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Iditarod musher Jason Mackey is carrying the ashes of his brother Lance Mackey, who died in September.

“I just knew I was taking him to Nome,” said Jason Mackey. “No questions asked.”

Lance is the honorary musher of the race as the four-time champion who helped grow the sport and inspired people with his story of facing the hardships of cancer and addiction.

Jason Mackey said that as he mushes to Nome, he’s been thinking a lot about a conversation with Lance on Father’s Day, when Lance knew he was sick again.

“He shook my hand, gave me a hug and said, ‘It’s your turn.’ I don’t really know what he meant by that, but after giving it a lot of thought, I don’t think he meant that he thought that it was my turn to win. I think, more than anything, he just believes in me,” he said.

Jason Mackey is keeping Lance’s ashes in a secure bag in his sled next to his trail mail and mandatory gear. He spread some ashes at Rainy Pass early in the race.

“I was at the elevation monument at the top of the gorge when I did it. Of course it was an emotional thing, while I’ve got 14 crazy screaming dogs in front of me, and on we went,” said Mackey. “Of course I was crying, and then onto a luge ride.“

Mackey was considering spreading more ashes around Ophir, and again at the end.

“I think maybe I might wait until I get to Nome when the race is over, and I can then, ‘cause it’s not easy,” he said. “It’s not easy.”

He said it’s not a ceremonial run for Lance. But he knows that the trail was home for his brother.

“A guy can only be so tough. I’m pretty damn tough,” he said. “But when you’re talking about your brother, or a loved one, and having to let go of them in the situation I’m having to, I don’t have to, no one is forcing me to, but that’s where he loved to be more than anywhere.”

Mackey said he feels that Lance has been with him, since before and after he died. And his dogs are now part of the team. Four of the dogs Mackey is running with came from Lance’s kennel and are now halfway to Nome.

Outside at his kennel in Knik, shortly before the start of the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race, musher Jason Mackey was contemplating how to replenish his dwindling supply of meat, fish and kibble to feed his dogs.

His freezer had just a few more Yukon River fish, donated from a friend. Nearby in the snow, he had stashed a small pile of frozen whole king salmon salvaged from researchers on the Gulkana River next to some boxes of animal-feed grade beef blocks labeled “inedible.”

His kibble was almost gone, and a trip to the store would cost him.

“In 2004, when I ran my first Iditarod, we paid $28 a bag for the Red Paw kibble that we feed today,” he said. “Today, that bag of dog food is $68.”

Mackey is just one of many mushers in this year’s Iditarod field struggling with the rising costs of dog mushing, driven by disproportionate inflation on dog food and other supplies. Many mushers cite financial pressure as their biggest concern about continuing to compete in the Iditarod. With just 33 mushers, this year’s Iditarod already has the fewest number of teams in the race’s 50-year history. It’s far below the average, 63. At one point, in 2008, 96 teams signed up.

Iditarod CEO Rob Urbach called the low sign-up this year a “wake-up call” but said it’s no reason to panic.

“We don’t really think it’s necessarily a trend going forward,” he said.

Urbach said the low sign-up is partly driven by just coincidence in timing, as some mushers sit out because of injuries, retirement and mid-career breaks.

That group includes five-time champion Dallas Seavey, 2018 winner Joar Leifseth Ulsom and longtime musher Aaron Burmeister. All three are sitting out this year to spend time with family. There’s also an older generation of mushers who have signaled they’re retiring or phasing out of the sport in recent years, like four-time winners Jeff King and Martin Buser, and fan-favorite Aliy Zirkle.

Still, while Urbach said he’s not panicked about this year’s record-low turnout, the Iditarod race organization is looking at ways to attract more teams and encourage the next generation of mushers. He said competing in the 1,000-mile race requires five to 10 years of preparation for most people.

Urbach said the organization plans to loop the Junior Iditarod into the Iditarod. The junior, 150-mile race is for mushers ages 14 to 17 and it’s now run as a separate event. But, Urbach said, if both races are held at the same time, young mushers could overlap with Iditarod teams, and meet the teams at one of the first checkpoints. He said the Iditarod has also been exploring hosting a shorter, mid-distance qualifying event during the Iditarod and looking to see if it can help mushers save costs on dog food by organizing food buying co-ops.

Some mushers hope the Iditarod organization can do more to support aspiring mushers. Several pointed to prize money as an incentive for kennels to race. The total prize amount split by Iditarod finishers topped out at more than $900,000 in 2008, and in the ensuing years shrunk to $500,000 — where it has remained the past few years, even as inflation crept up.

