If you live in Alaska, Hobo Jim's song about the Iditarod trail is stuck in your head this time of year. You're also probably beginning to show the first signs of spring fever. The past week in Anchorage has been very eventful - the Ceremonial Start and Re-Start for the Iditarod, sunshine, and temps in the high 30s. As I mentioned in a previous post, we are picking up speed on the downhill slide to summer!
I was unable to make it to the Ceremonial Start events this year, so I've been reflecting back on the years I have gone. Heading to downtown Anchorage for the ceremonial start is always an enjoyable time. However, the most memorable trip I've made was the very first spring we lived in Alaska and we were invited to view the actual race start up in Willow. Our good friends the Munsell's took us on a day long Alaskan outing and it was nothing like what I expected.
We met at a friends home a ways away from the starting line, and took a line of snow machines over to a large clear area that (thankfully) is well frozen this time of year. I saw groups of people dotted all over this area, and they were ready for a day outside. Couches, chairs, tables, tents, and even bonfires to stay warm and cook your lunch. We set up our group's site and then....waited. And visited with people. And waited. Eventually some kind person in the group said - "hey have you ever seen the actual starting line? We can take you up there since there's plenty of time before the official start!" So off we went on our loaner snow machine to the starting line. The official starting line. The starting line you saw in National Geographic growing up. My first experience of "I live in Alaska and THIS is what I can go do on a weekend".
It was everything I had hoped for, yet nothing like I had expected. The sign was there, the people in big parkas with fur-lined hoods were there. The dogs and mushers were there. It was a beautiful sunny day. However it was a much smaller scale than what I'd ever envisioned. You could walk right up to the starting line without battling crowds. You could see the mushers and their teams off to the sides getting ready. You could stop and talk to race officials or ask questions (because up here you either know them or know someone that knows them). It was just so ALASKAN I couldn't believe it! The media coverage I'd seen growing up made this seem like such a huge, impersonal, standoffish event that you'd be lucky to get near. This was truly my first experience understanding how we're a community no matter what we are doing. Everyone is a part of the event and is welcomed without question.
After gawking at the starting line and reveling in being able to say I've done some I'd only read about previously, we head back to our little site along the trail. Here's where I would get my second surprise of the day. Once the first musher headed out and I could see the team making steady progress towards our position, I realized one thing. We are literally ON THE TRAIL (video link here). Right next to this musher that I've may have seen standing with their team at the finish line in National Geographic. Close enough we can reach out and HIGH FIVE THE MUSHER!! We can see the boots on the dogs and hear their feet hit the ground as they take off on the greatest adventure of their lives.
Close enough that I can feel the history, reflecting back on why this race is run and the symbolism that it carries.
Comments