Rescue Dog of the High Pass – Chapter 14: The Message

By Jim Kjelgaard

(Read Chapter 13 here)

The fire in the refectory’s great fireplace roared. The Prior, the Canons, the Sacristan, and everyone else who lived at the Hospice of St. Bernard and did not have to be away on some urgent business, were gathered around it.

Jean Greb, who felt well enough to sit up by now, occupied a chair in front of the fire. Shaken and thoroughly chilled, but not seriously injured, Professor Luttman lay on Jean’s pallet.

The Prior said, “Let us have the dog brought forth. Even though he cannot understand it, he should hear the message.”

All eyes turned to Franz, beside whom Caesar had been sitting only recently. The boy looked toward the door.

Caesar, who had accepted the stable but found the refectory much too hot, was waiting just inside the door. His jaws were spread and his tongue lolled. He wagged his tail at Franz and whined, obviously an invitation for his master to open the door and let him out into the comfortable snow.

“He finds the fire much too hot.” The boy spoke with a free tongue from a happy heart. He wondered now why he had ever been overawed by the Prior or anyone else at the Hospice. Beneath their somber habits beat very warm and wonderful hearts. If it were any other way, they would not be here. Franz finished, “He wants me to let him out.”

“A true dog of the high pass,” the Prior said. “Very well, Franz. You may let him out.”

The boy walked to the door, opened it, and Caesar trotted out gratefully. He began to roll in the snow. Franz returned to his place.

The Prior said, “All of us know of the miracle, a miracle wrought by a young maronnier and his dog. Now we shall hear the message Professor Luttman carries.”

“I have imparted the message to you,” Professor Luttman protested. “You are the proper person to tell Franz.”

“Not I!” The Prior laughed. “I am merely an onlooker here, and I must say that, for once, I thoroughly enjoy the spectator’s role. Proceed, Professor Luttman.”

“Very well.” The Professor turned to Franz. “Do you know what I really thought the day I expelled you from my school?”

“You thought I was too stupid to learn,” Franz replied.

“No such thing!” Professor Luttman denied. “I thought, ‘There goes an Alpinist, one who can never discover in my beloved books any of the inspiration that he finds in his beloved mountains. It is truly unjust to keep him in school when he does not belong here.’ I thought also that, one day, you would make your mark in the world.”

“I am just a maronnier at St. Bernard Hospice,” Franz protested.

“And how grateful I am because you are ‘just a maronnier,’” Professor Luttman said. “Were you not, I would have died in the snow.”

“They would have found you,” Franz insisted.

“We would not!” Anton Martek spoke up. “We would have continued digging where we thought he was. It never occurred to any of us that he might be three hundred feet away and down the wall of snow.”

“That is true,” Father Benjamin agreed.

“Very true,” said Father Mark.

“So I am alive today because of you and Caesar,” Professor Luttman continued. “Emil Gottschalk lives for the same reason. He wanted to give you—” Professor Luttman named a greater sum of money than the boy had ever thought existed.

“I would not accept his money,” Franz asserted firmly.

Professor Luttman said, “So I told him, so your father told him, too, but both of us agreed that the Hospice of St. Bernard might well use it. Now the Prior and I have talked, and the Prior declares that you shall decide how that money may be spent.”

Franz murmured, “I would like enough to keep Caesar in food, so that he will not be sent away from the Hospice.”

“I would buy more Alpine Mastiffs, dogs such as Caesar, and bring them to the Hospice.”

The Prior laughed. “If there was any danger of Caesar being sent away—and there isn’t the slightest—there is enough money to feed him for the next hundred years and a vast sum besides.”

Cold as the arm was, he could still feel the pulse that beat within it.

Franz looked appealingly at the Prior. “I am not worthy to spend a sum so huge!”

“You must,” the Prior told him. “No one else can.”

Franz turned his troubled eyes to the floor. After a moment, he looked up.

“There is only one thing I would do,” he said finally. “I would go down into the villages, the mountain villages where people and animals alike must learn the arts of the snow. I would buy more Alpine Mastiffs, dogs such as Caesar, and bring them to the Hospice. I am sure you may find someone with sufficient skill to train them properly.”

“And I am equally sure we already have someone,”  the Prior declared. “His name is Franz Halle. This is a day of great joy for all of us. Think of the lives that would have been lost but will be saved after we have these—

“These dogs of St. Bernard.”

TODAY’S QUESTION

This is the end of “Rescue Dog of the High Pass,” so today we’d like to know what you thought of the book. Give us a review of the story. Leave your review below or email it with contact info (to get your JD Water bottle) to juniordispatch@yorkdispatch.com

VOCABULARY

Look up these vocabulary words, define them and use each in a sentence.

• Loll
• Onlooker
• Beloved

CHARACTERS IN THIS BOOK

• Anton Martek — Franz’ boss at the Hospice
• The Alps — A mountain range in Europe
• Aunt Maria Reissner — A relative of Franz
• Caesar — An alpine mastiff (usually called a St. Bernard) owned by Franz
• Dornblatt — Not a person, but the town where this chapter takes place
• Erich Erlic — A resident of Dornblatt, known for having a good skill with his saw
• Emil Gottschalk — A rich landowner in Dornblatt
• Father Benjamin — A traveler with great knowledge
• Father Paul — The priest of Dornblatt
• Franz Halle — A school boy and owner of Caesar
• Grandpa Eissman — An old man in town that Franz helps. Eissman was an expert mountaineer.
• Hermann Gottschalk — The son of Emil and schoolmate to Franz
• Hertha Bittner — One of Franz’ schoolmates
• Jean Geiser — A missing hunter
• Jean Greb — A handicapped man helped by Franz
• Lispeth Halle — The mother of Franz
• Professor Luttman — The school teacher
• Paul Maurat — Head of the kitchen at the hospice
• Widow Geiser — A woman who runs a farm in Dornblatt
• Willi Resnick — One of Franz’ schoolmates

MORE INFO

Get the FREE Gutenberg.org of this book here.

VIDEO

In this video, we see a whole lot of Saint Bernards. A veritable colony of Saint Bernards! http://youtu.be/PgIz1Add98s

Rescue Dog of the High Pass – Chapter 13: Caesar’s Feat

By Jim Kjelgaard

(Read Chapter 12 here)

There was a wind, but it was not the roaring blast that so frequently snarled through St. Bernard Pass and it had not tumbled the snow about enough to cover the ski trail left by Father Benjamin and Jean Greb. It was a safe path, for two men had already traveled it in safety. Rather than having to choose carefully a slow and uncertain way, the four could now move swiftly.

