Did you know that the Iditarod Trail Invitational has been a non-profit since 2020?  The last few years have provided intentional support throughout Alaska, specifically, but not limited to, the area where the athletes travel.  It is also not limited to the one month during which the race takes place, but extends throughout the year.  Ask anyone who knows this race, and the remoteness will be the first thing they mention — a defining quality that brings both formidable challenges and strong ties to the communities it passes through.  Below is the impact ITI has had so far this year.  

A heartfelt thank you to everyone who contributed to the Intrepid Path fundraiser — your generosity is reflected in the contributions listed below.

ITI 2026 Community Impact Summary

The 2026 Iditarod Trail Invitational once again proved that the event is more than a race—it is a direct connection between a global community of athletes and the remote Alaskan villages that make the trail possible.

Direct Financial Impact

Through the Intrepid Path, the ITI community raised over $34,000 this year via grassroots donations tied directly to the race. (https://www.givengain.com/campaign/iditarod-trail-invitational).

Unlike traditional fundraising models, these contributions are:

• Community-directed — needs are identified by local leaders, schools, and residents

• Rapidly deployed — funds are put to use immediately, not held in reserve

• Transparent and tangible — donors can see exactly where support is going

To date, $17,500 has already been deployed, including: 

• Critical infrastructure repairs to keep community buildings operational in extreme conditions

• Clothing and cold-weather gear for children

• Educational materials for rural schools with limited resources

• Targeted support for recovery efforts following the 2025 typhoon

This isn’t abstract charity—it’s practical support that keeps communities functioning.

Economic Contribution

Beyond donations, the race generated an estimated $350,000+ in direct economic impact across rural Alaska.

Athletes and race operations contributed through:

• Lodging, meals, and checkpoint stays

• Fuel, freight, and aviation support

• Locally sourced supplies and services

In communities where winter economic activity is limited, this level of spending matters. It supports small businesses, keeps resources moving, and reinforces the viability of these remote hubs.

Community & Volunteer Effort

The ITI is built on people, not infrastructure.

• 117 athletes took part in this year’s event

• Over 125 volunteers supported operations across the trail

• Checkpoint staff, trail breakers, pilots, and local residents made the race possible

• Athletes were consistently welcomed into communities with generosity, trust, and support

That relationship is not incidental—it is the foundation of the event. Without it, the ITI does not exist.

What This Actually Means

The ITI operates in some of the most remote and demanding environments in the world. The communities along the trail are not just hosts—they are active partners.

The model is simple and deliberate:

• Athletes take on the challenge

• Communities make the journey possible

• The ITI network gives back in direct, measurable ways

And importantly, the impact doesn’t end at the finish line.

Through the Intrepid Path Association, funding continues to be deployed year-round—supporting projects that are defined by the communities themselves, not imposed from the outside.

Links

• Intrepidpath.org

• https://www.givengain.com/campaign/iditarod-trail-invitational

Written in part by Kari Gibbons with the help of Wild Winter Women:, Amanda Harvey, Faye Norby, Jan Redmond Walker, Jessica Roschlan, Laura Wiesmann Hrubes, Allison Carolan, Leah Gruhn, Lynn K Hall, Madeline Harms, Rashelle Hintz, Rebecca McVay-Brodersen, and Sarah Bergstrom

Information provided by Kyle Durand 

Photo credit: Mark Smith

We often talk about these endurance events being a team effort: stronger together; if you want to go fast go alone, if you want to go far, go together and so on. Diana Nyad swam from Cuba to Florida, and stumbling onto the beach she said “It looks like a solitary sport, but it takes a team."

We cheered them on, and we watched the cutoff loom, and then pass us by,  just as steady as Gavan has been moving past Little Mckinley and the Kwik River. Day after day.  We’ve watched him play the smart game, the strong one, the patient one. He went to Alaska, and it pushed back, but he still won. He won without the team, solitary in his days and cold cabins. Hopefully comforted by inReach messages and the faint cheer from the satellite pinging his location for us dot watchers. He has missed the cutoff but is still going, communications throughout our tiny but very mighty community is a resounding “HE DID IT” a collective pride in the one who is the best of us, and has proven that over and over again.  

Gavan will soon get to Golovin, where he will find the same greeting the rest had, the warmth and kindness of White Mountain will fill him up and he WILL get to Nome and he will not be there alone. We have to say goodbye for the moment, but at no point will anyone leave that Dot unwatched. We wish he could have made that cutoff, and yet… so much has transpired we’ve moved beyond that wish. An understanding of the true and absolute meaning of what this race is. 

The 2026 Iditarod Trail Invitational will be remembered for a long time, it is already  rooted deeply in our community and the stories will come and keep coming for years.  We have seen it ALL this year, joyful tears and heartbreaking losses, blown-in trails, squeaky snow, and the Giant Wild that only Alaska can do.  The biggest honor is hearing our stories be appreciated. What goes into this effort is multiple hours every single day, to near obsession and yes, heartbreak. This team of writers offer insight, their knowledge and talent, intel, stories, and emotional support. Yes, we were yelling at the dots, too!  Below is a line up of some of our writers, each and every one put their heart and soul into this, those not listed are equally important in their contributions.  Give a slow clap to the Wild Winter Women 2026 ITI team of writers: 

Jessica Roschlan: Lives in Minnesota and works in the twin cities as an ICU nurse.  After doing mostly road running in her 20’s, she was looking for a new challenge in her 30s and heard about the Arrowhead 135. While training for, and then finishing Arrowhead on foot in 2023, she fell in love with this type of winter adventuring and the community surrounding it.  She has now added skiing and fat biking to her repertoire, with dreams of finishing the ITI 350 on foot one day.  While writing about the ITI, Jessica learned a lot about the challenges of the course and the importance of being prepared for all types of emergency situations.  She hopes that others were able to escape the stress of “real life” for a little bit while reading our recaps

Leah Gruhn started racing in winter ultramarathons in 2011 on skis. She quickly bought a fat bike and has been having way more fun on bike than skis. She likes to dream big, push herself, and encourage others to do the same. She has completed both the ITI in the 350-mile and 1,000-mile distances.

Faye Norby: Faye has been winter racing on foot since 2013, having finishes at the Tuscobia Winter Ultra, Arrowhead 135, Actif Epica, and the 350 and 1000 mile ITI. She will happily talk about ITI 24-7; you are forewarned.

Rebecca McVay-Brodersen took up endurance sports during the pandemic and hasn’t looked back. She quit smoking, drinking, lost 80 pounds, and is raising her two children, Chance and Aurora, alone. In the midst of big, scary changes, she fell in love with the idea of self-supported endurance endeavors. After watching a documentary about the ITI, she signed up for Tuscobia 80 in 2022 and has been working toward her qualifiers since. Living in Alaska has been a dream for 24 years; the ITI is now the north star guiding her home. She plans to move to Alaska once her teens are grown and hopes to race the ITI 1000 as a resident. She is thankful for the opportunity to contribute as a writer this year and is inspired by the kindness and support from the WWW and winter ultra community.

Rashelle Hintz has participated in winter ultras on foot since 2020, and also enjoys winter camping and self supported adventures. After growing up in Alaska, winter adventures offer the closest thing to a reminder of the solitude and vastness of Alaska, and she hopes you’ve felt some of that by following the ITI recaps.

Lynn Hall came to ITI by way of mountaineering, skiing, and ultra-running. She completed her first bike race (ever!) which was the 2025 edition of ITI, with her good friend Amanda Harvey for the entirety of the 350 miles. She is so shameless she’d love for you to know that she has a memoir coming out in 2027 about using the outdoors to overcome a chronic headache disorder. Lynn is grateful she had the opportunity to bond with the other WWW while dot watching this year; she hopes you feel the power and strength of this close-knit community as well as she does.

Amanda Harvey began her winter ultra journey in 2019 and has since completed the St Croix 40, Tuscobia 160 and Arrowhead 135. She has finished the ITI 350 twice and DNFed her first attempt in a spectacular fashion. She enjoyed getting to know her fellow Wild Winter Women this year and is inspired by their evocative writing. 

Sarah Bergstrom started running two years ago, after a lifetime of intermittent chronic illness, during which time she enjoyed outdoor hiking and mountain biking in measured amounts. She was granted a reprieve over the last four years, using her time to explore rock climbing, and two years ago, trail running/racing, completing multiple 25k races. She became interested in winter ultras last year, but decided to attempt the Seely Classic and Birkebeiner ski races instead, finally attempting St. Croix 40 (to mile 30) this past January. Still a beginner, but learning fast with the help of WWW.

Allison Carolan lives in the Twin Cities, Minnesota, and works in healthcare/ medical rehabilitation. She has been running ultramarathons since 2009, and on the winter scene she is a St. Croix 40 finisher. Outside of ultras she enjoys any gritty remote off-grid expedition or adventure (backpacking, skiing, snowboarding, canoeing, winter camping) and also lifting heavy things in the gym with friends, and she is a very enthusiastic dot watcher.

Kari Gibbons is a two time finisher of the ITI 350, and completed the 1,000 mile on foot in 2025.  Founder of the Wild Winter Women Facebook Group, finding purpose in sharing stories and gear. Doing the recaps is important because she wants to show how easy it is to have equal representation in sport, and ITI has the best opportunity for sharing trail, a good story, and being a part of something bigger than ourselves.

That is a wrap on ITI 2026, but you may hear from us one more time so stay tuned!   Registration opens April 1st. Who will we be reporting on next year, will you answer the call? 

Written by Kari Gibbons

Photo Credit Kendall Park

Thanks to Wild Winter Women -Kari Anne Gibbons,Amanda Harvey,Faye Norby,Jan Redmond Walker, Jessica Roschlan,Laura Wiesmann Hrubes,Allison Carolan,Leah Gruhn,Lynn K Hall,Madeline Harms,Rashelle Hintz,Rebecca McVay-Brodersen, andSarah Bergstrom

Gavan Hennigan on the crossing of Norton Bay sea ice (photo: Gavan Hennigan)

Gavan Hennigan (Ireland, foot) is the lone 1,000-mi ITI racer on the trail, currently at the Kwik River shelter cabin on the coast of Norton Bay between Koyuk and Elim. Since the race started over four weeks ago on Feb 22, he has traveled 810 miles, with just 140 miles left to the finish in Nome.

Yesterday, he made a 44-mile (16-hour) push across the sea ice of Norton Bay, from Shaktoolik to Koyuk, starting at 4:00 am. Fortunately, the wind died down for his crossing, and he experienced the warmest day on the trail since the first day of the race.

Ever since the 1,000-mile racers left McGrath (mi 307), they have been in a battle against the weather and a race against the clock. To be an official race finisher in the 1,000-mile ITI, one must arrive at Nome within 30 days of the start, which is tomorrow (Tuesday) at 3 pm AKDT. At this time, Gav would need to average nearly 7 mph (9-minute miles) for nearly 24 hours to make it in time for an official finish. He is driven to reach Nome, but since he won’t move at the speed he’d need to meet the cutoff, he won’t be considered an official ITI finisher this year.

Despite not being an official ITI finisher this year, he will have the satisfaction of knowing he did everything within his control to reach Nome as quickly and efficiently as possible, despite the most challenging circumstances, including the lack of trail and the weather. Gavan’s drive, efficiency, consistency, and commitment to relentless forward progress are second to none.

Early on in the race, he kept pace with Scott Hoberg, who was moving at a 6-day pace (and went on to win the men’s foot 350-mile ITI). After leaving the village of Takotna, there was no trail. He put on his snowshoes and forged a trail through thigh-deep snow. Ultimately, he backtracked to take shelter for a few days until the Iditarod trailbreakers came through, so as not to beat himself down, which could jeopardize his race. Recently, he has been alone from the other ITI racers for over nine days, without the company of others to provide camaraderie or to share camp tasks.

Gavan is a good friend of the WWW, and we love him and have the utmost respect for him. He has the most friendly, upbeat, adventurous attitude. He's literally friends with everyone, and things have to be absolutely awful to get him down. He has the best laugh, and is the most fun to be around. But at the same time, he calls it like he sees it and is realistic about the challenges out there.  

Over in Nome, the four cyclists who finished the ITI 1,000-mile race yesterday - Mayella Krause, Kendall Park, Erick Basset, and Ryan Wanless - have spent the day resting and fighting off a stomach bug. Reflecting on yesterday, Mayella said that when they set out from the Topkok shelter cabin in the morning, the northern lights were incredible and “exploding in the sky!” Winds were calm, allowing them to pass through the Solomon blowhole without issue. It turned into a beautiful day, and it was the first or second day of the race that the temperature climbed above 0 deg F.

