I considered the 2001 Iditarod performance, with all the disappointment and pain, not the end of a career as some of our critics might have predicted... but a new beginning! Since I am mostly a “Pollyanna, look on the bright side kind of a guy,” I was able to motivate myself and subsequently my fellow team members to new heights.

We have picked various ”mantras “ for the coming season over the years, not to intimidate the competition but rather to motivate and encourage me. In 1992, “Never Turn Back” was the slogan for the kennel, and we ended up in the winner’s circle for the first time! As intense and meaningful as the storm of ‘91 was that fostered the following year’s slogan, so has the painful year of 2001 become to this year. Last year was real hard to write about. In last year’s race, my focus literally lay from one step to the next, getting us ever closer to the finish line.

Eventually the only focus was the Alaska Airlines jet that would whisk me off the trail and deliver me to sunny Florida to revel at Disney World with my family.

This year, the focus was broader all season long. With a renewed “you have nothing to lose and nothing to prove” attitude, we had fun every day. The seemingly endless list of things to change and improvements to make was implemented point for point, and though it was hard at first, letting go of the many “we have done this in the past” ways was ultimately very liberating.

I had never picked mushrooms in the fall with 20 dogs trying to beat me to the newest sprouts out of the ground. I can’t wait for the fall rains to liberate a new crop of Birch Boletes and try to beat the dogs to them. The free runs that intensified as the fall progressed jazzed up not only the owners and the athletes, but all the visitors and friends that came along for the fun sessions. The great autumn was followed by an early winter and catapulted us onto snowy trails in the middle of October.

Since we had nothing to prove and no old molds to follow, sled training took on a new and revived meaning. We trained with purpose, even if the purpose of some runs seemed to be to just have fun. The dogs loved the season, going to new places, camping in unfamiliar spots, and running along other great dogs. DeeDee Jonrowe and her operation kept training exciting. We would drive to each other’s kennels and have head-on passes in unpredictable spots, or travel in the same direction and rest and visit with up to six teams, simulating race conditions to some degree.

The early races yielded satisfactory results with a fourth place at the Copper Basin 300, second place at the Kusko 300, and a win at the Goose Bay 120, in which the dogs that were on the bubble of making the Iditarod team had one more chance to prove themselves.

Art Church had made me a sled to try out at the Goose Bay race, and it quickly became my favorite sled and with very few modifications became my Iditarod rig.

As the race drew nearer I found myself in an unfamiliar situation: only my team to worry about, extra dogs to choose from, and time to sleep every night before the start. Kathy had assembled some of the greats that had helped Happy Trails in the past. Larry Fisher was cooking great meals and spoiling me every way possible. Kent ran every imaginable errand in and around Anchorage to save me time and energy, and other friends were chipping in with encouragement and action until the “ real start” in Wasilla on Sunday March 3.

Dr. Beatsle, “our vet,” encouraged me to leave certain dogs home and take others he deemed more fit. Reluctantly I adjusted my roster to give the team the very best chance of making the long journey the most successful. 4-Runner stayed home even though he led me out of Anchorage, and others that were medically 100% replaced Snake and Assault. The slight drop in Assault’s hematocrit and the residual swelling in one of Snake’s wrists was enough to have them stay home.

March of 2002 would bring three major events to the Buser family, all of them scripted independently of each other. The Iditarod, of course, is our annual high point of my working career. This year my naturalization, to become a full fledged American citizen, was another event long in the making that would culminate with the swearing in ceremony under the burled arch in Nome. The third and final event would find us on our snowmobiles, retracing the steps of the Iditarod all the way home. Kathy and the boys had trained themselves by riding their snow machines mostly on weekends, and I had to prepare myself to pass the citizenship tests throughout the month starting after September 11, when I wanted to show my family, the state and the country that I truly wanted to be American forever. I passed my various tests and interviews and was able to arrange what would turn out to be the longest naturalization celebration ever. In Anchorage, an INS officer met us at the staging area for the race and had me recite the beginning of the swearing in ceremony and handed me the necessary paperwork and a tiny little flag, my very first official American flag, to carry to Nome, where the rest of the ceremony was to take place.

