5…4…3…2…1…GO!
Alaska Day 3
I was up at 6:30 piling on the warm gear Saturday morning for the race start. I was going to be outside all day and I did not want to be cold. I checked out of my room, put my bags in the car and walked up to 4th Ave. Snow had been trucked in to cover the streets to give the dogs something to run on. Even if the weather had cooperated and it had snowed for days, this is still a working downtown and the streets needed to be clear during the week. But not today. 4th Ave. and the surrounding blocks were buried under a foot of mushy snow.
It was a surreal scene seeing the place wake up in the morning fog. I found some fellow volunteers and at 7:30 after a few instructions from our fearless leader, Carl, we were given official arm bands and hats. The first teams wouldn’t roll across the starting line until 10am, so we were free to mingle for a couple hours. I wandered around as the teams began arriving and setting up. The mushers came in all sorts of trucks with custom designed “dog boxes” on the back, and sleds piled high on top. Each team was different; some had state-of-the-art gear, others were more on the mom-and-pop scale. But each musher would be heading to 
the start this morning with a sled pulled by 12 eager dogs. Since this is the “ceremonial start” the teams would be running with only 12 dogs. On Sunday, for the re-start, they’d all be fully kitted-out with 16 dogs.
The ceremonial start in downtown Anchorage is definitely a show for the cameras and crowds. The mushers weren’t running their best sleds, they would carry no gear, and each had a paying passenger. These “idita-riders” bid on the privilege to ride with their favorite musher for the 11 miles of the first day. Some of these bundled-up passengers paid $7500 for the hour-long trip. That seems like a lot of money for a short trip to me, but these folks seemed happy, and I’m sure the mushers are willing to put up with the extra weight if it helps pay some of the race costs. It can cost a musher $50,000 to train and prepare properly for this race. That’s a huge scramble for a lot of these guys, seeing as training
for the Iditarod can be a full-time job in itself. A handful of the mushers are professional sled racers with sponsors footing the bill. They’re decked out like NASCAR drivers, covered in corporate logos. They have pit crews with matching jackets and fancy trucks. One guy even had his own merchandizing stand with hats and ear warmers. Most, however drove up in beat-up old trucks with family members helping to unload the handmade dog boxes.
At 9:30 or so, the volunteers met again to get assigned to dog teams. Our fearless leader, Carl, asked who was willing to run. My hand went up and I was told to find musher Jim Lanier, wearing bib #4. The teams were arranged along 4th Ave. in the order they’d be starting. The first team would hit the trail at 10am with teams leaving every two minutes after that until all 84 mushers were on their way. For some reason, the first teams to head out were the furthest from the starting line. So, to get Mr. Lanier to the starting shoot was a mile-long run in the snow along the entire length of 4th Ave.
Our job, as we’d been so thoroughly trained the day before, was to hang on to the gang line and slow these dogs down enough to make the trot to the start a calm and enjoyable experience for all involved. That was the plan anyway. As Tiff and I learned in Sweden last Winter, sled dogs have one speed – FAST! - so maneuvering a team of 12 half-wild beasts at anything less than their desired sprint was going to be a challenge. Plus there were 48 little paws not to step on.
Three teams left before us, so we should’ve had plenty of warning, but a huge gap developed between us and the team in front before we got under way. We finally began trotting down the street, but running in my massive snow boots, leaning over holding on to the gang line, all the while trying to keep these dogs under some sort of control was a tough one. They were eager, to say the least. It’s amazing the strength they have. There were 6 or 7 handlers per team, and these dogs could have easily pulled us over and dragged us all face first for miles. To make things worse, the trucked-in snow was pretty soupy, it was like running in 8 inches of butter.
Up ahead we couldn’t yet see the start, but we heard the announcer introducing our musher to the crowds. Then the countdown began… “one minute.” Organizers along the way started yelling at us to get up there, we were late! “30 seconds…” We were still blocks away, but had to pick up the pace. What began as a trot, turned into a run, then devolved into a panicked mad dash. One of Jim Lanier’s “official” handlers just let go, the dogs were running too fast for her to keep up. With one less handler the dogs were able to run that much faster. “15 seconds.” By now we were in a full sprint. The musher yelled at us all to let go, so we dropped the line and the dogs bolted like a rocket. As Jim’s sled sped past me I heard him yell, “Don’t let go!” What!? Didn’t you just… never mind. I ran after the sled as fast as I possibly could. This was the definition of chaos. I was at a full sprint, barely gaining on the team. I just couldn’t quite reach out and grab the gang line. “10…9…8” here comes the starting line. Almost there… “3…2…1… GO!” The team crossed the starting line at a full gallop. With his race officially under way, I dropped back, but then Jim slammed on his foot break to stop the team a few yards beyond the start. Other handlers ran forward to unclip the extra leashes that we’d let go of four blocks back. It was absolutely nuts. I just stood there panting as Jim’s team raced off down the road, his Iditarod journey officially begun.