Maya felt so much adrenaline on the approach into Nome; she said that it was all very sweet and heartwarming. People who didn’t know them were cheering, taking photos, asking questions, and expressing amazement for what they had done. Maya found the experience to be very emotional - she was simultaneously giggling herself silly, and trying not to cry because it was fogging up her goggles. Carol Seppilu (Nome, Alaska, 350 on foot) was there to meet them, livestream the finish, take photos, and give the racers dessert. Maya said that it was very nice to reunite with Carol after seeing her last on the trail. In reflection of the past 28 days on the trail, Maya remarked that she feels that “a lifetime happened in the blink of an eye.”

This year was a good one for the women in the 1,000-mile race. The women experienced a finisher rate of 100%, and the men had an official finisher rate of 9.5%.

Prior to the race, racers were asked for their perspectives on this year’s ITI, and their answers are below.

WWW: Are there any people you want to thank for getting to the ITI 1,000-mile race?

Maya: More than anything, I want to thank my friends and family. Being an immigrant and doing something this big, this far from home, can be lonely. My family is still in Brazil. They don’t fully understand how hard or risky this is, but they believe in me anyway. That means more than I can explain. I have a small circle of friends who really understand what this takes—the logistics, the money, the time, the emotional cost. They know how much I’ve sacrificed to be here, and instead of questioning it, they’ve encouraged me, pushed me, and celebrated it. The month before the race started has been especially hard, and the kindness I’ve received has been overwhelming in the best way. I’m carrying all of that with me to the start line.

Kendall: My husband. Nicholas and everyone from The Bicycle Shop in Anchorage. Rose who stayed up late sewing my ruff onto my (Leah's) parka. WWW community. All the vets who offered me advice and wisdom. All the people who loaned gear. All the kind and generous people encountered on the trail from Knik to Nome.

Erick: I thank my loved ones for what I make them endure.

Ryan: Thank you to all the trail angels, my wife, and my dog Theo.

WWW: What is the first thing you are going to do when you get home?

Maya: Late stage capitalism: I'll go back to work. But first I'll cuddle the absolute crap out of coach Colin Robinson (my dog); then set a reminder to sign up for next year.

Kendall: Eat pho at Pho Long in St. Louis with my husband.

Erick: Spend time with my son.

Ryan: Catch up on work.

Gavan: Sign up for next year.

Because the race winds down tomorrow, Wild Winter Women will post just one more update on itialaska.com for this year’s race.

Written by Leah Gruhn.

Thanks to Wild Winter Women - Allison Carolan, Amanda Harvey, Faye Norby, Jan Redmond Walker, Jessica Roschlan, Kari Anne Gibbons, Laura Wiesmann Hrubes, Lynn K Hall, Madeline Harms, Rashelle Hintz, Rebecca McVay-Brodersen, and Sarah Bergstrom.

The Fabulous Four have made it!!! Kendall Park, Mayella Krause, Ryan Wanless and Erick Basset who has now finished the 1,000 mile distance in all three modes, are all in Nome!

And now for pizza and parties and celebrations, right? I’m reminded - of times following exams in school, feeling nothing but a blanket of relieved exhaustion as the body fights back like an unleashed animal ready to punish – that feeling on steroids.

Consider what these athletes have endured, athletes with hearts, slowing down to care for others on the trail, valuing community over individual glory, solidarity over competition - we dot watchers want good things for you. Four sharing the finish says a lot about what they value, gratitude forged in camaraderie. 

We have poured our hearts into you and now don our metaphorical hats out of respect and admiration, not just for what you accomplished, but for how you accomplished it. 

In that spirit, we continue to watch our lone racer, Gavan, as he scrapes across Norton Bay, making good time for such an unpredictable stretch. The gratitude displayed by the Fabulous Four juxtaposes the solitude Gavan must contend with in addition to the same physiologic stresses of such an expedition.

And what are these stresses? While there is some individuality, there is also a lot of common ground for athletes who are stretched to capacity; stresses that I will sum up as pain: physical, emotional, spiritual, and any other kind you can think of. 

Working as a Spiritual Caregiver, or Chaplain, in Hospice for the last eight years, this writer spends a lot of time with pain of all kinds. Pain distills. There are no more secrets, no more masks. We become the epitome of who we are: our core revealed. 

When backed against a wall, a tug of war ensues between hope and despair, and we quickly identify what’s most important to us. People generally think of spirituality as cognitive and it can be enlightening to explore with our mind, but there is one reality, and it is not cognitive. Pain strips the clothes of thought we don to make sense of what is unknown and throws us naked into an emotional ocean of it.

Many of the ITI participants, particularly in a race fraught with extreme conditions, push themselves into some early stages of physiologic decline, with characteristics that appear to resemble my patients who have diseases that lead to slow decline as they face an initial transition towards end of life.  

Senses sharpen - seeking little lifelines to wile away tentacles of fear: a kind companion (or three), a volunteer who nudges when weariness clouds, a Ptarmigan call, a song stuck in the head (and often it’s not the one we want there), northern lights against a snowy ridge, a glimpse of an arctic fox (though hopefully not a musk ox) . Homesickness and urgency grow palpable.  

It’s normal to encounter hallucinations (even months before a sharp decline in Hospice). These may be mundane or reflect intense emotions. Waves of lability grow rhythmic, faster and more extreme. Physical and emotional experience fuse, muddying interpretation. Like labor, the only way through these cycles is birth. And if it’s labor, what is being birthed?

While all athletes are competitive, there are limits to the lure of winning - barring delusions of grandeur - and while there is plenty of that in the athletic world, it can blind the importance of sound strategy and mutual reliance on a venture such as this. When facing icy claws from blowholes and white outs, I would imagine even competition against one’s self might pale next to prioritizing survival. 

When pushed to the limits of tolerance and then doing it again after enjoying moments of reprieve such as Larry’s bounty at Galena or lemon cake. What makes a person persevere? Whatever makes life worth living and loving.

There is something fundamental about encountering enough hope to hold pain in one hand and love in the other, fearing a chasm while trusting profound encounters that become our spiritual home to be in that chasm with us. It’s a labor that clarifies, with the potential to birth Joy.

Joy is a powerful experience which transcends whatever we feel moment to moment, turning the hub on the wheel of our life. It’s not something we have but something we practice, not theoretical, but physical, personal, specific. There is no medium outside of symbol, ritual, mantra that can capture its meaning. 

We see its importance in a flock of racers choosing to finish together rather than push for individual glory. The power of solidarity personified in living symbols, fuel for the soul.

And yet, for Gavan, what does fuel look like when alone? Gavan now remains the only racer in every Iditarod category, including dogs – facing indescribable conditions that our writers over the last few days have already detailed. Gavan is no stranger to solitude - perhaps one of the most difficult aspects to persisting when facing physiologic decline. Having rowed “across the pond” in a rowboat, in the Talisker Whisky Atlantic Challenge, now called the World’s Toughest Row, he has already faced the unknown alone.

Joy is the practice of weaving metaphors - in the form of sight, sound, story - into the fabric of our life, even while we remain vulnerable to a harsh but beautiful ecosystem: exploring the fragility of life with reverent participation, curious in human capacity, open to gifts on the trail that turn isolation into solitude. We are not alone in being alone. There is an existential freedom in embracing such a state.

Sometimes the pain we choose can alleviate the suffering we can’t. In a world of human designed chaos, strategy offers reprieve, solving problems grounds us in perpetual mindfulness. We can’t control what happens to us or to those we love, but we can control our next step, and as we know from our athletes, one step leads to the other. 

Here is a hope to our charges on and off the trail - that they might find companionship in solitude, embodied wisdom, peace in struggle, and Joy in their journey.

Written by Sarah Bergstrom

Photo provided by Emily and Ryan Wanless

Thanks to Wild Winter Women - Kari Gibbons, Amanda Harvey, Faye Norby, Jan Redmond Walker, Jessica Roschlan, Laura Wiesmann Hrubes, Allison Carolan, Leah Gruhn, Lynn K Hall, Madeline Harms, Rashelle Hintz, Rebecca McVay-Brodersen, and Sarah Bergstrom.

As our 5 remaining racers inch closer to Nome, patience for ideal weather continues to be the theme. This morning, both our 4 bikers and lone foot racer were looking at stretches of the trail notorious for treacherous weather and strong winds.

Gavan reached Shakoolik around 4pm yesterday.  He is taking a long rest there, timing his departure for the most ideal time to cross the Norton Bay, a 44 mile exposed stretch to Koyuk, where the only reprieve from the elements is the drafty Little Mountain cabin just before the ice of Norton Bay.  As our bikers experienced a few days ago, conditions on the ice can change quickly.  During high winds, Norton Bay can reach whiteout conditions with nowhere to shelter from the biting gusts for even a moment. A veteran in this race, Gavan no doubt knows what he is in for and is waiting for the perfect time to leave, posting this morning that he anticipated spending 24-hours there. The weather today in Shaktoolik is described as “sunny with gusty winds,” but winds are expected to die down this evening.  

Gavan taking a selfie at “Besboro Island, a 2 mile long land mass in the Norton Sea between Unalakleet and Shaktoolik

As for our bikers, after their short rest in Golovin, Mayella, Kendall, Erick, and Ryan continued on to White Mountain last evening.  White Mountain, named after a prominent lookout hill close by, is notable as the only populated town on the Seward Peninsula not on the coastline.  With a population of 185 in 2020, it started as a native fish camp, and later boomed in population during the gold rush.  This checkpoint is hosted in the home of local Alaskans Joanna and Jack, who treat racers to home-cooked dinners, often including moose, and hearty breakfasts.  Our bikers reached this little slice of heaven just before 9pm last night.

In addition to resting and drying gear, the racers packed up calories from their last drop boxes as they prepared for another dangerous stretch of the Iditarod Trail ahead.  From White Mountain, it is a 48-mile stretch of exposed hills and coastline to the race's last official checkpoint, Safety. Leaving White Mountain, the trail follows Fish River for 3 miles before traversing miles of rolling tundra.  It then enters the drainage system of the Topkok River.  This section is a series of descents down to creek beds followed by sharp climbs back to the ridgeline.  As a previous ITI 1,000 mile biker described: “walk up the hill and fly down it! Repeat ad nauseum!” This was proven true when we saw Ryan’s dot clock in a speedy 9.6 mph at one point today! In this area, winds can change by the minute and by the mile, with the potential to go from calm skies to hurricane-force in an hour.  If needed, racers can get a slight reprieve from strong gusts at the bottom of creek beds, but might also encounter overflow there.  Finally, the trail offers one final 500 foot climb to Topcock summit before descending to the beach and the Topcock safety cabin around 25 miles past White Mountain.  

Topcock cabin is maintained by Nome Kennel Club, and has had many upgrades over the years, now even boasting solar panels that provide light and electricity to charge devices.  This little oasis in an otherwise desolate stretch of the race can be a literal lifesaver, as weather along the coast can change in an instant.  Hurricane-force winds are not uncommon, and if winds are from the north, they can bring air rushing between narrow passages in the mountains, causing wind tunnels, called blowholes.  The marked trail can get swallowed in ground blizzard conditions, reducing visibility and making navigation difficult. In 2022, one Iditarod dog sled musher described such strong winds through this stretch that she could only see the two dogs closest to her sled; the rest of the team had disappeared ahead of her into the snow. The Iditarod Dog Sled website notes that in good conditions, this section can be a pleasant daytrip to the next checkpoint, but in the worst conditions, it can be literally impassable. Needless to say, it benefits our racers to time their departures to take advantage of good weather conditions.  The worst conditions and the greatest chance for dangerous blowholes are in the areas around Topcock cabin.  In this remote area of Alaska, the weather can vary between the weather stations located at White Mountain, Johnsons Camp station (located near the Solomon River), and the Nome airport, so racers often also rely on their own visual assessment of the winds and weather to time their push. Nome must be starting to feel close for these weary bikers.  Yet, they need to remain patient and disciplined in what must feel like their last big test after nearly 30 days of seemingly insurmountable challenges.

The four bikers timed their departure and left White Mountain around 9am, with temperatures hovering just below zero Fahrenheit, sunny skies, and 14-16 mph winds out of the north.  Winds in White Mountain calmed throughout the day, and they arrived at Topcock cabin around 4pm, making the 25 mile voyage in about 7 hours.  Of note, Kendall’s tracker died this morning, but is working again after she reached the cabin this evening. Right now, conditions at the weather station just 8 miles from them look fairly calm with a temperature of 12 degrees F and winds around 12 mph, and no rising winds for the next 24 hours. 