So I started my 19th Iditarod with a sound group of well trained, happy, energetic, and confident dogs! The trail was a lot like the preceding training season... excellent!

I felt real confident about this team that was less than four years old on average. If there was a question and possibly some concern, it was the lack of stand-out leaders. In years past, “super dogs” such as Dave, Eleanor, D-2, Blondie, and Fearless had made such promising appearances in their initial Iditarods that a championship team behind them could almost be predicted. I started with half of the team as recognized leaders: Bronson, F-150, Fisher, Inca, K-2, Luna, Stealth, and best known above all of them was Kira, the second oldest dog in the team at 5 years and 7 months, with a second place finish under her harness. As the race progressed, all the leaders got to perform up front for at least one major run! The dogs posted better times than I had imagined, worked together extremely well and ate and drank as well as at home. That might all sound good and well, but they also stayed up in the front of the field.

In Rohn, one of my favorite checkpoints, we signed in second or third. The run to Nikolai is long, often void of snow, and has been a decisive stretch of trail for many racers...... good or bad! I was determined to make this section positive and not too long for the dogs. So about 11 miles shy of Nikolai I steered the dog team onto the Salmon River and bedded them down on straw that I had hauled for the last sixty miles. I dug in the snow a little trying to find water, but was unsuccessful and melted snow for the resting team. At first no other racers passed by, and I started to turn in for a nap. Soon however teams started to glide by our resting spot. I could hear the banging of the sleds approaching, then the passing dogs could be heard lightly running on the snow, and occasionally I would even hear the dogs panting even though I was about twenty feet from the trail. Kira and K-2 would woof occasionally, announcing the passage of another team, sometimes resulting in a bark or howl from the passing team. Every time I was awakened from my midday slumber, I would check my alarm clock to make sure I was not resting too long and then bury my head even deeper into my sleeping bag...... in order not to hear any more teams pass us up. It is really hard to sit and rest when the competitors seem to be streaming by in droves and not give chase! I knew I was sticking to a good plan, but being a competitive sort, it sure is hard to stay put.

Our patience was about to be rewarded when we pulled in and out of Nikolai within five minutes. We actually had to wait for the vet on duty to come out of the outhouse to sign our vet book in order for us to be able to depart. I knew we had fallen way back when I was asked to sign in on the second check sheet; the first twenty spots were already taken! So we had been passed by at least twenty teams! I certainly was not going to park and stay very long. A well meaning volunteer wanted to help park my team behind the schoolhouse where all the other teams were resting, but I did not want to even stop. We literally mowed the poor man over with the gang line, and the dogs had to jump over the collapsed body to get on the outgoing trail. With all that commotion going on, I could not ask some of the most pertinent questions, such as who had left or when did they leave and with how many dogs.

So we jumped back onto the Kuskokwim River and chased towards McGrath. I tried to make out how many sled tracks we had in front of us. There was one set of runner tracks that were very fresh. I studied that set of tracks for a while, trying to determine who it might be that left Nikolai before us, but I could not make out any paw prints and after a while, realized it was a freight sled pulled by a snow machine. So I focused on the progress of the dogs, not knowing how many teams we might have in front of us. Kira had, just like last year, missed a lot of serious training miles and made the selection to the team strictly by her qualification as a leader based on previous race performances. On the way to McGrath, however, she looked a bit tired; since the team was so strong and the going relatively easy, I decided to give her a rest in the sled. At first Kira didn’t want to stay in the sled bag for anything; she struggled and wriggled out, wanting to run with the team. At one point she darted out of the sled bag, scattered some stuff on the the trail and ran right up to her rightful spot in lead. I had to stop and anchor the team, walk back on the trail (a huge no no ­ never walk behind your parked sled), in order to retrieve my spilled mittens and the mandatory vet book. Both items are hard to replace and are very much needed all the way to the finish. Thankfully, the team patiently waited for me, let me re-pack my belongings and Kira was tucked into the sled once more. Finally, she realized what my intentions were, and she relaxed with her head on the cooler, looking out of the sled and getting petted every few minutes as the rest of the team was racing toward our next goal. I had a good feeling that Kira was going to greatly benefit from a few extra hours of rest. The other dogs had proven themselves in the early races; Kira was going to prove herself farther down the trail.

