DeeDee Jonrowe works on his sled in Elim during the 1997 race. the cross pieces on the underside of her sled were broken when her sled was slammed into a piece of driftwood by wind. (BOB HALLINEN / Anchorage Daily News)

Jonrowe bounces back after mutiny

A year after her dogs quit, perennial challenger starts fresh with young team

By NATALIE PHILLIPS
Anchorage Daily News reporter

Last March, DeeDee Jonrowe’s lead dog, Commander, led a 12-dog sit-down strike on the Yukon River, causing the popular Willow musher to scratch from the 1,100-mile Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race for the first time in 17 years of racing.

This year, Commander has a new job. He’s working at a bed and breakfast.

Jobe, another of Jonrowe’s leaders and co-conspirator in the 1999 strike, is also retired. And Jonrowe, well, she has started from scratch using a new approach to create a team she expects to be competitive – but perhaps not quite a winner yet.

‘‘I am rebuilding,’’ she said. ‘‘They are young, and I want to set them up to succeed. I think they will be awesome in a couple years, maybe not this year. They will be very competitive this year, but God would be shining on us if we win with this team. It’s not to say it can’t happen, but I am just being entirely honest.’’

Jonrowe, a perennial Iditarod front-runner, was in fourth place last year when her dogs stopped on the Yukon River after leaving Grayling on the trail to Nome. Commander, a 5-year-old male, was the first – stopping, starting then stopping again. The other leader, Jobe, followed suit. Soon the whole team was doing it. Jonrowe walked the team about six miles. She let them off the line to play. But all they wanted to do was dig a hole in the snow and curl up out of the wind.

In hindsight, it may have been predictable.

From 1992 to 1998, Jonrowe’s lead dog was Elroy. In the early years, Jonrowe made it a point to take Elroy and the team to the coast for training in the brutal wind that Iditarod racers often encounter there. When Elroy retired in 1997, Commander – a former team dog – moved into the lead slot.

His first test came in the 1998 Iditarod, and although Jonrowe finished second that year, Commander hesitated as the team turned into the wind to cross Golovin Bay.

In the 1999 Copper Basin 300, just weeks before last year’s Iditarod, Commander stopped again when confronted by a head wind.

Jonrowe started last year’s Iditarod with a couple of other potential lead dogs, but she dropped them early in the race after crossing a taxing mogul field near Finger Lake. That left her with Commander and Jobe.

‘‘I knew going into last year’s race that I didn’t have a lot of leadership,’’ she said. ‘‘Hindsight is wonderful.’’

This year, with Commander and Jobe out of the picture, Jonrowe has 28 dogs contending for 16 slots on her Iditarod team. She has traveled around the state training them in the hope of acclimating the dogs to all sorts of conditions. In late January, she trained in stormy Nome for 10 days. And she has had help from famous sprint musher Roxy Wright.

‘‘I’m rebuilding an entire new front end. It is something I haven’t done for a long time,’’ Jonrowe said. ‘‘We’re in the confidence-building mode.’’

Ten of the 28 dogs contending for an Iditarod berth are from last year’s team. And when it comes time to pick the team, their part in last year’s strike will be held against them, Jonrowe said.

She bought new dogs from Bill Honea of Ruby, whose family has long raised middle-distance sled dogs; some from Wright; and some from Claire and Larry Tallman.

‘‘There are a lot of new dogs on the team,’’ she said. ‘‘They are very gifted gait-wise and athletically. What we are developing is their minds.’’

That’s where Wright comes in.

‘‘She is interested in dogs mentally, their personalities and studying them as individuals and building their confidence in you,’’ Jonrowe said.

‘‘For instance, rarely does anyone ever feed the team but me, ever. Feed or water. It is not just so I will be aware of how well they are eating, but also so they will always see that all things come from me.’’

Jonrowe and Wright went to a workshop presented by famous horse-whisperer Josh Lyons. Horse-whisperers are people known for their gentle, psychiclike ability to communicate with horses.

‘‘We spent a weekend just watching him,’’ she said. ‘‘It’s a fight-or-flight-type thing. It is being able to try to get a bond so you can build them to think they are invincible, but you have to always put them in situations where they can succeed.

‘‘Honestly, anybody that thinks a dog will go past its own natural discouraged state or fear state is nuts. I mean, I have lived it. When dogs lose their trust or their comfort zone, they bolt,’’ she said.

Among her 28 dogs are two 3-year-old males that have emerged as leaders. Softail led in the Copper Basin 300 this year and ‘‘did an excellent job,’’ she said. The second male, Metcalf, slipped in that race and injured a shoulder. She dropped him immediately. He healed in time for the late January training expedition to the coast.

However, he was part of last year’s Iditarod team.

Jonrowe also has a 3-year-old female, Darcy, who has leadership potential but is uncomfortable around crowds. ‘‘So I don’t use her to leave anything – a village, anything,’’ Jonrowe said. ‘‘But she is just awesome on the trail.’’

Metcalf’s sister, Campbell, also shows leadership potential, Jonrowe said.

‘‘I am going to run them to the best of their abilities this year,’’ she said. ‘‘And if that puts us in a top-five position, that’s great, but I will be careful with them. They are young.’’

Reporter Natalie Phillips can be reached at nphillips@adn.com or 257-4461.

Jonrowe puts booties on some of her dogs that had lost them as she checks in at the Anvik checkpoint in last year's Iditarod. Less than 50 miles later, facing a fierce headwind on the Yukon River, her lead dog Commander refused to go on, and the rest of the team followed —forcing Jonrowe to scratch for the first time in her Iditarod career. (BOB HALLINEN / Anchorage Daily News)