As our bikers face potentially their last night on the trail together, they will be able to share each other’s company at the Topcock cabin.  By now, these overnight trail stops are probably starting to feel routine, but tonight’s stop will hold extra weight as each racer reflects on the journey that got them there. When asked what she was looking forward to most on the trail, Maya wrote: “I’m looking forward to being among my people, friends I’ve come to know and cherish over half a decade of sharing trails.  There aren’t many of us who choose this kind of thing, and fewer who understand why we do.” Us dot watchers can only look on and live their adventure vicariously.  The true story of this year’s Iditarod Trail will remain sacred to the minds of those who experienced it.  Suffering together through something this monumental will certainly bind these four humans together in ways no other experience could.

Tonight, a waxing crescent moon will rise above Alaska.  According to folklore, the waxing crescent moon is a time for increased energy and optimism, as well as taking action on goals.  With less than 50 miles to Nome, and the most dangerous parts of the trail hopefully behind them, one can’t help but feel optimistic that, despite a historic year of challenges, 4 resilient humans will achieve their goal of reaching Nome in under 30 days.

Written by Jessica Roschlan

Thanks to Wild Winter Women - Kari Gibbons, Amanda Harvey, Faye Norby, Jan Redmond Walker, Jessica Roschlan, Laura Wiesmann Hrubes, Allison Carolan, Leah Gruhn, Lynn K Hall, Madeline Harms, Rashelle Hintz, Rebecca McVay-Brodersen, and Sarah Bergstrom.

White Mountain, photo credit Kendall Park

A meal at Jack and Joanna’s house, photo credit Kendall Park

Snow blown trail

Photo Credit: Kendall Park

The plan—at least in theory—was for the four remaining riders, Kendall Park, Mayella Krause, Erick Basset, and Ryan Wanless, aka “The Fab Four,” to stick together as they left Koyuk for Elim. Gavan Hennigan was still toiling alone on foot, marching into the north winds along the coast toward Norton Bay, while the two-wheeled crew hoped to move as a small, stubborn fleet, with the winds pushing them sideways toward the shore. But the trail between Koyuk and Nome has never cared much for human plans. It’s an old corridor, older than the villages it connects, shaped by storms and stories and the memory of dog teams that once carried medicine and mail across its frozen vertebrae.

So naturally, the winds rose again. A weather advisory living up to its reputation.

A foot down moment during a long day

Photo Credit: Kendall Park

By the time they reached the Kwik River shelter cabin, the gusts were sweeping snow sideways, erasing tracks as quickly as they were laid. The group had to choose: push on into the teeth of it, or wait it out in the cabin’s wooden embrace. Trackers later showed the split—some pressed forward, stubborn as driftwood; Ryan, in a rare stroke of trail “luck” (it’s not luck—Ryan knows his stuff), chose patience.

Ding ding ding. Swish.

While the others leaned into the wind, Ryan settled in, letting the storm burn itself out. When he finally rolled onward, the rest of the ride unfolded quietly, almost tenderly—as if the trail, having tested him, decided to offer a small kindness. He was greeted in Elim with a chicken teriyaki rice bowl and a warm snuggle spot in the school gym. Timing is a fantastically fickle thing.

The glowing, welcoming warmth of Elim Aniguiin School

Photo Credit: Kendall Park

This morning—together again—they all slipped out of Elim around 8:00 a.m., heading toward Golovin. The trail between the two villages rolls over gentle hills and frozen riverbeds, with a view of White Mountain in the distance.

Today, the promise ahead was enticing: a warm meal, a visit with Ryan’s friend Frank, and—if rumors are true—moose on the menu.

For the front group, the finish line likely feels as close as it does far… The bikers now have five days left and less than 100 miles to go—a distance that looks manageable if they continue moving well, but in an Alaskan winter, nothing comes easy. Every mile still has to be negotiated, earned, respected.

A long gradual climb

Photo Credit: Kendall Park

Meanwhile, the broader race continues to shift under the weight of weather. Winds hit 30 mph yesterday, sweeping the Norton Bay clean, snow erasing tire tracks almost as quickly as they pass through the drifted sections.

Race officials made the call to hold dog teams in White Mountain earlier today. With 50 mph winds ripping through the Topkok blowholes, sending them out would’ve been reckless. They’ll release them in the morning, when the land softens its mood. Our bikers are nearly 15 miles from White Mountain, but the winds are expected to die down, with temperatures rising tomorrow to a more manageable level in the teens.

Further back, Gavan reached the Foothills cabin around 11 p.m. last night and gave himself some well-earned R&R. He’s been mostly consistent when he’s moving—two miles per hour, hour after hour, sure and steady. He made it to Shaktoolik just after 4 p.m., having left the Foothills cabin just after 8 a.m. this morning. He will likely rest before making his push across the Bay, with hopes the winds will have mercy on him.

He’s still got roughly 200 miles to Nome. A different race entirely. Less about chasing the finish now, more about staying intact long enough to reach it.

The cold deepened overnight, wind chills dropping to -50. At that point, every exposed inch of skin becomes a negotiation. Every pause has consequences. And then there are the blowholes—those sudden, violent bursts of wind that fall off the mountains like invisible avalanches. One moment calm, the next a sideways punch.

This stretch of the Norton Bay doesn’t just test endurance. It tests awareness, restraint, and the ability to keep moving without burning the last match you’ll need later.

But tucked inside all that hardship are the small, bright things that keep racers going: a shelter cabin when the wind howls, a hot bowl of teriyaki after a long night, a friend waiting in Golovin, a rumor of moose stew… and a strip of candied bacon or a bite of cobbler that somehow feels like everything.

Little pockets of warmth on a trail that asks so much.

Every mile has to be earned—but every mile also brings them closer to the stubborn, joyful accomplishment of reaching one’s desired destination, Nome.

Written by: Rebecca McVay-Brodersen

Thanks to Wild Winter Women - Kari Gibbons, Amanda Harvey, Faye Norby, Jan Redmond Walker, Jessica Roschlan, Laura Wiesmann Hrubes, Allison Carolan, Leah Gruhn, Lynn K Hall, Madeline Harms, Rashelle Hintz, Rebecca McVay-Brodersen, and Sarah Bergstrom.

Crossing the Sound

Photo Credit: Kendall Park

In the world of the Iditarod Trail Invitational 1000, this isn’t just a test of toughness—it’s a game of pacing, precision, and reading the landscape like it’s alive.

Because out here… it is.

The decision for our four bikers has continued to be a question of when to spend energy, and when to take advantage of opportunity. Rest is incredibly appealing, but narrow weather windows must be utilized if they are going to make it to Nome within 30 days.

Back at Unalakleet, the decision after a brief rest wasn’t just whether they should go or stay—it was about when to spend energy, and when to steal speed. After a two day push to get there against brutal, soul chilling headwinds, our bikers made a brave, difficult decision to make a break for Shaktoolik in hopes of crossing the Sound before the rumored impending weather advisory arrived.

Instead of pushing straight through, Kendall Park, Erick Basset, and Ryan Wanless leaned into strategy—they stopped in Shaktoolik and rested until 6:00 AM, timing their departure to align with that brief window. Not recklessly, but deliberately—like pushing chips to the center of the table when the odds briefly tilt in your favor.

The trail leading between Unalakleet and Shaktoolik felt almost generous. Baby blue skies stretched over a route shaped by generations of Indigenous travelers long before racers ever tested themselves here. It was the kind of day that lets you believe, just for a moment, that things might go smoothly.

“Smiling”

Photo Credit: Kendall Park

And then… they left Shaktoolik.

The coast is where the rules change. This stretch has a reputation—winds that don’t just blow, but hunt, sweeping from the north across the open sea ice with nothing to slow them down.

As Kendall, Erick, and Ryan rolled onto the Norton Sound, the world dissolved.

Not into darkness—but into something stranger.

A suspended, shifting veil of ice particles surrounded them, turning the landscape into something that felt pulled straight from Stephen King's “The Mist”. The sun was a faintly glowing orb behind the haze. With little to no visibility of the landscape around them, distance lied. The horizon had vanished.

It was disorienting in a way that felt almost supernatural.

Faintly glowing orb…

Photo Credit: Kendall Park

A landmark amongst the mist

Photo Credit: Kendall Park

And yet—they flew.

“Stupid fast.” – Kendall Park

Because this was the moment to spend—the moment they had waited for in Shaktoolik. The moment to lean into momentum before the cost skyrocketed.

Right on cue, the world snapped back into clarity. The skies cleared to a crystal blue, lighting their arrival at the school in Koyuk—a warm, grounded counterpoint to the surreal crossing they had just completed. Inside: rest, quiet, and a warm welcoming message from the school’s residents.

Not far behind them was Maya Krause.

Maya left just an hour later than the others—but in Alaska, an hour can mean an entirely different experience.

What the three skimmed across only a few hours before her became something far more complicated. About two-thirds of the way into Maya’s push to Koyuk, the north winds picked up. Blowing snow settled and deepened. The clean, hard trail across the Sound turned into “Mad Max: Fury Road… but on sea ice.” – Maya Krause

Trail markers disappeared like they had never existed. Progress became uneven—ride, push, post-hole, repeat. The course had changed for the worse, just as predicted.

She arrived in Koyuk a few hours behind her fellow bikers.

School in Koyuk

Photo Credit: Mayella Krause

Her effort paid off when she pulled a lemon cake from her drop box—a bright little burst of sunshine after grinding for hours on a frozen ocean. Upon revealing the delightful treasure, Maya proclaimed, “we ride for cake.” It’s the little joys that keep a racer’s spirits high after weeks spent traveling across remote and difficult terrain.

Let them eat cake

Photo Credit: Mayella Krause

Back in Unalakleet, Gavan left around 12 PM Alaska time after spending 16 hours regrouping with Pizza on Earth and much-deserved rest. Now he’s walking back out into 20–30 mph winds and -40°F wind chills. His effort is a balancing act—how hard to push, how much to conserve, how to move efficiently in conditions that punish waste. As a foot athlete, he faces an even greater challenge: time. Thirty days is difficult in a good year, but it’s even more difficult in a year like 2026. Gavan’s strategy is survival mode—keep fingers and toes, get there in one piece. I think we can all agree that his will and fortitude are inspiring as the only foot racer still marching onward to Nome.

It’s the same distance for all racers, but depending on when they are where, it can be an entirely different world.

That world is continuing to shift.

The dreaded winter weather advisory is now in effect through Saturday at 7:00 AM across the Norton Sound—winds building to 45 mph, blowing snow, and wind chills plunging to -40°F to -50°F. Not just harsh weather—expensive. Every mile forward can cost more.

North of the Sound, the race continues to unfold like a long, moving puzzle for the bikers.

“The Fab Four,” who left Koyuk between 11:00 AM and 12:00 PM, are advancing toward Elim—where conditions are once again unforgiving and ever shape shifting the landscape around them.

This stretch between Koyuk and Elim may look subtle on a map, but it has long been a quiet, desolate guidepost. Along a coastline that can blur into sameness, features like the Kwik River help anchor movement—tiny clues in a landscape that doesn’t give much away.

Ahead lies Moses Point—once home to a small settlement and a vital stop along the coastal trail. In earlier days, roadhouses here offered warmth, stories, and a reset before continuing on. Now, it lingers more as a ghost of the trail’s past—a reminder that even in the harshest places, people have always found ways to pass through.

An update from Kendall tonight reveals our bikers have once again been consumed by relentless, disorienting winds sweeping along the coastline as they make their way past Kwik River.

Out here, success isn’t about brute force.

It’s about rhythm and resilience.

Knowing when to glide and when to grind. When to spend energy and when to protect it. When the trail is giving—and when it’s quietly taking.

Because the Norton Sound doesn’t stay the same for long.

And the ones who succeeded in traveling across it?

They’re not just strong (can we agree they’re actually Herculean?)—they’re also really damn smart and strategic… and occasionally, they’re flat-out outrunning the “mist” for the love of cake.

Written by: Rebecca McVay-Brodersen

Thanks to Wild Winter Women - Kari Gibbons, Amanda Harvey, Faye Norby, Jan Redmond Walker, Jessica Roschlan, Laura Wiesmann Hrubes, Allison Carolan, Leah Gruhn, Lynn K Hall, Madeline Harms, Rashelle Hintz, Rebecca McVay-Brodersen, and Sarah Bergstrom.

