She listened to her call of the wild

For most of the more than 1,000 miles, Katrina Pawlaczyk was alone with her dogs in the unending icy wilderness.

She drove her musher's sled across mountains, frozen tundra and along long, desolate stretches of coastline, sometimes never seeing anyone as she raced all day and into the wee hours of the night.

It was freedom.

"It feels fantastic. I feels like you rule the world," says Katrina. "It feels like nothing else exists and you're on your little piece of earth."

The isolation helped her stay focused for her biggest challenge - finishing the most grueling dog-sledding race on earth.

"At the time, nothing else matters," says Katrina, 27.

The Brockport native took on the Iditarod, when she was 25, a rookie among veteran mushers. She took a break from college to move to Alaska to be an apprentice with veteran Iditarod racer Lynda Plettner, who showed her how to train the dogs, control the sled and stay on the trail for days at a time.

As a girl, Katrina was fascinated by the tales of bone-chilling nights under the stars by Jack London and dog-sledder Gary Paulson.

This was her chance.

It took two years of work to prepare for the Iditarod. But, says Katrina, "It was a lifetime opportunity." Katrina had competed in other long-distance races, and won the prestigious Gary Paulson Humanitarian Award. She was chosen as the musher who showed the greatest care for her dogs.

Orion was Katrina's only Iditarod veteran. She raised the others from pups, training them to be in a harness and to work together.

The bond she made with them was the most rewarding part of the experience - even more than crossing the finish line. In her training and on the trail, she got to know the dogs, she says, "like kids."

Spank is tiny and a little naughty. If there's something to be chased, she sprints after it. Gangly Orion is big and lovable, if a teeny bit dumb.

"He ate rocks," laughs Katrina.

As a musher, she had to learn their quirks and manage them. "You are more in awe because you realize how capable they are," says Katrina.

Trophy winner Jeff King broke the ticker tape in 9 days, 11 hours, 11 minutes. Katrina finished 69th out of 71 mushers, in 15 days, 17 hours and 37 minutes.

Katrina took off from Anchorage with 81 other mushers surrounded by well-wishers and TV cameras. At first she was nervous, but found her groove once she was alone on the trail. She had to pass 23 checkpoints. The shortest span between check-ins was 14 miles, the longest was 112 miles. She was not fast, and it was OK. She was content to do her best and commit to crossing the line with healthy, happy dogs.

"The big thing for me was, why hurry up if this is your opportunity to see this trail and do this?" says Katrina. "It was really rewarding to know I took care of the dogs and spent time with them."

Each night, she massaged the dogs with shoulder aches and put little coats on them.

"I felt closest to them when we got to a checkpoint and I got them to bed and could really take care of them," she says. "They lay in the straw and look up at you and their little eyes are smiling."

At the back of the pack, Katrina was in line to win the Red Lantern, the prize awarded to the last, trail-weary racer to finish. Katrina fully expected to receive it. Her photo was even taped to a symbolic lantern at the last checkpoint. That is, until two other mushers came in after her. She was surprised she wasn't last. They were definitely unhappy she was in front of them. They were so competitive they weren't having much fun, nor were they all that nice, she says. Katrina was inspired to give up the lantern.

And so, Katrina sprinted the last 22 miles to Nome. It was the toughest leg of the entire race. In the 80 mph gusts and white-out snows, Orion and her crew had to smell the trail to stay on it. Despite it, they ran their best.

"I felt like I went out there with a group of fun, naive dogs - like me - and I came in with an adult team," she says.



Katrina glided into Nome to the cheers of loved ones who flew in to celebrate, with a police-car escort down Main Street.

"It was exhilarating to come in and see some friends and family," says Katrina "... It was kind of a sweet ending. I wasn't last, and I did beat two people."

Her mom was nervous at first, but knew her daughter, who is known for her thoroughness, would make sure she was ready for the challenge.

"I was very impressed that she was able to do it and do it well," said Patricia Pawlaczyk, of Brockport, who was there in Nome with her husband, Tom. "I'm very proud of her ... She's something."

Since then, she has been a kayak guide on the Seward peninsula in Alaska, and added team members Spank and Monkey to her family.

She's not sure if she'll do another Iditarod, but mushing is in her blood. Following her Iditarod dream taught her something she carries with her: "I can do anything," she says. It takes hard work to make fantasy reality, she says, but she's proof it's possible to make it.

The hardest part, she says, is finding out what that dream is.

She listened to her call of the wild.
Story by Kris Dreessen
2007-10-11