ALERT: Thank editor who spoke against blind musher racing in Iditarod

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http://www.adn.com/outdoors/story/4029753p-4050685c.html

 

Newspaper editor: letters

Outdoor editor: cmedred

 

By Craig Medred (cmedred)

Anchorage Daily News

(Published: September 28, 2003)

 

Would anyone think of letting a legally blind woman or man race in the Indy

500 -- with or without visual interpreters?

 

Of course not.

 

Why?

 

Because a blind driver would compromise the safety of other drivers.

 

How then can the board of directors of the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race make

the decision to let a blind musher race a dog team to Nome?

 

Because the only safety being compromised here is that of the dogs.

 

Because it is easy to grant our feelings for other people preference over

the safety of animals that cannot speak to protect themselves.

 

This is easy to understand. Frankly, I think it would be wonderful if

legally blind musher Rachael Scdoris took a dog team to Nome. I'd even volunteer

to

gas up my snowmobile and help guide her the 1,000 miles north from Wasilla if

she wants to take a dog trek up the Iditarod Trail.

 

But to let her race to Nome in the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race is wrong

because it ignores the safety of the animals doing the racing. Were the Iditarod

a human-powered event, it would be different.

 

Humans can talk. They can tell you if they are near exhaustion. They can

yell if they get arms or legs tangled in lines. They can even be forced to

confess the extent of those little injuries that might not appear significant

but

are handicapping performance.

 

Dogs can't do these things. Dogs depend on a musher to spot a change in gait

that indicates something is wrong, or to get the sled stopped quickly and

safely if one of the team somehow becomes dangerously tangled in the lines, or

to

spot a moose on the trail ahead before the team runs into it.

 

And these are just some of the dangers that arise every time dogs are

harnessed up for a run. They are minimal dangers for a team out for a walk. They

are

increasing dangers for every mile per hour the team goes faster. Speed

changes everything in racing, and it doesn't matter if one is talking cars,

snowmobiles, sled dogs or humans.

 

Simply by trying to keep up with the Iditarod pace -- even if she travels at

the very back of the pack -- Scdoris will be putting more stress on her dogs

than she would in a taking a leisurely sled-dog tour to Nome.

 

Scdoris told the Iditarod board she can detect problems developing by the

way a change in gait of an individual dog filters back along the gangline to her

sled. I find that difficult to believe, but I am willing to accept that

people without sight hone their other senses far more acutely than the rest of

us.

 

Scdoris, unfortunately, hasn't seen the Iditarod Trail. There is no

comparison with the groomed trails she's used to. There are parts of the

Iditarod

where no one, no matter how good his or her sense of feel, could possibly tell

anything from the pull of the gangline because the sled is bouncing everywhere

or, as in Happy River Gorge, the dogs aren't pulling at all. They are out front

running for their lives as gravity propels the sled downward.

 

Years ago, I remember helping musher Paul Rupple untangle the foot of a dog

from a tugline at the base of the Happy River hill. Normally, dogs that get a

foot in these lines are able to free it themselves. But this dog had somehow

gotten a couple wraps around its ankle and was in trouble. The other dogs in

the team didn't care. They were exhilarated by the wild run down the hill and

raring to charge on along the smooth surface of the frozen river.

 

Had Rupple not been able to see what was going on, the team might well have

kept going ahead at top speed until the trapped dog's leg snapped or his

dragging body smashed into something, prompting a howl.

 

Scdoris would not have been able to see or feel this, nor would her visual

interpreters have been any help until the howling started.

 

This is not some farfetched scenario. Sighted mushers, who can see and react

immediately, have lost dogs in situations just like this. Jason Barron had

one strangle in a tangle in the Dalzell Gorge in 1993. Iditarod champ Martin

Buser lost one to internal bleeding after it hit a tree in 1989. Other dogs have

died in similar ways.

 

That said, let me add that there is no doubt that circumstances could be

manipulated to make it possible for Scdoris to safely take a dog team through

the

Alaska Range and on to Nome. But there is no way to do that during a race.

 

Let's consider just one of many problem areas: The three-step drop into the

Happy River Gorge.

 

To get down the cliffs without undue risk to the dogs, Scdoris would really

need a snowmachine idling along in front of her team at 5 mph to keep the dogs

from breaking into a lope as they are prone to do. She'd need verbal

instructions on where to stand to keep the sled from rolling off the sides of

the

trail as it switchbacks down the cliffs. Usually, the instructions would be left

runner and brake to the first turn, right runner and brake to the next turn,

left runner and brake to the bottom, but there are no givens on the Iditarod.