As we approached McGrath, I finally got into the local radio reception area. I love listening to the local radio stations around Nome, Galena and of course, McGrath. Very diverse programming is probably an understatement, since one can hear the most aggressive rap song and the longest sermon within the same two hour period. Of course during the Iditarod, we listen for updates and race reports. Usually we hear where we were about three or four hours ago, which is nothing new, but we also hear who is ahead of us and behind us and with how many dogs! “Come on down to the checkpoint to meet the arriving Iditarod mushers”... another 30 minutes of music......”More for the mushers at the checkpoint is welcome”......”The road is blocked to all traffic from”... I patiently listened for hours until I finally heard the great news! “Come down to the checkpoint, Martin Buser should arrive first between 7:30 and 8 pm!”

What cool news, all these last five hours I had been wondering how many teams had stayed behind and how many had pressed on. Apparently, we passed about twenty teams while they were resting in Nikolai, and none had left before us! Now I also started to hear who had left when. The rumba line of chasers had started, and everybody was scattered behind us on the trail. I knew a lot of them would pass us up again during our scheduled rest in McGrath. We were welcomed to a tremendous gathering of townspeople, volunteers, race officials and sponsors. The first team to McGrath receives the Spirit of the Kuskokwim award, a very detailed spirit mask depicting the close relationship between human and dog. The various symbols were pointed out to me by the owner of Penn Air, Danny Seibert, and Patty, his assistant, and I thought it was so fitting since I had made the pact with Kira a few hours earlier to give her some extra rest time. We were truly coming together...dog team and driver.

The race progressed on a high note, and as predicted, other teams caught up, passed and rested in different places and on various schedules. Experience has taught us not to worry too much about anybody else until after the mandatory 24 hour layover is completed. During that rest, the starting differential is also corrected, sending every body out on the trail with the adjusted time. We had planned all along to take our layover in a place called Cripple, a spot in the middle of nowhere with not much more than a wall tent and some scrub spruce for shelter. We raced to Cripple, which was in a bit of a different location this year, farther from Ophir than ever before by a undetermined distance and with very little trail intelligence to follow. Wolf Kill Slough is the new name of the place, and some permanency is now given to the spot since the Iditarod checkers built a platform for the wall tent to be used every other year (this section is on the alternately used northern route).

The GCI Dorothy Page Half-Way award awaited the first team to the official halfway mark. The heavy marble trophy, a scale dog sled and a silver cup containing the jewelry-grade gold nuggets is one of the finest trophies of the race. The Internet live cam trained on the incoming trail made it possible for the world to see the first team to Cripple. Often I race wearing just the liner of my Northern Outfitter suit, and as luck would have it, my light blue liner also looked like the parka that DeeDee was wearing, so for a few anxious moments there was some debating and worrying going on as the first musher in light blue was approaching the checkpoint. My family was split about fifty-fifty and was very relived when, after what must have seemed like an eternity, it was clear that Kira was leading the team first to the half-way mark!

This had to be one of the most relaxing 24 hour stops ever. I bedded the dogs down on comfortable piles of straw; they all were loose and without harnesses and thus could choose their sleeping places as well as their buddies to lay next to. The Iditarod volunteers had erected a “mushers’ tent” and built bunks in the heated wall tent where the drivers on their 24 could spread out and relax. I was joined by several other drivers: Linwood Fiedler, DeeDee Jonrowe, Ramy Brooks, John Baker, and Jerry Riley all made it to the half-way mark to take their 24 hour stops. Linwood actually had planned to go on to Ruby for his layover but was experiencing some dog problems and chose to rest his team at the half-way mark.