For nearly a month now we’ve been watching our racers cross milestones that feel like a box checked but in reality, this journey of theirs has been relentless. Leading up to the arrival at one river, cabin, or landmark can feel almost desperate, but once reached, is quickly left behind.  This is where people start saying things like “Run the mile you’re in” and “Live in the moment” but when conditions are extremely cold, and the trail feels like velcro, being aware of one's situation is impossible to ignore, and the next landmark is an obsession. 

Milestones like traversing the Alaskan Interior, crossing the Kaltag Portage, to now, and the crossing of Norton Bay. This crossing can feel like strategy but can also come down to raw luck.  In 2020, the Unalakleet 8 were born, as the sea ice broke up early and there was no way to continue. At a mere 234 miles to the finish, their race was over, Alaska decided. Their story is here: https://itialaska.com/updates/2020/3/29/the-unalakleet-eight  

It wasn’t that long ago, 2024 actually, that athletes were coming into Koyuk through inches of sea water flooding in over the ice, spring eager to start. When it comes to making this potentially harrowing crossing of the sea ice, timing is everything and the wind can tell you what to expect.  A headwind is often brutal but can be a comfort as it often will signify the ice is going to stay solid. If it is blowing from the south however, water may follow. There is one option for shelter on this otherwise completely exposed 42 mile stretch, a humble in every sense of the word, safety cabin called Little Mountain.  After a short 12 miles from Shaktoolik, it can barely be seen jutting out of the landscape on a small peninsula, slowly the racers will get closer but the cabin always seems to stay small, its only choice against the backdrop of the sea ice. Often devoid of wood and any real comfort, Little Mountain can still be a godsend when the conditions are truly challenging.  

We have watched the Iditarod Dog Sled racers bypass this safety cabin, which can be an indicator of either good conditions on the trail or bad conditions in the cabin. It was no surprise then when Mayella, Kendall, Ryan (his tracker is out but he is most likely with them), and Erick made the same move. They had spent the night at the school in Shaktoolik to hit the trail at 6:30 am AK time, after a brief “tour of the town” –  that's the nice way to say, trying to find the trail –  they were on their way and were greeted with -20 degree temperatures and a lucky break from the wind. Shaktoolik is no stranger to the high winds of the Bering Sea, and the town itself has been pushed back twice by rising sea levels. But as cold and relentless is the wind, the warmth of the people make up for it.   

Further back down the trail, after approximately 8 hours rest at Old Woman Cabin, Gavan left around 8 am AK time to head for the coast, where he will soon get some much needed rest in a warm place as well as the world famous pizza. When talking about Gavan, the same words keep being said, “He’s the best of us.”  Meaning, if anyone can do it, Gavan can. While it is true that he is very good at walking fast for long periods of time, this constant compliment is all encompassing to who he is.  He is still raising money for local communities affected by the storm last summer, follow the link to donate: ITI Intrepid Path: https://www.givengain.com/campaign/iditarod-trail-invitational  He also builds up those around him in a way only Gavan can, genuinely supporting and encouraging women out on the trail, and if you are lucky enough to be in his orbit, he’s cheering you on, too. We are all watching him hit these milestones on the trail, still it must be lonely out there, now that the dogs have gone through and the bikes have moved on. I hope he knows we are rooting for him to do what he came here to do, on his terms.

So much has transpired from when the 6 left McGrath, some 400 miles ago. Being able to head into the Interior after several days of waiting for the trail breakers was a huge testament to their will and ability to continue. These 6 out of 25 were the only ones who could continue.  Some could not go on due to illness, or massive fatigue from the huge push over Rainy Pass in extreme conditions, some could not continue strictly due to not having enough time off of work! It is remarkable that they have all made it this far, still we all felt a shock when we saw Troy Szczurkowski’s tracker sadly mark him as a scratch in Unalakleet. The former catwalk model (you read that correctly) has an extensive ITI resume that includes 10 starts, 2 Mcgraths, 6 Nomes, and 2 scratches (now 3 I hate to report). He states that his races were always on the bike “but collectively I've probably walked to Nome twice.”  Well done Troy, we’ll be talking about this year for a long time.

We’ll tuck in tonight knowing our racers will all soon be enjoying a rest at the school in Koyuk, and Gavan is at Peace on Earth Pizza. For the bikers, that leaves 150+ miles to Nome, the milestones will diminish in number but not in intensity.  But that is for another day…

Today’s update written by Kari Gibbons

Photo credit of Mayella- Kendall Park

Thanks to Wild Winter Women - Kari Gibbons, Amanda Harvey, Faye Norby, Jan Redmond Walker, Jessica Roschlan, Laura Wiesmann Hrubes, Allison Carolan, Leah Gruhn, Lynn K Hall, Madeline Harms, Rashelle Hintz, Rebecca McVay-Brodersen, and Sarah Bergstrom.

The lead four bikers made a strong overnight push through a cold headwind to arrive in the coastal village of Unakaleet around 3am. They walked up the wooden steps to Peace on Earth Restaurant and were greeted by Bret Hanson and the familiar scent of hot, freshly baked pizza. The Hanson family, Bret and Davida, have been running the popular restaurant since 1996; serving up familiar comforts to travelers of the trail who have been subsisting on freeze dried meals, candy and granola bars for days. It is now tradition for mushers to receive a small stack of pizzas called in by fans from around the country. Alaska Public Media shared this story in 2025 of friends, family and fans making sure mushers knew they were cared for and cheered on. Our intrepid racers also had hot pizza ready and waiting for them.

Photo of the four lead bikers taken by Bret Hanson at Peace on Earth.

Bret in 2023 with his tracking system for keeping track of orders for mushers and ITI racers. Photo taken by Leah Gruhn.

After four short hours of sleep the bikers in Unakaleet carried onwards to Shaktoolik in order to work across the Norton Sound before the north wind kicks in later this week. To get across the sea ice in the most favorable weather window, the four lead bikers have put in a couple of very long days of 75-80 miles each. The persistent sub-zero Fahrenheit weather and Velcro-like trail have taken a physical and emotional toll on the racers. While leaving Peace on Earth this morning Kendall stated, “It feels like a race now.” The four aren’t racing each other as much as they are racing the ever changing Alaskan weather. 

Though it might look like Mayella Krause and Ryan Wanless have been left behind in Unakaleet, they are with Kendall Park and Erick Basset. Maya plans to get a new tracker in Shaktoolik, and Ryan’s tracker was having battery issues. Keeping electronics functioning in deep cold is tough and we appreciate the efforts put in by the racers and race directors to keep their dots moving.

Troy Szczurkowski spent the night at the Tripod Flats safety cabin and should arrive in Unakaleet tonight. He’s currently experiencing 20mph winds whipping across the tundra as he makes his way past the Alukuk Hills. No doubt he’s looking forward to a warm dinner at the end of his arduous day.

Photo of the Tripod Flats cabin by Mayella Krause.

Gavan Hennigan made his way across the Kaltag portage today starting at a bright 8 am. He noted earlier that the cold really burrowed in early in the morning and just as the sun began to rise. He is surely maximizing his time in the sun to give him energy to keep his steady pace. At the time of writing, he is nearly to the Tripod Flats cabin, where he may take a short break and then carry on 15 more miles to Old Woman cabin for a sleep.

Old Woman cabin is so named for Old Woman Mountain which looms over the cabin. It is said that the spirit of a woman who died in an avalanche on the nearby mountain lingers in the area. Visitors to the cabin are encouraged to leave an offering of food to hope for good luck on the rest of their journey. Read more about this historic cabin in this 2011 article from Anchorage Daily News.

A stretch of the Kaltag Portage, taken by Kendall Park.

Today’s update written by Amanda Harvey

Thanks to Wild Winter Women - Kari Gibbons, Amanda Harvey, Faye Norby, Jan Redmond Walker, Jessica Roschlan, Laura Wiesmann Hrubes, Allison Carolan, Leah Gruhn, Lynn K Hall, Madeline Harms, Rashelle Hintz, Rebecca McVay-Brodersen, and Sarah Bergstrom.

Gavan Hennigan and musher Jody Potts-Joseph. Photo curtesy of Gavan Hennigan

In her 1918 book “Tenting To-Night”, Mary Roberts Rinehart wrote this about “The Trail”: “It [the trail] is dusty; it is wet. It climbs, it falls; it is beautiful and terrible. But always it skirts the coast of adventure. Always it goes on, and always it calls to those that follow it. Tiny path that it is, worn by the feet of earth’s wanderers, it is the thread which has knit together the solid places of the earth. The path of feet in the wilderness is the onward march of life itself.”

Nowhere else does this path that is “worn by the feet of Earth’s wanderers” apply more than in this next section of the Iditarod Trail.

But first, let’s cover what these Wanderers have been up to over the last 24 hours. Good trails and light winds mean that our racers have made good progress today.

​Veteran Gavan Hennigan (foot) did not need B&B owner Larry’s hand-drawn map to leave Galena yesterday, but it is always on the table for those who need it. Gavan traveled all night and arrived in Nulato around 6:30 this morning. After a Gavan-like quick stop like we are used to seeing when he is in his element, he is on the move again, making his way on the last stretch of the Yukon River to Kaltag.

​Bikers Ryan Wanless, Troy Szczurkowski, Mayella Krause, Kendall Park, and Erick Basset arrived in Nulato yesterday during the afternoon and early evening. After a brief 2-hour stop, Kendall, Erick, and Maya left to take advantage of the good trail to Kaltag, arriving roughly around midnight. Ryan traveled overnight to Kaltag and arrived this morning. In Kaltag, our racers stay at the public school, where posters and signs cheer them on. All four have left Kaltag and are now on their way over the Kaltag portage to the coast, likely stopping at Old Woman cabin later on. Not far behind them, Troy Szczurkowski arrived in Kaltag this afternoon and has also set off on the Kaltag portage.

​Now for the Tiny Path. The Kaltag portage is the name given to the area between Kaltag, on the Yukon River, and Unalakleet, on the coast. This portage has been an important route for travel, transportation, and trade between Norton Sound and Interior Alaska for thousands of years. It served as a vital link between the Inupiat and Yup’ik peoples of the coast and the Yukon River and Athabascan groups in the Interior. During the period of Alaskan development, the Kaltag portage was used as a route for both the historic Iditarod Trail and the Washington-Alaska Military Cable and Telegraph System. As racers travel along this old route, many remark that you can feel its significance and history. The trail leaves Kaltag, travels through a wooded area, crosses the Kaltag River, and eventually climbs about 500 feet before beginning a long descent towards the sea.

There are two fantastic Bureau of Land Management (BLM) shelter cabins on this stretch. The cabins are open to all travelers passing through the portage. Tripod Flats is around 27 miles past Kaltag, and Old Woman Cabin is around 16 miles past that, or around 43 miles from Kaltag. From Old Woman cabin, racers have around 34 miles to Unalakleet.

​The colder temperatures continue to hang around overnight and into the morning hours, especially at lower elevations, like along the Yukon River; it was -27 degrees F when Ryan arrived in Kaltag this morning, but the winds were light. It appears temps will stay in this general 0 to -30 deg F range for much of the week. The four bikers appear to have a slight tailwind as they climb to the top of the portage, before the wind becomes a headwind on the other side, down towards Unalakleet and the coast.

​There is one chapter coming to an end today, and that is our racers’ interactions with the Iditarod Dog Sled Race. All dog teams have passed Gavan, and the remaining teams will pass the four lead bikers by tomorrow morning. Interactions between mushers, dogs, race volunteers, and our athletes are among the most treasured moments on the trail, and racers will now be left with very quiet trails, with only the occasional snow machine venturing by. Racers may feel lonelier on the trail after all the activity of the last few days on the Yukon. But no doubt participants in these two events will meet again next year when the tiny path is once again traveled by earth’s wanderers, both human and canine alike. 

Today’s update written by Faye Norby

Thanks to Wild Winter Women - Kari Gibbons, Amanda Harvey, Faye Norby, Jan Redmond Walker, Jessica Roschlan, Laura Wiesmann Hrubes, Allison Carolan, Leah Gruhn, Lynn K Hall, Madeline Harms, Rashelle Hintz, Rebecca McVay-Brodersen, and Sarah Bergstrom.

