 Team Dogsled Biography: June Price
“I sometimes think I got someone else’s fantasy,” laughs June Price.
That’s the only way she can explain how she, a Florida transplant, found herself in the situation she is in of having “backstage access” to the Iditarod. Although born in Ohio, June was a middle school teacher at the time she discovered the race. Since then, she has retired and moved to Alaska, where she lives four miles from Iditarod Headquarters.
“It’s all Amiga’s fault,” she says, gesturing toward her collie-husky mix with a chuckle. “She somehow spit out a heartworm pill and came down with them, so I was home researching them on the Web.”
She was also researching huskies. Although she’d picked Amiga from the masses at her local shelter, she thought she was getting a “Lassie Come Home” kinda dog. Turned out, Amiga was a husky in disguise. Far from being a “Lassie Come Home,” Amiga showed far more traits of Balto than Lassie.
“I’d read Gary Paulsen’s 'Woodsong’ and loved it. At that point, of
course, I never dreamed I’d ever see Alaska, let alone the Iditarod.”
That was 1994. Jeff King had won his first Iditarod the previous year,
so she knew his name, but no others. June was teaching a seventh grade
English class and they read “Woodsong” the next year, supplemented by a
small unit on Alaska and the dogs of the Iditarod.
“I was so naïve. I had no clue. Alaska was foreign to me. All snow
and ice and cold; it was always cold in my mind.” She remembers
enjoying the book, but put it away at the end of the unit and didn’t
think of the race again for years.”
Fast forward to 1999. After moving to a school closer to home, she
discovered an “Iditarod Crossing” sign in the room she was moving
into. It belonged to Jennifer Smith, a social studies teacher who, it
turned out, was a long time volunteer in Nome. Her memory prodded,
June dug out the resource books she’d bought so many years ago and did
a quick unit with her students that year, one supplemented by emails
and photos from Jennifer and others in Nome.
Although she didn’t know it yet, June was hooked. The seeds had been
sown. Always one to research and read up on something that intrigued
her, she did a search on Amazon.com and spent a small fortune on books
related to the Iditarod. One of them was Gary Paulsen’s adult version
of “Woodsong,” “Winterdance.” Another was Don Bowers “Back of the
Pack.”
While browsing the listings, she noticed that an email was given for
Bowers in an author’s comment area. “After reading the book, I dropped
him a quick note to say how much I’d enjoyed it. I never expected
anything more from it. Certainly not a response.”
Much to her surprise, musher-author-teacher Don Bowers took the time to
respond. Now the hook was set. She began a correspondence with him,
at the same time continuing to research and read up on the Last Great
Race.
That’s when Amiga was diagnosed with heartworms. With one of the
conditions of care being to keep the dog quiet, not easy with a
run-crazy husky, June found herself spending more time than usual on
the computer. She discovered Internet email groups and began to hear
and read charges that the Iditarod was cruel. Somewhat appalled, she
addressed these issues to Bowers.
“All things considered,” she says, “he could have just as easily been
offended and blown me off, but he didn’t. He answered all my questions
and then some.”
It was overwhelming, she admits. For the first time, she began to get
the big picture of the care involved for these dogs as well as how
unique life in Alaska was. She began to counter the charges made in
various groups and was soon confronted by those making them, one of
whom challenged her to look into them herself if she didn’t believe
them.
“At that point in time,” remembers June, “my life was pretty much in
upheaval. My father had died from health issues and my mother was in a
nursing home with Alzheimer’s disease.” While she didn’t admit it, she
was looking for an escape and as much to her surprise as anyone’s, when
her new Internet friends began encouraging her to travel to Alaska to
see the Iditarod, she took their advice and booked a flight.
“The rest is history,” she laughs. “I was probably the last one to
know I would be moving to Alaska, but even before the plane landed, I
was feeling the pull.” Coming from flat Florida, the mountains had
always drawn June, so the experience of flying over them and landing in
what she could only dub a “Winter Wonderland” stayed with her.
Still, “I came; I saw; I went home,” she says, “but somehow I knew I’d
be back.” Ironically, she missed meeting Don Bowers. He’d opted to do
Colonel Norman Vaughan’s Serum Run that year, so he was gone before she
arrived in Alaska.
A few months later, she was back. She’d been invited to join two
friends in an RV jaunt to Denali Park and Fairbanks. She was to meet
Bowers for the first time. A pilot, he’d promised her a flight over
Denali.
It wasn’t to be. The night before her flight was to leave Florida,
June received a phone call. Don’s plane had crashed. He was dead.
“In a weird way,” muses June, “much of what has happened since is
because of Don. He took the time to respond to me and make me feel a
part of things. He didn’t have to do that, but he did. I’ve always
felt I owed him as a result. It sounds silly but I’ve always related
it to the ol’ 'Acts of Random Kindness.' He took the time to be my
guide into the race, so now it’s my turn.”
June flew into Alaska the next day, attending Don’s memorial service
the day she’d expected to be flying over Denali with him. Much time
has passed since then. She’s gone on to earn the respect of Iditarod
officials and fans, writing for the Iditarod Trail Committee’s official
website in 2005 and 2006. She moderates a 500 member strong email list
of fans, race volunteers and officials, mushers, and, well, a mix of
everything Iditarod. Now she’s writing her own book, following through
on her sense of “Random Acts,” to share what she’s seen with others.
And, oh, what about Gary Paulsen, her other author inspiration from way
back? One of the mushers she was asked to interview in 2005 was Gary
Paulsen.
“I paced the room waiting for him to call,” she laughs. “Never mind
that I’d gotten to the point where talking to mushers wasn’t that big a
deal to me. This wasn’t just any musher. This was Gary Paulsen; this
was where it all started for me.”
Paulsen has since become a friend, adding to June’s sense of somehow getting someone else’s Iditarod fantasy.
“Gary apologies frequently,” she laughs, “when I remind him it’s all his fault I’m here, living in Alaska.”
“Another life I’ve ruined,” jokes Paulsen.
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