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Susan Butcher's romantic quest to live in the wilderness and work with sled dogs made her legendary in the 1980s. Her story was the making of outdoor adventure novels: leaving behind an upper middle-class upbringing in Cambridge, Mass., to live in Alaska in a shack without electricity or running water so she could train champions.
Her goal was to win an Iditarod, the grueling 1,100-mile race from Anchorage to Nome. She went on to win four and belonged to the first team to climb the 20,320-foot summit of Mount McKinley with sled dogs.
Butcher's journey ended Saturday, in what her husband called her "greatest race." She died in a Seattle hospital of a recurrence of leukemia. She was 51. She is survived by her husband, David Monson, and two daughters, Tekla, 10, and Chisana, 5. She was diagnosed with leukemia last December.
In an interview before her final Iditarod in 1994, she talked about her dedication to dogs: "When I was in the first grade, I wrote an essay that said 'I hate cities.' Do you know why I hate cities? Because my dog hates cities."
When she was 20, she and a friend took three huskies to the Wrangell Mountains in Alaska's interior. "We didn't see anyone for six months," she said. "The place was complete wilderness. We saw wildlife around every bend. It was a great place to mush. I depended on those dogs for everything. They saved my life constantly. They were my whole life."
But there was much more in store for Butcher. She married Monson in 1985 and went on to win four Iditarods and finish in the top five in three others. After her last Iditarod, she and Monson decided to have children and raise them in Alaska, north of Fairbanks, where they continued to breed dog teams.
She was considering a comeback three years ago when she was diagnosed with a rare blood disorder.
Her husband and children were with her Saturday at the hospital and sought a remote spot nearby to mourn. Monson wrote in his blog early Sunday morning:
"Tonight the girls and I took a ferry to Bainbridge Island. It was peaceful ... a quiet spot she loved. ... We sat silently by the shore and looked up. The sky was an explosion of stars. I asked Chisana which one she thought was her mom. She sat on my lap and studied the sky for a long time. Finally she pointed and said 'I think that one. But don't worry she is not alone.' Neither are we. She will be guiding us from that star."
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