“It’s no secret that the Iditarod has a $4 million budget,” said Mitch Seavey, a three-time Iditarod champion who is skipping this year’s race to let his body recover. “It makes me wonder why the purse isn’t bigger and why the mushers aren’t being supported.”

Seavey wants the Iditarod to host more races throughout the year to keep enthusiasm high for the sport. The Iditarod’s $500,000 purse is the largest of any major long-distance sled dog race in the world. The Kuskokwim 300, the race with the second-biggest purse in Alaska, pays out about $160,000 in prize money to a field of 25 teams. The Yukon Quest Alaska paid out $100,000 to its eight finishers.

Jessie Holmes, who placed third in last year’s Iditarod, said having big prize purses is a big factor in how he selects the races he’ll compete in.

“It gives more opportunity for a professional musher to go out and race for purse money which is huge,” he said.

Still, some mid-distance races have been thriving in recent years, despite modest prize money. The Willow 300 attracted 24 teams even with its modest $18,000 purse.

Joe Taylor, a 30-year-old who keeps a 13-dog kennel outside of Fairbanks, said he might not ever race the Iditarod again after his rookie year in 2022.

He said mid-distance races are more attractive for people his age who don’t want to dedicate their entire lives to dog mushing.

“They’re a lot more achievable for smaller kennels and also people want to be able to do other things with their lives during the winter and have a more balanced social life,” he said.

Urbach said the Iditarod hopes to boost the prize purse, but it hasn’t been easy. For one, the race organization’s costs have risen about 30% in the past 18 months, digging into the race’s budget, he said. It’s working to raise more funds through individual donations and its Iditarod Insider media platform, plus a handful of other new online initiatives.

Urbach also said finding major corporate sponsors has gotten harder in the past few years, too, something he attributes to pressure from animal rights groups like People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, or PETA, which opposes the Iditarod because it believes dog mushing amounts to animal cruelty.

“It’s a big, big challenge for us,” he said at a town hall meeting in December. “Our extremist friends have made it pretty difficult for Lower 48-based public companies to sponsor us.”

Corporate sponsors that have pulled out of the race in the past decade include ExxonMobil, Alaska Airlines and Anchorage Chrysler Dodge Jeep Ram. Fiat Chrysler Automobiles, the parent company of the local dealership, was targeted with more than a quarter-million emails from PETA supporters, PETA said at the time. PETA also took out full-page ads in the Anchorage Daily News and paid for radio ads this year, according to a news release from the organization.

Urbach said aside from growing its own initiatives, it’s also pushing the Alaska Legislature to step in and support sled dog racing, Alaska’s official state sport, by allocating money to the Iditarod.

“We bring direct revenue of around $20 million to the state during the race, but the indirect is much, much larger,” said Urbach.

Currently, he said, the state government doesn’t contribute to the race.

Even with the tough climate there are promising signs for the sport. Sign-ups for the Junior Iditarod this year were higher than they’ve been in more than a decade. New mushers are developing kennels and completing qualifying mid-distance races.

“I ran five mid-distance races this year and three of the five were full,” said Brent Sass, last year’s Iditarod winner. “And a lot of names I’ve never heard, which means there’s a lot of new folks coming up the road. I feel like there’s still a lot of potential with the sport.”

Anja Radano, who keeps a small kennel near Talkeetna, said she doesn’t race the Iditarod for the money, but she does need to save cash in order to compete.

She’s working two jobs to pay for her kennel upkeep. She competed last year and is skipping this year to save up again to race. She estimates racing the Iditarod costs her an extra $20,000 per year. She said she’s attracted to the smaller, shorter races, which don’t require the same dedication, but she said the 1,000-mile race still has its allure.

“Mushing is not a sport you’re ever gonna make money with,” she said. “I’m definitely not giving up on the Iditarod.”

The 2023 Iditarod kicks off Saturday with a ceremonial start in Anchorage followed by an official race start in Willow.

From there, 33 mushers and dozens of sled dogs will make the 1,000-mile dash to Nome.

It’s the smallest group of teams in the Iditarod’s history, but it’s a pretty competitive one.

Here’s what to know about this year’s race:

When will the Iditarod start?

The race begins with a parade-like ceremonial start in Anchorage on Saturday, March 4.

Mushers and their sled dogs will gather downtown early that morning to get ready.

