By KYLE ODEGARD
Gazette-Times reporter | Posted: Saturday, February 2, 2008 12:00 am
Despite rough moments, dog sled race is worth it
From his comfortable chair next to a cozy fire, Cliff Roberson recalled the night he recently spent with his sled dogs, huddled against a blizzard above the treeline on an Alaska mountainside.
"You couldn't see. It was very disorientating. It got too deep for the dogs to pursue forward," he said.
The icy exposure was part of his training regimen for the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race, in which the 60-year-old will compete for the fourth - and he says final - time in March.
"This is my last chance to do something like this. The question is whether I'm too old. Another year or two would be out of the question," Roberson said.
The neurological surgeon has taken a five-month unpaid leave of absence from Good Samaritan Regional Medical Center to compete in the 1,200-mile race through the Alaskan wilderness.
Roberson became hooked on the sport after he took a 10-day dog-sledding camping vacation in 1990. He scaled back his job and became a "musher" during the 1990s. He endured whiteout storms. Once, while mushing across a frozen stretch of the Bering Sea, he learned what a minus-110 degree wind chills felt like.
But along with the harshness came the breathtaking beauty of snow-covered forests and the wide-open tundra. He developed a bond with his dogs, and he relished in his adventures into the wild.
"When you've got your team smoking down the trail, that's when you have the feeling that you're really living. The northern lights are out. It's fantastic," Roberson said. "A lot of it is really fabulous, but there's a segment of it that's really miserable. … At some point on the Iditarod, you're going to have a bad experience. Count on it."
Since Nov. 1, he's spent most of his time in "the last frontier," working with a team of leased sled dogs.
His wife, Suzanne Roberson, isn't exactly thrilled with the situation. Her husband has returned to Corvallis a total of only a few weeks since then. But she still supports him, as so does the rest of the family.
"It's in his blood, so there's nothing I could do about it," Suzanne said.
Roberson said his 11-year-old-son Lake thinks that dad's hobby is a bit loony.
And Roberson himself has wondered how he'll cope with the mental and physical exhaustion of the race, which continues day and night.
When he was younger, a rough night on the mountain might wipe him out for 24 hours. Now it's several days, and he's worried about whether he'll be able to recover in the competition.
To prepare himself, Roberson began working with a physical trainer more than a year ago. He has since lost 30 pounds. Still, he knows that being 60 years old makes him a different man than he was in the mid-1990s, when he last competed in the Iditarod.
Roberson hopes to finish on the 10th day. His previous best finish, on the 12th day, gave him the 28th best time in 1995.
During those days on the trail, Roberson will spend half his time on the sled and the other half resting. Or, at least the canines will be resting. Roberson has to change the booties on the paws of his 16 dogs, which protect their pads from the snow. He also must cook meals for the huskies - and then for himself - before he can get any shut-eye. Sleep-deprivation is as much a challenge on the trail as the cold, he said.
Another hazard is wildlife. While wolves are around, ill-tempered moose are a bigger worry, especially because they like the packed snow of the trail. Teams can run into the giant creatures, anger them and end up losing a few dogs. Some mushers even carry guns to fend off moose, Roberson said.
The Iditarod runs between two cities that are linked by a trail and a life-saving emergency sled-dog run that captured America's attention in 1925. That year, a diphtheria epidemic hit Nome, and serum had to be brought in from Anchorage via a relay of mushers and sled-dogs.
These days, the first 100 miles of the Iditarod Trail are lined with the Arctic equivalent of tailgaters, who ride out on snowmobiles and camp along the route. The sled dogs also have changed. The traditional huskies now are bred with everything from greyhounds to Dobermans in an effort to make them lighter - and therefore better distance runners - Roberson said.
Returning to the trail this year will cost him about $250,000 in expenses and lost wages, but it's worth it, he said.
"The thing is positive, despite some rough days up there," Roberson said.
Kyle Odegard can be contacted at kyle.odegard@lee.net or 758-9523.