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Published: March 12th 2008
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Ready, Set, Go!
The starting line of the Iditarod. Today was the day Glenn had been waiting for. We went to the “Last Great Race,” the Alaska Iditarod. The official start is at 10:00am, which means we woke up much earlier than usual. Glenn threw on a pair of jeans and a jumper and was ready to go. I asked him if he might want another layer or two on. After a mulling it over for a minute Glenn threw on a second pair of pants, but still refused to take a pair of gloves. He learned his lesson soon enough: Brittana is always right!? (Question mark added by Glenn)
The race starts on 4th and E—right smack downtown—and blocks all the intersections along 4th and part of the way up C. To avoid the chaos that this creates, Glenn & I took a taxi cab to the starting line. We still had to scramble through the masses for a spot by the fence to catch a glimpse of the race’s official start. The Mayors of Nome, Fairbanks and a handful of other small, very cold towns were present for the cutting of the red ribbon that held the dogs back.
We couldn’t see a thing. We could
5th Ave Garage
A glimpse of the variety of view points at the Iditarod. hear them, though. The dogs, the announcers, the crowd all joined in to create a cacophony of sound commemorating the beginning of the 36th annual Iditarod race. The noise is out of this world. You know that incessant barking that wakes you up in the middle of the night—think of 2,000 dogs barking at the same time. Now, picture 2,000 dogs experiencing the call of nature at the same time. It was loud and stinky. There was no need to remind Glenn not to eat the off-white snow.
Speaking of snow, the city hauls truck loads of snow into town to cover the dry pavement of 4th avenue. And it’s serious business. Hundreds of volunteers man fences in order to keep spectators from damaging the pack, and a select few hold shovels to repair it when it does happen.
I reckon thousands of people had been waiting for “the start” in the cold for hours by the time we got there at 10. Once the first five mushers had left, about 20 minutes into the “start,” the crowd dispersed. The official start of the Iditarod takes 4 hours. There are 96 teams who pull up to the Balto
Snow Duty
The important job of repacking the snow after every pedestrian and dog sled crossing statue at 4th & E every 2 minutes for their individual count down. Every two minutes you hear “10, 9….5, 4, 3, 2, 1” (yes, they skip the numbers between 9 & 5) followed by cheers and clapping that diminishes throughout the afternoon as everyone loses sensation in their faces and hands. If you missed your photo opportunity with a sled zooming behind you, no worries, another will be around in 2 minutes.
After our first half-hour shift outside, I noticed I couldn’t really feel my fingers anymore. There are heaps and heaps of Hot Cocoa stands all along the street as a remedy for just this situation. Glenn & I found a sponsored tent that had free cocoa. We weren’t that thirsty, but I just wanted to hold something warm. As for Glenn, after holding the camera for 30 minutes with bare hands, he conceded that he might want to buy some gloves. It happened though that more sponsors were handing out free mittens. I ended up picking out two pairs, which gave me a total of three gloves per hand. I could feel my fingers again, but I couldn’t use them.
We kept walking around downtown
Heaven
Glenn admiring the husky team we found on the side lines. looking at all the dogs. With one team taking off every 2 minutes there was always someone gearing up the sled. Dogs huddled around trucks or fences waiting for their chance to RUN. They were all so excited. Imagine what your dog looks like just before you put the leash on for a walk….times ten. They jumped and thrashed about as if they would pull the truck down the street right then and there.
We stopped to watch a team because it had the most huskies instead of Alaskan mutts—we were still on the hunt for Jack’s “stunt double.” There was one dog in particular that captured our attention. He had a very unique bark. His mouth would open up to its full extent and it looked as if he would howl. However, the sound that came out was more reminiscent of someone gagging. Soon we learned his name. They aptly called him Frog because of the “frog” he has in his throat.
After completely freezing our butts off we walked the length of 4th avenue. No one stays for the whole four hours, except us!! We saw the very last musher lead his dogs down C St.
and then we were out of there. We ended the evening with "one or two" with my cousins at Chilkoot Charlies.
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