After training in deep snow and bitter cold, ex-reality show star seeks to win the Iditarod again

ANCHORAGE, Alaska (AP) — Riches and paid appearances haven’t followed Jessie Holmes since he won the world’s most famous sled dog race, the Iditarod, last year.

He doesn't mind.

A carpenter and a former cast member of National Geographic's reality show “Life Below Zero,” Holmes has instead been content to return to his austere, hand-built homestead in the wilderness near the continent's tallest mountain. His life is solitary and frugal. His closest neighbors are 30 miles (50 kilometers) away.

“There’s a lot of things that can happen in your life once you win the Iditarod,” Holmes told The Associated Press in an interview before this year's race. “You could become a real big deal, or you could just go back out in the bush and get right back to work, you know? And that’s what I did.”

Holmes took off Sunday along with 33 other competitive mushers in an effort defend his title in the rigorous Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race, the 1,000-mile (1,610-kilometer) journey from Willow to Nome. A day later he was in the lead.

The winner is expected to reach the finish line around March 17 after traveling over two mountain ranges, along the frozen Yukon River and on the treacherous ice of the Bering Sea on Alaska’s western coast.

Mushing was foreign to Holmes growing up in Odenville, Alabama, but he had an affinity for hard-luck dogs.

“I was always getting in trouble for bringing dogs home that I found on the streets and hiding them out in the woods and feeding them out of the fridge,” he said.

His life found a calling after he saw the 1972 Robert Redford film “Jeremiah Johnson,” based partly on the legend of a real-life 19th century mountain man.

At age 18, he set out to make that a reality, jumping on passing freight trains to go north. He eventually settled in Montana, where he hooked his hound dog up to a sled to help pull equipment during the winter.

He still had no clue there was a thriving competitive mushing lifestyle until he moved farther north, to Dawson City, in Canada’s Yukon Territory, after the turn of the century.

“I thought, this is exactly what I want to do,” Holmes said.

He moved two years later to Alaska, living off the land in a village on the Yukon River, near the Canada border. He used his dogs to haul wood and water and to assist him while hunting, fishing and trapping.

Competitive mushing gnawed at him. “I could be really good at this,” he thought. “I think I’m really good with dogs. I should race.”

He learned some hard lessons in his first race. He finished last in a 200-mile (322-kilometer) competition in Fairbanks in 2006 and realized he needed faster dogs. He moved to a cabin without running water or electricity with nearly 40 dogs, regrouped and began to race again in 2012.

He also joined the cast of “Life Below Zero,” documenting the daily struggles of living in remote parts of Alaska. He appeared in 132 episodes over eight seasons, with pay that allowed him to buy better dog food and equipment. He eventually also bought the land near Denali National Park where he homesteaded.

The hard work of mushing his dogs in the backcountry paid off when he entered his first Iditarod in 2018. He came in seventh, earning rookie of the year honors and a $26,000 check.

He's been in every Iditarod since, placing in the top 10 all but two years. Last year’s title came with a check for just over $57,000. He described the win as “magical” and gave all the credit to his dogs, which he called his family.

In the Iditarod’s heyday, when it was a regular feature on ABC’s “Wide World of Sports,” winning mushers — especially those with multiple titles — were able to capitalize on their fame with big endorsements and sponsorships, some pocketing $250,000 a year.

But waning financial support, due in part to a animal rights group targeting national sponsors, has shrunk the purse while inflation is stifling young mushers trying to make a go of it. This year a Norwegian billionaire, Kjell Rokke, has provided additional backing as he mushes in a new amateur or “expedition” category.

Holmes does have a sponsor — a local auto-repair chain. But he hasn't done paid appearances or events, and his income now primarily comes from race winnings and breeding dogs. And even though Rokke's contribution is boosting prize money this year, Holmes said he's not in favor of amateurs being on the trail.

“I don’t really feel like it aligns with the spirt of the race,” he said. “I just really don’t want to say too much because I don’t want to dig a hole for myself, but I don’t mind saying that I’m not a fan of it.”

In a social media post, he said he logged some 4,500 miles (7,240 kilomeers) training with his dogs this winter.

“Deep snow. Ferocious winds. 40 below and colder,” he wrote. “But that’s nothing new to us out here. Instead of letting it break us, we let it sharpen us.”

The self-imposed stress of repeating as champion is burning at him. He calls this year’s race the most important of his career. Many mushers have won multiple Iditarod titles, but only two — Susan Butcher and Lance Mackey — won their second title the year after getting their first.

“That’s hard to put that on yourself because you got to live with that pressure every day,” Holmes told The AP. “And if I do not make it, it is going to absolutely crush me.”

