Success takes a high price
Participation of Native mushers falls as the cost of being a competitive Iditarod racer rises

By Doug O'Harra
Daily News Reporter
February 23, 1997

He built his team of working dogs -- 16 huskies weaned on Yukon River chums. His wilderness skills were honed by a lifetime of hunting,fishing and trapping. His canny racing, which earned him the nickname ''Yukon Fox,'' began in the days when he and his dad raced home fromtheir trapline. When Emmitt Peters won the third Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race two decades ago, his 14-day, 14-hour finish knocked almost six days off theprevious record and transformed the event into an all-out dash for glory. Peters, an Athabaskan from Ruby, also epitomized one of the Iditarod's original goals -- to revive the then-dying art of dog sledding in rural Alaska. In one respect, the Iditarod succeeded wildly. It launched a surge in mushing across Alaska and became the sport's premier event. Ironically,that success has all but squeezed out rural competitors and Natives, who struggle with higher costs and poorer access to sponsors. Peters, for instance, doesn't run the Iditarod any more, not since he had to sell his dogs to pay off debts from the 1990 and 1992 races. ''I just barely ran the race for about $6,000 -- and that wasn't even enough to get out of Nome. I just ended up in the hole,'' he said. ''I told myself,'You can't do that anymore,' and I lost interest right there.''

Bill Roth / Anchorage Daily News Emmitt Peters of Ruby, winner in 1975, tends his dogs in 1992, the last year he ran the race.

Peters isn't alone.

''There's a lot of Native mushers in the area right now, but I think the logistics of getting into the Iditarod and setting up for it keep them out,'' saidKen Chase, a veteran musher from Anvik. ''I know right now of three or four that say, 'Gee, if I could afford it, I would go.'''

''The dogs are in the villages -- the dogs are here,'' added Mike Williams, a Yupik musher from Akiak. ''I just don't see any problem in putting ateam together to enter a race like the Iditarod or the Quest or the Kusko 300, or any other distance races that are of world-class caliber.

''The problem is getting the money together.''

Of 68 mushers filed to start the 25th Iditarod this March, only four have Alaska Native heritage. They are Williams, a sobriety movement activist onhis fourth race; Chase, a founding veteran on his 14th race; Ramy Brooks, son of sprint champion Roxy Wright Champaine; and Joe Garnie, one ofthe top mushers in race history.

The four entries represent an increase over the most recent races -- two Natives entered last year, one the year before. But overall, Nativeparticipation has fallen since 1980. As many Natives entered the first Iditarod as have entered the last five races combined.

In the beginning, Alaska Natives and rural mushers dominated. The inaugural contest in 1973 was won by Dick Wilmarth, a white miner from RedDevil. Of the top six finishers, four were well-known Native mushers, including sprint mushing legend George Attla.

Over the next three races, Native teams swept first and second. The victory in 1974 of Carl Huntington, an Athabaskan from Galena, made him theonly person to win both the Iditarod and Fur Rendezvous World Championship sprint race. Peters won the next year as a rookie with a recordtime; he went on to seven top-10 finishes, including three in which he finished less than an hour behind the winner.

Native teams filled out the back of the pack, too. In the first four races, a third of all teams were driven by Natives, and scores more werenon-Natives with Bush homes.

Bob Hallinen / Anchorage Daily News Mike Williams of Akiak is one of the four Native mushers entered in the 25th Iditarod -- abn increase in participation from recent years. "I don't see any problem in putting a team together . . . of world-class caliber," he says. ""The problem is getting the money together."

Since those years, the number of well-known Native and rural contenders has dwindled, to be replaced by well-educated whites from the roadsystem. One Native who dropped out was legendary musher Herbie Nayokpuk, a popular Inupiat driver from Shishmaref, who retired in 1988 after11 Iditarods that included eight top-10 finishes. Peters raced only twice in the 1990s, Chase once. In the 1980s, Inupiat driver Joe Garnie fielded one of the top teams in Iditarod history with Libby Riddles; their dogs took third, first (with Riddles)and second in consecutive races. In 1986, he finished an hour behind Susan Butcher with a time that would have won every previous race. Recently, Garnie also has struggled with financial difficulties, according to friends. He entered this year's race only after Nenana's Bill Cotter gavehim the entry fee. ''It's something that the trail committee has to face -- how do you get people like Emmitt Peters and Joe Garnie back in the race?'' asked Nomemusher and former Iditarod board president Matt Desalernos. ''Where's the next generation?''

Several race veterans say the situation has less to do with racial heritage or hometown than the demands of ever-tougher competition -- the sheeramount of time, expense and effort required to mount a competitive team.

''I don't think it has anything to do with Native versus non-Native,'' said two-time champ Martin Buser. ''What it has to do with is commitment anddesire to do it.''

It can cost thousands of dollars and every spare minute of time just to train a competent back-of-the-pack team. To run a prize-winning team, amusher must expect to spend $10,000 or more.

''Mushing dogs as a lifestyle is a real luxury,'' said race manager Jack Niggemyer. ''Because of the advent of snowmachines in the last decade,they're not a necessity. Anybody who runs dogs does it by choice, and it's an expensive hobby.''

Yet several Native mushers say that's exactly the point. Living in the Bush makes everything cost more. For instance, Chase said, ''to get all my dogfeed here, I have to ship it in for almost a dollar a pound. Then I have to pay to get it to Anchorage, then pay to ship it back out again.''

A member of the state board of education, Williams made the Iditarod a centerpiece of his mission to advance sobriety among Natives. Threesuccessful finishes left him $4,000 in debt.

This year for his fourth attempt, Williams said, he landed the sponsorship of the Alaska Commercial Company, Inlet Fish Producers, Anchoragebusinessman Robert Gottstein and Anchorage veterinarian Bob Sept. He and his family have put up fish for supplemental dog food. Betweenhimself and his cousins, he has 100 dogs.

And yet . . . all that might not be enough.

''I'm still trying to get my dog booties and other expenses, and working on more sponsors,'' Williams said. ''I had over 300 letters sent out to all thevillages, to all the corporations, to all the gaming tribes from the Lower 48. We'll see what happens.''

Ramy Brooks, who is developing his own kennel of racing dogs from his family's sprint lines, said he's keenly aware of the barriers faced byaspiring Bush mushers. He traces his own Iditarod ambition to a sled ride with champion Rick Swenson in the early 1980s. That's what he and other Native mushers mustdo for youngsters in the villages, he said. ''It's important for us to give them encouragement. Maybe plant the idea that if they have a dream, they have to go for it.'' But is determination enough? Ask Emmitt Peters. To be competitive, Peters concluded, a musher must train his dogs year-round. He must buy lightweight gear, high-tech food, top vet care andfinance a competitive breeding program. All while covering basic living expenses for his family.

Paul Souders / Anchorage Daily News Inupiat musher Joe Garnie repairs his sled at the Rohn checkpoint during the 1991 Iditarod. Garnie, along with Libby Riddles, fielded one of the top teams in the 1980s, with finishes of third, first and second in consecutive races.

''That brings the whole thing up to $30,000, just to have a winning team,'' Peters said. ''For most Natives, there's no way we can keep that up. Noway.''

Peters said he sought sponsors in 1993, determined to race the Iditarod correctly or not at all. Despite his status as an Iditarod legend, he couldn'tput a package together.

Now Peters has only nine dogs, puppies he and his son are training together. Even as the Yukon Fox passes his mushing savvy to the nextgeneration, another Iditarod appears out of reach.

''I'd like to. I'd like to,'' Peters said. ''But like we say, it's the money.''

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