It was then that I realized I couldn’t feel my nose. I guess sprinting as fast as you can on a freezing Alaskan morning isn’t such a good idea. I thought I’d gotten frost bite. I staggered back to the staging area to get assigned to another team. It took me ages to catch my breath. The day before when they said I should be willing to do some running they weren’t kidding. Luckily, after the first 5 or 6 mushers were off, the organization got much better, and teams were actually leaving inside of their 2 minute intervals. Hopefully the crazed running was over.
The next team I was assigned to was musher #48, Norwegian, Tore Sorensen. I learned later that she and her husband were racing together this year (he’s bib #46). I would follow their progress through the Iditarod web site over the next couple of weeks, imagining them out there day and night. Tove had harnessed up her dogs very early, so I, and the other handlers just played with them for ages, trying our best to calm them as their barking got more and more frantic. These dogs can sense when it’s time to run, and instinct takes over. There is nothing that can be done to quiet them. I saw one dog who looked so sweet and angelic, but once he started barking he became demon-possessed. It was freaky. Fights are common as the barking gets more intense, and to have so many teams so close together on such narrow streets is asking for trouble. These dogs are the true athletes of this race, so any small cut or nip is serious. It’s a definite handful to keep them from tearing into each other.
Luckily one of my dogs was a Zen master. When all around was a complete cacophony of hundreds of dogs barking, howling, yapping, screaming, this guy was a rock in the storm. Amazing. It was only right at the end, when he must have known they were really ready, did he start in, and then there was no stopping him.
Finally it was our turn to go. Tove released the snow break, a two-pronged hook anchored to a truck bumper, and we were off. It was all we could do to keep the dogs in check, and it wasn’t long before I was tripped up in the lines and paws and other handler’s feet, and went falling and rolling out of the way. I caught up again in no time, and we lead our team to the start. This was a much more civilized approach than the chaotic dash of the first time around. We actually slowed down behind other waiting teams on our way along 4th Ave. It’s a huge thrill to wait in the starting shoot, hanging on to these half-wild dogs, and hear the countdown begin. When the announcer finally said “go!” we released the gang line and the entire team took off like a dragster down the trail. Tove stood calmly on the runners, waving to the cheering crowd. What a rush.
I stayed at the starting line for a few minutes taking pictures and soaking in the atmosphere before heading back to find Carl and my next assignment. He said that all mushers had been assigned handlers so there wasn’t much more to do, but they needed help at the drop off point at the end of today’s course. So, fellow volunteer handlers Scott, Erika and I raced off to find my car. We lost Scott somewhere along the way, but it was no big deal because once we got to the drop off, there wasn’t anything for us to do there either. They had more handlers and more security than they knew what to do with. Still, Erika and I stayed out there and watched all the teams come in. It was great to see a different side of things, away from the circus of downtown.
By the time all the teams were done for the day it was about 3pm. I swung by downtown again to see that the streets had already been plowed of snow, and the crowds were fading into the afternoon. The only thing left to do was drive the 30 miles up the road to Wasilla, where I’d be spending the next couple of nights. Wasilla is where the re-start was supposed to be on Sunday morning, but because of a lack of snow the re-start had been moved another hour or so further north. Wasilla was also where the annual Musher’s Ball was happening and I had myself a ticket.
The drive out of Anchorage was spectacular. Old Jack was right, once you’re out of town the real Alaska begins. I saw two bald eagles fly over the highway, and Denali in the clear distance. The highest peak on the continent is pretty impressive, even when it’s over 100 miles away. I drove north through a wide valley, with snow-covered peaks ringing the horizon. When I got to the hotel I called Tiff with my excitement. She’d seen me that morning on the live feed on the Iditarod web site, so we were living the moment together.
The Mushers Ball Saturday night was a bust. It just wasn’t my people, much more the Chamber of Commerce crowd. There was a silent auction with a bunch of crap I don’t need, fireworks over the frozen lake (which was kind of cool), and people getting their pictures taken with a pair of posing huskies in a mock-up of a sled. A senator made a speech. It was interesting to see a different side of the whole race spectacle, but once the middle-aged white people started dancing I knew it was time to leave.
That night was the first time in days that I was truly tired. No more nervous/excited sleep for me, I had finally burned off my adrenalin. This was truly an awesome day. I had done what I set out to do. And the best part was, in the morning I would do it all again, this time on a frozen lake, at the re-start.
As I lay down to sleep, my ears were ringing with the barking of a thousand sled dogs.
