EXTREME ALASKA ADVENTURES

The Iron Dog Journal

Wasilla to Nome, Alaska

Feb. 21 - 25, 1999

Team #54

Randy Bedard, Dan Bembenek, Jim Allman

The Iron Dog Gold Rush Classic is the world’s longest snowmobile race. It starts in Wasilla, Alaska and follows the Iditarod Trail to Nome 1049 miles where the recreational (non competitive class) finishes. The racer’s continue onto the finish line on the Chena River in Fairbanks, Alaska 1971 miles from the start. Riders are required to travel in pairs and carry survival equipment for safety.

This story is only one of many that develop from this extreme adventure through the Alaska wilderness.

Sunday February 21, 1999 at 8:30 am the racers and recreational riders were lining up on Lake Wasilla. Our mission: to ride snowmachines (snowmobiles) in the 1999 Iron Dog Gold Rush Classic recreational class, 1049 miles through the wilds of Alaska. After taking a few more photos and saying goodbye to our loved ones, Randy Bedard, Dan Bembenek, and Jim Allman were ready for the snowmachine adventure of a lifetime.

The riders were given the green flag and rode "Indy Style" formation for 20 miles to Big Lake for the official restart of the event. There, the racers were flagged out at 11:00 am at one minute intervals. We were team 54 and left the starting line about 11:50 am. The trail was smooth and fast across the lake and into the woods. Soon we were on the Iron Dog trail which is known for its relentless bumps and moguls. We passed many of the slower rec riders but soon we were over heating from the rough trail and Jim was having goggle fogging problems. Jim got stuck on one ice hill as he was unable to get a good run at it because I slowed down as I spun on the glare ice. We dropped down onto the Big Susitna River at a point I had never been before. The run up the Yetna River was uneventful but the poor lighting made it difficult to see. We arrived at Skwentna, the first checkpoint and gas stop. My wife Laura, Dan’s girlfriend, Kristi and friends Ron and Lisa were there to great us and shoot photos. We chatted with Joyce Logan of the Skwentna Roadhouse and congratulated her on their recent sale of the Roadhouse and their upcoming departure to the open seas with their sailboat. After a brief lunch we said our goodbyes and hit the trail.

The trail was wind drifted, but fun, across the big swamp. Once in the woods we started to overheat our bodies. We removed some clothes and goggles until we felt comfortable again. The machines were running good but Jim and I were constantly bottoming out the rear suspension on big sharp bumps which was every four feet on this trail. We stood up to ease the "bang" of the rear suspension. If the trail continued like this it was going to be a long ride for sure. After reaching Shell Lake the trail meanders twenty miles west through the swamps and trees to Finger Lake. The trail was littered with wind drifts up to three feet high. The only way to hit them was to "table top"off them so both the front and rear suspension could equally take the shock. It was rough and we were feeling fatigued. We stopped to outwardly complain many times. I was beginning to think that my front rail shock had failed as it had during practice before the event but just kept pressing on trying not to think about it or my sore knees.

Upon reaching Finger Lake about 4 pm after riding 134 miles, we were greeted by the owner, Carl Dixon. We entered the beautiful rustic log lodge (Winter Lake Lodge) and munched on cookies and drank water. After off loading our gear from our sleds we walked the compound taking photos and trying to decide which log cabin to stay in for the night. At sundown three more riders rode into the yard. It was team #66. Three Yamaha riders from Michigan. I had to ask them if they came in on the groomed trail or the rough trail. They laughed but knew as well as I there was only one trail into this country and it has never seen a groomer. Usually this part of the trail is smooth and fast but recent winds and set up the drifts like they belonged in northwest Minnesota. The crew at Winterlake Lodge treated us like Kings. We had a great dinner and shared stories of the trail as well as other outdoor adventures. They were a great group of guys and the evening passed until the body was crying for rest.

At 5:30 am Monday Feb.22 the cook was stirring in the kitchen. By six we were up looking for coffee and stretching our legs and hands which had stiffened during the wonderful rest. The Michigan guys were up too but seemed very quite compared to the night before. Later we would hear that they had scratched from the event later that morning. The radio phone was buzzing with reports of rough trail and racers running out of gas. We didn’t want to hear this but we were feeling strong and ready for anything. As we dressed for the ride, we watched many teams pass through the dark and up the trail. Even though we were not racing you could not help but feel like we were falling behind the other riders. After a good Miners breakfast and goodbyes we were on the trail to Puntilla Lake Lodge, 40 miles up the Iditarod Trail.