Mayella Krause on bike (photo: Kendall Park)

Gavan Hennigan on the Yukon River (photo: Mayella Krause), after “tracking him” for 22 days

Twenty-two days in, and the 1,000-mile race has found its pulse — beating steadily along the mighty artery of the Yukon River, after some threadier moments in the Alaska Range and the interior.

The past week was defined by the brutal realities of the interior: unbroken trail, never-ending rolling hills, soft snow, temperatures as low as -50°F, and the added challenge of rationing food across a remote section that took most athletes 5–6 days longer than planned. The six remaining athletes faced some of the most challenging conditions in recent ITI history, waiting for trailbreakers before they could make efficient forward progress. That all six emerged unscathed is a testament to their preparedness and discipline. Mayella Krause described the kind and welcoming volunteers she met along the way as "rays of light" and the highlight of some of those long and difficult days.

Now, with the trail packed in by both breakers and Iditarod dog-sled teams (covered in our Day 18-21 updates), the stubborn six are making significantly better time, with a fast 50 miles heading northwest out of Ruby. Morale received a welcome boost in Galena, courtesy of the legendary Larry, the hospitable innkeeper at the B&B — a stop that never disappoints the weary traveler. And for the first time in days, we have eyes on the entire field: Erick Basset, who lost his tracker in the interior (see Day 19), picked up a replacement unit in Galena, and reappeared on Trackleaders.com today. Welcome back to the dot-watching grid, Erick.

All six athletes arrived in Galena at various times before 10:00 PM last night. Ryan Wanless, who got in late in the afternoon, was the first to leave, slipping out in the middle of the night. Whether it was to make more room at the B&B for his comrades, or to seek a hard-packed trail under a new moon and the northern lights, we do not know, but he found his way to Nulato by mid-afternoon today. Troy Szczurkowski followed later, leaving from his resting spot at the Sidney Huntington School just before sunrise, with bike athletes Erick Basset, Mayella Krause, and Kendall Park rolling out a couple of hours behind him. By mid-afternoon, Troy, Erick, Mayella, and Kendall were all within 10 miles of Nulato and closing in. Gavan Hennigan, our lone foot racer, took a longer rest in Galena this morning— well earned after his relentless and very cold march through the interior. Foot athletes carry a different kind of fatigue than their bike counterparts, with less margin for the necessary chores and rest at checkpoints, and if anyone has earned the comfort of Larry's hospitality, it's Gavan. It was this location where Gavan’s race ended last year due to a medical issue, but he showed no signs of stopping today and was out on the trail again by mid-afternoon, bound for Nulato.

Today's conditions along the Yukon remained cold (in the -20s °F) but stable — sunny with minimal wind, and little temperature fluctuation expected. That could feel like a gift. The temperatures appear to be 10-15 degrees warmer downriver.

From Galena, the trail math looks like this: Nulato sits roughly 51 miles ahead, Kaltag another 35 beyond that, and then approximately 78 more miles to Unalakleet — the coast, the final “leg” of the race, and a milestone these athletes may have been carrying in their mind's eye since the start at Knik Lake nearly three weeks ago. The coastal stretch beyond, however, is also no place for complacency.

With the Nome cutoff of 3:00 PM AKDT on March 24th looming, the field has 9 more days for an official finish — our trail math says that is an average of 44-45 miles per day. Demanding for the bikers, and an extraordinary ask for Gavan on foot, with even less margin for suboptimal weather or trail conditions.

But perhaps 22 days in the remote and brutal Alaskan wilderness has a way of replacing a person’s care for “deadlines” with something more elemental: focusing on just one foot in front of the other, one bite of food, one sip of water, mile after mile, day after day, until the Bering Sea fills the horizon and the beautiful burled arch in Nome comes into view.

Like certainties of death and taxes, we are certain Alaska doesn't care about our trail math, and maybe the remaining six shouldn’t either. At the end of the day, just like the thousands of others who have traveled this river in winter before them, they don’t need our math; they just need to control the controllables, and take whatever they are given by the trail.

Today’s update written by Allison Carolan

Thanks to Wild Winter Women - Kari Gibbons, Amanda Harvey, Faye Norby, Jan Redmond Walker, Jessica Roschlan, Laura Wiesmann Hrubes,  Leah Gruhn, Lynn K Hall, Madeline Harms, Rashelle Hintz, Rebecca McVay-Brodersen, and Sarah Bergstrom.

Iditarod Trail (photo: Kendall Park)

It felt like a collective sigh of relief as each of our athletes arrived in Ruby, the final arrival being Mayella in the early morning hours.  With two options to stay in Ruby, the Wild Iris B&B and the school, both having internet, many took the opportunity to update their socials. The consensus of the Alaskan Interior was the same across the board: extreme cold.  There was some good trail, then blown-out, trashed trail, beautiful sunsets, and northern lights.  And cold: -30 and -50 deg F reported, with very little significant warming during the day.

In temperatures like this, especially on a multi-day endeavor with little to no ability to dry out layers and sleep systems, the margin for error is razor-thin.  It is a true testament to each individual that they all arrived at Ruby unscathed. This is a reflection of years of work, followed by incredible discipline on the trail.  If this was not impressive enough, they have all now left Ruby and are enjoying some flat and faster miles on the Mighty Yukon!  It must have been quite a feeling riding a sled or bike down the long, downhill road out of Ruby that kicks out onto the river, each person knowing they will be on this stretch for the next 135 miles.  

The bikers' speeds seem to indicate a quick trail, and it has to feel good to ride rather than push their bikes for miles and miles.  For the first time since McGrath, the bikers have now taken the lead from Gavan, our lone foot division.  This can be an opportunity for all to get in some ‘’active recovery” while making up time.  They will now have access to some of the villages that dot the river, first and foremost, Galena!  Soon, they will be enjoying the hospitality of Larry, the owner of the B&B in town.  Larry has a way to heal the weary traveler, often times driving out to greet racers as they come in, showering them with good food (in abundance) and offering gentle but enthusiastic encouragement.  They will also have access to their food boxes, which were mailed out weeks in advance. I imagine the “raiding of boxes” from those who have dropped will be fairly epic. 

Everything seems to be epic on the Yukon River, which flows 2,300 miles and discharges into the Bering Sea in Alaska.  They will travel a seemingly small portion of this mighty river, where cliffs showcase their stark beauty, a bend can take hours to walk or bike around, and the cold wind cuts through layers, with no trees to slow it.  

It’s impossible to avoid being a part of the history of this region, as they pass through.  They will hit three villages as they wind down the river, and the (approximate) region between Ruby and the final village on the Yukon, Kaltag, is primarily inhabited by Athabascan speakers in the upper, forested sections near Ruby, and Yup'ik speakers in the lower reaches toward the Bering Sea. The Holikachuk people historically lived in this transition zone, trading with both the Gwich'in and the Yup'ik.

Historically and still today, the mighty Yukon River supports communities along its shores with salmon fishing, trapping, and hunting.  It has seen travelers, trade, and the gold rush.  It is a vibrant conduit that spans hundreds of miles and thousands of years.

Ryan, Troy, Gavan, Kendall, Mayella, and Erick will hopefully only be on it for a few short days.  They’ll have just a little bit of a headwind, and the temperature should be just cold enough to keep the trail firm.  It’s hard to express how impressive their journey has been so far; one can only hope they are feeling good enough to celebrate the Mighty Wins.  

Written by Kari Anne Gibbons.

Thanks to Wild Winter Women - Allison Carolan, Amanda Harvey, Faye Norby, Jan Redmond Walker, Jessica Roschlan, Laura Wiesmann Hrubes, Leah Gruhn, Lynn K Hall, Madeline Harms, Rashelle Hintz, Rebecca McVay-Brodersen, and Sarah Bergstrom.

Kendall and Maya organize food and hand warmers in the Cripple checkpoint (photo: Ryan Wanless)

Today, our six racers in the ITI 1,000-mile race arrived in the community of Ruby, on the bank of the Yukon River!! This is a tremendous milestone: reaching the Yukon after a particularly arduous trip through the challenging, isolated 200 miles they have been traveling. This section is often considered one of the hardest sections in the race, and this year was even more challenging. The most snowfall in recent memory, combined with essentially no traffic on the trail, led most people (racers and dot-watchers alike) to believe the trail was impassable due to thigh-deep, soft snow. Additionally, they were out in temperatures as low as -50 deg F. These six racers were not only exceptionally driven and hard-working, but also patient to wait for the appropriate window to make the trip. They kept the faith that it was possible, and they made it happen. Tonight, we commend and congratulate them!

How cold has it been? The National Weather Service in Fairbanks is reporting that this year, the period Feb 25 - Mar 11 is the coldest EVER recorded in Fairbanks (230 miles to the east of Ruby), with an average temperature of -20 deg F. Those dates roughly coincide with the dates when our ITI racers have been in the interior. So when we say it’s cold, understand that it’s the coldest stretch on record for the area.

Once racers arrive in Ruby, there are two lodging options: the Wild Iris B&B or the public school. The school has a kitchen and a kettle, white gas to fill the depleted stores, showers, and a classroom floor to spread out wet clothes and get some shut-eye. After talking with Ryan Wanless today, Emily Wanless reported that the school was bustling - The lead dog teams were arriving as well, which means lots of people and noise and not much rest. It will only get busier as the day goes on. Hopefully, the shop classroom they set up for the racers offers a little peace and quiet.

Today, mushers in the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race were streaming past the racers all day. They will likely continue to do so for another day or two. 

Tonight, we hear from racers in their own words, in order of their arrival in Ruby - 

Ryan Wanless (Sioux Falls, South Dakota, bike) - Tonight, Ryan’s wife posted the following after his 27-hr push through the night to get to Ruby: 

“Just working our way through the checklist…

Extreme weather - check!  (Ryan: “I feel like it’s been -30 for like 10 days straight!”)

Bike mechanical - check!  (Ryan: “Troy was great. I had all the tools I needed. It was the second set of hands that made it work.”)

Dog sled encounters - check!   (Ryan: “I think Millie the Mushroom just passed me!” Also, Mushroom is not a nickname, but rather a failed talk-to-text.)”

Gavan Hennigan (Galway, Ireland, foot) - Sometimes, when the going gets tough, it can be helpful to remind yourself why you thought this was a good idea and what motivated you to be here. Prior to the race, Gav wrote that he came to be captivated by the historic trail and the historic ITI race, and that he was most looking forward to being alone.

Troy Szczurkowski (Daisy Hill, Australia, bike) - When asked what he would rather deal with, Troy indicated he’d rather have deep snow instead of rain, blizzards, or high winds. I wonder if he still feels that way. On the trail, he was most looking forward to the silence; dancing alone at 2 am on the Yukon; swearing at snow. Finally, he said he loaded the family up with two months' worth of dad jokes before he left home for Alaska. Hopefully, we can get our hands on some of those jokes.

Kendall Park (St. Louis, Missouri, bike) - Kendall has been making super steady progress since the Iditarod trailbreakers passed through. Like other racers, she has been challenged by mechanical issues, particularly with her bike rack, but last we heard, she had it secured. A lifelong learner, she is working on her French language skills with Erick and hopes to be fluent by the time they reach Nome. Bon courage, Kendall!

Erick Basset (Caen, France, bike) - We are not sure exactly sure when our in-house French instructor arrived in Ruby, since he lost his tracker a couple of days ago. We were informed that he is expected to pick up a new tracker at the next checkpoint in Galena. When asked what he would rather deal with, Erick indicated he’d rather have rain instead of deep snow, blizzards, or high winds. Unfortunately, he’s had all of the most challenging conditions possible except for rain. On the trail, he looked forward most to the northern lights and the wolves' song. His preparation and planning for ITI were challenging because there is no snow where he lives in France. He trains by bike on the beach, and he rode a bike for the first time (!) on snow just a week before the race started.

Mayella Krause (Sao Bento do Sul, Brazil, bike) - Maya’s explanation of her motivations to race the ITI is as follows:

“The winter ultra world is small yet full of people who understand the hunger to move through a world where a single mistake can kill. We don’t just endure the wilderness; we seek it out, craving the silence where we meet the hardest parts of ourselves. There’s a strength that comes from standing shoulder to shoulder with people who understand this madness.”

“We know what Alaska and ITI means to us…. the way it carves you down to your core and leaves something purer behind.