Followed only by Caesar, who found the going easy on a path packed by so many skis, Franz stayed just far enough behind Anton Martek to avoid running up on the toboggan the giant pulled. Father Benjamin led the way, followed by Father Mark. There were ropes and shovels on the toboggan.

Franz tried to swallow his heart that insisted on beating in his throat, rather than in his chest. An avalanche was as unpredictable as the chatter of a jay. For all his vast experience in the mountains, Jean Greb had not known this one was coming until it overwhelmed both himself and Professor Luttman. No one could ever be sure.

Franz tried to reassure himself by thinking of the three men ahead of him. All were not only men of the mountains in general, but of St. Bernard Pass in particular. There was no situation that could arise in the Pass which they had not met before and with which they would not know how to cope, Franz told himself. They were very sure of finding Professor Luttman.

But in his own heart, Franz knew how very wrong he could be.

An avalanche was a freakish thing. When tons, and millions of tons, of snow thundered down a slope, it was somewhat comparable to a treacherous river. There were currents that surged toward the top and those that bored toward the bottom. Even though Jean Greb had been cast out on top, Professor Luttman might be lying at the bottom. For all their ability to work miracles, the men of St. Bernard Hospice would never reach him alive if he were. They would never even find him.

Franz tried to banish such gloomy forebodings from his mind and might have succeeded had not one thought persisted. If Father Benjamin believed there was a good chance of finding Professor Luttman, he would have made Jean Greb as comfortable as possible and tried to find him. And in the refectory, while Jean lay unconscious, Father Benjamin himself had said that there was no hope.

Franz thrust a hand behind him and felt a little relieved when Caesar came up to sniff it. He was by no means sure that Caesar could find Professor Luttman, but he was positive that they stood a far better chance with the big mastiff than they ever would without him. He tried to picture in his imagination all the places where the avalanche might have occurred — and gasped with dismay when they finally found it!

The prevailing west wind funneled through a broad gulley. On the east, the gulley was bounded by a gentle slope. But on the west, the slope rose sheer for almost half its height before giving way to an easy rise. The wind had plastered snow against the steep portion. More snow, either wind-borne or  falling, had gathered upon it to a depth of twenty feet or more.

It was a much greater burden than the slope should have held. With almost a perpendicular wall, and not a single tree or bush to hold it back, a whisper might set it off and send snow roaring into the gulley. It was a death trap that any experienced mountaineer would recognize at a glance.

Jean Greb, seeing the peril, had chosen to climb above the steep portion on the west slope, rather than veer to the east. It was a choice any mountaineer might have made. But something, possibly the light ski tread of Jean Greb and Professor Luttman, had started the snow on the steep wall rolling. This, in turn, had set off an avalanche on the gentle slope and all of it had poured into the gulley.

In the center of the gulley, snow lay a hundred feet deep. On the north end, where the cleavage between the snow that had rolled and that which had not rolled was almost as sharp as though some colossus had cut it with a knife, there was a near-perpendicular drop that varied between sixty and ninety feet in height. The tremendous force of the avalanche had packed the snow to icy hardness.

Father Benjamin halted, waved his arm and said, “I found your friend here, Franz. He was trying to dig into the snow.”

Franz stared with unbelieving eyes at the faint scars in the immense pile of snow. They could have been made only by a ski pole, but a ski pole was the only tool Jean had. Franz knew suddenly that Father Benjamin had been entirely right in bringing Jean to the Hospice. A hundred men with a hundred shovels could not move that mass of snow in a hundred years. It was better to save the man who could be saved than to let him senselessly risk his life for the man who could not.

“You found him here?” Anton Martek asked.

Father Benjamin answered, “This is where the avalanche cast him up. Since he and his companion were traveling very close together, he is sure that his friend cannot be far from this place.”

Anton said, “I know of nothing we may do except dig here.”

“Nor I,” said Father Mark.

Father Benjamin said, “If I had a better idea, I would surely make it known. Let us dig, and let us have faith as we do so.”

The boy seized a shovel and began to dig, along with Anton and the two priests. He shook his head in disbelief for, even though he used all his strength, his shovel took only a tiny bite of the hard-packed snow. Despite the cold wind that snapped up the gulley like an angry wolf, beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead….

Franz thought that an hour might have passed when, while the other three continued to dig, he had to stop and rest. For the first time, it occurred to him to look about for Caesar.

The big dog was at the north end of the avalanche, peering over the perpendicular wall. He trotted anxiously back and forth, then leaned over to rest his front paws on a ledge. Suddenly Franz remembered when Caesar had found Emil Gottschalk buried in the snow.

Anton Martek and the two priests remained too busy to notice the boy’s departure when he made his way to Caesar’s side. The great mastiff wagged his tail furiously and stared down the wall of snow.

Suddenly Franz remembered when Caesar had found Emil Gottschalk buried in the snow.

“Is he there?” Franz whispered. “Is he there, Caesar?”

The dog took three paces forward and three back. He whined, leaned over again to rest his front paws on the ledge, then withdrew to his master’s side. Franz studied the awful wall that suddenly seemed a thousand feet high, and where a mistake in judgment or a misstep meant possible death and certain injury.

But Caesar would not stop staring down it, and only three feet below was the ledge where he had rested his paws. Franz stepped down, widened the ledge with his shovel and reached behind him to help the dog down. He sought the next ledge that he might dig out with his shovel.

They were halfway down the wall when the boy heard a thunderous, “Franz! Franz! Come back!”

He recognized Father Benjamin’s voice but he dared not look back, for even a fairy could not have found more standing room on the thin ledge where the boy and his dog stood. Franz reached down with his shovel to scoop out the next ledge.

After what seemed an eternity, they were at the bottom of the wall.

Caesar ran forward and began to dig in the snow. Scraping beside him, presently Franz found the limp arm of a man.

Cold as the arm was, he could still feel the pulse that beat within it.

(Continue on to Chapter 14, the conclusion of the book, here)

TODAY’S QUESTION

In this chapter, Franz works hard shoveling as he and the rest of the search party dig for the missing man. It seems like an impossible task, but eventually they find him. Tell us about some seemingly impossible tasks that you’ve done. Maybe it’s learning to ride a bike. Finally getting an A+ on a math test or learning all the words to a song. Leave your answer below or email it with contact info (to get your JD Water bottle) to juniordispatch@yorkdispatch.com

VOCABULARY

Look up these vocabulary words, define them and use each in a sentence.