Jessie Holmes, the defending Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race champion, talks to fans Saturday, March 7, 2026, in Anchorage, Alaska, during the ceremonial start of the 2026 race. (AP Photo/Mark Thiessen)

FILE - Musher Jessie Holmes takes a break from cooking his dogs a meal to nuzzle with two wheel dogs at the Ophir checkpoint during the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race, March 10, 2021, in Alaska. (Zachariah Hughes/Anchorage Daily News via AP, Pool, File)

Jessie Holmes, the defending Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race champion, acknowledges crowds on both side of Fourth Avenue during the ceremonial start for this year's race in downtown Anchorage, Alaska, on Saturday, March 7, 2026. (AP Photo/Mark Thiessen)

FILE - Jessie Holmes celebrates after winning the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race, March 14, 2025, in Nome, Alaska. (Loren Holmes/Anchorage Daily News via AP, File)

Defending Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race champion Jessie Holmes poses for a selfie with a fan during the ceremonial start of this year's race in downtown Anchorage, Alaska, on Saturday, March 7, 2026. (AP Photo/Mark Thiessen)

COLUMBUS, Ohio (AP) — Republican U.S. Sen. Jon Husted testified Wednesday that he was present at a 2018 dinner with Ohio’s then-Gov.-elect Mike DeWine and two former FirstEnergy Corp. executives who are accused of bribing a top utility regulator, whom DeWine appointed shortly thereafter.

But Husted, who testified remotely, said he recalled little of what was discussed that night and that he was not aware that former CEO Chuck Jones and former lobbyist Michael Dowling planned to meet with DeWine’s ultimate choice to lead the Public Utilities Commission of Ohio, Sam Randazzo, right afterward. Husted said Randazzo was not FirstEnergy’s preferred candidate for the job.

Neither DeWine nor Husted has been accused of wrongdoing. Husted's testimony in the high-profile corruption trial comes as he faces a hot-button retention bid this fall to keep the Senate seat to which he was appointed last year as a successor to JD Vance. He is expected to face Democrat Sherrod Brown, a three-term former senator who lost a reelection bid in 2024.

Husted was Ohio’s lieutenant governor-elect in early 2019, when prosecutors allege Jones and Dowling bribed the late Randazzo in exchange for legislative and regulatory favors. That included championing a $1 billion bailout of two FirstEnergy-associated nuclear plants at the heart of the $60 million bribery scandal from which the executives’ prosecutions arose. Former Ohio House Speaker Larry Householder is serving 20 years in prison for masterminding the scheme.

Asked Wednesday about the purpose of the 2018 dinner, Husted told jurors, “I don't precisely know. I did not organize it. But it was, I think basically, it was that FirstEnergy was going to be in town and they wanted to say ‘hi’ and congratulate us on winning.” He said he did not recall anything discussed during the meal, only that DeWine wasn't feeling well.

Husted confirmed the general theme of discussions he'd had with Jones and Dowling — which the latter two texted about, sometimes with Householder — surrounding progress on House Bill 6, the state bailout bill.

Special Assistant Attorney General Matthew Meyer asked whether Husted knew Laurel Dawson, DeWine's then-chief of staff, and her husband, Mike Dawson. Husted said yes and described Mike Dawson as a friend. In response to questioning, Husted said he wasn't aware that Mike Dawson had been a consultant to FirstEnergy and once shared an office with Randazzo, nor had he ever heard that Mike Dawson shared information about the happenings inside the DeWine-Husted administration with Dowling.

Laurel Dawson was the person who vetted a dossier on Randazzo put together by DeWine's fellow Republicans, which urged the governor not to choose him because he was too close to FirstEnergy. The document was reviewed and dismissed without being shown to the governor. Husted said Wednesday that the only opposition to Randazzo's nomination that he could recall came from American Electric Power.

The Dec. 18, 2018, dinner, held at the storied Athletic Club of Columbus, is pivotal to Jones' and Dowling's cases. Evidence has shown that DeWine, Husted, Jones and Dowling were joined at the meal by Josh Rubin. Earlier in the day, Rubin — a FirstEnergy lobbyist and adviser to the 2018 DeWine-Husted campaign — had provided advice to the executives on how to lobby DeWine, then the governor-elect, in favor of the company’s preferences to chair the Public Utilities Commission of Ohio, according to a text contained in the criminal complaint.

Husted said he did not recall them doing that.

Rubin cautioned the executives not to mention to DeWine that they would be meeting Randazzo at his residence after the dinner. Later in the day, Randazzo texted Dowling a list of figures for the years 2019 through 2024: “Total 4,333,333.” “Got it, Sam,” Dowling replied. “Good seeing you as well. Thanks for the hospitality. Cool condo.”

The next day, Jones also texted Randazzo. “We’re going to get this handled this year, paid in full, no discount,” he wrote. “Don’t forget about us or Hurricane Chuck may show up on your doorstep! Of course, no guarantee he won’t show up sometime anyway.”

Randazzo replied, “Made me laugh — you guys are welcome anytime and anywhere I can open the door. Let me know how you want me to structure the invoices. Thanks.”

Randazzo faced state and federal charges for his role in the scheme before dying by suicide in April 2024.

Sen. Jon Husted, R-Ohio, speaks during an event about the Ratepayer Protection Pledge, in the Indian Treaty Room of the Eisenhower Executive Office Building on the White House complex, Wednesday, March 4, 2026, in Washington. (AP Photo/Jacquelyn Martin)