February 19, 2026, Seward Folly

The 2026 Iditarod starts March 7 with three Seward area mushers on the start line: veteran Travis Beals, who took 6th place last year, and two rookies, Sadie Lindquist and Sam Paperman. Paperman is running a team from Beals’ lot, and Lindquist will be running a rookie team from Seavey’s.

Lindquist grew up in Moose Pass. Her mom, Irene, was a well-known trail ranger for the Chugach National Forest, and her dad, Dave, has been involved in the mushing world for decades, even running the Iditarod in 1998. 

The 24-year-old graduated from Seward High School and has been running dogs for almost a decade now, including 9 summers with the Seavey’s operation, two winters in Colorado running dog teams with tourists, and three winters training racing dogs. 

Lindquist has raced the Knik 200, the Copper Basin 300, and the Kobuk 440 in preparation for this year’s Iditarod.

“Stuck in a Storm”  The Kobuk 440

Last spring, deep in the wilds of Northwest Alaska, Lindquist and Paperman found themselves in a life-threatening situation during the Kobuk 440, a sled dog race known for ground blizzards and scantily marked trails. 

About halfway into the multiday race Lindquist faced an 85-mile run, with a shelter cabin halfway she planned to use if needed, but a severe storm moved in fast. As Sadie put it, “Within a few miles, there was no trail, couldn’t see markers, just white.” 

Sam caught up with her, and soon they were running with another musher, Jim Bourquin. Jim started to fall behind, but Sadie and Sam couldn’t keep stopping — their teams would lose rhythm and eventually shut down. Jim wanted to camp, but Sadie and Sam were determined to reach the cabin, since they only had enough food for one night. They moved on as Jim prepared to camp.

They knew a shelter cabin was nearby — just not exactly where. The trail had turned deadly; after breaking deep snow drifts for 10 hours, they were spent. Sadie took over, rotating her lead dogs.

“My lead dog Aero took off but the snow was over their heads and they’d disappear. The team would ball up and tangle all the lines, and then it would happen again. It was dark and the wind was howling.”

They were exhausted, unsure how far it was to the cabin, and Sadie hadn’t slept in three days.

They swung their headlamps, hoping to see a treeline, hoping to spot the cabin, but couldn’t see a thing. At that point, they sat down and Sadie turned to Sam: “I don’t know what to do, Sam.” He shook his head, at a loss, while their dogs curled up, shielding themselves from the wind.

They decided to pull the plug and set up camp. After an hour on their hands and knees, digging trenches for the dogs, they bundled them together for warmth and covered them in straw. The dogs were warm and cozy. Sadie and Sam used their sleds as wind blocks and pulled out their stoves to heat food for the teams. They laid out sleeping pads, shared what water they had, ate a snack, and climbed into a three-person bivy sack, disappearing from the raging maelstrom.

Sadie asked Sam to set an alarm for two hours, then fell asleep instantly. “It was the best sleep of my life, in the middle of nowhere in this massive storm.”

When she woke up, she peeked out to a different world — sunny skies and no wind. She panicked, asking Sam what time it was. They’d only slept three and a half hours, but it felt like twelve.

With the calm, clear morning, they could see the treeline where the cabin was, but weren’t sure they could break through the deep snow. At that point, they didn’t know if they’d make the race cut-off, but both decided they wanted to keep going. Lindquist said they were “positive and started booting up the dogs.” That’s when they heard snowmachines breaking trail. They were safe. Race officials knew two other mushers, including Hugh Ness — two-time winner of the brutally tough Yukon Quest — were also trapped out there.

Later, other mushers from the Kotzebue area admitted it was the worst race conditions they’d ever seen. Officials decided to move the deadline forward by eight hours due to the storm, allowing the mushers to eventually finish the race.

Reflecting on the experience, Lindquist said: “The situation seemed like it was the end of the world, but we had everything we needed to be safe. We had extra base layers, water, and food… that’s what mushing is. You get in those situations and you handle it, you just deal with it. I’m glad that it happened, I’m more confident. I know what I’d do differently. It’s okay, you can handle it; you sit down and deal with it. It’s scary because of the wind. It was the most Alaskan ‘sh..’ I’ve ever done. It was so rural. And it was so good to have Sam there.

“I was in a tough space with the lack of sleep and the wind,” Lindquist continued. “The dogs don’t do well if you lose it. That kills your team. You have to be the stronger person for your dogs, or they’ll break down, especially because I’ve spent so much time with them. Your attitude is everything. The dogs pick it up, and they replicate. Sam was the person to be stuck in a storm with. He didn’t have negative energy; he was like, let’s get the work done. He worked so hard, a really good person to have with you.”

Winter training: endless cycle of series

Sadie and her partner, Calvin Doughtery, spent most of this winter locked into a relentless training routine, working with as many as 54 dogs across multiple teams. Their days ran together in a cycle of what mushers call “series” — training the teams for several days at a set distance, then upping the mileage for the next round. The experience simulates a race, with dogs being fed, sleeping on straw, and getting up to run again. Sleep for the handlers was often two-hour chunks at a time during stops, three or four hours total each day for days on end. The dogs take a week off, but not the handlers, who take off with another team. 

They also made frequent trips north, hauling 20 dogs and all their supplies to the Denali Highway and Lake Louise area. Nights were spent sleeping on cots in a trailer at thirty below, the only warmth coming from a small portable “buddy” heater they’d gather around.

Lindquist describes the lifestyle at times as lonely. 

“You don’t see others or leave the kennel. Sometimes you have to get out; it can be draining mentally.” 

Basically, her life revolved around three other people – and a lot of time with the dogs on the trail – but she describes it as not a bad fit for her needs. And she’s very thankful that her co-workers in Sterling were a great fit. 

As for the race, she’s got a well-scripted plan. The young team can’t be pushed, so she knows ahead of time where she’s camping, and her food drops are set to go out soon. If all goes well, it’ll be an 11- or 12-day run to Nome. 

For now, the focus is on getting the drop bags finished. Sixty bags, each up to 50 pounds, are being packaged and frozen before they’re delivered by small planes out along the trail. The food is cut meat, including cod, salmon heads, organ meat, and chicken. Then there’s the extra gear, the harnesses, ointments, people food, and everything conceivable for a 12-day run across remote Alaska in the winter.  

About the dogs she spent so much time with over the winter, there was endless praise: “They are living such a fulfilled life. They are the center of everything I do. They rely on me as much as I need them. Without them, I can’t get there; without me, they can’t get there. It’s a very mutual relationship of trust and respect, and it all has to come together. It’s so special to experience this relationship.”  

She describes how the dogs she’s trained are highly tuned to her. Switching a team to a new musher can be devastating because they don’t have that relationship. She knows each individual dog’s strengths and puts that together to build a team. “If another musher steps on my runners, they very likely won’t have the same results I do.”  

But, as Sadie says, people will truly never know this feeling unless you put years and years of effort into this unique and demanding sport. 

“I think dogs are the best thing to come into my life – they are so good; you don’t meet many people that are that honest and good, they are so much better than most humans.”  

Sadie Lindquist’s site: LindQuest2Nome