• Jay
• Gulley
• Perpendicular
• Pace
• Eternity

CHARACTERS IN THIS BOOK

• Anton Martek — Franz’ boss at the Hospice
• The Alps — A mountain range in Europe
• Aunt Maria Reissner — A relative of Franz
• Caesar — An alpine mastiff (usually called a St. Bernard) owned by Franz
• Dornblatt — Not a person, but the town where this chapter takes place
• Erich Erlic — A resident of Dornblatt, known for having a good skill with his saw
• Emil Gottschalk — A rich landowner in Dornblatt
• Father Benjamin — A traveler with great knowledge
• Father Paul — The priest of Dornblatt
• Franz Halle — A school boy and owner of Caesar
• Grandpa Eissman — An old man in town that Franz helps. Eissman was an expert mountaineer.
• Hermann Gottschalk — The son of Emil and schoolmate to Franz
• Hertha Bittner — One of Franz’ schoolmates
• Jean Geiser — A missing hunter
• Jean Greb — A handicapped man helped by Franz
• Lispeth Halle — The mother of Franz
• Professor Luttman — The school teacher
• Paul Maurat — Head of the kitchen at the hospice
• Widow Geiser — A woman who runs a farm in Dornblatt
• Willi Resnick — One of Franz’ schoolmates

MORE INFO

Get the FREE Gutenberg.org of this book here.

VIDEO

This video is a change of pace for our videos in this series. This time we look as how some “impossible” photography is created. http://youtu.be/mc0vhSseGk4

Mitch Seavey became the oldest winner, a two-time Iditarod champion, when he drove his dog team under the burled arch in Nome on Tuesday evening, March 12, 2013. Race marshal Mark Nordman is at right. (AP Photo/The Anchorage Daily News, Bill Roth)

Mitch Seavey, 53, outdueled Aliy Zirkle on the final stretch of the Iditarod, becoming the oldest champion in the history of the 1,000-mile race.

The Sterling musher steadily pulled away from Zirkle on the 67-mile run from White Mountain, where just 13 minutes separated the two mushers in the afternoon.

Led by Tanner, a 6-year-old, orange-brown husky who is a kennel favorite, Seavey coasted down Nome’s Front Street at 10:39 p.m.

“I gotta go congratulate my lead dog Tanner,” Seavey said after his team came to a stop. “He’s probably the best I’ve ever had.

“Tanner is happy to be a sled dog and he makes it look easy.”

Seavey’s winning margin of 23 minutes, 39 seconds made it the fourth-closest race in Iditarod history. Seavey finished in 9 days, 7 hours, 39 minutes, 56 seconds. Zirkle finished in 9 days, 8 hours, 3 minutes, 35 seconds.

“I was going for it,” Zirkle said, “but that slippery little sucker, I couldn’t catch him.”

As she traveled from White Mountain to Nome, Zirkle watched Seavey’s winding tracks in the snow. She tried to guess if the musher was speeding up or slowing down based on whether the tracks stayed smack in the middle of the trail or drifted to the side.

“And you don’t know,” she said. “But it’s kind of fun to guess.”

“And then for about 30 miles of the trail we’re high above treeline in these rolling mountains, and every time I would come up over the hill I would see him coming back down the other side,” Zirkle said.

Zirkle, 43, said she thought she saw Seavey’s yellow sled after Safety, but it was just a hallucination.

Meantime, Seavey was imaging he was seeing Zirkle all across the tundra.

“I saw the raven Aliy, I saw the fuel tank Aliy. And the upside-down boat Aliy,” Seavey said. “Everything I was seeing back there I thought must be her … I would continue to scare myself that she was catching up to me.”

Zirkle’s time is the second fastest by a woman. Her time last year — 9 days, 5 hours, 29 minutes, 10 seconds — is the fastest.

“You’re gonna win this thing,” Seavey told the Two Rivers musher as he shook her hand.

OLDEST WINNER
Seavey replaced Jeff King as the Iditarod’s oldest champion. King, who was poised early Wednesday morning to claim third place, was 50 when he won his fourth victory in 2006.

Mitch’s son Dallas was 25 when he won last year’s race, giving the Seaveys the oldest and youngest champs in race history.

Both of those distinctions came at Zirkle’s expense. Dallas beat her by 59 minutes, 44 seconds last year.

Tuesday’s victory was the second for Mitch — he won his first in 2004 — and marked his 19th finish in 20 attempts.

“I hate to go off into the sunset knowing I only did it once in 20 tries,” he said, “so it’s sorta a validation.”

The finish was the 12th for Zirkle, who was hoping to drive her team to its second thousand-mile championship of the year. Nine of the 10 dogs she finished with — Quito, Olivia, Scruggs, Scout, Beemer, Nacho, Chica, Biscuit and Willie — helped Zirkle’s husband, Allen Moore, win the Yukon Quest last month in Fairbanks.

“My dog team is my heart,” Zirkle said. “They’re my family and they’re fantastic.”
Seavey will collect $50,400 and a new pickup truck for his victory. Zirkle gets $47,100 for second place.

Mitch Seavey congratulates second place finisher Aliy Zirkle after she arrived in Nome. (AP Photo/The Anchorage Daily News, Bill Roth)

PATIENCE PAYS OFF
Seavey had to ward off both King and Zirkle in the last one-third of the race.

Patience paid off for him on Monday, when he resisted the urge to follow when King blew through Koyuk to temporarily claim the lead. Seavey stayed at the checkpoint for another three hours and was able to overtake King on the run to Elim.

He owned a 48-minute lead leaving Elim on Monday night, but Zirkle came on strong during the overnight run to White Mountain and sliced 35 minutes off his lead.

Seavey did himself no favors on that run — he twice fell asleep and fell off his sled, according a Facebook post by his son Danny Seavey.
‘RUN MY TUSH OFF’
Normally the 67 miles from White Mountain to Nome is a formality. If you get to White

Mountain with a comfortable lead, your only job is to avoid screw-ups during the roughly 10-hour trek to the finish.

Zirkle’s plan?

“Run my tush off,” she said early Tuesday as the leaders rested in White Mountain.

Zirkle was trying to become the third woman to win the race and the first since Susan Butcher’s final championship in 1990.

Her sled dogs are a small, pixie-like team that descended from a favorite leader named Cha-Cha, are led by pink-nosed veteran Quito. (That’s short for Poquita, smallest of her litter of Spanish-named puppies.)

Though Zirkle trailed by a scant 13 minutes at White Mountain, King noted that even a lead of a few minutes there can hand the frontrunner the advantage over the final run west across rolling hills to the coast.

“You can get out of sight and the second team doesn’t have the advantage of drafting off you visually,” said King, who said he led DeeDee Jonrowe by about seven minutes out of White

Mountain en route to his 1993 title, which he won by more than 30 minutes.

Nome musher Aaron Burmeister like how Zirkle’s team looked in White Mountain.

