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The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

Connect: Path to Iditarod finish line is clear


Rachael Scdoris talks about sled dog racing during a reception at the Lilac Services for the Blind with her race partner and visual interpreter, Kyle Lashley, on Saturday in Spokane.  In 2006 Scdoris was the first legally blind musher to finish the Iditarod. 
 (Dan Pelle / The Spokesman-Review)

When you think of blind people and dogs, the first thing to come to mind is probably a Seeing Eye Dog and the last thing is perhaps the Iditarod.

That’s until you meet musher Rachael Scdoris.

Athletic and tan, the tall 23-year-old was born with congenital achromatopsia; she’s colorblind, and her vision is limited to blurry shapes of anything more than a few feet away.

“I don’t really care if people call me ‘blind’ or what they call me; that’s just words,” Scdoris said, sitting in the office of Lilac Services for the Blind on North Howard. “I am not handicapped, that I do know. Technically, I am visually impaired.”

Scdoris finished her first Iditarod in 2006 and tried the grueling 1,100-mile dogsled race from Anchorage to Nome, Alaska, again in 2008.

She was in Spokane to ride in the Lilac Parade on Saturday.

“Why the Iditarod? Well, I’d say for the love of sport and dogs and for the lack of other options,” Scdoris said, laughing. “I love sports but I can’t do anything with balls. And I’m very competitive. If the Iditarod was easy, then anyone could do it and it wouldn’t be much fun.”

Scdoris grew up in a musher family and has been around dogs since before she could walk. One of her earliest memories is playing in the puppy pen when she was a small child.

Scdoris lives with her parents in Bend, Ore., and when she’s not training for dogsled races, she takes tourists on dogsled tours on Mt. Bachelor – a great way to train a sled dog.

“We have about 100 dogs right now,” she said. “Yeah, it’s a lot – but it’s what we do.”

The canines consume three 50-pound bags of dog food each day.

It was in 2003 that Scdoris approached the Iditarod Trail Committee to ask for permission to compete in the race alongside normal-sighted mushers.

All she needed was a “seeing eye musher” – a guide who’d stay close by, alert her to dangers and help her stay on course.

“During the race you run six hours and rest six hours, run six hours, then rest six hours,” Scdoris said. “And I have to do everything myself, just like all the other mushers.”

Her first start was in 2005, but she scratched when her dogs got sick.

In 2006 she finished in 12 days, 11 hours and 42 minutes – 57th out of 72 teams.

So what’s it really like?

“I’d say it’s ‘fun-ish.’ I mean, it has its ups and downs – there are times where you feel on top of the world and times where you feel like you are in great danger, or you feel beaten down,” Scdoris said. “But in the end you cross the finish line, and it’s just the best feeling. And then you start thinking of the next race, things you could do differently, what worked, what didn’t work so well.”

There are 16 dogs on Scdoris’ Iditarod team, and no replacements.

“If something is wrong with the dog out on the trail, then you send them home with the vets at the vet checks,” Scdoris said. “Then you’re down a dog for the rest of the race. That’s not always bad. It makes you lighter; sometimes that’s good.”

Her dogs are Alaskan Huskies, an unregistered breed she describes lovingly as, “a very expensive mutt that descends from whatever wandered through Alaska at one time.”

Scdoris looks for dogs with personality.

“I don’t want serious dogs. I want jumping around, enthusiastic, idiot dogs,” she said. “My team is known as one of the wildest at the starting line, but that’s what I want. The most important thing is the dog’s desire to go.”

The dogs have to get along to be successful. They must work as a team.

“No growling, no snapping, nothing high maintenance,” said Scdoris. “High maintenance is when they chew on things and get loose and cause trouble. We can’t have too much of that.”

Legendary musher Joe Runyan was Scdoris’ guide in the 2008 Iditarod. He finished but she pulled out.

“I feel like I had enough miles on the dogs, but we hadn’t done enough camping trips,” she said. “And I ran out of leaders. The team was willing to go forward, but without a good leader, we weren’t making a lot of progress.”

Because her eyes are extremely light-sensitive, mushing in all-white conditions is a huge challenge for Scdoris.

“There was a time where all I could see was the trail marker flying by my sled once in a while. I was just hoping we weren’t going around in circles so it was the same trail marker again and again,” said Scdoris. “I couldn’t see Joe, and I had to continue to remind myself that just because I couldn’t see him didn’t mean that he couldn’t see me.”

Scdoris said her vision is much better at night – except when her guide turns around, flashing her straight in the face with his headlamp.

“That makes me really blind – and really mad,” she said. By September, she’ll be ready to train for the 2009 Iditarod, which she fully expects to complete.

“Rachael is a great role model for anyone,” said Matthew Plank, director of marketing and development for Lilac Services for the Blind. “Doing the Iditarod is tough for any person, yet she decided to not let her sight hinder her. We want people to know, both the blind and the non-blind, that you can do whatever you set your mind to – that’s why we invited her.”

Lilac Services for the Blind covers 14 counties and provides services, training and adaptive aides to 40,000 clients, Plank said.

“Many returning military veterans have sight problems from being hit by IEDs,” Plank said. “It’s tough to lose your eyesight like that, suddenly. Some become suicidal. We try to inspire and uplift people.”

Between 1,400 and 1,800 people in the Inland Northwest are diagnosed with vision problems every year, and Plank predicts numbers will go up because more and more people develop diabetes.

“I predict that over the next three years we are going to get 20 percent more blind people,” Plank said.

Scdoris has clearly found her niche, and she feels at home among mushers.

“Most of them know me as ‘that one blind girl,’ and that’s fine with me,” she said.

Should fans expect Scdoris to pick up another extreme sport, perhaps the Ironman?

“No, no way,” she said, laughing. “The only way I’m gonna run that far is if there’s a team of dogs ahead of me, pulling my sled.”