The trail changes year to year -- what trail there is.

And that's the biggest problem. What Scdoris would need at Happy River Gorge

more than anything is good trail. Under normal circumstances, she won't get

it. By the time back-of-the-pack Iditarod racers, including Scdoris, get to the

Happy River Gorge, the teams that have gone before have turned the trail into

a trench.

As drivers descend, standing on a piece of snowmobile track called a " drag

brake, " they cut a deeper and deeper groove. Sometimes it gets so deep the hill

becomes difficult to negotiate, even on a snowmobile. By then, the Happy

River Gorge is a serious challenge for mushers who can see and prepare. The hill

is simply no place for a blind musher.

 

Were Scdoris on a sled-dog trek, she could park her team at the top of the

hill and wait for others traveling with her to repair the trail. Personally,

I'd be happy to take my snow shovel and go fill in the rut, or chop it out, to

make the trail safe. But Scdoris doesn't want to go on an Iditarod trek.

 

She wants to be in the Iditarod race, which means there is no time for

stopping to fix the trail. She and her visual interpreters will just have to

plow

ahead no matter the conditions.

 

That she has an agent should have been all the red flag the Iditarod board

needed. Why does one hire an agent? To help them acquire money or fame or both.

Money and fame happen to form the crossbars for the cross on which

animal-rights activists have tried to crucify the Iditarod.

 

It's all enough to make a seasoned Iditarod observer wonder if everyone

involved with the race has somehow forgotten what happened to five-time Iditarod

champ Rick Swenson in 1996. He was booted from the race after the accidental

death of one of his dogs in overflow. There were questions about whether Swenson

had been able to see well enough to ensure the safety of his dogs on the

Skwentna River. Those questions centered on whether Swenson should have had his

headlight on or off.

 

I well remember Swenson, a member of the current Iditarod Trail Committee

board, being irate that people who'd never been out on a moonlit river couldn't

grasp that you can often see better by moonlight than by headlight. In

moonlight, of course, a musher can't see as well as in daylight, but by all

indications a sighted musher can still see better in moonlight than Scdoris can

in

daylight.

 

Does the Iditarod, which has come to pride itself on dog care, really want

to gamble with dog safety in this way? If it does, and a dog dies in Scdoris'

team, who is responsible? A 18-year-old musher pushed into the race by her

boosterish father, or the race board that lacked the courage to stand up and say

" no " ?

 

The board apparently hopes to avoid this question altogether by setting up a

scenario which makes it difficult for Scdoris to qualify for the big race.

She must, for instance, start all over in obtaining the qualifying standards,

and she must, along the way, demonstrate the efficacy of her visual

interpreters. Clearly the hope is that Scdoris will fade away before the race

begins in

March.

 

The fade-away strategy has become the politically astute way to handle

delicate issues in America today, but it is ethically bankrupt -- no matter how

hard it might be to tell Scdoris " no.''

 

And it is hard. Every caring person can empathize with the plea of Access

Alaska's Jim Beck to " come out into the light and open your hearts and make a

decision out of love for your fellow beings.''

 

We all want to love our fellow beings. Unfortunately, however, humans aren't

the only " fellow beings'' that must be considered in this case.

 

There are the dogs. They count on people to rise above simple, human

emotions, accept the fact that life isn't always fair and deal with it. I'm

sorry

Scdoris is blind. I'm sorry that puts limits on her life.

 

But we are all limited. There are no doubt dozens of things Scdoris does far

better than me. There are no doubt things she does better than any Iditarod

musher. She needs to find those things and pursue them instead of sinking her

competitive energy into the idea of running the Iditarod race.

 

It is a race. Let's not forget that.

It is a race.

 

It's about mushers -- be they the best in the sport or the merely mediocre

-- trying to help their dogs get the absolute best out of themselves in a race

against the clock. Scdoris' lack of vision makes it difficult for her to meet

that standard. And the harder she tries, the more she puts her dogs at risk.

 

Is that what we all really want? Is this the way we make ourselves feel good

about our humanity?

Call me a stupid old dog lover if you must, but the Iditarod board appears

to have made a decision here with far too little concern for the real athletes

in the race.

 

Daily News outdoor editor Craig Medred's opinion column appears on Sunday.

He can be reached at 257-4588 or at cmedred.