Dave Olson recounts busting out the Iditarod trail with Joe Redington, Sr.

Part II,       Dave Olson, 2012 Honorary Musher, recounts busting out the Iditarod Trail with Joe Redington, Sr.,

By Joe Runyan, 1989 Iditarod Champ

Background:

I called Dave at 7AM, still not sure if I would catch him indoors.  Knowing he had innumerable stories of busting out the Iditarod trail in the early 1970’s, I wanted to focus on the trail from Skwetna, up the south side of the Alaska Range via Finger Lake, Happy Valley, Shirley Lake, and on to the divide at Rainy Pass. 

Why?  Because any musher that has since traversed the Iditarod trail is always amazed that they survived the winding trail, often edging diagonally on steep slopes, and especially the Happy Valley Steps, an exhilarating if not in some years, a terrifying free fall involving three hairpin turns in wild descent to the valley of the Happy River.  It may be the Iditarod TV favorite all time vantage.

Joe Redington, Sr., the US Army, and finding the Trail

“By the winter of 1971-2, I was friends with Joe Redington, Sr. and knew all about his plans for a race trail to Nome.  Initially, we thought of a trail to Iditarod and back, but Joe pointed out that it was hard to find sponsors for a trail to nowhere and back again,” Dave recounted. 

“Our first project was to find the old trail from Skwetna to Rainy Pass.   Some of the trail was used by trappers in the area, but some of it to the Happy Valley steps hadn’t been brushed for years.  In fact, we weren’t even sure where the trail actually went across the valley.

Joe Redington, Sr. got help from the US Army to fly us with sleds and five dogs each to the old Skwetna Crossing.   A platoon with skis, snowmachines, and snow shoes followed us while Joe and I looked for old blazes (axe marks) on trees and gradually snowshoed ahead of the dogs.   The army platoon was fully provisioned by helicopter, but Joe and I just bivouacked at the end of the day with a tarp tent and fire.  We gradually found our way with old blaze marks past Finger Lake.  At one point we found a roadhouse with a fallen roof.

We got smothered with five feet of snow at that point, which made trail breaking slow.  The next day we made it to One Stone Lake and camped on a little point.  The wind blew loose snow all that night and covered up the dogs, and also blocked the entrance to our tent. Digging out in the morning, we realized it was a big mistake to have camped out in the open.  For a while, we couldn’t even find the dogs.  We uncovered the gear and dogs and moved our camp deeper in the woods.

At this point we were almost out of food and had no sugar for our tea.  I happened to have some Jelly Beans in my coat pocket, which we used for our tea.  For years, Joe would recall how he loved Jelly Bean tea. In the meantime, we were waiting for the army platoon on skis and snow shoes to catch us.

We continued on towards the Happy River, not knowing the exact route of the trail.  It was very confusing, and we decided to use another plan.  Finally, Joe went back to the Army group and got a ride back to Knik.  He then flew his airplane over me a number of times, sort of retracing the old trail, and guided my ten dog team and I to the top of the canyon, where we again lost the trail.  I couldn’t figure out where the old trail dropped off into the valley.

Eventually, the team and I were ferried by the Army helicopter across the canyon to an established camp at Shirley Lake.  Then we backtracked to the Happy River and eventually found a steep slip to the river, and then back up the canyon on the steps.

In all, this expedition took ten days.  Mostly, I remember we did a lot of snow shoeing.”

Final Thoughts:

I think any musher who negotiated this part of the trail, especially the three “step” descent to the Happy River,  will appreciate the effort it took to rediscover the old freight trail, and brush out decades of growth tangling the route. 

How steep is it?  Basically, the descent is out of control with dogs heading pell-mell to the bottom.  What saves the musher is a well-designed trail, essentially a chute that guides the sled to the valley bottom and a steady dog team.   The Steps can be an emotional drainer because the expectation of a possible screw up, maybe a dramatic tumble to the bottom, is a remote possibility bouncing around in the musher subconscious.  I survived ten descents over ten Iditarods, but it always felt like a narrow escape.

Dave Olson and Joe Redington, Sr.  and the other trail breakers deserve a musher nod.

Parenthetically, I should add that the mushers may actually skirt the Happy Valley Steps in Iditarod 2012 by utilizing a cat trail pioneered by a mining development.  More on that later when we get the definitive trail report at the musher meeting on Thursday, March 1, 2012