Check out more photos here!
I was up at 6:30 piling on the warm gear Saturday morning for the race start. I was going to be outside all day and I did not want to be cold. I checked out of my room, put my bags in the car and walked up to 4th Ave. Snow had been trucked in to cover the streets to give the dogs something to run on. Even if the weather had cooperated and it had snowed for days, this is still a working downtown and the streets needed to be clear during the week. But not today. 4th Ave. and the surrounding blocks were buried under a foot of mushy snow. It was a surreal scene seeing the place wake up in the morning fog. I found some fellow volunteers and at 7:30 after a few instructions from our fearless leader, Carl, we were given official arm bands and hats. The first teams wouldn’t roll across the starting line until 10am, so we were free to mingle for a couple hours. I wandered around as the teams began arriving and setting up. The mushers came in all sorts of trucks with custom designed “dog boxes” on the back, and sleds piled high on top. Each team was different; some had state-of-the-art gear, others were more on the mom-and-pop scale. But each musher would be heading to the start this morning with a sled pulled by 12 eager dogs. Since this is the “ceremonial start” the teams would be running with only 12 dogs. On Sunday, for the re-start, they’d all be fully kitted-out with 16 dogs.The ceremonial start in downtown Anchorage is definitely a show for the cameras and crowds. The mushers weren’t running their best sleds, they would carry no gear, and each had a paying passenger. These “idita-riders” bid on the privilege to ride with their favorite musher for the 11 miles of the first day. Some of these bundled-up passengers paid $7500 for the hour-long trip. That seems like a lot of money for a short trip to me, but these folks seemed happy, and I’m sure the mushers are willing to put up with the extra weight if it helps pay some of the race costs. It can cost a musher $50,000 to train and prepare properly for this race. That’s a huge scramble for a lot of these guys, seeing as training
for the Iditarod can be a full-time job in itself. A handful of the mushers are professional sled racers with sponsors footing the bill. They’re decked out like NASCAR drivers, covered in corporate logos. They have pit crews with matching jackets and fancy trucks. One guy even had his own merchandizing stand with hats and ear warmers. Most, however drove up in beat-up old trucks with family members helping to unload the handmade dog boxes. At 9:30 or so, the volunteers met again to get assigned to dog teams. Our fearless leader, Carl, asked who was willing to run. My hand went up and I was told to find musher Jim Lanier, wearing bib #4. The teams were arranged along 4th Ave. in the order they’d be starting. The first team would hit the trail at 10am with teams leaving every two minutes after that until all 84 mushers were on their way. For some reason, the first teams to head out were the furthest from the starting line. So, to get Mr. Lanier to the starting shoot was a mile-long run in the snow along the entire length of 4th Ave.
Our job, as we’d been so thoroughly trained the day before, was to hang on to the gang line and slow these dogs down enough to make the trot to the start a calm and enjoyable experience for all involved. That was the plan anyway. As Tiff and I learned in Sweden last Winter, sled dogs have one speed – FAST! - so maneuvering a team of 12 half-wild beasts at anything less than their desired sprint was going to be a challenge. Plus there were 48 little paws not to step on.
Three teams left before us, so we should’ve had plenty of warning, but a huge gap developed between us and the team in front before we got under way. We finally began trotting down the street, but running in my massive snow boots, leaning over holding on to the gang line, all the while trying to keep these dogs under some sort of control was a tough one. They were eager, to say the least. It’s amazing the strength they have. There were 6 or 7 handlers per team, and these dogs could have easily pulled us over and dragged us all face first for miles. To make things worse, the trucked-in snow was pretty soupy, it was like running in 8 inches of butter.
Up ahead we couldn’t yet see the start, but we heard the announcer introducing our musher to the crowds. Then the countdown began… “one minute.” Organizers along the way started yelling at us to get up there, we were late! “30 seconds…” We were still blocks away, but had to pick up the pace. What began as a trot, turned into a run, then devolved into a panicked mad dash. One of Jim Lanier’s “official” handlers just let go, the dogs were running too fast for her to keep up. With one less handler the dogs were able to run that much faster. “15 seconds.” By now we were in a full sprint. The musher yelled at us all to let go, so we dropped the line and the dogs bolted like a rocket. As Jim’s sled sped past me I heard him yell, “Don’t let go!” What!? Didn’t you just… never mind. I ran after the sled as fast as I possibly could. This was the definition of chaos. I was at a full sprint, barely gaining on the team. I just couldn’t quite reach out and grab the gang line. “10…9…8” here comes the starting line. Almost there… “3…2…1… GO!” The team crossed the starting line at a full gallop. With his race officially under way, I dropped back, but then Jim slammed on his foot break to stop the team a few yards beyond the start. Other handlers ran forward to unclip the extra leashes that we’d let go of four blocks back. It was absolutely nuts. I just stood there panting as Jim’s team raced off down the road, his Iditarod journey officially begun. It was then that I realized I couldn’t feel my nose. I guess sprinting as fast as you can on a freezing Alaskan morning isn’t such a good idea. I thought I’d gotten frost bite. I staggered back to the staging area to get assigned to another team. It took me ages to catch my breath. The day before when they said I should be willing to do some running they weren’t kidding. Luckily, after the first 5 or 6 mushers were off, the organization got much better, and teams were actually leaving inside of their 2 minute intervals. Hopefully the crazed running was over.