Starting at 10 a.m., they’ll take off one-by-one every couple minutes from Fourth Avenue, near D Street. They’ll head down city streets, onto the trails and end at the Campbell Airstrip.

Here are places to watch from. People gather all along the trail for the event, but some hotspots include downtown, the hill on Cordova Street and the Trailgate party in the Eastchester Park area.

Next up: the official race start on Sunday.

After the ceremonial start, mushers and their dog teams truck to Willow for the official start at 2 p.m. on Willow Lake. They’ll again leave at two-minute intervals, and head to Nome.

The Iditarod says folks wanting to watch the start should look for signs on the Parks Highway in Wasilla and at Houston High School that will have information on available parking.

What’s the trail route this year?

The trail will go from Willow to Nome along what the Iditarod calls its “southern route.” Teams have not taken that route since 2019.

The first part of the southern route is the same as the northern one. Then, once teams get to Ophir, it cuts south through the Beaver Mountains to the ghost town of Iditarod. From there, there’s a lot of river running through Shageluk, Grayling and Anvik before linking up with the main trail in Kaltag.

The southern route is slightly longer and is thought to be more challenging with mountains and lots of mushing on the exposed Yukon River.

How are the trail conditions? 

Generally, very good, according to race director Mark Nordman.

Snow has hammered much of Southcentral, including the first chunk of the trail up to Rainy Pass Lodge.

From there, teams must tackle the notorious Dalzell Gorge — a twisty trail marked by a series of steep downhills and some very tight turns. Nordman said the gorge is in good condition.

But then things get tough: He said the route from Rohn to Nikolai has among the worst moguls in race history.

“Imagine a washboard except every ridge in the washboard is 4-feet high,” said Nordman, “So it’s just this up and down, up and down.”

From there, the trail is in good condition until the ghost town of Ophir, said Nordman. He said the snow level is still lower than he’d like from Ophir to Shageluk, though some snowfall is in the forecast.

Once mushers hit the coast, there may be some rerouting.

Traditionally, teams go across the sea ice on Norton Sound and Golovin Bay, but winter storms have pushed some of that ice out. He said it’s unclear if mushers will travel over the ice or take an overland route around it.

Who’s competing in this year’s race?

There are 33 teams signed up including most of last year’s top 10 mushers. That includes reigning champ Brent Sass and 2019 winner Pete Kaiser, plus Jessie Holmes, Dan Kaduce, Richie Diehl, Ryan Redington and Aaron Peck.

RELATED: All eyes on Brent Sass in highly competitive Iditarod field

There’s also nine rookie mushers hoping to cross the Nome finish line for their first time, including a Denali climber, a former Anchorage garbage truck driver and a father-son duo.

RELATED: Meet 5 Iditarod rookies

Noticeably absent: There are no Seaveys in the race for the first time in more than a dozen years. Five-time champion Dallas Seavey said he’s sitting out to spend time with his family and his dad, three-time champ Mitch Seavey, said he’s taking a year off to let his body recover. But they both have dog teams in the competition: Kelly Maixner is running dogs from Dallas, and Christian Turner is running Mitch’s team.

Here’s the full list of teams.

Why are there so few mushers racing this year?

The Associated Press crunched some numbers and found the average number of mushers starting the Iditarod over the last 50 years was 63. The highest? 96 in 2008.

So 33 teams is not only the smallest field ever, but it’s just about half the average size.

The Iditarod community has cited a variety of reasons for the low turnout.

A couple of them:

• There are quite a few longtime Iditarod mushers who have stepped away from mushing in recent years, and there isn’t a big group of teams to replace them. Aside from the Seaveys, Aaron Burmeister and former champ Joar Leifseth Ulsom say they’re taking a break to be with family. Four-time winners Jeff King and Martin Buser, plus fan-favorite Aliy Zirkle also aren’t racing. Race icon Lance Mackey died last year.

• There’s also the cost. Many mushers say inflation has hit them hard with dog food prices doubling in the last couple years, plus many missed out on tourism income during COVID-19. Some estimate that running the Iditarod takes at least a $20,000 investment, and prize money has been stagnant for years as the Iditarod loses big-name sponsors.

How many dogs are on a team?

Mushers can start with up to 14 dogs and as few as 12. They must have at least five dogs pulling the sled across the finish line in Nome.

Where do the dogs go that don’t make it to the finish line?

Mushers can leave dogs with veterinarians at race checkpoints along the trail. Mushers must provide them with four pounds of food and coats, according to race rules.

