Wednesday, 10:00 p.m.
It was just twilight and the temperature was steadily dropping in the negative numbers. The first three finishers were in Nome and their teams were nestled in their straw beds in the dog lot. I was wearing four layers on my legs, five on top, three pairs of socks under my “serious” boots and gloves under mittens. All of it truly outdoor gear, and none of it adequate by the time 2:00 a.m. rolled around!
This was our shift in the Dog Lot. With just a few dropped dogs to watch (who were fine and sound asleep), and the three finished dog teams sleeping-off the 1,049 mile run they just accomplished, we were essentially babysitting…overnight, outside, next to the frozen ocean. Had the lot been busier with dogs there would have been more to do to keep us in motion and warmer…but our quiet shift was more like security guard patrol. Every once in a while a gust would blow and a blanket would need to be re-adjusted on a dog - or at least I wanted to think that to have a reason to mobilize my limbs. In fact, most of the times I “tucked-in” a dog with straw and blanket...the dog would undo my work. These huskies are fully capable of bedding-down to insulate themselves – and partial to feeling the cold air. And 20 degrees below zero is comfortable for them…20 degrees colder than that is still fine, especially when they are running. (Sidebar: these working northern breed dogs NEED it cold – the unfortunate hyperthermia situations involved are related to getting snowed-in on a once-cleared trail that mother nature erased and not being able to move…even more dangerous to the human musher!)
Sebastian Schnuelle’s team was in the lot that night – they finished in second place – and so Sebastian’s sled was there too. He keeps a thermometer mounted on the outside of his sled bag, and when I saw him the next day I thanked him for that because, as I told him, “I could see exactly how cold I was!” It was in fact twenty below BEFORE wind chill while we were on duty. However, I don’t think “dog lot at night” is the most uncomfortable of the many volunteer jobs.
While we monitored the dogs in the cold night…the “pee team” had to come in and collect samples from them! It is Iditarod policy that the first 20 dog teams to finish the race are drug tested, so when a finished team is parked in the lot and the vet check has been completed, regardless of time of day, the squad arrives. Now that’s the dirty work as far as I’m concerned…and watching that process made me feel that I had absolutely nothing to complain about!
The last 15 minutes of that shift felt like a lifetime, and being tired didn’t help. I was thinking about the mushers out on the trail and people that have physically unpleasant jobs and duties all the time…especially the military. I again realized I had nothing to complain about…and an end was in sight for me.
The highlight of the night – and the thing that would make me sign-up for it all over again – was the most beautiful serenade I ever heard. One of three-peat winner Lance Mackey’s dogs got up, followed by another and they had a dog discussion (we thought perhaps a lover’s quarrel). One of them let out a howl and then another one did, then another and another…so on and so on. Picture about twenty huskies, snouts to the night sky, howling in unison. From around the lot, dogs from other teams joined-in. Some were standing, some woke-up just long enough to poke a head out, contribute, and go back to their curled-up burrow. It was absolutely magical – they were embracing their inner wolf and I felt privileged to see, hear and feel it. There was also one from John Baker’s team (third placers) who joined-in late and started just as the others were finishing…now there’s a dog I can relate to!!
Sunday, March 22, 2009
WHEN IN NOME
We spent Monday and Tuesday getting the lay of the land, covering details for Kim (still presuming she would finish) and seeing what the days brought. Most activity centered around Iditarod HQ in Nome, a temporary set-up in a small community center where anyone from famous mushers to local natives are apt to be hanging out drinking coffee, buying merchandise, following the race on-line and staying warm.
Jean hadn't been to Nome before either, but she already knew many of the faces and players associated with the Iditarod due to her previous attendance at their teachers’ conferences as well as past volunteerism, so I was in good company. Before I knew it I found myself: at a birthday party; at the shortest St. Patrick’s Day Parade I ever saw; being interviewed by a school in Nebraska in a video conference and having a visit with family in NJ via the Nome webcam!
Eventually we got the word on Kim’s scratch and above all else we were glad to know she was safe. We were also sad that what she worked so hard to accomplish just wasn’t meant to be at this time. Overall, the harsh realities of the unusually harsh weather complicating the race for veteran and rookie teams alike made for a bittersweet night.
Jean hadn't been to Nome before either, but she already knew many of the faces and players associated with the Iditarod due to her previous attendance at their teachers’ conferences as well as past volunteerism, so I was in good company. Before I knew it I found myself: at a birthday party; at the shortest St. Patrick’s Day Parade I ever saw; being interviewed by a school in Nebraska in a video conference and having a visit with family in NJ via the Nome webcam!
Eventually we got the word on Kim’s scratch and above all else we were glad to know she was safe. We were also sad that what she worked so hard to accomplish just wasn’t meant to be at this time. Overall, the harsh realities of the unusually harsh weather complicating the race for veteran and rookie teams alike made for a bittersweet night.
