The old abandoned mining town of Ophir is one of the quietest checkpoints along the 1,000-mile Iditarod Trail to Nome. Tucked into the woods near the Innoko River, the collection of rustic buildings is anchored by a one-room cabin owned by a family of pilots. Here is where former Iditarod champion Martin Buser and son, Rohn, pulled in to take their mandatory 24-hour rest.
The hills and valleys of Interior Alaska have long tugged at the desires of hearty explorers. For those seeking fortune along Alaska's state network of river basins, the promise of gold calls.
But for the Busers, the promise of peace and quiet drew them to one of Alaska's oldest mining districts.
"It's fantastic. It's excellent," Buser said from inside a wall tent where the mushers sleep, putting on socks and getting himself ready to go prepare his team. Across the room on the opposite bunk, Rohn Buser was in the middle of the same ritual.
Their long rest was coming to close, and they had just a few hours to prepare.
Gold brought miners to the Innoko River and nearby creeks during the gold rush of the early 19th century. But when prices fell to $35 an ounce, it busted the hustle and bustle built on dreams of wealth. Soon only ghosts inhabited Ophir, a town named by miners after a biblical place known to hold great treasure.
For Swiss-born musher Martin Buser, the payoff of resting here cannot be measured by the worth of any precious metal. Hundreds of miles from Anchorage, this wooded haven is a place for fathers and sons, a place where older men hand history to young caretakers.
Ophir is the "father-and-son checkpoint" Buser said just before heading outside.
In 2008 the men ran together when Rohn, then 18, was still in high school. In that race, the father saw more of the child in Rohn. "It was more like he was a kid then, and daddy had to take care of him a little more," Buser said.
This year, it's different. Rohn is now 22, more mature, and his dad feels like the two men are running together as grown-ups.
They were flabbergasted to discover how far behind they'd fallen -- 32nd and 33rd places. Despite that, they've had good runs and posted excellent times, according to Martin Buser. Why so far back?
It could be a sign the race and its dogs are evolving beyond Buser's capacity to keep up. Or it could be that many teams have pushed their dogs too hard, too fast. Maybe they'll fizzle before the finish. No matter why, they've ended up in the middle of the pack. But for the Buser boys -- who have 15 dogs apiece -- the Iditarod isn't as much about being first as what you learn along the way.
Rohn Buser said it was "cool" being out here in the solitude with his father. The dogs could get decent rest in the quiet and the men could talk about the race.
"It's way more than just driving dogs. It's how you go through life," Martin Buser said as he and son walked in the snow along parallel dog lines, getting the teams ready to go. About 1 p.m., the Busers were headed for Nome once again.
Contact Jill Burke at jill(at)alaskadispatch.com
Alaska Dispatch Publishing