There’s a variety of reasons a musher may send a dog home, including illness and injury or because the dog can’t keep up. Also, near the end of the race, mushers will often slim down their teams to just their fastest dogs.

The dogs left behind get flown back to Anchorage or Nome depending on their location.

Are there any COVID-19 protocols this year?

COVID precautions are basically gone this year, with the vaccine requirement removed and no regular testing out on trail. All the checkpoints that were closed down before will be open this year. Race director Mark Nordman said that there will be an epidemiologist out on the trail in case there are COVID infections.

When can we expect a winner?

Historically, the race winner has arrived in Nome in as little as eight days, so that would mean a finish late Monday night, March 13, or early Tuesday morning, March 14.

How do I follow along? 

Bookmark alaskapublic.org/Iditarod!

Alaska Public Media reporters Lex Treinen and Ben Matheson are headed out on the trail this year. We’ll have stories and photos from them on alaskapublic.org and on 91.1 FM.

Plus, keep an eye out for the latest episodes of our Iditapod podcast, now in its seventh season. You can listen on iTunes, Spotify or wherever you get your podcasts.

On top of that, we have the Iditarod newsletter! Subscribe here. During the race, we’ll send you a daily round-up of the latest Iditarod stories, podcast episodes and even dog profiles straight to your inbox.

Other local news outlets will also be following the race, and there’s coverage provided by the Iditarod itself on iditarod.com.

Have a question we missed? Email Tegan Hanlon and Casey Grove at thanlon@alaskapublic.org and cgrove@alaskapublic.org.

The Arctic Winter Games were held earlier this month in Northern Alberta for the first time since 2018. Team Alaska placed second overall in terms of both wins and gold medals, or “ulus.”

Four Alaska athletes traveled from Juneau and sat down with KTOO’s Chloe Pleznac upon their return to discuss their experience competing in the 2023 games.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Chloe Pleznac: Joining me today to talk about team Alaska’s recent involvement — and victories — at the Arctic Winter Games are Matthew Quinto, Ezra Ellisoff, Kyle Worl and Lyric Ashenfelter. So, Kyle, I’m going to start with you. You scored gold for Team Alaska in the Airplane Open Male. I was really impressed to learn exactly what the airplane event is because it’s even more incredible that you did it for that long. So, could you explain to me how you compete in the airplane event?

Kyle Worl: The Airplane is one of 10 games in the Arctic sports division. It’s a traditional Inuit game. You start by laying on the floor in an iron cross position, your arms are out, your legs are straight. And you’re lifted up by the wrists and your ankles and you’re lifted about a couple of feet off the ground, and you have to hold that iron cross position as long as possible.

Chloe Pleznac: Wow. And you held it for, was it a minute and three seconds?

Kyle Worl: Yep. A minute and three seconds. Matthew here was the one counting it off for me.

Chloe Pleznac: Ezra, you placed gold for Team Alaska in the Alaskan High Kick Open Male. Could you tell me a little bit about the traditional history surrounding that event?

Ezra Elisoff: Okay, yeah. It’s more for staying in physical shape for long, harsh winters. So I learned this from Matthew actually, where they would grab ash and they rubbed it on their moccasins or mukluks. And they try to kick as high as they can to the ceiling and whoever could get their footprint on the same ceiling would basically win. And so that game was just more or less played for like, you know, say it was like -60 or something like that. You wouldn’t go hunting in that, you would just stay inside and wait out the winter.

Chloe Pleznac: Matthew, you placed bronze for the Alaskan High Kick Open Male. This was your first year attending. It was a lot of your guys’ first year attending. What was the experience like?

Matthew Quinto: It was a lot of fun. I think my favorite part was probably just meeting all the people from the different countries and making friends there. And the camaraderie that happened through all of us staying on the same floor and different, you know, different rooms, but we were all on the same floor every night, same place a lot of bonding to happen there.

Chloe Pleznac: Lyric you placed bronze for the Arm Pull 2005 or later. What was it like when you were up there in that moment competing?

Lyric Ashenfelter: Oh, I was really nervous at first. But I also had a lot of confidence in myself, because I knew that I could get somewhere far if I really was determined to. It was really cool, though. All the other girls from the other teams were really nice, very supportive. So overall, it makes for a very fun experience. And when you’re all cheering each other on it. It’s really great. And so that got me to where I was, and it was, it was awesome.