The machines were riding good and the bumps not quite as big today as we moved through the trees on the narrow trail. We came upon team #60, a middle age couple from Massachusetts. They had a rope tied around the from bumper of one of their Arctic Cats and were trying to pull it out of a trench left by earlier riders. We helped them by pulling the machine out, clicked a photo and we continued. The trail was trenched and I watched my speedometer which was averaging between 8 and 10 mph. We were riding long track machines and with the snow now set up we had no difficulty getting through the trail. This is a beautiful part of the Iditarod Trail. It twists through the trees of gentle rolling hills surrounded by mountain peaks on each side. Upon descending the infamous "stairs" all was going well until the last step which had sluffed off towards a sixteen inch thick tree. My sled tipped toward the tree and my arm reflexed outward to save my hood from becoming splintered all over the trail. It worked but now I was afraid my partners may not be so lucky. Upon stopping at the bottom of the hill I frantically waved to Jim to do anything other than what I just got lucky avoiding. He had seen by near miss and made a new trail down the last step around the tree. Dan followed him and all was cool. We were now on the Hayes River and needed to get up the hill on the other side of the valley. We used Jim’s shovel to fill in the trail to lessen our chances of damaging a machine as we had to hit an ice wall to get up to the next step of the hill. We could see other teams stuck on the hill ahead of us. At the top of the hill a man and his daughter were camped and prepared to help those in need, get up the hill. We launched up the ice wall with no difficulty. Then we motored up the hill yelling "thanks" to the other riders and the Shovel Man for leaving such a good trail. The trail was still rough but we were cutting the trail making our own tracks wherever we could to help smooth our line of travel. Again we battled fogged goggles from to much under helmet heat and not enough wind speed. We arrived in Puntilla about 11:30 am about 175 miles from the starting line. Steve Willhelmi from the Alaska Snow Rider publication was there to greet us with fuel and oil and news of the racers and their struggle the night before. Front running racers had no difficulty through that section but once they trenched the trail, the sugar snow conditions were more than a few racers could handle especially after fatigue of the day had set in. The sky was clear and the temps just above 0. It was a beautiful day and we looked forward to entering Rainy and Ptarmigan Pass, the highest elevation of our journey. Again the news was that the trail was rough ahead as a result of previous relentless winds. Team #55 and #57 had caught up to us. Also, #58 " Team Viagra", was just springing into action for the day. Yep the trail was rough all the way through the passes. At Hell’s Gate, we watched in awe as a C-130 Military Cargo plane flew through the valley. We had a quick bite of food and drink and proceeded through the Gate and onto the southfork of the Kuskokwim River. We entered a GPS coordinate as the Iron Dog Trail Breakers had asked us to since it had never been marked earlier. Again the C-130 flew overhead. This time chills ran down our spine as we saw that they had a door open on the side of the plane. Trouble ahead was our only thought. After rounding a couple of bends in the river we saw people standing along the east side of the river. They were waving for our attention and they got it pronto. We rode to the west side of the river, onto to what looked like a gravel bar and turned off our engines so we could speak and listen to the River People. They said they were a Boy Scout Troop that was marking trail up the Iditarod Trail and that they had sunk a machine in the river. Everyone was OK but the machine was not running yet so they had tripped their ELT (Emergency Locator Transmitter) and were asking the military for help. There was nothing we could do for them and they pointed out where other riders had safely skipped across an open lead to the good ice up river. We crossed with a great rush of adrenalin but with no mistakes or wet feet. We followed the river through the beautiful valley being careful of stationary objects and bad ice. We met a group of Native riders from McGrath who were coming from the Rohn cabin in hope to help the Scouts get their machine running again. They had marked the trail from their home to the Southfork. We thanked them for the trail markings and continued up the river. We passed a Polaris race team on the river, guessing that they must be having problems.

