Crunch, crunch, crunch!
The snow in Alaska gives a crackle and creak beneath my boots that’s distinctly different from walking through the moist, warm, soft snow typical of Springs back in East Hampton NY. I’ve been in Alaska for less than 24 hours, but I’ve learned that you can get a lot done in 24 hours in Alaska! From the moment I swung into my seat on Alaskan Airlines, and found that my seat companion across the aisle was a chocolate German Shepard pup, I realized that this trip was not going to be just an ordinary week. After 19 hours of traveling, followed by few hours sleep at the Westmark Hotel in Fairbanks, I scrambled out of bed to get going to the start of the Yukon Quest, a 1000 mile dog sled race that travels through the rugged terrain of the Alaskan and Yukon wilderness! The race runs between Fairbanks Alaska and Whitehorse Yukon and follows the 1890’s Klondike Gold Rush Trail. It is considered one of the most difficult sled dog races in the world. How exciting! The only thing that could possibly slow me down from getting to the race on time was the realization that I couldn’t just throw on a pair of jeans, sneakers and a sweater to run out the door. This was Fairbanks Alaska in February.
Brrrrr!
The morning weather station reported temperatures of -19 degrees F, with temperatures forecast to increase during the day. While not the -51 degrees F I had heard about the week before, -19 still redefined the definition of brrrrrrr! So, I stretched and stuffed myself into three layers of long underwear, two pairs of socks, insulated boots, a fleece jacket, neck warmer, hat, glove liners, gloves, ski pants and down jacket, then lumbered along into the blue-tinged icy Arctic world outside of the heated hotel lobby. As I walked down to the banks of the Chena River the snow creaked beneath my feet. I could see the starting line surrounded by crowds of smiling, cheering fans of all ages. I chuckled as I observed the wide array of outerwear worn by the crowd. People just don’t mess around with their winter wear in this part of the world. I’ve never seen such big hats! I was feeling pretty successful at beating the elements myself, but soon realized that my eyelashes were icing up and starting to stick together in the cold.
Lisa Seff at the start of the Yukon Quest Dog Sled Race in Fairbanks Alaska on February 4th, 2012. Photo by Lisa Seff.
With a little reflection on the situation I realized that while my neck gator was protecting my cheeks and lips from frostbite, it also acted as a condensation-direct access tunnel from my mouth to my eyelashes. I adjusted my neck gator a bit and soon had frost free lashes. Problem solved and I was off to check out the sled dog teams at the pre-race staging area.
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And They're Off!
Wow, these dogs are so excited to run! Their barking seemed like a protest to their being held back, as the rest of their team was hooked into the pull line. They’re smaller dogs than I expected, but one of the mushers, Juan Marques who was racing in the shorter 300 mile race, the Yukon Quest 300, explained to me that these dogs are bred for speed, unlike the heavier work dogs that I had envisioned would be part of the team. I watched as the many dog handlers carefully applied a protective paste and cover sock to each dogs paw before hooking them up to the race sled. Finally, when the last dog was in place, they were off to the start with a full pit-crew of support alongside. The dogs howling sounds of anticipation echoed off of the riverbanks as the team handlers struggled to keep a firm grip on their harnesses. A voice boomed over the loud speakers, “Five, four, three, two, one, GO!”, followed by the distant ringing of bells. As the sled pulled away from the starting line through the crowd-lined aisle, it was evident that the dogs and mushers were no longer distracted by the anticipation of what was to come. Their 1000 mile journey had begun.
What a day!
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