Chloe Pleznac: How do you guys prepare for these events? Some of them, like with the airplane, require multiple people holding you up, right? What did the process look like for you guys preparing?

Kyle Worl: Well, I would say they’ve been preparing for a long time. Well, at least Matthew and Ezra here, were on the 2020 team. And they were training for that. And that ended up being canceled about a week out. And so three years later, they finally get their chance to go again. So at least three years, but really their training started for Ezra, his freshman year of high school. He’s now one year out of high school and then Matthew junior year. So yeah, they go back quite a few years of training in these games. Training really just involves doing the games. All around fitness is important. A bit of cardio and weight training and plyometrics are always helpful, but nothing’s gonna get you high in the games like actually practicing the events themselves. So it just takes time and practice.

Chloe Pleznac: So Kyle, you started Juneau’s Native Youth Olympics team up again in 2018 after a long hiatus. Tell us about the relationship between Native Youth Olympics and the Arctic Winter Games.

Kyle Worl: Native Youth Olympics specifically refers to the sport in the K-12 level. And there’s many overlapping games. Native Youth Olympics are all based on Indigenous northern games and so is Arctic sports, but there’s a variety of different games you’re gonna find at different events and` Arctic Winter Games is the kind of the highlight event for this sport. I think of it similar to in basketball you have the NBA like that’s the highest achievement of the sport. For Native Youth Olympics, it’s Arctic Winter Games to be able to represent your state or really we’re representing our country. Arctic Winter Games is a huge honor and it’s a huge event that takes an amazing amount of coordination between many different nations. So it’s an amazing honor and experience for us to all have been there.

Chloe Pleznac: Ezra, you participated in the Native Youth Olympics and placed first in the Alaskan high kick statewide in 2020. What was it like to finally get to compete internationally,

Ezra Elisoff: It was pretty cool. Trying to converse with some of the athletes who don’t necessarily speak English very well was a bit difficult, but we generally got the same message across it was pretty cool. It was like state NYO, but basically bigger, because we were in the open division. So everyone was older and experienced. And at first, it was intimidating. But then as time went on, we all started warming up to each other and joking around, and it was actually pretty great.

Chloe Pleznac: Who were some of the other countries that were involved?

Ezra Elisoff: So there was Greenland, Northern Alberta, most of the provinces in Canada. There’s one team that was, I guess, banned from this year.

Kyle Worl: Normally, Russia is a participant in the Arctic Winter Games, but because of the war in Ukraine, they were not invited this year.

Chloe Pleznac: Competitors in traditional gaming events, like the Native Youth Olympics, and the Arctic Winter Games come from all kinds of backgrounds. Do you think that helps raise the profile of these sports among a wider audience?

Kyle Worl: I think a big misconception about traditional games or Native Youth Olympics is that it’s only for Native people. But the majority of the events are open to anybody to participate in. All backgrounds are welcome. And I think it’s a great cross-cultural learning opportunity for anybody, even if you’re not from an Alaska Native culture to learn about our northern indigenous people through the games is really powerful. I would like to see the continued growth of traditional games beyond just the Arctic. And I think Juneau is an example of that. We’re pretty far from the Arctic here in Southeast Alaska. But the games have spread down to this region from Yakutat to Metlakatla. And we have an upcoming event — April 1 and 2, the Juneau Traditional Games — and we’re going to be seeing a team from Santa Fe. So there really is no limit to where the games can go, in my mind. I think the ultimate dream is to see it at the world Olympics, this sport from here in the Arctic, being on the world stage.

You can find a complete list of Team Alaska’s medal winnings here. 

Girls weren’t always able to wrestle in Dillingham.

In the early 2000s, they had to petition the school board to let them join the team. Then, they were wrestling against boys. But girls’ wrestling kept growing in Bristol Bay despite those barriers.

Now, 18-year-old team captain Kiley Clouse has become Dillingham’s first statewide girls wrestling champion. And Aileen Lester of Newhalen has won her third state title. Both competed in Division II at the ASAA State Wrestling Tournament in Anchorage this month.

In her final match, Clouse wrestled the undefeated Jessailah Thammavongsa of South Anchorage and won 4-0 in the third period. The crowd cheered as the referee raised her hand high. For a moment, Clouse didn’t believe it.

“I wanted it for so long, and it finally happened.” she said. “I was just so overwhelmed and proud of myself. I just started straight crying on the mat, and I got off and I was just like, crying and hugging everyone.”