At Rohn we are greeted by the check point helpers and Jake Schlapfer of the BLM. They told us stories of the racers and the meaning to the "dead" Indy carcass with a broken steering post. We also find out that the racers we passed had fallen into the river at the Boy Scout camp and were "saved" by the Boy Scouts. They got their machine running again but it wasn’t running very smooth as I’m sure water was still in the fuel system and would take some time to clean out. The trail ahead was smooth because of a lack of snow but was rough from stumps, rocks, tundra and dirt. Dan was out front dancing down the trail with his ‘99 Polaris Trail RMK. Jim and I steered heavy through the woods with our ‘99 700 and ‘98 600 RMK’s with 1 1/4 inch lug tracks respectively. I waited for Jim at one point for a couple minutes. He caught up to say that he had hit a stump under the snow and it pushed him into the pucker brush. After pulling his sled out there was only minor damage to his front bumper. The view of Denali (Mount McKinley) and Foraker from this side of the Alaska Range is unique and gives you a feeling of being out of place. Much sign of Buffalo but none are seen. The trail diverted around a rock slide that blew through the woods like an avalanche since the last time I was here in 1994. We approach a bridge made by the Trail Breakers. Four spruce logs that are wide enough to support our track only, lay across the creek. We crossed with only Dan putting on an interesting show. The trail sparse with snow grinds our mental ability to cope with the sign that says "40 miles to Nikolai". We finally straggle into Nikolai about 8:00 pm for fuel and oil and a chance to add our cold weather face masks and parkas. We will be running through open swamps and the Kuskokwim River for the next 50 miles. The temperature is -10 degrees. The Native teenager wears his "official" Iron Dog armband proud as he and his buddies help us fuel and answer our questions about the trail ahead and how the race is progressing. After fifteen minutes we climb aboard our iron dogs and motor west out of town. After five miles of swamp running we see a young Native guy walking down the trail carrying his helmet. He stops us and warns that his machine is broken down with a bad recoil at a fork in the trail ahead, "don’t hit it". We are heading west and are following two large stars (planets) that are unusually close together in the sky. Later we find out that they are Venus and Jupiter. We are cold and are knees ache from the twelve hour ride and the sub zero temperatures. We are in awe of the racers that are ahead of us knowing that they are miles ahead and traveling much faster. These riders are a tough bunch for sure.

Finally we spot the lights of McGrath, at each bend in the river the lights seem to change direction and distance from our location. Those last few miles into town were long. Finally we are on the final straight into town. We find the fuel stop and chat with the young women and man. We are 350 miles into our adventure and a daily total of 216 miles. We are so happy to be in McGrath and to get off the iron dogs. It is 10:00 pm when we pull into the check point, the Takusko House. Wow, there IS a race going on, half the field is still here on required layovers. Up to this point we felt like we were never going to catch any of the other riders. We enter the building with a sigh of relief. Riders and gear are sprawled. I speak to the owner and tell him I have reservations. He laughs and finds us three unoccupied beds and tells us the grill is on. We clean up and head downstairs for a plate of chinese and many glasses of water. We see the trail taking wear on the other teams. Lots of people walking slow, bits of frozen flesh on their faces and lots of stories and rumors. The bed felt so good but my hand is swollen from an old riding injury, can I keep up tomorrow?... I drift into the drone of a two stroke engine and a moving trail.

Up again at 6:00 am, its Tuesday the 23rd. We hear its cold outside. -24 to -30 depending on which thermometer you like - I choose -24. I tell Dan not to tell Jim how cold it is but soon he hears it from someone else. One team member from team #55 decides he has had more than enough fun this trip. He packs his bags and waits for a flight out of town. We actually feel pretty good and are looking forward to seeing others on the trail with us. The top racers are already coming into Unalakleet some 460 miles up the trail. Wow!

The first 17 miles are bumpy as this trail is used by locals that run between the towns of Takotna and McGrath. At Takotna we pick up the old mining road and run full tilt boogie all the way to Ophir. No sign of the Loafer from Ophir but school kids are there to help us fuel and oil our sleds. We are running with other teams and everyone is having fun. We pull out of the fuel stop and have a quick snack of cookies and water. The trail roughens up but we are making good time. We come across team #55 along the trail. One machine is up on its side and we know its trouble. The aftermarket rear rail torque arm has failed and does not look to be easy to repair. Dan makes the taboo comment that they too should be riding the Polaris lightweight Extra Light Rail as his is holding up perfectly. After much conference we bid them good luck and they sort out their option to run back to McGrath for another machine or continue up the trail to a village that has a welder. Later we hear they chose the first option and had to ride an additional 120 miles that day. We grind our way through the bumps and tricky creek bed crossings. .8 miles from our next fuel stop at Poorman, Dan pulls to the side of the trail and steps off his sagging machine. I knew what had happened but I couldn’t believe it so I asked him, "whatsthematter"? The rear torque arm has separated into two pieces and the rear of the machine lie on the rails. We pulled the machine into the next checkpoint and tore into the problem. Dan and I figured we could use a six inch metal hose clamp wrapped around the torque arm shaft and connect to a T handle from a spark plug wrench pushed through the boxed portion of the failed arm. For good measure we would use three heavy duty panduit straps for additional support. Meanwhile Jim was filling our water bottles, changing into dry socks, adding clothing layers and slurping down some homemade soup made by the Spenard Builder Checkpoint Crew. They had two army wall tents set up and gas heaters blazing inside. It was cozy and felt good to get out of the weather for a bowl of soup. Many teams had caught up to us at this point and darkness was upon us, it was 4:30 pm. Dan lead out front, in case he had any problems. The trail improved as we motored north up through the old Ruby Mining District.