“I love being surrounded by “my people”... those who crave not comfort but the raw, unfiltered edge of existence. ITI is a reckoning with the self, a pilgrimage where mind and muscle are pushed beyond what most would call sane. To move through this desolate beauty, where snowdrifts rise like ghosts and the night stretches endless, is to strip away the excess until only resolve remains. It’s not strength alone that carries you across unforgiving miles—it’s the grit that gnaws at doubt and spits it out, the quiet voice that says “trust your struggle” when the body screams for warmth and rest. And yet, there’s a strange solace out there, in the company of others who understand this pull, this need to confront the wilderness and be remade by it. We are forged in frost and fatigue, bound not by words but by the shared knowledge that survival out here is a conversation between will and wilderness, and only those who listen make it through.

“Out there, cold is not just a temperature—it is a measure of will. It strips away the unnecessary, whispering “quit, quit” with every breath that crystallizes in the air. The fatigue burrows deep, settling into the marrow, an old companion you learn to carry like the weight of the miles behind you. Pain is not a fleeting thing—it is constant, layered, evolving. These are not obstacles but conditions of existence in a place like this. And yet, you move. Because stopping is not an option.

“The loneliness is vast, an expanse as endless as the snowfields, and in that solitude, there is no escaping yourself. The silence stretches wider than the sky, and you find yourself speaking to the wind, to the wolves, to your hallucinations. Stripped raw by the conditions and the distance, you are forced to reckon with yourself. No distractions. Just you and the thing you swore you would do. And you do it—not for glory, not for praise, but because some part of you refuses to live a life that is small. Because you do not wish to stand at the edge of existence and wonder what lies beyond. You do it because you can.”

Stay tuned for more updates and stories from the trail, the next of which is coming tomorrow night.

Written by Leah Gruhn

Thanks to Wild Winter Women - Allison Carolan, Amanda Harvey, Faye Norby, Jan Redmond Walker, Jessica Roschlan, Kari Anne Gibbons, Laura Wiesmann Hrubes, Lynn K Hall, Madeline Harms, Rashelle Hintz, Rebecca McVay-Brodersen, and Sarah Bergstrom.

When riding through the night under clear skies, racers can be rewarded with a spectacular light show. (photo: Ryan Wanless)

Iditarod Trail landscape of gently rolling hills through the interior rear Cripple checkpoint (photo: Leah Gruhn)

When it comes to winter ultras, or any long endurance event really, it’s often not the last few miles or hours that are most difficult; rather, it’s the middle, slightly before or around the halfway point. When you’ve been out for a long time, you’re bone-tired, and not even halfway there, it takes a great deal of mental strength to convince yourself to continue on. This year, ITI 1,000-mile racers have the added complexity of having had to wait for trail breakers for several days in variable conditions, which killed any momentum that they had previously. Now that the trail is passable, they need to put in big miles to reach Nome by the 30-day cutoff. The six individuals left on course are currently racing to the next checkpoint at Ruby (mile 495) on the Yukon River and are over halfway along the ITI 1,000-mile course.

As of 2:30 pm AKT, Gavan Hennigan (foot) leads at 457 miles. Gavan has been pressing on at a relentless pace since the trail breakers came through a few days ago, having covered 30 miles already today.

Troy Szczurkowski leads the bikers at 441 miles. Troy has finished the ITI 1,000-mile race six times before and is rumored to be making a move for the win this year. Both Gavan and Troy stopped only briefly at the Cripple checkpoint (422 miles). Mayella Kruse, Kendall Park, and Ryan Wanless rested for a couple of hours at Cripple and are now back on the trail around the 430-mile mark. Erick Bassett lost his tracker but is said to have left Cripple about 45 minutes before Ryan. He is hoping to get a new tracker at Ruby.

The Cripple checkpoint, where some athletes choose to pick up their drop bags (literally dropped from an airplane!) was laid out differently this year, with some food and fuel on the trail and some at the checkpoint, giving racers the choice for where to resupply and leaving it to them to decide if they wanted to take the longer route which would allow them to visit the dog sled checkpoint of Cripple. Because this stretch of trail is so rugged and isolated, the race director wanted to ensure athletes had plenty of food and fuel, as well as multiple options to get them. 

It might seem puzzling that a foot racer is leading the ITI, but the unusual weather and trail conditions can explain this. Challenging trail conditions are much more disruptive to bike than to foot athletes, so most bike athletes chose to stay (or even backtrack to) McGrath (mile 310) until trail breakers came through, knowing they could pick up the pace once the trail was established. Meanwhile, Gavan (foot) chose to push through the poor conditions to mile 370ish before trail breakers reached him, knowing that on foot, he can’t put in huge miles like the bikers can when conditions are good. It will be interesting to see whether he remains in the lead to Nome or if the bikers pass him at some point. 

The 200-mile section racers are currently traversing (McGrath to Ruby) is called “the interior,” and many former racers consider it to be the most rugged and challenging section of the 1,000-mile ITI trail. It is mentally challenging because it’s far enough in the race that the racers are getting tired, and far enough from Nome that it’s possible to question whether they will ever get there. It is so remote; after Takotna, there are no inhabited villages along this portion of the trail. There are only a few ghost towns, abandoned cabins, and occasional reminders of the region’s gold mining history. From Ruby, racers will follow the Yukon River for two to three days. Hopefully, the river is well packed, and the snow is not drifted. If the surface of the river is packed snow or ice, conditions will be fast for the bikers. Stay tuned for what is turning out to be quite the race against dog teams, cutoffs, and Nature herself!

Written by Madeline Harms

Thanks to Wild Winter Women - Allison Carolan, Amanda Harvey, Faye Norby, Jan Redmond Walker, Jessica Roschlan, Kari Anne Gibbons, Laura Wiesmann Hrubes, Lynn K Hall, Madeline Harms, Rebecca McVay-Brodersen, and Sarah Bergstrom.

ITI encountering Iditarod (Photo Credit: Faye Norby, 2024)

Alaskan Huskies are bred to love pulling and thrive in the snow. They are happiest working hard in the cold. Does this sound like anyone we know? I can think of six ITI 1,000-mile athletes, and they have the privilege of literally sharing the trail with these dog teams and mushers for the next few days. This is a special experience for the 1,000-mile ITI racers on the trail between McGrath and Nome. I hope they find the sloppy-tongue, toothy dog smiles an inspiration to find JOY in the mundane work as they enjoy the Alaskan playground.  Because the truth is, we can learn much from the dogs: eat lots, sleep hard, and play harder (and huskies do it best!).

Today is finally the day when the Iditarod sled dog racers might start catching our ITI human-powered racers. There is something unique about sharing the trail with these four-legged, furry athletes. The bond between a human and their working dogs is such a special experience, and seeing it in action is deeply touching. Listening to mushers speak to their dogs, watching the dogs work in tandem under their humans' leadership, and witnessing the power of teamwork and trust. Maybe a team passes our racers, and they see them in action. Maybe our racers come upon a checkpoint where the dogs are bedded down for rest or getting their meal and vet care before the musher goes inside to care for their own needs. Witnessing the Iditarod up close and personal like this is a rare opportunity and a highlight for the ITI 1,000-mile racers.

 Gavan Hennigan, our only human sled dog left, pulled his sled through the night and made it to the North Fork Innoko shelter cabin (mile 416) at 5:47 am Alaska time. Ryan Wanless was not far behind him, biking through the night also, arriving at the cabin around 9:45 am Alaska time. Gavan left the cabin at 2:30 pm after a 9-hour break. He made a quick stop at the Cripple checkpoint (mile 422) to locate the drop bags. These drop bags are literal drop bags: dropped from a plane, and racers are given the coordinates. We hope they are visible from the trail and easy to locate!  

After staying the night at the Carlson Crossings safety cabin (mile 374), Troy Szczurkowski, Erick Basset, Mayella Krause, and Kendall Park all got on the trail between 9:00 and 10:00 am Alaska time. Erick lost his tracker yesterday and will be picking up a new one in Cripple. He has been with Maya, Kendall, and Troy and is feeling good.  Kendall had to stop to fix her rack, but she was rolling again by 1:00 pm Alaska time. The bikers seem to be moving a little faster than yesterday’s pace and making good time. We are hoping that means the trail is improving!

As temps hover between cold and colder, there will continue to be moments of pacing to keep warm and regretting life’s choices. It’s now that our racers practice using their skills to pull them out of that spiral. They tap into the part of the brain that speaks truth and helps us remember that every journey has highs and lows, and that we have a choice about where to spend the most time. This aspect of thought control is crucial to success.  Continuing defies all logic. Putting yourself through pain and misery does not make sense.  The “I no longer care” monkeys are hard to shake once they land on your back. Don’t let them get close! Don’t let them sink in their talons! It is in these moments that we see a level of grit, determination, and perseverance that transcends all physical feats.   

If there is speculation on the ability to make a Nome-in-30-days cutoff, just know that every racer is doing trail math constantly. They’re setting their goals and accepting their limitations. Everything falls under the reality that the trail will decide. Alaska will decide. I think we can all agree that we hold the determination, constant forward motion, and deliberate progress in deep respect as these athletes embrace an experience and an adventure that will not be defined by days on a calendar. These athletes have embarked on this journey with the knowledge that they are at the mercy of Alaska and the desire to take advantage of every minute spent in this great wilderness. So much to be grateful for on the journey; wherever it leads and however long it takes.

Stay tuned for more updates and stories from the trail. Progress may be slow and hard-earned, but we are tracking every detail and enjoy sharing what we can with you.

Written by Rashelle Hintz

Thanks to Wild Winter Women - Allison Carolan, Amanda Harvey, Faye Norby, Jan Redmond Walker, Jessica Roschlan, Kari Anne Gibbons, Laura Wiesmann Hrubes, Leah Gruhn, Lynn K Hall, Madeline Harms, Rebecca McVay-Brodersen, and Sarah Bergstrom

All of our racers yesterday heard a sound that they have been waiting on for many days, the drone of a snowmachine (snowmobile for the non-Alaskans). The Iditarod trailbreakers have passed the six remaining ITI 1,000-mile racers, creating and marking a trail that will guide them the remaining 600ish miles to Nome. Gavan enjoyed a long rest at Carlson Crossing (CC) shelter cabin and was joined by the Iditarod Sled Dog Race trail breakers around 5:30 pm. Biker Ryan joined the crew at CC cabin after 9:30 pm, making for a cozy night in the small cabin. Both Gavan and Ryan departed the cabin in the afternoon and are currently making their way northward to the North Fork Innoko shelter cabin and their drop bag at the Cripple checkpoint.

The remaining 4 racers spent the night together at Ophir. Mayella and Kendall got a comparatively early start today, leaving just after 5 am. Erick and Troy left a few hours later, keeping a steady pace. Tonight, Maya, Kendall, and Troy are resting in the CC cabin. Erick is assumed to be with them as well, but his tracker appears as though he might be taking a bivy rest along the trail. With the trailbreakers taking their Starlink internet connection with them, we likely won't get substantial updates from the racers until they reach Ruby, which is days away. All we can do now is imagine what their days are like on the trail.

On calm days our runner and riders will mainly be listening to the sound of their footsteps and tire treads. Those familiar with the cold will know that the sound of snow changes with the temperature. Squeaky snow indicates cold temperatures, a softer sound underfoot means that temps are milder. The winds tonight are 5-10 mph, which shouldn’t be stiff enough to whistle through their gear, although lows of -2° F will provide plenty of squeak to the snow.

There isn’t a lot of ambient sound on the trail, so what you do hear becomes very interesting. The aforementioned drone of a snowmachine could signal incoming Fireball from an ITI volunteer, or an indicator that you need to move as far to the side of a narrow trail as possible for a passing machine. Sometimes the snowmachine will stop and a racer will get to chat with the driver, and they might turn out to be a friend with a hug and a spare slice of frozen Moose’s Tooth Pizza. Sometimes the snowmachiner will want to know what the heck you’re doing out there. Other times a passing thumbs up to signal all is OK is all that is communicated. 

The other droning sound is the bush planes that are the lifeblood of the interior villages during the winter. On clear days watching the planes make their way across the sky is about as exciting an entertainment as possible. Though on rare, special occasions, the plane is flying near and low, to drop extra trail snacks for the racers.

Video credit: Sunny Stoeer

When the wind isn’t roaring through the Ptarmigan Valley before Rainy Pass, the ptarmigans make a delightful wah-wah sound that’s worth a stop to listen. The trail can sometimes be so quiet that the only noise is the soft chomping sound of a moose munching on willow branches.

As the racers work their way down the trail, they spend their time thinking of family and friends, and about everyone who made it possible for them to take on this feat. In that spirit, below are notes of appreciation from the 1,000-mile racers who started the race but are no longer on the trail.