This win was a long time coming. Clouse didn’t have a season her sophomore year during the pandemic, and an injury last year made it tough to compete.

And because there were fewer wrestlers on the girls teams, they didn’t have as many weight classes as the boys. Clouse was wrestling at the 189 weight class until this year — which meant she was 20 pounds lighter than some of her opponents.

This season, she wrestled at 165, and she had a lot more confidence.

“It’s the first time I’m wrestling girls who are actually my weight,” she said.

William Savo, the Dillingham Wolverine’s head coach, was a student athlete when girls first started to petition the school for a chance to compete in the early 2000s.

“It’s pretty ironic. When I was in eighth grade, two of my classmates, Kim McCambly and Sarah Evans, wanted to wrestle, but the school board wouldn’t let them,” he said.

The girls petitioned the school to change its policy. When they did join, Savo said, they were wrestling against boys. And the team wasn’t welcoming.

“Boys ain’t very accepting, you know,” he said. “I was part of it. Nobody really wants to change. But they competed in middle school, in high school. They were the first two that kind of got the ball rolling around Dillingham. And then there’s been girls that’ve wrestled throughout.”

Assistant Coach Jack Savo wrestled for Dillingham in the 1990s and came back in 2002. He said girls wrestling was unprecedented.

“It was new, and it was unheard of to have a highly contact and competitive sport like wrestling be co-ed, especially at a time when the girls had to practice with boys and had to compete against boys,” he said. “But I think the determination of the young ladies that started the drive leads us to where we’re at now.”

Dillingham’s team — and Alaska wrestling — has come a long way since then. Alaska’s first sanctioned girls’ state wrestling tournament was in 2014. Jack Savo said they brought in three women wrestlers to work with the girls team this year, including one who wrestled on the first U.S. women’s Olympic freestyle team in 2004.

And interest is increasing. There’s a strong cohort of middle school girls, Willie Savo said, and 21 elementary girls have signed up for wrestling this year.

Women’s wrestling is one of the fastest-growing sports in the country, both at the high school and college levels. According to the National Wrestling Coaches Association, since 1994 the number of women who wrestle in high school has grown from 804 to over 31,600.

Another state champion from Bristol Bay is 18-year-old Aileen Lester of Newhalen, a small community on Iliamna Lake. She also won state titles in 2020 and 2021, and she was named last year’s outstanding state wrestler. Lester has wanted to wrestle since kindergarten, and she finally convinced her parents to let her join in sixth grade. Still, she had some reservations.

“When I said something in class, all the boys were like, ‘Oh, girls can’t wrestle, this and that and the other,’” she said. “I remember playing king of the mat, and I kicked all the boys’ butts that were around my weight. And I was like, ‘Yeah, definitely, this is what I’m doing.’”

The Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race has denied entry to veteran long-distance dog musher Hugh Neff.

That’s despite having the smallest-ever field of mushers signed up for the 2023 Iditarod.

Formerly of Tok and more recently based in Fairbanks and Anchorage, Neff has finished the Iditarod 13 times, placing as high as 5th in 2011. But over the years, Neff has had trouble in both the Iditarod and the Yukon Quest, another 1,000-mile race, which he’s won twice.

A dog on Neff’s 2018 Quest team died during the race. After finding what they described as signs of poor dog care, which Neff disputed, Quest officials later announced they were banning him from entering the 2019 race.

Neff had to re-qualify and ran the 2021 Yukon Quest, which was shortened to 300 miles due to the coronavirus pandemic.

Then Neff was forced to scratch in the 2022 Iditarod — his first thousand-miler since the Quest ban — due to race officials’ concern over his dogs’ health midway through the race. Neff had been running dogs from another veteran musher, Jim Lanier.

Then, less than a month later, Neff won the Kobuk 440 with the same dog team, saying at the time it was vindication.

Neff submitted paperwork to enter the 2023 Iditarod, but the officials notified him in early December they were denying his entry. A race spokesperson said that was a decision by the Iditarod’s Qualifying Review Board and based on Neff having been asked to scratch due to the dogs’ poor health in the prior race.

“We are committed to ensuring a culture of exemplary dog care, and we demand the same commitment of all teams who enter the race,” the Iditarod said in a statement.

Asked if there was a path forward for Neff to enter the Iditarod again in the future, an Iditarod spokesperson only said that the review board looks over every musher’s application on a yearly basis for each upcoming race.

Neff did not respond to multiple messages seeking comment.