The next team I was assigned to was musher #48, Norwegian, Tore Sorensen. I learned later that she and her husband were racing together this year (he’s bib #46). I would follow their progress through the Iditarod web site over the next couple of weeks, imagining them out there day and night. Tove had harnessed up her dogs very early, so I, and the other handlers just played with them for ages, trying our best to calm them as their barking got more and more frantic. These dogs can sense when it’s time to run, and instinct takes over. There is nothing that can be done to quiet them. I saw one dog who looked so sweet and angelic, but once he started barking he became demon-possessed. It was freaky. Fights are common as the barking gets more intense, and to have so many teams so close together on such narrow streets is asking for trouble. These dogs are the true athletes of this race, so any small cut or nip is serious. It’s a definite handful to keep them from tearing into each other.Luckily one of my dogs was a Zen master. When all around was a complete cacophony of hundreds of dogs barking, howling, yapping, screaming, this guy was a rock in the storm. Amazing. It was only right at the end, when he must have known they were really ready, did he start in, and then there was no stopping him.
Finally it was our turn to go. Tove released the snow break, a two-pronged hook anchored to a truck bumper, and we were off. It was all we could do to keep the dogs in check, and it wasn’t long before I was tripped up in the lines and paws and other handler’s feet, and went falling and rolling out of the way. I caught up again in no time, and we lead our team to the start. This was a much more civilized approach than the chaotic dash of the first time around. We actually slowed down behind other waiting teams on our way along 4th Ave. It’s a huge thrill to wait in the starting shoot, hanging on to these half-wild dogs, and hear the countdown begin. When the announcer finally said “go!” we released the gang line and the entire team took off like a dragster down the trail. Tove stood calmly on the runners, waving to the cheering crowd. What a rush.I stayed at the starting line for a few minutes taking pictures and soaking in the atmosphere before heading back to find Carl and my next assignment. He said that all mushers had been assigned handlers so there wasn’t much more to do, but they needed help at the drop off point at the end of today’s course. So, fellow volunteer handlers Scott, Erika and I raced off to find my car. We lost Scott somewhere along the way, but it was no big deal because once we got to the drop off, there wasn’t anything for us to do there either. They had more handlers and more security than they knew what to do with. Still, Erika and I stayed out there and watched all the teams come in. It was great to see a different side of things, away from the circus of downtown.By the time all the teams were done for the day it was about 3pm. I swung by downtown again to see that the streets had already been plowed of snow, and the crowds were fading into the afternoon. The only thing left to do was drive the 30 miles up the road to Wasilla, where I’d be spending the next couple of nights. Wasilla is where the re-start was supposed to be on Sunday morning, but because of a lack of snow the re-start had been moved another hour or so further north. Wasilla was also where the annual Musher’s Ball was happening and I had myself a ticket. The drive out of Anchorage was spectacular. Old Jack was right, once you’re out of town the real Alaska begins. I saw two bald eagles fly over the highway, and Denali in the clear distance. The highest peak on the continent is pretty impressive, even when it’s over 100 miles away. I drove north through a wide valley, with snow-covered peaks ringing the horizon. When I got to the hotel I called Tiff with my excitement. She’d seen me that morning on the live feed on the Iditarod web site, so we were living the moment together.The Mushers Ball Saturday night was a bust. It just wasn’t my people, much more the Chamber of Commerce crowd. There was a silent auction with a bunch of crap I don’t need, fireworks over the frozen lake (which was kind of cool), and people getting their pictures taken with a pair of posing huskies in a mock-up of a sled. A senator made a speech. It was interesting to see a different side of the whole race spectacle, but once the middle-aged white people started dancing I knew it was time to leave.That night was the first time in days that I was truly tired. No more nervous/excited sleep for me, I had finally burned off my adrenalin. This was truly an awesome day. I had done what I set out to do. And the best part was, in the morning I would do it all again, this time on a frozen lake, at the re-start.As I lay down to sleep, my ears were ringing with the barking of a thousand sled dogs.
Check out more photos here!
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