team go by.  Then, we were alone again, just me, "my" musher and "our" team.  I remember going under the tunnel, too, but I also remember one very sharp curve in the woods, by a creek, where other teams had experienced problems, even dumping some riders.  Not Mike!  He and his team took that curve so well that I was able to enjoy the magnificent scenery:  wooden bridge, trees, sun-dappled snow in shades of pale blues and whites, and sparkling water with ice still floating on it in places.  I can relive nearly every inch of that trail.  I was sad to see the BLM buildings and my ride came to an end.”

“Would I do it again?  In a New York – make that an Alaska minute!”

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