“Aliy’s team’s coming together really nicely for her. And they’re really coming on strong here late in the race,” he said. “Mitch has been racing up with me at the front of the pack for a good portion of the race, back and forth. I know his team is pretty tuckered, about like mine right now. His are tuckered because they’ve been raced hard.”

But Jonrowe and King said they watched Seavey’s team along the trail and saw formidable dogs.

“I saw (the team) going into Grayling, on the Yukon a lot. Just powered through that wet, nasty, sludgy stuff,” Jonrowe said.

EARLY CONTENDERS FADE
While former champion Martin Buser of Big Lake led at many of the early checkpoints thanks to an unheard of 20-hour run to start the race, it was after his team came off the Yukon River that Seavey staked his move.

By Elim, what had looked like a Seavey-King duel became a Seavey-Zirkle duel. Zirkle rested her dogs for about an hour less than Seavey, cutting Seavey’s lead to 48 minutes.
Zirkle got even closer on the run to White Mountain. Her headlamp alerted Seavey that she was closing in.

“I knew she was coming. I saw her light after I left Elim, when we got to the mountains,” Seavey said. “Typically my team does well in the mountains and I didn’t see her anymore until we got here on Golovin Bay.”

The clang of church bells announced Seavey’s arrival to White Mountain at 5:11 a.m. Tuesday.

The musher was still unpacking at 5:24 a.m. when Zirkle slid to a stop, bouncing on her sled.

“Mitch is up for a race, aren’t ya?” Zirkle said to reporters — and a nearby Seavey — as she finished feeding her dogs.

“You calling me out?” Seavey said, heating water a few yards away. He was going to get his sneakers out for the finish, he joked.

“Can I borrow your sneakers? My boots are still wet and nasty from the rain,” Zirkle replied.

OUT OF WHITE MOUNTAIN
Hours later, snowmachines zoomed to the frozen Fish River as volunteers counted down to Seavey’s departure for Nome. Already, 11 teams were parked a few hundred yards from ski planes roaring for takeoff. Dallas and Mitch Seavey hunkered at the elder Seavey’s team.

“I don’t think I’m going to be catching up with you guys by any stretch of imagination. But I don’t think you’ll have to wait too long,” Dallas said of his ETA in Nome.

Under clear skies, Mitch resumed his race.

“Tanner! Gee! Line up!” he commanded his team of 10 dogs before driving off at 1:11 p.m.

Zirkle made last-minute inspections before following 13 minutes later. She walked down her line of dogs, rubbing their faces and checking collars. Once Zirkle was on the sled runners, she called to Quito, who began a whistling howl.

The musher and the rest of the team joined the chorus, then gave chase.

SAFE LEAD BY SAFETY
Late Tuesday, the pair was crossing the Bering Sea shore where coastal wind rakes the snow and Seavey and Tanner could be seen marching west toward Nome.

Quiot and Zirkle, kicking from the sled, followed about two miles down the trail.

By the time Seavey reached Safety, 49 miles from White Mountain and 18 miles from Nome according to the race’s GPS tracker, his lead had stretched to 25 minutes.

A race that looked too close to call just a few hours earlier belonged to him.

___

Read more of the Junior Dispatch’s 2013 Iditarod coverage:

• Your primer on the 2013 Iditarod
• A look at the weather on the trail
• The starting lineup of the 2013 Iditarod
• Mushers blast out of Willow
• Nurse comes back to mushing
• A veteran returned the race after 27 years
• Mushers plan their stops along the Iditarod trail
• Martin Buser reveals his plan to win
• You won’t find big money in dog sled racing
• How music star Kid Rock helped a young musher
• Lance Mackey earns gold in Iditarod
• Martin Buser’s gamble to win
• Aily Zirkle shows her dominance
• Mitch Seavey starts to take control of the race
• A dog gets loose, and its musher forced to quit the race
• Lance Mackey’s struggles included loosing a tooth
• A look at the final hours of the race
• Mitch Seavey wins 2013 Iditarod (initial story)

Junior Dispatch also offered a series of “Fast-Facts” to help familiarize readers with the rules of the game:

• Iditarod Map and race primer
• A look at where the racers come from
• Previous winners in the race
• Stop-and-go racing
• The Passing game
• Beware the moose
• Earning a red lantern
• Husky alternatives
• Speedy delivery
• Sports in Nome
• Alaskans dominate
• What’s in a Nome?
• Animal Cruelty?
• The legend of Balto
• The legend of Togo
• More polar fun

___
___
By KYLE HOPKINS and BETH BRAGG of the Anchorage Daily News from NOME, Alaska. (MCT)
(c)2013 the Anchorage Daily News (Anchorage, Alaska)
Visit the Anchorage Daily News (Anchorage, Alaska) at www.adn.com
Distributed by MCT Information Services

Mitch Seavey leaves White Mountain in Alaska, Tuesday, March 12, 2013, during the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race. (AP Photo/The Anchorage Daily News, Bill Roth)

Mitch Seavey became the oldest winner and a two-time Iditarod champion when he drove his dog team under the burled arch in Nome on Tuesday evening, March 12, 2013. (AP Photo/The Anchorage Daily News, Bill Roth)

A 53-year-old former champion has won the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race to become the oldest winner of Alaska’s grueling test of endurance.

Mitch Seavey and 10 dogs crossed the Nome finish line to cheering crowds at 10:39 p.m. Alaska time Tuesday.

“This is for all of the gentlemen of a certain age,” he said on a live stream posted to the Iditarod website after completing the race in temperatures just above zero. His race time in the 1,000-mile race was nine days, 7 hours and 39 minutes.

Seavey’s victory came after a dueling sprint against Aliy Zirkle, last year’s runner-up, along the frozen, wind-whipped Bering Sea coast. Zirkle crossed the finish line 24 minutes after her rival, who greeted her after a while.

“You did a good job,” Seavey told Zirkle as a camera crew filmed them. “You’re going to win this thing, probably more than once.”

Mitch Seavey  sits with his two lead dogs, Tanner, left and Taurus, right, at the Iditarod finish line in Nome, Alaska. (AP Photo/The Anchorage Daily News, Bill Roth)

Rest stops: At a news conference after the race Zirkle gave credit to her rival’s strategy.

“Mitch has this ability to sit on the sidelines and refuel because he knows he needs to refuel, while everyone else is zooming by,” she said. “It’s smart, and that’s probably why you won.”

Immediately after finishing, both mushers rushed to pet their dogs, with Seavey singling out his main leader, 6-year-old Tanner, posing for photos with the dog and another leader, Taurus, wearing yellow garlands.

Zirkle’s dogs wagged their tails as she praised them. “My dog team is my heart,” she said.

The pair jostled for the lead, with Zirkle never more than a few miles behind, in the final stretch.