• Chester Fehrmann: My partner, Meg, for all her support over the last 20 years. My friends I ride with, many ITI veterans, who I get to ski along with on winter trips and who provided me advice on bad gear choices 😜 and Speedway Cycles for keeping me on the trails when skiing isn’t an option!

• Herman Watson: Big Marc “the Marc” Klimek, my wife, who is watching our 15mo and dog while I’m out and who famously said “don’t be a pussy” when I considered deferring my entry to ITI 2023 after suffering significant knee pain during Fat Pursuit a few weeks prior. And, I guess, my office for having my back while I’m gone.

• Jason Davis: My awesome wife 

• Jay Petervary: Tracey's patience with my drive and intensity 😎 but also so much encouragement.

Written by Amanda Harvey

Thanks to Wild Winter Women - Allison Carolan, Jan Redmond Walker, Faye Norby, Kari Gibbons, Leah Gruhn, Laura Wiesmann Hrubes, Lynn Hall, Madeline Harms, Rashelle Hintz, Rebecca McVay-Brodersen, Jessica Roschlan, and Sarah Bergstrom.

As of 2 pm Alaska time, our racers are now over the halfway point in the 30-day cutoff for an official finish time to Nome.

A big discussion the last few days has been when the Iditarod dog sled race trail breakers will create a trail past McGrath? These trail breakers are a group of snowmobilers who drag heavy sledges behind them, stopping to saw and remove impeding brush or logs on the path as needed. We got word that the trailbreakers reached McGrath yesterday, and Ryan told us they passed him just before 4 pm on the trail! With all this excitement over the arrival of the trailbreakers, there has been a flurry of activity in our previously lifeless dots. Of note, sunrise in Ruby is 8:55 am, and sunset is 8:05 pm; previous racers have shared that it stays light far past sunset. Because of this, our racers may choose to have a later-than-conventional start to their day and keep moving on the trail well into the late hours of the night.

After a relatively mild day yesterday, with temperatures in the single digits Fahrenheit, our racers had another chilly night of temperatures below -20F. Gavan chose to snowshoe all night, reaching the Carlson Crossing (CC) cabin (mislabeled Collins on trackleaders.com) just after 4 am, clocking in at a speedy 1.2 to 2 mph throughout the night. Last year, Gavan was in Ruby by day 13 of the ITI, which is 122 miles from his current location. CC cabin, about 68 miles past McGrath, is one of ten safety cabins on the historic Iditarod trail maintained by the Bureau of Land Management. These cabins are simple structures with a bunk, a wood stove, and an outhouse. Many are only accessible in winter and are first-come, first-served. Racers will need to do chores such as chopping wood and building a fire when they arrive. Gavan might also consider chopping extra wood as a courtesy to those who come after him.  

Ryan spent the night sleeping between Ophir and the CC cabin. This morning, he started post-holing in thigh-deep snow and made it about 2 miles in 3 hours before stopping again. Troy stopped for the night between Takotna and Ophir and started making progress down the trail around 9:30 am. He travelled a little over 9 miles in about 5 hours to reach Ophir, where he is taking a break. Erick, Maya, and Kendall spent last night in Takotna. Their dots started moving towards Ophir in the early afternoon. A little after 2 pm, their speed picked up, suggesting they had a set trail to follow. Dot watchers around the world have been waiting excitedly in anticipation for this. This afternoon, they passed the Takotna River, where they enjoyed their final views of the Alaska Mountain range.

On his race survey, Erick shared that he does not have snow where he lives in France and has been practicing by biking on the beach. With little winter biking experience, his perseverance in this year’s deep snow and extreme weather shows his ability to adapt to new challenges and changing conditions. Maya shared that she was not able to train as hard for this race as she would have liked to due to life events. She prides herself on being the first Brazilian to finish the ITI 350, which is fueling her desire to reach Nome. Rumor has it these athletes are planning to put in some big mileage days now that the trailbreakers have passed them.  

As our racers have experienced, one of the unique aspects of the Iditarod trail is that it only exists for a few weeks a year, needing trail groomers and frozen water for passage. So how did this incredible 1,000-mile winter trail across Alaska come to be? It is perhaps best known for the 1925 life-saving serum run, when 20 mushers and about 150 sled dogs carried the diphtheria antitoxin from Nenana to Nome in five and a half days. This incredible feat, accomplished during an intense Alaskan blizzard with hurricane force winds that grounded all flights, and saved the Village of Nome from a deadly diphtheria outbreak.

It took until 1978 for Congress to establish the Iditarod as a National Historic Trail, 5 years after the first Iditarod Dog Sled race. A Senate report noted that the trails comprising the Iditarod National Historic Trail “…offer a rich diversity of climate, terrain, scenery, wildlife, recreation, and resources in an environment largely unchanged since the days of the stampeders. It is the isolated, primitive quality of this historical environment that makes the National Historic Iditarod Trail proposal unique. Nowhere in the National Trail System is there such an extensive landscape, so demanding of durability and skill during its winter travel season. On the Iditarod, today’s adventurer can duplicate the experience and challenge of yesteryear.” (US Department of the Interior, Bureau of Land Management). In this remote area of the world, where Mother Nature dictates much of life, the Iditarod Trail gives us a glimpse back in time to a world less gripped by technology and materialistic gain, to a way of life rooted in survival, creative adaptation, and looking out for one another. 

In Honor of International Women’s Day, we would like to honor some of the women of the Iditarod Dog Sled Race. The first Iditarod Dog Sled Race was held in 1973 as a way to commemorate the history of the Iditarod Trail. No women mushers finished that first year. However, in 1974, Mary Shields became the first woman finisher, and Lolly Medley finished shortly after her, showing the world that women can indeed do hard things. The bravery of these two pioneers came only two years after women were officially allowed to run the Boston Marathon (1972). Mary Shields died last summer at the age of 80 years old.  Originally from Wisconsin, she moved to Alaska after college and worked as a waitress to feed her dogs. During the 1974 Iditarod dog sled race, men at checkpoints made bets on when she would drop out, and women made bets on when she would finish, which she says only fueled her will to make it to Nome. Shields was a true inspiration to many women who wanted to take on winter adventures and dog-sled racing. History was made again in 1985 when Libby Riddles, who spent her youth in Wisconsin and Minnesota, became the first woman to win the Iditarod dog sled race. Since then, Susan Butcher became the second woman to win the race, and she won it a total of 4 times, the last in 1990.

This year’s Iditarod Dog Sled race started at 2 pm Sunday, March 8th, in Willow, Alaska. Twelve women are taking part in this year's race, and we would like to take a moment to list their names. Those with a previous top-ten finish are Paige Dorbny, Jessie Royer, and Millie Porsild. The women veteran mushers are Gabe Dunham, Hanna Lyrek, Josie Shelley, and Michelle Phillips. Women rookies this year are: Sydnie Bahl, Jaye Fouche, Sadie Lindquist, Jody Potts-Joseph, and Brenda Mackey. 

With both the ITI and the Iditarod Dog Sled Race currently underway, Alaska has become the largest playing field in a game of human grit, determination, and survival. Whether on foot, by bike, or on a dog sled, these racers have watchers around the world on the edges of their seats, eagerly awaiting updates. In a world with predictable routines and man-made comforts, perhaps we all yearn a little for the chaos, hardships, and unpredictability that an adventure through Alaska is sure to bring.  

Written by Jessica Roschlan

Thanks to Wild Winter Women - Allison Carolan, Amanda Harvey, Faye Norby, Jan Redmond Walker, Kari Gibbons, Leah Gruhn, Laura Wiesmann Hrubes, Lynn Hall, Madeline Harms, Rashelle Hintz, Rebecca McVay-Brodersen, and Sarah Bergstrom.

Photo Credit: Kendall Park

Carlson Crossing Cabin on a previous year’s ITI. Photo Credit: Roberto Gazzoli

An Iditarod Dog Sled Race trailbreaker in 2022. Photo Credit: Anchorage Daily News

It appears to be a relatively (relatively being the operative word) balmy day for our trail people (and the dog people behind) with a high of 5 degrees and little wind or precipitation. Gavan and Ryan moved out of Ophir, while Kendall, Mayella and Erick likewise staggered out of McGrath late in the day, while they anticipate the Iditarod trail breakers to arrive sometime tonight in McGrath.  

The trailbreakers are expected to take on the forty miles to Ophir tomorrow. Gavan and Ryan are likely hoping they will carve the quarter inch crust of ice topping 3-4 feet of snow along the 76-mile trail trajectory to Cripple that follows a meandering Innoko River, breaking north at the confluence of the Innoko and Hunch Creek to cross Tango Creek in a last stretch to Cripple. Following Cripple is a push north through various capillary waterways to join its mighty aorta, the Yukon River, that extends through much of AK. 

Troy got an early start out of McGrath, crossing the Kuskokwim and mouth of the Tatalina Rivers before traversing west over a swath of wilderness that include creeks that stem from hills to the south, bleeding into the Tatalina behind and the Takotna ahead. From Takotna he will forage north along Independence Creek and join the Innoko River and its numerous water crossings to Ophir. If he makes it to Nome, he will be the first cyclist to complete the course seven times. His plan, which seems to be working: “My strategy before the race started was to turtle my way up the trail, get to McGrath as late as I could, knowing there was no trail, and be waiting.”

Thus, the waiting place … “The Waiting Place… for people just waiting … waiting around for a Friday night or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake or a pot to boil, or a Better Break” – (Dr. Seuss “Oh the places they’ll go”) as racers are yet missing a major integer in their race math equations needed to strategize the if and how to reach Nome sweet Nome. So far, Gavan is getting his one ITI wish to beat Herman, who has said sayonara to the trail. It seems that everything from extreme wind, cold and a calendar are working against our little flags, as they hold onto wise judgement in addressing each potential issue that arises. 

The Iditarod is certainly living up to its Ice Highway identity, but whether it’s a highway to heaven or a highway to hell might be up for debate depending on who (and more particularly, when) you ask. As racers seek to chase our fearless sky hunter, Orion, up towards the tundra and beyond, we watch, wait and wonder over our own, precious satellites as they problem solve their way a millimeter at a time over the Iditarod constellation, having survived windchills half the way to absolute zero just days before. Some even manage the journey in high fashion. What I wouldn’t give to hear Kendall and Mayella discuss their customized innovations, self-created and field tested: a one stop shop product research and development team. Kendall modeled what appears to be a silicone snorkel-like contraption for breathing cold air at our WWW retreat early last December. Her knowledge base and creative problem-solving skills as a medical student are likely being tapped on such an expedition as this.

Expedition, because the title, “race”, does not fully encompass the gains and losses of this endeavor. What is lost in not finishing may be gained back in spades as survival and the gift of wisdom that only an extreme trek such as this can provide, as trail people learn to rely on cool heads amid the fires of frostbite and hypothermia. 

This writer, being a devoted fan of Wild Winter Women, and now the ITI, might just prefer to forgo such wisdom - especially after this year of anxious dot watching, turning on a dime from backseat driver (shouting no! in public places as people look askance), to knuckle biting concern. Why do they do what they do? Why do they flirt with suffering and even death – that ever pregnant reality in winter ultras? 

Mayella writes as part of a social media post: “There’s a common misconception about winter ultras. Most people assume we do this because we like suffering. Suffering is simply part of the admission price. What we’re really after are the moments that are bigger than ourselves, the kind you can’t manufacture in ordinary life. A frozen river under the northern lights. The rhythm of tires on snow. The strange clarity that arrives somewhere around day 2, when the mind finally stops arguing, and the body takes over. We know it will be hard. We show up anyway.” 

Ryan’s wife, Emily, appears to concur, saying, “It’s about being in places where people don’t normally go.” (quote from an article posted on Ryan’s Facebook) 

The quest for family and friends - who may not identify with this - to understand, is all part of that quest to love and support, even in a place of doubt. Athletes, do you know just how much love is poured into your every step as you face the solitude of an untamed land, cocooned in your fragile nylon bivy, swallowed by conditions both beautiful and inhospitable; satellites in space following a constellation that looks an awful lot like a raised whip about to crack?

If there is one common characteristic between the athletes that endure (beside perhaps the explorer gene), it appears to be a determination to overcome, for embracing what is in lieu of pining for what is not. Few have captured this practice in words with more grace and consistency than Carol Seppilu, who writes on Instagram: 

“What I’ve learned is that life is beautifully fluid. If you’re in a state of unhappiness it doesn’t always have to be that way. The power of movement changed the course of my life as I took that first step towards running. To have come out of such immense darkness shows that no matter how little faith you think you have, it’s enough. Even the smallest particle of light outshines the dark. The mountains I’ve climbed are much bigger than those in this world and it has taught me to let go of the heavy stuff and overcome them. We aren’t meant to carry mountains; we are meant to climb them. Keep going.” 

