Mitch Seavey aus Seward, hatte das einmalige Rennen gewonnen und dafuer 100.000 US Dolar kassiert. Neben diesem Preisgeld verdiente er beim diesjaherigen Iditarod (48.000 US $) und Kuskokwim 300 (20.000 UD $ - fuer den Sieg) und hat nun insgesamt 168.000 US Dollar eingenommen. Soviel wie kein anderer Sportler aus Alaska, dieses Jahr bisher.

Bicknell, the 78th musher to reach Nome in this year's race, was awarded the Red Lantern for being the last musher to finish the race.

After puling into Nome with 8 dogs, and nearly 6 days after champion Lance Mackey, Bicknell proceeded to blow out the widow's lamp, signaling the official end of the race.

Coming in last place in the Iditarod is nothing to be ashamed of - just being able to finish the race is quite an accomplishment (18 mushers scratched before reaching Nome).

Congratulations to Bicknell, and all of the other inspiring teams that were able to endure such a harsh race this year.

Nome is an eclectic town and I am pretty smitten so far with what I've seen. I know this week has been extraordinarily busy - the population has probably almost doubled for the Iditarod events. Still, there is something special about a town on the edge of the Bering Sea - even just the fact that it is here.

Yesterday I walked out on the frozen sound. Quickly I stumbled upon the Nome National Forest - a collection of retired Christmas trees and wooden cutouts of people and animals. The long shadows made it look more formidable than it was and I took a few photos. I was somewhat startled when a slender, neatly-dressed and heavily made-up woman approached me with the following statement: "Hi, I'm a long distance ocean swimmer and I often swim with dolphins. Would you mind taking a photo of me sitting on the dolphin over there?" Sure, no problem. I'd never met a long distance ocean swimmer before and couldn't help but barrage her with a few questions about the sport.

Sometimes I feel like I am in a town under siege - every few hours, the sirens go off, signaling the impending arrival of a musher into town. When that happens, people drift toward Front street like magnets to metal to welcome whoever might have just finished the 1,000 mile race. I have been on a sharp learning curve trying to understand what this race is all about and it has been a little frustrating to continually read pretty much only triumphant, glowing stories in the press. I was pleased with the coverage by Iditarod's official reporter... that is... until the top contenders came in and then it has been much more quiet. Who are these people that run in the back of the pack? Who are the dogs? A musher's dad told me last night the race is really about veterinary care - and I am beginning to agree and would like to hear more about that. But alas, I've come to learn that Alaskans in general seem pretty defensive about the activities and qualities that define them - and no doubt the Iditarod is no different.

And really, I understand the defensiveness because well, what a great adventure it is! I guess I am just a proponent of more open dialogue in general and notice when it isn't quite there.

p.s. I am going to post photos... soon... but argh, I'm having some technical difficulties that are easily surmountable. I just need a pocket of time to work on it.

For now - here is Deb Bicknell, the last musher to arrive in Nome and recipient of the Red Lantern. She looked a little overwhelmed when she pulled up the chute and was surrounded by well-wishers. She then triumphantly declared that this was her last race and received a hug from Lance Mackey, who had to push his way through all the 8-year-olds that seem to come out of nowhere whenever a musher arrives. Congratulations to Deb and all the others who made it to Nome this year!