“I just now stopped looking over my shoulder,” Seavey said after winning.

In the pack: Also trailing by a dozen or so miles was four-time champion Jeff King, who was followed by a cluster of contenders, including Seavey’s son, Dallas Seavey. The younger Seavey at age 25 last year became the youngest Iditarod winner ever, beating Zirkle to the finish line by one hour.

Mitch Seavey first won the Iditarod in 2004. Before his Tuesday night win, King had been the oldest Iditarod champion, winning his fourth race at age 50 in 2006.

The oldies were still stellar performers in a race that ended last year with a top field featuring many finishers in their 20s and 30, noted Iditarod race spokeswoman Erin McLarnon.

“Last year, we saw a lot of those youngsters in the top 10,” McLarnon said. “Some of those 45-plussers are taking back the lead this year. They are showing the young ‘uns what they can really do out there on that trail.”

Aliy Zirkle finished second in the Iditarod for the second consecutive year when her dog team crossed under the burled arch in Nome on Tuesday evening, March 12, 2013. (AP Photo/The Anchorage Daily News, Bill Roth)

Her effort: Zirkle, 43, had hoped to be only the third woman to win the race and the first since Susan Butcher won her fourth Iditarod in 1990. Before this year’s race, Zirkle noted the long time that had passed since a woman won.

“This is my 13th year, and I’ve wanted to win every year,” she said before the race, which began March 2 with 66 teams at a ceremonial start in Anchorage.

The competitive part of the race began the following day in Willow 50 miles to the north. Since then, the race changed leaders several times. Those at the front of the field included four-time champions Lance Mackey and Martin Buser, who later fell behind.

En route to Nome, the race turned into an aggressively contested run among veterans along an often punishing trail.

Conditions on the Yukon River required dogs to go through deep snow and navigate glare ice. Above-freezing temperatures also led to overflow along the trail, a potentially dangerous situation where water has pushed up through the ice and refrozen, creating a weak top layer of ice that teams and mushers can break through.

For reaching Nome first, Seavey wins $50,400 and a new 2013 Dodge Ram pickup truck. The rest of the $600,000 purse will be split among the next 29 mushers to cross the finish line under the famed burled arch on Front Street, a block from the sea.

___

Read more of the Junior Dispatch’s 2013 Iditarod coverage:

• Your primer on the 2013 Iditarod
• A look at the weather on the trail
• The starting lineup of the 2013 Iditarod
• Mushers blast out of Willow
• Nurse comes back to mushing
• A veteran returned the race after 27 years
• Mushers plan their stops along the Iditarod trail
• Martin Buser reveals his plan to win
• You won’t find big money in dog sled racing
• How music star  Kid Rock helped a young musher
• Lance Mackey earns gold in Iditarod
• Martin Buser’s gamble to win
• Aily Zirkle shows her dominance
• Mitch Seavey starts to take control of the race
• A  dog gets loose, and its musher forced to quit the race
• Lance Mackey’s struggles included loosing a tooth
• A look at the final hours of the race

Junior Dispatch also offered a series of “Fast-Facts” to help familiarize readers with the rules of the game:

• Iditarod Map and race primer
• A look at where the racers come from
• Previous winners in the race
• Stop-and-go racing
• The Passing game
• Beware the moose
• Earning a red lantern
• Husky alternatives
• Speedy delivery
• Sports in Nome
• Alaskans dominate
• What’s in a Nome?
• Animal Cruelty?
• The legend of Balto
• The legend of Togo
• More polar fun

___
Reported by MARK THIESSEN and RACHEL D’ORO of the Associated Press from NOME, Alaska. Associated Press writer Rachel D’Oro reported from Anchorage. Follow her on Twitter at https://twitter.com/rdoro.
___

Online:

http://iditarod.com

Mitch Seavey became a two-time Iditarod champion when he drove his dog team under the burled arch in Nome on Tuesday evening, Mar. 12, 2013. Leader Taurus looks out at the crowd gathered on Front Street. (BILL ROTH / Anchorage Daily News)

Rescue Dog of the High Pass – Chapter 12: Jean’s Story

By Jim Kjelgaard

(Read Chapter 11 here)

Father Mark and Anton rushed to their skis and sped out to help the approaching pair. Father Benjamin surrendered Jean Greb to the mighty Anton, then knelt to undo the harness of Jean’s skis. As though Jean, a big man, weighed no more than a baby, Anton Martek cradled him in his arms and carried him into the refectory. He laid him tenderly on a pallet that the Clavandier and one of the Canons had placed in front of the fire.

Franz hung fearfully in the background while the Prior himself, who was skilled in the healing arts, knelt beside the injured man and began to examine him. Jean had fought on while there was need for fighting. Now that the need no longer existed, unconsciousness came.

“I fear that there is no hope for this man’s companion,” Father Benjamin said in a low voice. “They were coming from the inn to the Hospice when an avalanche rolled down upon them. By a miracle alone, this man was thrown to the top. Not even his skis were broken, and when I discovered him, he was trying to find his companion. I thought it best, even though he protested, to bring him here with all possible speed.”

“It was wise to do so,” the Prior said quietly. “The snows have claimed many lives. Had you let this man continue to search for his friend, his life might have been lost, too.”

“Is Jean badly hurt?” Franz asked huskily.

“Rescue Dog of the High Pass” was first published in 1958.

The Prior glanced up quickly. “Do you know this man, Franz?”

“He is Jean Greb, from my native village of Dornblatt,” Franz answered. “He is a very good friend to my family and myself.”

“Put your heart at ease.” The Prior’s slim fingers ceased exploring Jean’s body. “There is very great shock, which is not at all extraordinary after one has been the victim of an avalanche. Aside from that, your friend seems to have suffered only a broken arm and some broken ribs. It will be less painful for him if we take the proper measures while he still sleeps.”

Anton Martek, who had doubtless discovered Jean’s broken arm while carrying him to the Hospice, was suddenly there with splints. Father Mark brought bandages, and all the rest stood silently near while the Prior set and splinted Jean’s broken arm and bound his ribs.

Finished, the Prior reached for a flask of brandy that the Clavandier had brought from his stores. He forced a few drops between Jean’s lips, waited a moment, then gave the injured man a few more drops.

Jean’s eyelids fluttered. He turned his head to one side and moaned. Then he opened his eyes and stared blankly. The Prior knelt before him with a small glass of brandy. He cradled Jean’s head with one arm.

“Drink,” he said.

Jean sipped slowly, and as he did the color returned to his face and the life to his eyes. He nibbled his own lips. Then the shock faded and he returned to the world of rational beings. His eyes found Franz, and an agony that was born of no physical pain twisted his face.