At Ruby we dropped into the gas stop which is on the banks of the mighty Yukon River. There, our old friend Elmer Soule filled our tanks and talked about finally getting some sleep tonight. The Yukon River was rough for the first ten miles or so but would later smooth out. Rocks and sand littered the snow as we made our way west down river to Galena. We came to a ice road and followed tracks as they criss crossed on and across the road. Upon entering a narrow part of the river the fun stopped. The snow covered ice gave way to root beer colored ice and tracks of other riders turning their machines around. I was leading, going 45 mph and was committed as there were six riders barreling down behind me with no way to stop on the glare ice. As I punched the throttle, I broke through the ice sending up a cloud of steam that only added to the confusion to the riders behind me. I searched for a way out but only saw steep river banks to my port and starboard sides. Open water, strange colored ice, overflow and the sinking feeling of the rear of my snowmachine shot waves of panic stricken fear through my body. I am going to die in the Yukon River in the dead of winter! Finally there is higher ground ahead and I sailed for it. I turned around to see how the others were faring. We all made it and just kept on going. We all knew we were scared and happy to not have fallen through the ice but we didn’t need to stop and talk about it. The lights of Galena are ahead. Two snowmachines are coming down the trail towards us. We move to the right side of the trail as team #52 pulls up along side. What a sight to see. Who was going the wrong way? Had we been turned around on the trail causing us to take a wrong turn down the nightmare of river channel we just survived? Lonz (of team #52) had thought that they were passing Galena and was coming back to make sure they had not missed the turnoff. We assured him that you could not miss town and to proceed in our direction. Three miles later we were all in Galena receiving fuel and oil and the directions to the Whakatana Lodge.

After a quick dinner and talk of our soft ice experience we were ready for rest. We traveled 285 miles for the day. It took fourteen hours of riding less two hours for repair to Dan’s machine, which was still holding up fine.

In the morning we find out that team #55 went down the same root beer colored channel of the river that we had. They had studded tracks and enough time to get turned around before venturing to far. But as one machine turned around it got stuck in overflow. It was 2:00 am and it took the three riders one hour to get the machine out of the overflow and into town. Before departing we looked Dan’s machine over. The repair had held but we didn’t think it would last over the 95 mile portage between Kaltag and Unalakleet. The Polaris dealer in town did not have parts but he had an welder. We got into his shop and disassembled the rear rail. About 1:00 pm we were on the trail again. Five miles down river the arm broke again. We dragged the poor machine back to the shop. The mechanic (his shirt tag said Vern) , said they would add more material to the arm and weld it good. Again, we disassembled the rear rail. Now the rear shock is stiff and not moving and the shaft is bent. We search for parts but none can be found. At 4 pm we are traveling on the Yukon River with team #51 who also had repairs in Galena. As we pass Nulato a couple of local Sled Slingers come out to show us their stuff. They blast past us in a cloud of snow dust. Jim gives chase to one rider but backs off after running at 95 mph for a while. Sunny skies and a perfect trail, we have a good fun, clean run down to Kaltag. We get fuel and oil and share a chocolate bar with a young Native boy. The Kaltag Portage will take us to the coastline, Unalakleet and the Bearing Sea. We have a fun ride and everything else is now behind us. This is what snowmachining is all about. We arrive in Unalakleet about 10:30 pm in time for a nice hot dinner and a soft bed. We rode about 175 miles for the day.

