About a week after leaving the Willow start line, Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race teams flooded into the Norton Sound village of Unalakleet. It’s a musher’s first glimpse of the Alaska coast, and with two-thirds of the grueling endurance race behind them, it's a sight for sore eyes.
For years, Unalakleet locals have worked around the clock to make their hub village a favorite checkpoint for mushers in need of a break.
The day before Iditarod mushers are expected in Unalakleet, the smell of coffee and bacon filled the common room of the Unalakleet Native Corporation's bunkhouse-turned-checkpoint, a warm public building attached to the local post office just off the trail.
Race leader Jessie Holmes was still over 100 miles away but preparations for his arrival were already underway.
“I'm just getting ready to prepare bacon. I bake it in the oven. I was going to fry, but the bacon is frozen,” Unalakleet resident Ron Paniptchuk said as carefully peeled apart partially frozen bacon strips and laid them out on a baking sheet.
This was Paniptchuk’s first time pitching in to the village’s annual sourdough pancake feast.
“It's for everybody that comes in from the Iditarod, everybody that stays here, that helps out with Iditarod,” Paniptchuk said. “I enjoy everybody's company. I love to hear everybody's stories when they come around. It don’t matter who talks about what, I like to listen to them.”
Paniptchuk is helping his wife, Louisa Paniptchuk, who has helped run the kitchen for the past six years. It's her job to get everything ready for the first musher.
“Making sure your whole kitchen is ready and your whole experience here in Unalakleet is ready,” Louisa Paniptchuk explained. “The whole idea is to come to Unalakleet, come on in and enjoy your food, enjoy your company, enjoy everything. Usually, it's about three or four days before the mushers start getting on the coast, getting everything ready.”
In homes around town, generations-old sourdough starters have been supersized with enough water and flour to make pancakes for every hungry musher, and anyone else who wanders in.
Locals also pitched in home-cooked meals, like salmon bakes and casseroles. The famed pizza shop Peace on Earth delivers pizzas ordered by faraway fans to mushers. Messages of encouragement are written onto the boxes.
“Somebody's always here, 24/7. That's the fun part of having a checkpoint in Unalakleet—24/7,” Louisa said. “Always something going on, always somebody here, always something to do.”
The sourdough pancake tradition started over a decade ago with the late William “Middy” Johnson, a former resident of Unalakleet and 2010 Iditarod finisher.
Middy died in 2019. His wife of 30 years, Aurora McGinty, said Middy’s legacy lives on through Unalakleet’s famous hospitality.
“He wanted Unalakleet to really stand out, so he started the sourdough pancake here in Unalakleet,” Aurora said. “So he did that for years, and he loved it. You know, he would stay there all day, sometimes all night.”
Middy’s history with the race goes back to the very beginning. His grandfather, Henry Ivanoff, was part of the original 1925 Serum Run to Nome that inspired the modern race’s route. Middy started mushing in middle school and became the third of his siblings to run the race in 2010.
McGinty said Middy was active in the local community, serving on Unalakleet’s search and rescue team and working with the Norton Sound Sled Dog Club. She said the pancake breakfast was just one of many things that kept him busy, and that he was proud of his sourdough and loved serving it to people.
“He never wanted anybody to go hungry,” Louisa said. “A lot of people come here to watch the first musher to come on the coast, and so there are lots of spectators from the lower 48 or even different parts of Alaska. Kids, even local kids, he said, ‘Nope, they're gonna eat. No matter who you were, where you're from, you're gonna eat. You're not gonna go, you're not gonna go hungry here.’ ”
In the years following Middy’s passing, a circle of friends and neighbors banded together to keep this legacy alive. Louisa Paniptchuk said she first volunteered because Middy asked, now his memory lingers as she doles out pancake after pancake.
“Hopefully he's smiling down on us, telling us we did a good job,” Louisa said. “It feels good to continue on with what he did. So to speak, he'd be closer to us, with us, and carrying on what he started.”
Just before the first musher rolled in, tubs of sourdough starters began arriving at the checkpoint. Several volunteers stuck to the stoves, flipping pancakes and moving eggs and bacon from skillet to platter.
Jessie Holmes bedded down his dogs before stepping into the warmth of the checkpoint right around breakfast time. Four pizzas sent from fans as far south as Arizona awaited him.
“I’m more interested in bacon and eggs, so everyone is welcome to some pizza,” Holmes said.
Over the next several days, the pancake crew worked in shifts until the very last musher passed through.