IT REALLY IS PRACTICALLY IN RUSSIA
It was early Monday and Kim was still on the trail when Jean and I departed for Nome, intending to see finishers arrive at the famed “Burled Arch” and to volunteer in the dog lot while scoping out logistics on that end of the race for Kim.
En route, we first landed in the village of Kotzebue and I was officially 33 miles above the Arctic Circle, making John very jealous that I got there first! As we proceeded to Nome, flying above the Seward Peninsula as the sun rose, I was awestruck at the absolutely white and seemingly barren landscape. It is the antithesis of flying over NJ… all of it pure and glistening, none of it man-made.
It was quite cold when we arrived at daybreak - and windy. I was too taken by the isolation, beauty and tiny airport to notice just how cold and windy it was. That became apparent as we stood outside deliberating if we should take a cab or seek-out Iditarod Volunteer transportation. The fleet of waiting cabs (both of them) quickly filled and disappeared, no Iditarod people seemed to be around, and suddenly we were very aware of our numb extremities and dumb planning.
Wondering if perhaps cabs only show-up a few times a day when flights are known to be arriving…we thought maybe we missed our window of opportunity. This would need to be discussed INSIDE, so Jean proceeded to move our luggage. With one step she promptly slipped on ice and fell backwards and my big suitcase landed flat on top of her! I noticed it – and I cared despite my laughter - but at the exact same moment I also noticed a cab out in the road. My city girl instincts kicked-in and I blew past her like she wasn’t even there, pinned under my pullman, no less, and I flagged that cab down like it was rush hour on 6th Avenue!
I was told before we left Anchorage that, “Nome is a different animal” and I would agree. Things are simpler and more intimate. I gage that this is true for both daily life as well as the Iditarod-related events. Nome is more village than city. It has two real hotels, some surprisingly modern and yummy places to eat, several bars (it is a gold rush town, afterall), and the best coffee bar, in my opinion, can be found in the back of a gift shop! There is a museum, a National Park Office for the Bering Land Bridge and a movie theater adjacent to the Subway sandwich shop.
Nome is beautiful and the sunsets are breathtaking - and I can only comment on the winterscape. I hear summer is just as gorgeous. Of course, what I am calling “winter” may be a relative term. As I was entering the historical Old St. Joe’s Church to scope-out a local craft fair, I held the door for two natives who emerged saying, “Oh my, Spring has sprung!” OK – yes, it was sunny, but I was wearing so many layers of snow clothes I couldn’t fit through the aisles…this is spring?!
En route, we first landed in the village of Kotzebue and I was officially 33 miles above the Arctic Circle, making John very jealous that I got there first! As we proceeded to Nome, flying above the Seward Peninsula as the sun rose, I was awestruck at the absolutely white and seemingly barren landscape. It is the antithesis of flying over NJ… all of it pure and glistening, none of it man-made.
It was quite cold when we arrived at daybreak - and windy. I was too taken by the isolation, beauty and tiny airport to notice just how cold and windy it was. That became apparent as we stood outside deliberating if we should take a cab or seek-out Iditarod Volunteer transportation. The fleet of waiting cabs (both of them) quickly filled and disappeared, no Iditarod people seemed to be around, and suddenly we were very aware of our numb extremities and dumb planning.
Wondering if perhaps cabs only show-up a few times a day when flights are known to be arriving…we thought maybe we missed our window of opportunity. This would need to be discussed INSIDE, so Jean proceeded to move our luggage. With one step she promptly slipped on ice and fell backwards and my big suitcase landed flat on top of her! I noticed it – and I cared despite my laughter - but at the exact same moment I also noticed a cab out in the road. My city girl instincts kicked-in and I blew past her like she wasn’t even there, pinned under my pullman, no less, and I flagged that cab down like it was rush hour on 6th Avenue!
I was told before we left Anchorage that, “Nome is a different animal” and I would agree. Things are simpler and more intimate. I gage that this is true for both daily life as well as the Iditarod-related events. Nome is more village than city. It has two real hotels, some surprisingly modern and yummy places to eat, several bars (it is a gold rush town, afterall), and the best coffee bar, in my opinion, can be found in the back of a gift shop! There is a museum, a National Park Office for the Bering Land Bridge and a movie theater adjacent to the Subway sandwich shop.
Nome is beautiful and the sunsets are breathtaking - and I can only comment on the winterscape. I hear summer is just as gorgeous. Of course, what I am calling “winter” may be a relative term. As I was entering the historical Old St. Joe’s Church to scope-out a local craft fair, I held the door for two natives who emerged saying, “Oh my, Spring has sprung!” OK – yes, it was sunny, but I was wearing so many layers of snow clothes I couldn’t fit through the aisles…this is spring?!
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