“We came to see you, Franz,” he said in a husky whisper, “and I was the guide. Alas, I was a very poor guide, for the one who engaged me still lies in the snow!”

“It was not your fault,” the Prior soothed. “No man can foresee an avalanche.”

Franz’s heart turned over. For none but the most important of reasons would anyone have set out from Dornblatt to visit him in St. Bernard Pass. Were either of his parents or one of his sisters lost in the snow and not found? Were they beset by some terrible illness? Were—?

“I know there was a message,” Jean continued, “but I was not the one who carried it.”

“Who was the message from?” Franz burst out.

Jean said, “It was from Emil Gottschalk.”

“Emil Gottschalk?” Franz asked bewilderedly.

“The same,” Jean said. “It was only two weeks ago that he was able to leave the hospital at Martigny and return to Dornblatt. He has lost one of his feet, but that seems to make small difference, for he has found his heart. His first act was to send for the Widow Geiser and say to her that she may discharge her debt to him at her own will and in her own time. That she will be able to do, since she has such a very fine farm and is shortly to marry Raul Muller. His second act—”

Jean lapsed into silence while Franz’s bewilderment grew. Of all the people of Dornblatt who might have sent him a message, Emil Gottschalk was farthest from his thoughts. But the former greedy miser of Dornblatt must surely have come home a changed man. That he had given the Widow Geiser time to pay her debts when he might have foreclosed on her farm was evidence enough of that.

“His second act,” Jean went on, “was to compose a message to you. It was a most important message, that must be entrusted only to a most important messenger.”

“Who was the messenger?” Franz asked.

Jean answered, “Professor Luttman.”

Franz reeled like a bullet-stricken deer. Professor Luttman was one of the finest men in Dornblatt. He was a great and kind teacher, one who had struggled hard to teach even a stupid Franz Halle. If he and his knowledge were lost, then all the boys and girls of Dornblatt who might learn stood a fine chance of growing up to be ignorant indeed. There would be no one to teach them.

Jean Greb closed his eyes to hide the tears that sprang into them. He said bitterly, “Would that it were I, and not Professor Luttman, who lies beneath the snow!”

Franz suddenly forgot that the mountains might tumble if he spoke to the Prior. He flung himself before the supreme authority of St. Bernard Hospice.

“Let us go!” he begged. “Let Caesar and me go with whoever searches for Professor Luttman!”

The Prior said gently, “Your spirit is admirable, Franz, but this is work for experienced men. You and your dog would merely hinder them.”

“No!” Franz cried. “I can get about on snow! It was Caesar who found the very Emil Gottschalk whose message Professor Luttman carries, when experienced men failed!”

“That is true,” Jean Greb spoke from his pallet. “Emil would not be alive today were it not for Franz’s dog. He was buried so deeply in the snow that men alone never would have found him.”

“Your dog can find men buried beneath the snow?” the Prior questioned.

“Yes!” Franz exclaimed.

The Prior appeared puzzled. “How does he do it?”

“I cannot be sure, but I think he hears the heart beat!” Franz replied. “Let us go! We will hinder no one!”

“I speak for Franz and Caesar,” Jean Greb urged. “I have known both all their lives, and I have never known either to hinder anyone. There are few men in Dornblatt who can equal Franz’s skill on the snow.”

Anton Martek said, “I also speak for Franz. He calls himself stupid because he is unable to understand that which is written in books. But he knows well the arts of the snow and the mountains.”

The Prior nodded. “Then go. You too, Anton, and Father Mark. Father Benjamin will guide, and may God go with all of you!”

(Continue to Chapter 12 here)

TODAY’S QUESTION

In this chapter, the residents of the Hospice help an injured man in their own special way. How do your parents or loved ones help you when you are sick?  Leave your answer below or email it with contact info (to get your JD Water bottle) to juniordispatch@yorkdispatch.com

VOCABULARY

Look up these vocabulary words, define them and use each in a sentence.

• Pallet
• Brandy
• Discharge
• Compose
• Puzzle (verb)
  

CHARACTERS IN THIS BOOK

• Anton Martek — Franz’ boss at the Hospice
• The Alps — A mountain range in Europe
• Aunt Maria Reissner — A relative of Franz
• Caesar — An alpine mastiff (usually called a St. Bernard) owned by Franz
• Dornblatt — Not a person, but the town where this chapter takes place
• Erich Erlic — A resident of Dornblatt, known for having a good skill with his saw
• Emil Gottschalk — A rich landowner in Dornblatt
• Father Benjamin — A traveler with great knowledge
• Father Paul — The priest of Dornblatt
• Franz Halle — A school boy and owner of Caesar
• Grandpa Eissman — An old man in town that Franz helps. Eissman was an expert mountaineer.
• Hermann Gottschalk — The son of Emil and schoolmate to Franz
• Hertha Bittner — One of Franz’ schoolmates
• Jean Geiser — A missing hunter
• Jean Greb — A handicapped man helped by Franz
• Lispeth Halle — The mother of Franz
• Professor Luttman — The school teacher
• Paul Maurat — Head of the kitchen at the hospice
• Widow Geiser — A woman who runs a farm in Dornblatt
• Willi Resnick — One of Franz’ schoolmates

MORE INFO

Get the FREE Gutenberg.org of this book here.

VIDEO

Enjoy this Mickey Mouse cartoon as he traverses a few mountain peaks, and gets help along the way! http://youtu.be/HJ5UmAfIm9s

The 2004 Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race champion, Mitch Seavey, is leading the race, but Aliy Zirkle, who finished second last year, is close behind as the race leaders prepare for a sprint to the finish line in Nome.

Cancer survivor Lance Mackey started the 2013 Iditarod with three of his original teeth. Now he’s down to two.

“I was drinking tea, eating fudge, listening to music, just cruising along,” the four-time champion said. As his dogs pulled him along the overflow-soaked Yukon River to Kaltag, Mackey bit something hard.

“Wow, that’s a weird-looking nut,” he thought.

Then he realized what had happened.

Mackey has been falling apart for some time. Radiation treatment for throat cancer discovered in 2001 led doctors to remove his top and bottom molars, he said. He must drink water constantly while on the runners of his sled because he can’t produce saliva. And he is down to nine fingers: A symptom of the nerve damage suffered from the treatment.

He lost the tooth was sometime Saturday night or Sunday morning, days before the finish of the race.

“That sucks,” he thought.

Four-time champion Lance Mackey prepares to take part in the ceremonial start of the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race Saturday, March 2, 2013, in Anchorage, Alaska. The competitive portion of the 1,000-mile race is scheduled to begin Sunday in Willow, 50 miles to the north. (AP Photo/Rachel D’Oro)

He put the tooth in his pocket. The pain came when he took a swig of Powerade.

