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This year’s Chugiak-Eagle River Iditarod mushers share a common bond - and a lot of stories

  • Author: Matt Tunseth
  • Updated: March 10, 2020
  • Published March 9, 2020

Musher Jim Lanier tends to his dogs after arriving at the Ophir checkpoint during the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race on March 7, 2012. (Loren Holmes / ADN archive 2012)

This year’s Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race field includes two brothers, two sisters and two guys who aren’t related at all — but might as well be.

“He’s like a father figure to me honestly,” Eagle River’s Larry Daugherty, 44, said of Jim Lanier, a veteran Chugiak musher who Daugherty said took him under his wing when he moved his family to Alaska in 2014.

Though he might bristle a bit at the father talk, 79-year-old Lanier acknowledged he and Daugherty have a unique bond.

“Before he even got to Alaska, he contacted me because he heard I was a musher,” Lanier said.

In addition to being the only Chugiak-Eagle River mushers in the field, both are doctors (Lanier is a retired pathologist, Daugherty a radiation oncologist), both worked at the Mayo Clinic, both have sons who are Junior Iditarod finishers and both are among the most fascinating characters in this year’s race to Nome.

Larry Daugherty packs his sled bag in preparation to leave the village of Tanana during the 2017 Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race on March 8, 2017. (Bob Hallinen / ADN archive)

No easy out

The oldest musher in the field, Lanier had to prove himself to officials before this year’s race.

Though he finished all 16 races he entered between 1979 and 2013, Lanier scratched in 2014, 2015, 2016 and 2018 — a year in which he survived a harrowing incident where he and musher Scott Janssen were found huddled together for warmth along the Bering Sea coast. In August 2019, the Iditarod’s Qualifying Review Board denied him entry into this year’s race based on that performance and what officials said was a poor showing in the 2019 Yukon Quest, where Lanier finished 24th.

Lanier disagreed with the board’s decision, but he took the decision as a challenge. He ran a pair of middle-distance qualifying races this winter, qualifying for the race as if he were rookie. After that, the board reversed its decision and allowed Lanier back in the field — but only after he paid an extra $2,000 for signing up late.

The ordeal may have made him stronger.

“I’m kinda glad I had to go through all that,” he said.

The early races hardened his race team and gave Lanier confidence that he can finish this year to become the first person to complete the 1,000-mile trek in six different decades. It also gave him an appreciation for the friends and mushers who stuck by him through the winter.

“I’m very appreciative of all of the people who have supported me this past year.”

Jim Lanier of Chugiak drives his dog team across Long Lake during the restart of the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race in Willow on Sunday, March 8, 2020. (Bill Roth / ADN)

High hopes

One of those people has been Daugherty. After calling Lanier for advice before moving to Eagle River, Daugherty showed up at a book signing in Anchorage, where Lanier was signing copies of his memoir “Beyond Ophir: Confessions of an Iditarod Musher, An Alaska Odyssey.”

“He just kinda sat there and nodded,” Daugherty recalled.

Daugherty told Lanier of his lifelong dream to run the Iditarod, and Lanier extended an invite to his Northern Whites Kennel in Chugiak.

“I just never stopped showing up,” Daugherty said.

Lanier taught Daugherty the ropes and let him run his dog team in qualifying races. By 2016, Daugherty completed his dream, finishing his rookie Iditarod in 63rd place.

“I just have an enormous debt of gratitude to him,” Daugherty said.

It wasn’t just Lanier’s help that got Larry to the finish line. Turns out, doggedness is in Daugherty’s DNA.

The Utah native began his career in medicine as a paramedic and worked his way up to a job at the Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville, Florida. But the avid outdoorsman wanted more adventures than he could find there, so he and wife Prairie moved their five children to the Last Frontier. After completing his goal of finishing the Iditarod, Daugherty decided to set his sights even higher, launching an audacious plan to become the first person to run the Iditarod and climb the world’s tallest mountain in the same year. Only four people are known to have climbed Everest and finished the Iditarod — Bob Hempstead, Fydor Konyukhov, Mark Selland and Cindy Abbott — and none have done it in the same year.

Daugherty’s first attempt at what he calls the “Iditarest” double ended last spring when he and a team of climbers were turned back by hurricane-force winds just 335 feet short of the top of the world.

Undeterred, Daugherty simply set about training for his next trip to Nepal, where this spring he hopes to apply the lessons he learned on his first attempt — namely, leaving more time to find a summit window.

“This time we’re booking a lot more time and I think we’ll be much more patient,” he said.

It’s not hard to see why Daugherty and Lanier have grown closer over the past few years, and that relationship came full circle this winter when Daugherty’s 17-year-old son, Calvin, used Lanier’s dogs to finish the Junior Iditarod race — an accomplishment Calvin shares with Lainer’s son, Jimmy.

“It’s super cool to have that shared history with my son now, and now we’ve both got the same ‘Jim’ stories,” Daugherty said.

Larry Daugherty trains by hiking up Mount Baldy near Eagle River often. (Joel Forsman)

Hitting the trail

Fittingly, Daugherty and Lanier will start close to each other when the Iditarod begins for real Sunday in Willow — Daugherty drew start position 45, Lanier drew 55 at Thursday’s pre-race banquet. As for the race itself, neither considers themselves a contender to win but both hope to finish happy and with healthy dog teams.

Lanier said he’s expecting this year’s race to be difficult, with heavy snowfall and hungry moose along the trail expected to challenge mushers. In some places the snow is so deep, race officials have said the trail is essentially a deep trench cut through feet of powder.

“It’s going to be trench warfare,” said Lanier.

He means that literally. Like many mushers, Lanier — who once had to shoot a charging moose on a training run near Hatcher Pass — said he plans to carry a gun for moose protection this year. Especially in late winter, the half-ton beasts often use the manmade trail to travel more easily and avoid wolves, a situation that’s safer for the big ungulates but much more dangerous for mushers and their teams.

“They get in that trail and they don’t get out,” Lanier said.

Lanier is running his own dogs while Daugherty will be behind Jason Campeau’s B team when the race starts for real Sunday afternoon on Willow Lake. Neither man expects to be the first musher to reach Nome this year — Lanier’s best finish was 18th in 2004, Daugherty’s was 40th in 2018.

“It’s going to be a slow race and I’m not aiming to break any speed records,” Daugherty said.

Though he hasn’t run dogs much this winter, the busy doctor said he’s gained a lot of experience during his three previous finishes.

“The mental aspect of the race for me is so much easier each time I do it,” he said.

Jim Lanier, photographed during Iditarods from 2006 to the present. (Anchorage Daily News file)
Jim Lanier, photographed during Iditarods from 2006 to the present. (Anchorage Daily News file)

Hoping for the best

Both mushers are also racing for a cause larger than themselves. Lanier said earlier this winter he’s mushing to raise awareness about the threat posed by climate change, while Daugherty is again carrying prayer flags for cancer patients and continuing to raise support for his nonprofit, Radiating Hope, which works to bring cancer facilities to developing countries.

Lanier and Daugherty said they’re both looking forward to hitting the trail — though with their hectic winter schedules neither has had a lot of time to get too excited. However, Daugherty said he’s confident in the skills Lanier has honed over decades behind a sled and owes his friend and mentor a debt of gratitude.

“He taught me how to be an Alaskan.”

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