Thursday Feb. 25. 240 miles to Nome. The weather is snowing and grey but locals tell us it is not a storm but only a local weather formation. We hope they are right. The power of a coastal storm will stop us in our tracks so we are very attentive to the weather conditions. We finally get a hold of someone at the airport. From Galena we had called the Polaris dealer in Fairbanks and had a rear torque arm flown in for Dan’s machine - just in case. At 9:00 am we were the last of the seven teams that had overnighted together to head up the coastal trail. We were all over dressed as we bounced and worked our way up the trail. We were trying to catch the two Nome teams before they left Shaktoolik. These guys are experienced at this coastal running stuff and we would feel a lot better being with them if the weather turned windy or snowy. At Shaktoolik we meet up with four other teams and we all went into the local native store to buy candy bar and put on more warm clothes. The temp must have been about 0. After trying to find the trail at the North end of town by the air strip, a Villager came out to show us the correct trail. The local hill was shrouded in clouds and snow. Again we passed some of the slower teams and made our move to catch the Nome Boys. The trail was good but you needed to watch for broken ice. With poor visibility, we were traveling about 55 mph. Five miles before Koyuk (our next fuel stop), with Jim in the lead, me following and Dan in the rear, disaster struck. As we proceeded through a rough ice section, I turned to see how Dan was doing only to see him standing next to his machine that was not running. I turned my machine around in disbelief as Jim zoomed away into the snowy mist not yet knowing what had happened. Dan said his engine started making terrible sounds then quit. We tried starting it but it would not fire. We knew we were close to the next checkpoint so I towed Dan and machine to Koyuk. Team #2 Arctic Cat passes us at warp speed heading back to Fairbanks for the checkered flag. Team #8 Polaris soon follows giving chase. What a race! Only 37 seconds split these two teams after the first 1049 miles.

At Koyuk we dig snow out of Dan’s engine compartment that my track had spun into a tight white mess. The compression gauge told us the story. PTO cylinder had zero compression. That cylinder would not run the remainder of this ride. After all the snow was removed from the air box we got the machine to fire. Once running we added deicer to the fuel and topped off the fuel tank. We lost about a hour but we had the machine running on one cylinder. It would do about 40 mph, we were heading to Nome - 160 miles. Back onto the Bearing Sea ice had us confused as it looked like we were heading south towards Shaktoolik, but soon the trail arched to the west and we were on our way to Elam. A curious Red Fox stopped long enough to be photographed. The top racer’s were coming at us at regular intervals. We cheered and waved them on as they gave us a nod or wave back. Traveling on the ocean ice was eerie. Dan was fearful that his machine would not carry him out of an ice breaking situation. We closely followed the tracks in front of us. At Elim, Dan replaced a spark plug. Jim noticed that his two lower manifold bolts had fallen out and black fuel oil mixture was spewing in his lower engine compartment. Locals from Elim were there to help. One guy rode his sno go back up to his shop and returned with a magnet to help us locate one of Jim’s missing bolts. Dan’s machine was slowly losing speed and RPM. To add insult to injury, Dan’s oil light was coming on. He did not take oil at Koyuk and with his throttle in the wide open position was using more oil than usual. We inspected the reservoir in Golovin and figured we could make it to White Mountain our next fuel stop. The sky was becoming more clear and we were having fun as we knew we were getting closer to Nome. On the Fish River outside of White Mountain we see a pair of Moose foraging on the brush. At White Mountain we take on fuel and oil and have a bite to eat. Racers are passing us on a regular basis but the country is open and we see them coming. During our break, we lock the brake on Dan’s machine and wedge his pocket knife under the throttle flipper so the engine will keep running. Only 75 miles to go.

The trail ahead is through rolling hills like Dan and I grew up on around Minnesota. We had fun chasing our way through the miles of great conditions. Halfway through the section, Dan’s machine faltered and would not move with the throttle wide open. Out of nowhere a Sled Angel appeared on a Yamaha SRX 600. He saw we were having troubles and told us to remove the spark plug out of the dead cylinder and it would run fine - the motor had to much compression, he said. I didn’t understand the logic but we were out of options so we took his suggestion. As Dan removed the spark plug the motor started to build RPM. His said his name was Mike. We thanked him and the Sled Angel was off in a roar. We were moving again. We dropped down off the hills at Topkok and again were traveling near the ice pack. Dan’s machine was giving us fits. We pulled the air box and it would run better. After a few miles we would go through the same procedure. We were afraid to run to long without the air box in fear the we would lean out the fuel/air mixture and ruin the last cylinder. It was minus 10 and a stiff wind out of the North. Jim’s engine hot light was coming on from a lack of cooling and my chin was freezing from my breath moistened facemask. Slowly we made it into sight of Nome. Dan’s machine was running 25 mph at WOT. We crossed the finish line together at 8:00 pm Feb.25 1999. As we motored down Front Street people waved and another team gave us the "thumbs up", we were so happy to have traveled 1044 miles under our own power.

We celebrated our achievement in the local historical establishments that evening. We ran into our Sled Angel, Mike. He was glad to see that we made it into Nome OK but I tell you not near as glad as we were, Team #54, Extreme Alaska Adventures.

From The Trail,

Randy Bedard

Master Guide

Extreme Alaska Adventures
P.O. Box 564
Willow, Alaska  99688

PH: 907-495-6111 

Fax 907-495-6112

E-Mail: bedard@mtaonline.net