Amazon.com Review
Twelve dogs, a sled, and your wits versus 1,023 miles of danger, snow, ice, and wilderness. The Yukon Quest is possibly the toughest race on earth. Held earlier, farther inland, and at a more northerly latitude than its famous cousin, the Iditarod, mushers on the Yukon Quest routinely experience temperatures dropping to 40 below zero, with 50 below not uncommon. Winning isn't everything; just finishing is an achievement in itself. John Balzar tells the story of the Quest, the dogs, and the mushers in
Yukon Alone.
Balzar, a roving correspondent for The Los Angeles Times, volunteered to act as the press liaison for the 1998 Yukon Quest. As such, he traveled the length of the trail, sharing cabin floors with resting mushers, shivering as temperatures dropped to 50 below, and becoming somewhat delirious from sleep deprivation. Balzar does an excellent job of capturing the frozen feel of the race:
The visibility worsens and now Bruce cannot see his leaders in the swirling merger of snowpack and wind. He searches anxiously for a glimpse of a wooden stake that will tell him that his dogs have not wandered off the trail, perhaps to the edge of a cliff. Bruce is not conscious of time or of distance, but only of the wind in his face. The dogs appear to be moving forward, but there is no way to measure progress.
He also paints warm portraits of the mushers--men and women like Mike King, a 37-year-old biker with a Harley-Davidson patch on his sled bag and a tattoo of the Quest trail covering one third of his back; William Kleedehn, who finished seventh in the 1998 race despite his prosthetic leg; Aliy Zirkle, a rookie musher who recovered from losing a dog to finish the race.
Balzar describes the Quest as "a mixture of celebration and ordeal"; Yukon Alone will inspire a mixture of envy, admiration, and relief. Envy of the free-spirited mushers, admiration of their strength and dedication, and relief that they're the ones fighting their way up American Summit in a blizzard with a 70-below wind chill. A gripping read. Mush on! --Sunny Delaney
--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
From Publishers Weekly
Enthusiastically communicating his love of Alaska's captivating landscape and his attachment to the rugged eccentrics who make it home, Balzar introduces readers to the rigors of the Yukon Quest International Sled Dog Race. The Quest, as it's natively called, is colder and more dangerous than the more renowned Iditarod. Covering 1023 miles and taking more than two weeks to complete, the Quest offers Balzar a vehicle for exploring the varied richness of Alaskan culture. Along the way, as he profiles trappers, bush pilots and others who come to test their mettle in the race, he returns to the question of what makes these people mush. He hitches along not only for the adventure of a lifetime but for a taste of an earlier, primordial state of being. Between profiles of the racers and others associated with the Quest, Balzar muses on what it means to pursue a wild life at the end of the 20th century. "The trapper and the vegan," he writes in a passage about fur trapping, "both live in constant awareness of animals and their suffering. The rest of us worry about getting rain spots on our suede jackets and complain because the people who package hamburger meat these days are always trying to make you buy a little more than you need." Throughout, Balzar remains somewhat of a detached observer. He enjoys the company of the mushers he meets, but he is always somewhat apart from them, too much a part of the civilized world even as he celebrates the ways people can, at least briefly, separate themselves from civilization and follow their own demons wherever they may lead.
Copyright 1999 Reed Business Information, Inc.
--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
