Not too long ago, in the not too distant past (you see, this Iditarod, this race always invokes things of a distant past…a distant place* ), there arose a people out of the frozen forests and rocky capes of northern Europe. This fierce, bearded tribe sprung seemingly out of nowhere, traveling on long, wooden boats that were powered by strong wooden oars. Piercing through the waters of the Baltic, North Atlantic, and the Mediterranean seas, these seafarers reached across many lands and many peoples, conquering as they went. Evidence of their raids and warfare can be found throughout North Africa, western Russia, and even as far as Bagdad! (Bagdad…once upon a time, that place seemed so far away too, but that’s another story).
Vikings, yes, that’s what this group was called. It means “one’s who came out of the rocky inlets or fjords. This tribe, and yes we all came from some form of one or another, don’t fool yourself, this tribe maybe derived it’s strength from the craggy, cold cliffs of Norway, Sweden. They had to be a hardy people in order to mete out a meager living: from the sea primarily, where they fished the deep inlets, coves, and ventured out into the cranky North Sea.
It wasn’t so much that they had the leisure to learn seamanship, but that these hardy northerners had NO choice, but to learn to live and work at sea! And the mountains! Those glacier filled heights and snow filled plateaus like the Hardangervidda in southern Norway and the Finnmarksvidda** in the north only hardened the lives of these Norwegians and prepared them for the harsh realities of life. It also prepared these adventurers for the frozen wastelands of another northern land: Alaska!
Who are these Norwegians? Who are these mysterious wanderers? Should we start with our recent examples, like Harald Tunheim, the teacher from the northern area of Finnmark, who thrilled and surprised Iditafans by temporarily taking the lead in the Last Great Race back in ’99, then to finish 19th and snatch the Rookie of the Year award? Or, how ‘bout the Sorlie guy, yes, the one everyone cheered back in 2002, when he arrived the Burled Arch in 9th to get that coveted ROY? Well, he did good back in 2003 and ’05 too, enough to bring home that nice trophy, and best of all that Red Dodge Truck!
Well, we’re stepping up ahead way too fast…let’s start with some oldies, maybe an unknown type: a guy named Tollef Larsen Brevig.
T.L. was born in 1857, somewhere in Norway, of course, and emigrated to the New World with his family when he was only about 10 years old. Imagine going on a trip, to a far, distant place, at that age. He probably was filled with excitement, anticipation, and wonder. Why, that sounds like some fellow Iditafanatics we know of who are in Anchor Town enjoying the festivities and excitement of the 2008 edition of the Last Great Race!! Why can’t we be there? Why do we feel so close to the action (via the electronic waves), and yet feel so far away? Well, guess what, you probably feel just like Brevig did so long ago…he was going on his own iditarod too. You see, the iditarod is not just an event or a place. The Iditarod is an experience! It’s a mental thing, a way of thinking! It’s a culture…and idea. And Brevig, you see, went on this trip, first across the North Atlantic to a new home in a place called Wisconsin. Wisconsin, that’s an Indian name, an age-old name…but, that’s another story…
Then, in 1890 or thereabouts, another dude, Sheldon Jackson (could be a relative of that Andrew guy, you never know), came on the scene and decided he needed to help the Indigenous peoples, the Keepers of the land, make some adjustments in their fast changing environment. First the Russians (who the Vikings beat up nearly a millenium before!), then the morphed-up types of the British/Irish/Scots (the Vikes beat on them too!), yes the Americans came, introducing new technology and new ideas. The Inupiat, Yupik, and Athabascan traded heartily and even fought these new comers a time or two, killing a few (harsh word). Then the descruction came: disease, fire water, and a way of life foreign to the Keepers. It started to rattle their world, their hunting resources diminished. Some began to starve. The rifle was killing off the caribou, you know that “snow shoveler” that the Gwitch’in and others followed after and were taken care of by. Fire water spread, causing some to miss too many hunts at times, and families found themselves short on food for the coming cold.
That cold, each and every year, it comes. First the darkness comes, the days shorten, and that furnace-in-the-sky slowly lowers over the horizon. Boy is that a beauty to behold, seeing the land turn golden and shades of orange to red and watching that furnace lower, ever so gradually. The hills glisten with the colors. The streams reflect that light, bending it in ways you’d never imagine. Then, little by little, you feel that cool breeze. First it sends a shudder through you, like saying, “Hey dude, I’ve arrived.” Yes, this cold, it can be deceiving. It comes, seemingly like a friend, and you welcome it too.
Well, times were a-changing back then, just like they are today. New sicknesses arise, new wars, new struggles. They, the government of what would become the most powerful within half a century, didn’t know what to do at first. They didn’t know who to turn to. Well, one man did. This Sheldon Jackson did. He knew exactly who to call on and he didn’t hesitate to either. He called on the descendents of that long ago fierce and bearded tribe. That tribe that sent shudders of a “cold wind” through the lands of old Europe and Asia. He called on the Norwegians! And, in 1894 or thereabouts, one man answered the call. His name: T. L. Brevig.
To be continued…
Frozen
*Iditarod is a Deg Hit'an Indian (Athabaskan tribe from that area) word that, some say, means "a far, distant place".
**And Tils, SuldasX, MotorW, and our other Scandanavian friends can tell us all about those "vidda's"! Let's see, who are those eDudes? Em too?