Bill Cotter left Cripple just a few minutes ahead of me, but he had not taken his long rest yet, which left him essentially almost a full day behind me in real time. We quickly made up the few minutes on Bill and raced on to Ruby. The rolling hills to the mighty Yukon River were eaten up by the well-rested and eager dog team like it was flat terrain. This effortless travel reminded me of a conversation I had with my son Nikolai on the day of the start. On the way to Knik I told him that sometimes a strong dog team seems to flatten out all the hills; their combined power and joint effort in pulling the sled seems to overcome all obstacles, hills, mountains, and punchy trails alike. With great speed and enthusiasm, this dog team raced ever closer to Ruby in record setting time!

4:00 am is probably the worst time to drop in for a 7-course meal. The Millennium Hotel, one of the race sponsors, invites the leading musher to the Yukon for a feast that can be repeated in Anchorage at leisure. The dogs came first and were bedded down and fed before the driver got to enjoy portobello mushrooms and other delicacies.... hold the 7 bottles of wine; we will get to those when Kathy and I savor the meal in real time, not in fast forward.

The team was getting a good 8 hour rest, and the driver slept some as well before chasing down the Yukon. The distances, seemingly shortened by a great dog team and good trail, found us in Galena in no time. In and out with some apologies for not visiting longer than three minutes. Bishop Rock, Nulato and Kaltag came and went in a blur.

The way to the coast revealed the first section of challenging trail. The wind was blowing maybe 25 miles an hour and drifting the trail over with loose snow. This great team charged right through it and made great speed despite the conditions. Arriving at the famous Old Woman cabin, I was greeted by a group of friends and travelers from Unalakleet. They all had signed an American flag tee shirt with good wishes and signatures. I was in a bit of a hurry and promptly was told that I was a lot more fun last year when I was in 25th place, dejected and feeling sorry for myself, cracking jokes with Charlie Boulding to keep myself from crying! “Sorry friends for the brief stay; hopefully, we can party in Nome, and I certainly will see you on the way back through on our family trip home with the snow machines.”

Navigating the last couple of miles into Unalakleet proved to be somewhat of a challenge, even for this dog team. The wind was really blowing now, and the polished river yielded no footing for the dogs. The trail markers were few and far between, and often I saw the dogs lose their footing on the polished ice, slipping and sliding. I was not really looking forward to a rest in this wicked wind and had already devised a possible resting procedure that would be unprecedented! I had a new sled waiting for me in the checkpoint and was hoping it had not been run over by a fork lift this year. My plan was to empty both sleds, the new one and the one I was driving of all their contents and bed the team down inside the sled bags filled with straw. That way they could rest in peace and be out of the wind. There sure are great benefits to having the dogs extremely well socialized. We finally made it to the checkpoint and were directed to the proposed rest area. I did not believe my eyes when my headlamp beamed up and down on about 6 huge snow berms. Bigger than any man, the towering snow structures blocked all the wind, allowing the team to rest in great comfort. I thanked the “snow engineers”, whoever they were, many times for constructing such great wind shelters with their huge front end loaders.

The darkness was still lingering, and the wind away from the checkpoint was still howling at 40 to 50 mph, which made leaving as much of a challenge as arriving. As daylight approached, the wind subsided, and the Blueberry Hills became mere speed bumps compared to last year. We glided into Shaktoolik under blue skies and no wind, which must have brought out the local population with their cameras to take pictures of the rare moment when Shaktoolik is totally calm. During the dogs’ rest, a light breeze materialized again, this time from the south, another rarity, to help us get across the sometimes dreaded Norton Sound, and on to Koyuk, the northernmost checkpoint of the race. From there the trail actually heads mostly west, with Elim and Golovin serving as checkpoints.