Mackey mushed at least another 85 miles over 25 hours, including rest, to Unalakleet. Here, he visited a dental clinic and learned there was nothing to be done for him along the Iditarod trail.

The tooth had snapped off. The root must be removed, he said.

“They just gave me some antibiotics, which was the main concern. Penicillin and Tylenol 3,” Mackey said. “She said it was enough to get to Nome, but I already ate half of them.”

Only Mackey’s two front teeth remain, he said. The Two Rivers musher, who was in 14th place in the race Monday night, plans to have a gold tooth made to fill the latest gap.

“I don’t know if I have the heart to tell my mom,” he said. “It was her fudge.”
___
Reported by KYLE HOPKINS of the Anchorage Daily News from UNALAKLEET, Alaska. (MCT)
(c)2013 the Anchorage Daily News (Anchorage, Alaska)
Visit the Anchorage Daily News (Anchorage, Alaska) at www.adn.com
Distributed by MCT Information Services

Rescue Dog of the High Pass – Chapter 11: Caesar’s Sentence

By Jim Kjelgaard

(Read Chapter 10 here)

Before the storm spent itself, snow lay twelve feet deep in Grand St. Bernard Pass and some of the drifts were three times as deep. Every cliff and slope held a huge burden of snow, but it was not a burden willingly accepted. And the danger increased a hundred times over.

Enough snow to mold an ordinary snowball might be wind-blown and start more, which in turn gathered more. Finally, carrying boulders, ice and everything else that lay in its path, an all-destroying avalanche would roar down. Such avalanches were a daily occurrence on the peaks about the Hospice.

Franz stood in front of the stable, Caesar beside him. He was watching the sun glance from the surrounding peaks. Wherever it touched snow or ice, it gave back a reflection so dazzling that to face it for more than a few minutes meant to risk blindness. A million jewels, Franz thought, a hundred million jewels, and each one more brilliant than the brightest ornament in any emperor’s crown.

The Hospice itself, with ski trails radiating in every direction, like the spokes of a giant wagon wheel, was banked high with snow. Except for the House of the Dead, toward which he looked only when he could not avoid doing so, Franz thought it the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

Anton Martek, sitting on a chair beside the stable’s open door, fashioning a ski pole, did not look up from his work. A complete craftsman, regardless of whether he was honing an ax, making a ski pole, milking a cow, skiing, or doing anything else, Anton believed wholeheartedly that anything worth doing was worth doing well, and it could not be well done unless it received his undivided attention.

Presently, Franz saw a man leave the refectory and ski toward the stable. It was Father Mark, who smiled when he came near and said, “Good afternoon, Franz.”

“And a very good afternoon to you, Father Mark,” Franz replied. “Have the travelers come up?”

“Not yet,” Father Mark told him. “But Fathers Stephen and Benjamin have gone down to guide them. On a day such as this, let us hope there will be no trouble.”

“Let us hope so,” Franz agreed.

He felt a pang of sorrow. Father Benjamin, who always took Caesar with him when he went down to the rest house, had not even told Franz he was going. But it was not his place, Franz reminded himself, to tell the Fathers what they should or should not do. If Father Benjamin had not asked for Caesar, it was because he did not want him.

Anton Martek stood up respectfully and said, “Good afternoon, Father Mark.”

“And to you, Anton.” Father Mark noted the half-finished ski pole. “Busy as usual, I see. Well, they do say Satan finds work for idle hands.”

Anton said, “I fear he has found enough for mine.”

“Tut, tut,” Father Mark reproved. “You must not be gloomy on a day so fine. The Prior would speak with you.”

“At once,” Anton said.

He slipped into his skis and departed with Father Mark. Franz stared wistfully after them. He himself had seen the Prior, in the chapel or from a distance, but he had never dared even think of speaking with him. On those few occasions when their paths would have crossed, and they could not have avoided speaking, Franz had fled as swiftly as possible. Winter in St. Bernard Pass inspired awe, but it was not nearly as awe-inspiring as the Prior of St. Bernard Hospice.

Franz picked up and inspected the ski pole Anton was fashioning, and he tried to fix each detail exactly in his mind. Making proper skis or ski poles was more than just a craft. It was a very precise art, and one that Franz hoped to master some day. Good was not enough. In the Alps, who ventured out on skis took his life in his hands and must have perfection.

A few minutes later, Anton returned alone. He did not look at Franz when he said, “The Prior would talk with you.”

“With me?” Franz said bewilderedly. “You,” Anton said.

Franz protested, “But—I cannot talk with the Prior!”

“I fear you have no choice, little Franz,” Anton told him. “The Prior awaits in the refectory.”

Franz asked fearfully, “What does he want, Anton?”

“That you must discover for yourself,” Anton replied.

Franz pleaded, “Go with me, Anton!”

“Yes,” Anton said quietly, “I will go with you.”

Franz put on his skis and, with Caesar trailing, they went to the refectory. The boy’s head reeled. His heart fluttered like the wings of a trapped bird. At the entrance to the refectory, he could go no farther.

“Come, little Franz,” Anton urged gently.

“Y-yes, Anton.” Franz shivered.

Dressed in the habit of his order, the Prior sat before a pile of logs that smoldered in the huge fireplace. With him, and almost as hard to face, were two of the Canons, the Clavandier, whose task it was to watch over Hospice provisions, and two priests.

Franz clasped his hands behind him, so nobody could see them shake, and wished mightily that the floor would open up so he could sink through it.

“It is time we met, young maronnier,” the Prior said. “I like to know all who share this work with me. But for some reason, we have never spoken.”

“Y-yes, Most Holy Prior,” Franz stammered.

“There is nothing to fear,” the Prior said.

It was a very gentle voice and, when Franz took courage to look, he saw also that, though it was weather-scarred and storm-beaten, the Prior’s was a very gentle face. The boy felt more at ease.

“I am not afraid,” he said.

“That is good,” the Prior approved. “I wear the Prior’s habit and you are a maronnier, but, for all that, we are equal. I have received excellent reports of your diligence and industry. You are a credit to the Hospice.”

“Thank you, Most Holy Prior,” Franz said.

The Prior smiled, knowing that he should not be addressed in such a fashion but understanding why he was. He continued, “Now that we have finally met, I would that it were for a different reason. I fear that I have sad tidings for you.”

“For me?” Franz’s heart began to pound again.

“You have a dog,” the Prior said, “a great dog that, according to our good Clavandier, eats a great amount of food. Yet, he does no work.”

Franz whispered miserably, “That is true.”

“Believe me, I understand what this dog means to you.”