Written by: Sarah Bergstrom

With a special thank you to Faye Norby.

Thanks to Wild Winter Women - Allison Carolan, Amanda Harvey, Jan Redmond Walker, Kari Gibbons, Leah Gruhn, Laura Wiesmann Hrubes, Jessica Roschlan, Lynn K Hall, Madeline Harms, Rashelle Hintz, Rebecca McVay-Brodersen,

All eyes are trained on just two locations - Gavan Hennigan and Ryan Wanless stayed put today in Ophir, waiting another day for the snow to stop and the wind to go down. As of now, they plan on pushing forward tomorrow. Herman Watson returned to McGrath, where Kendall Park, Mayella Krause, Troy Szczurkowski, and Erick Bassett are located.

​While we await movement from the racers, we would like to take this opportunity to shine the spotlight on the village of Nikolai, AK, where I was fortunate enough to spend a week volunteering for the ITI race. Nikolai is located on the South Fork of the Kuskokwim River, and is roughly 260 miles into the race and 48 miles from McGrath. Nikolai is the only native village our 350-mile racers travel through, and it gives them a glimpse of what it is like to travel through villages during the 1000-mile race.

​First up, some background and facts. Nikolai is an Upper Kuskokwim Athabascan village, and although not as commonly used, it also has the Native name of Edzeno (Pronounced ed-ZEE-no). The village has been relocated at least twice since the 1880s, with the present site being established around 1918. It is commonly considered the furthest east the Russians settled in interior Alaska. Nikolai was the site of a trading post and roadhouse during the gold rush, being situated on the Rainy Pass Trail, which connected the Ophir gold mining district to Cook Inlet. It became a winter trail station along the Nenana-McGrath Trail, which was used until 1926. By 1927, the St. Nicholas Russian Orthodox Church had been constructed. In 1948, a school was established, and in 1949, a post office opened. Local residents cleared an airstrip in 1963, which heralded year-round accessibility to the community. The city was incorporated in 1970. The village of Nikolai has a current population of around 85, and its residents are active subsistence food gatherers who also rely on regular plane service to deliver groceries and supplies.

​What is it like for our athletes as they arrive at the Nikolai checkpoint? To get here, the racers have traveled about 72 miles from Rohn, usually stopping at Bear Creek Cabin or bivvying outside for a few hours' sleep along the way. They have also crossed Sullivan Creek, which is around 8-9 miles after the cabin turnoff. Here, they can fill up water reservoirs for the push to Nikolai, since Sullivan Creek is always flowing. Racers pass through an amazing stand of birch trees, which is noteworthy for its beauty. About 12 miles before Nikolai, athletes take an abrupt right-hand turn at Fish Camp. There is a small building and some fish-drying racks at this junction, and even though there is a sign that says "Nikolai 10 miles," everyone knows it is more than 10 miles. As they near Nikolai, racers often hear the diesel generator running, supplying the village with electricity. After traveling over small lakes and swampland, racers drop down onto the Kuskokwim River before coming around the bend and arriving at Nikolai. Did you know that on a clear day, you can see Denali and Mount Foraker from Nikolai? When you are coming up the riverbank, be sure to look over your right shoulder to see if they are making an appearance that day. 

Nikolai is often the coldest area of the entire race. This year, the lowest reading at the Nikolai airport was -47 degrees F, with most mornings being in the -40 to -45 degree range. It is usually even colder in the low swamps and on the river. This area can also have some amazing northern lights shows. 

Racers come up the riverbank and pass between a few houses. The school is a yellow building on the right, and racers head past that to a brown building off to the left, which is the community center. There, they can bring in their sleeping kit and other gear, hang up things to dry on the rope lines, and plug in their electronics. Food choices here this year included a few varieties of burgers, all the oatmeal you could ever want, and a few snack mixes. It is common for racers to arrive in Nikolai very tired, both physically and mentally. On the way out of town, some athletes stop and take a peek at the old Russian Orthodox Church, since the trail goes right past it. It is worth taking a few minutes to stop and look inside.

​Village life has its challenges, and this year was no exception. There were no working toilets at the community center, so athletes walked to the school to use its toilets. Those weren't working properly either, so athletes dumped water into them to flush, which sometimes meant hauling a bucket down the hallway from the water fill room. However, this did give athletes a glimpse inside the Top of the Kuskokwim School, which currently has 12 students enrolled across all grades. The community center also lacked running water this year. In Nikolai, residents usually have water piped into their homes, but it is not fit for drinking. Therefore, they either get their drinking water from the clinic, which has a water treatment and filtration system, or they pull water from the river through a hole in the ice. Locals seem to have developed immunity to the various parasites and bacteria in the river water and can drink it without issue. For our racers, the volunteers hauled water from the clinic. Local residents rely heavily on hunting, trapping, and fishing for much of their food source. Plane service usually brings freight, including groceries, a few times a week when the weather is good. The village was also dealing with the recent death of the First Chief of Nikolai, Nick Alexia Sr. Several years ago, Nick sat down with the Tanana Chiefs Conference to share his life story as part of the Legacy of Our Elders series. If you have time today, we encourage you to take a moment to watch his video and learn about his incredible legacy, and get a glimpse of what it was like growing up in this area. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b3An7NK7TBI Our thoughts are with the community during this difficult time.

Even amid these challenges, the ITI received a warm welcome from both the community and the school. We received an invitation to attend a community gathering/potluck one evening. Local man of many hats, Phil, fixed the heat in the building, brought us a few supplies and additional heaters, made the water runs to the clinic, and hauled supplies to and from the airstrip, among other deeds. On the last night of the checkpoint, he also brought in moose soup for the volunteers and racers. We all enjoyed this very much. On the same night, resident Stephanie also brought in some beadwork for us to look through, with several people buying her artwork. The race used to stop at Stephanie’s family home, so she knows many of the long-time racers very well. Several volunteers and racers had wonderful interactions with the school principal, Elise, and with two crisis management workers, Bernice and Marie, who were staying at the school for a few days. The ITI is very thankful that we have a warm place to stay and a place for racers to shelter. 

Written by: Faye Norby

Thanks to Wild Winter Women - Allison Carolan, Amanda Harvey, Jan Redmond Walker, Kari Gibbons, Leah Gruhn, Laura Wiesmann Hrubes, Lynn K Hall, Madeline Harms, Rashelle Hintz, Rebecca McVay-Brodersen, Sarah Bergstrom

Remaining racer dots on the map between McGrath and Ophir

Today brought peace and quiet on the trail, with seven athletes still bound for Nome…but not moving.

Currently, three racers remain out on the trail while four are still regrouping and recouping in McGrath.

Ryan and Gavan are currently hunkered down together in Ophir, well stocked with supplies and taking a patient approach. Rumor has it Gavan may have even stumbled upon a bit of trail treasure — an abandoned cooler of meat. Herman is some miles behind them, seemingly making his way back to McGrath.

Wild Winter Women, Kendall and Mayella, have been in McGrath since yesterday alongside racers Troy and Erick. The group spent the past 24 hours doing the quiet but essential work that happens between pushes down the trail: making food, repairing gear, and getting ready for the next leg of the journey.

In a race like this, sometimes progress isn’t measured in miles — it’s measured in preparation and patience.

The weather today was one of the mildest our racers have seen so far with a high that reached 10°F, light winds, with a dusting of snow falling. Snow is expected to continue overnight and into tomorrow, with an inch or two possible around McGrath.

With racers waiting, resting, and prepping for their next moves, today felt like a good time to highlight one of the people who helped make this race possible.

The Iditarod Trail Invitational relies heavily on volunteers who brave the same remote conditions as the racers themselves. From hauling supplies to gathering water and running checkpoints for days at a time, their work is essential to the event.

Today we’re featuring a volunteer Q&A with one of our own Wild Winter Women, Faye Norby.

Volunteer Spotlight: Faye Norby

Faye Norby holding a gifted marten pelt from a local

What’s the most impressive thing you’ve seen a racer push through?

There are so many stories of grit and determination. Anytime I see a biker pushing their bike through a big snowstorm or heaving it onto a large snowdrift, I have great admiration. It also makes me glad I am not a biker!

What’s something about the race that people would never guess unless they volunteered?

The logistics for this race are insane. Everything at the checkpoints — Butterfly Lake, Finger Lake, Rohn, Nikolai, and McGrath — has to be brought in by snowmachine or flown to an airstrip and then transported to the checkpoint.

That takes a lot of planning and forethought to make sure you have everything you need. Tents must be set up at Finger Lake and Rohn, and Nikolai presents its own unique challenges. Even water for racers has to be gathered from a source nearby, which can be difficult in winter.

Things break or don’t work properly, and volunteers constantly have to adapt and overcome to keep everything running.

What’s the weirdest or funniest thing you’ve seen happen at a checkpoint?

Most of the best stories involve ripped or worn-out clothing and body parts showing through. I also get a giggle when racers accidentally burn their clothing or water bottles by putting them too close to a stove. Classic mistakes.

This year Tucker burned a hole in his jacket at the Bear Creek cabin and left a trail of feathers wherever he went until we patched it with duct tape. I was also proud of him for filling the bathroom bucket at the school — I could easily follow his route around Nikolai.

What’s the most chaotic or intense moment you’ve seen during the event?

This usually happens outside the checkpoint, but sometimes racers don’t have great stove-operating skills. That can turn into a pretty harrowing experience for everyone nearby.

When racers arrive at a checkpoint, how can you tell who’s mentally strong enough to keep going another 500+ miles?

It’s fascinating to watch racers come in exhausted and see how one person can influence an entire group — either positively or negatively.

There’s the physical side of recovery, but there’s also recovery for your brain and mental state. The strongest racers make sure they rest both their bodies and their minds. They also stay aware enough to avoid getting pulled into drama.

There’s often talk about weather forecasts, other racers’ issues, people turning around or dropping, and unknowns farther up the trail. The most stable racers focus on what’s directly in front of them instead of worrying about things they can’t control.

Conditions can change quickly. What may be a terrible stretch of weather for one racer might be completely different for someone passing through just a few hours later.

What are the toughest conditions volunteers have to deal with?

Most volunteers staff their checkpoints from the first racer to the last. Because they fly or snowmachine in — just like the supplies — they remain there the entire time.

For places like Nikolai, that can mean staying for an entire week. Volunteers often run on very little sleep depending on when racers arrive and depart, and they’re dealing with the same weather and elements as the athletes.

What advice do you have for racers to make the most of the checkpoint and be a good companion to others there?

This is an important one, because ITI is one of the few races where racers sleep and rest inside checkpoints. People are arriving and leaving at all hours.

Even when you arrive exhausted, come in with a plan. The most skilled racers are usually the most efficient at checkpoints.

Bring in the gear you know you’ll need, hang wet items to dry immediately, and keep your gear organized so you’re not searching for things later or leaving items behind.

If electricity is available, plug in electronics to charge. After that, eat, rest, and sleep — but still try to be efficient. It can help to refill water before sleeping and lay out gear for when you wake up so you can get moving quickly.

Earplugs can be helpful. Most importantly, be respectful of others around you. Keep voices down when people are sleeping and try not to take up more space than you need.

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Thank you for your support and insight, Faye!

Temperatures are expected to drop again after the snow moves through the region. As racers prepare for their next efforts down the trail, day 13 closes with a sense of patience across the course, with an unbroken trail beyond Ophir.

Sometimes progress in a race like this comes not from pushing through the conditions, but from waiting for the right moment to move.

We’re anxiously anticipating what lies ahead for our brave racers on their journey to Nome!

Soon the trail will be inhabited by a whole new crew as tomorrow marks the ceremonial start of the Iditarod Dog Sled race which begins in downtown Anchorage at 10:00AM Alaska time.

Written by: Rebecca McVay-Brodersen

Thanks to Wild Winter Women - Allison Carolan, Amanda Harvey, Jan Redmond Walker, Kari Gibbons, Leah Gruhn, Laura Wiesmann Hrubes, Lynn K Hall, Madeline Harms, Rashelle Hintz, Rebecca McVay-Brodersen, and Sarah Bergstrom.

With an extra special thank you to Faye Norby.