At the outset of the race I was a bit worried about the lack of a “super leader”, as it turned out to be an all-star team, there needed to be no stand-out. All my eight leaders ran up front for some of the race. So far, Stealth had been a very pleasant surprise. He didn't make it across the Alaska Range last year, and this year he was one of the all-stars. Luna , K-2, and Kira have had major leading roles so far, running in various combinations with Fisher, Inca or F-150. The team even let the future generation lead some. Hunter and Logan, hopefully leaders in the years to come, both led one major segment of the race together with another leader. That “other leader” tended to be the unlikely hero, Bronson. Such an unassuming, quiet and docile dog for all his life, Bronson has come to shine in the Iditarod. Andy, last year’s yearling driver, suggested that I take another good look at Bronson after the 2001 Iditarod. Bronson was always picked on as a pup, still is somewhat shy of strangers, but now has learned to lead a super competitive Iditarod team. What makes him so special is in part his non-aggressive behavior. He is a great teacher in as much as he always implements the commands given, but he does not try to intimidate his co-leader like Kira or her daughter K-2 would do.

One of the Iditarod skills is looking for and following the trail stakes. We have a hard time teaching that skill at home since most of our trails are not heavily marked. After a few days on the trail, the dogs tune in to the marking system and often even implement turns without commands given, just to stay on the marked trail. I always reward and praise the dogs for showing that kind of initiative. Bronson also drifts to the left when he runs. Given an open, hard packed field, he would probably run in a five mile circle. Most of the trail markers also happen to be on the left, since the trail breakers keep the right hand on the throttle of their machines and ram the trail stakes into the snow with their left hand. On the way to Koyuk, Bronson kept running into a marker every quarter mile. This collision would alert him. He then would swerve a bit to the right to correct his bearing, but after a few minutes he was back on course to hit another marker. What could I say; I certainly could not complain - he was leading a team ever closer to the finish line in world record time.

My Achilles heel, one of probably many, had long been Elim. I always believed that the dogs could finish really strong if they were allowed the luxury of a rest in this checkpoint. So once again I decided to give the dogs a rest and a couple of good meals. During my rest I learned that Ramy Brooks was about three hours behind me. I could rest the dogs at least that long and still keep myself in the lead. My poor family and friends must have grown a few gray hairs or even pulled their hair out as they followed the race updates and realized that Ramy had come within 7 minutes of our team. On the way to White Mountain however, our lead grew again and we had a cushion of over one hour on the Brooks team. Ray had played his last card. He was hoping to close the gap with a strong push and hoped to trail our team into the checkpoint and the last mandatory 8 hour rest. Had he been able to do that, the outcome would have become less predictable, but Bronson and Kira just set too fast of a pace for any other team to keep up.

The feeding routine, massages and big straw beds allowed the team to refuel once more and charge out of White Mountain..... destination Nome, 77 miles away. These last few hours had me contemplate who would get the honor of crossing the finish line first. Hunter had led one section of the race even though he is not a leader, yet. F-150, an all round super star, led the race for a couple of sections but was really more comfortable in the team. Stealth, also a leader, led one long stretch of the race with Kira, but he too was more comfortable and thus more valuable in the team. The key leaders ended up being Luna, K-2, Kira, and Bronson, and I really wanted all four to cross the line first, but K-2 was a bit confused by my experimental fan hitch and wanted to be in the team instead.

Nikolai met us at the beginning of the chute with a big American flag. I was already clutching my tiny official little flag from the beginning of the swearing in ceremony, but now was proudly waving Old Glory to an excited crowd. The dog team must have sensed my pride and trotted eagerly across the line, Luna, Kira and Bronson in lead. Stealth and Cypress were in swing behind the leaders. K-2, Hunter and Danny made up the team dogs, with Daisy and F-150 in wheel bringing up the rear.

Move over Hollywood. This whole race could not have been scripted any better, from the beginning of the swearing in ceremony in Anchorage to the ending of the race in first place, setting an all time world record of 8 days, 22 hours, 46 minutes, and 2 seconds, to the following oath of citizenship. The trail was in better shape than ever; the dogs were happy, strong and eager; the driver had confidence and trust in his team...and ultimately, the whole family had a great “vacation,” driving their snowmobiles all the way back to Big Lake.

Thank you Friends and Sponsors, thank you Iditarod and Alaska..... Thank you America...... Dreams still come true!

HAPPY TRAILS