The Prior was very gentle. “I hope to make you understand what the Hospice of St. Bernard means to wayfarers. Every ounce of food we have here is far more precious than gold. Without it, we could neither preserve our own lives nor provide for our guests. It is a harsh order that I must issue, Franz, but with the next travelers who are going there, your dog must be returned to your native village of Dornblatt.”

For the moment, Franz was stricken speechless. Then he spoke wildly. “Please!” he begged. “Please do not send Caesar away, Most Holy Prior! It is true that he will not turn the spit, but he saved Father Benjamin from the crevasse! He guided all of us safely to the Hospice while a blizzard raged!”

“That tale I have heard,” the Prior said, “and your Caesar surely deserves all praise. But, as you have surely seen for yourself, we have the welfare of travelers well in hand—”

Outside, someone shouted. Those inside looked questioningly toward the door and one of the priests rushed to open it. Looking out, Franz saw two men on skis. One was obviously injured. The other was helping to support him. The unhurt man was Father Benjamin.

The other was Jean Greb, from Franz’s native Dornblatt.

(Continue to Chapter 11 here)

TODAY’S QUESTION

In this chapter, Franz gets some bad news: His dog must be sent away with the next travelers to come through the area. What would you do if someone suddenly gave you a dog? Leave your answer below or email it with contact info (to get your JD Water bottle) to juniordispatch@yorkdispatch.com

VOCABULARY

Look up these vocabulary words, define them and use each in a sentence.

• Dazzle
• Pang
• Provisions
• Clasp
• Welfare

CHARACTERS IN THIS BOOK

• Anton Martek — Franz’ boss at the Hospice
• The Alps — A mountain range in Europe
• Aunt Maria Reissner — A relative of Franz
• Caesar — An alpine mastiff (usually called a St. Bernard) owned by Franz
• Dornblatt — Not a person, but the town where this chapter takes place
• Erich Erlic — A resident of Dornblatt, known for having a good skill with his saw
• Emil Gottschalk — A rich landowner in Dornblatt
• Father Benjamin — A traveler with great knowledge
• Father Paul — The priest of Dornblatt
• Franz Halle — A school boy and owner of Caesar
• Grandpa Eissman — An old man in town that Franz helps. Eissman was an expert mountaineer.
• Hermann Gottschalk — The son of Emil and schoolmate to Franz
• Hertha Bittner — One of Franz’ schoolmates
• Jean Geiser — A missing hunter
• Jean Greb — A handicapped man helped by Franz
• Lispeth Halle — The mother of Franz
• Professor Luttman — The school teacher
• Paul Maurat — Head of the kitchen at the hospice
• Widow Geiser — A woman who runs a farm in Dornblatt
• Willi Resnick — One of Franz’ schoolmates

MORE INFO

Get the FREE Gutenberg.org of this book here.

VIDEO

Not all dogs are friendly to people. Here are some tips about avoiding dog bites. http://youtu.be/3RW_Y4OIZYY

Canadian musher Gerry Willomitzer has been withdrawn from the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race after losing one of his dogs.

The 43-year-old from Whitehorse, Yukon Territory, was disqualified Sunday from the race in Shageluk.

Willomitzer’s dog got loose about 25 miles outside of the half-way point. Race officials say he waited more than a day while searching for the dog before learning that it had been found.

Willomitzer thought the dog was being taken to Shageluk, the next checkpoint in the race, and continued there, but the dog had been taken elsewhere.

Race rules require that mushers arrive at checkpoints with as many dogs as they had leaving the previous one. Officials decided that Willomitzer didn’t have enough time to go back and get the dog.

Reported by the Associated Press from SHAKTOOLIK, Alaska

A sled dog in the team of Norwegian musher Joar Leifseth Ulsom removes snow and ice on a bootie after arriving in Unalakleet on Sunday, March 10, 2013, during the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race. (AP Photo/Anchorage Daily News, Bill Roth)

A former winner of the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race took the lead early Sunday and held onto it as he pressed forward along the Bering Sea coastline. Another musher was just 15 minutes behind.

With less than 250 miles to the finish line, Mitch Seavey was the first musher to leave Unalakleet, where he pulled into town earlier at 10:13 a.m. and was able to rest his team for about five hours. Aaron Burmeister pulled into the checkpoint just 15 minutes after Seavey and was the same musher who followed him out.

The mushers arrived at the checkpoint after traveling from Kaltag, the last stop on the frozen Yukon River.

“It was a long run. I think my dogs are kind of tired from yesterday on the river,” Seavey told the Iditarod Insider after pulling into Unalakleet. “So much deep snow and hot, but they are hanging in there. Not as quick as I would like to be, but quick enough for today I guess.”

The 1,000-mile race to Nome began with 66 teams at a ceremonial start in Anchorage March 2, and the race’s competitive start was the next day in Willow. Five mushers have scratched so far.

In Unalakleet, Seavey – the 2004 champion and the father of defending champion, Dallas Seavey – was greeted by dozens of townspeople and awarded $2,500 in gold nuggets and a trophy.

Four-time Iditarod winner Jeff King moved into third position. Jake Berkowitz was in fourth, followed by Aliy Zirkle and Ray Redington Jr., the grandson of race co-founder Joe Redington Sr. Rookie Joar Leifseth Ulsom of Norway was in seventh place.

Seavey, 53, made the 90-mile trip from Kaltag to the Bering Sea coastline in a little more than 12 ½ hours, going at 6.72 mph in the nearly 1,000 mile race from Anchorage to Nome.

Dallas Seavey was in ninth place Sunday. Four-time champion Martin Buser, who has led much of the race, was in eighth.

Mushers reported very difficult trail conditions on the Yukon River that required dogs to go through deep snow and navigate glare ice. Above-freezing temperatures also have led to overflow along the trail, a potentially dangerous situation where water has pushed up through the ice and refrozen, creating a weak top layer of ice that teams and mushers can break through.

Buser’s team, after tearing up the trail during the first half, is now going slower than the race leaders. He may have spent too much energy driving his team on a blistering fast 170-mile run that gave him a four-hour lead that now has vanished.

From Unalakleet, teams head onto the frozen Bering Sea coastline and north toward the finish line in Nome about 240 miles away.

The first musher to reach Nome will win $50,400 and a new 2013 Dodge Ram pickup truck. The rest of the $600,000 purse will be split among the next 29 mushers to cross the finish line.

Five mushers have scratched.

Reported by MARY PEMBERTON of the Associated Press from ANCHORAGE, Alaska.

Mitch Seavey was the first musher to leave the checkpoint at Unalakleet on Sunday, March 10, 2013, during the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race. (AP Photo/Anchorage Daily News, Bill Roth)