Land Of The Midnight Sun Beckons

Folks, if it gets any hotter, I’m going to have to take back all those things I’ve said about Al Gore. I’ve been melting for three months! Either the globe is warming or my heat shield is down. Granny announced over supper one night in 1976 that “if they keep poking holes in the ionosphere with all those rocket ships they’re bound sooner or later to let in something we don’t want”! She was seldom very far off base…..

It doesn’t seem to be letting up. So I’m devising a plan to lower my core temperature. I read about this race they run up in Alaska. I don’t know what an Iditarod is but I’m fixing to join them! I’ve always been good with dogs. I even owned a couple of Siberian Huskies once. They mostly ate and slept. It never crossed my mind to hook’em up to a sled and see how they’d pull. At least I’ve got some experience. 

This sled-dog race is 1100 miles or so. And it’s cold, damp and pretty much sunless every step of the way! The contest starts in Anchorage and ends in Nome. In between is some of the roughest, toughest terrain know to man. They’ve got to traverse mountains, valleys, woods, rivers, dips, turns, slides, played out gold mines, deserted towns, fallen trees and a trail that is whispery at best and wishy-washy to non-existent at its worst. Don’t ask me why anyone in their right mind would start out on such a foolish trip. The whole thing is nuts! At least that is what I thought…..until about half way through this summer.

Here’s the good part (and it’s what caught my eye); they start that thing in March. The average starting race temperature is 8 degrees…..and they are running north! The wind will be blowing off Cook Inlet to beat the band. The chill factor will send icicles down your spine. And, if we are lucky, a huge snowstorm will roll in to heighten the pre-race excitement. I’m praying for a complete white-out!

How delicious does that sound right now!

I’ve got to get sixteen dogs. And I’ve never seen a genuine snow sled but surely someone will have one listed on eBay. I don’t think you have to do too much training. It doesn’t take a great physical specimen to stand on the back runner and yell “mush”. Me picking the right hounds is going to be the key.

I figure training them will be easy. I’ll rope’em together, tie’em to a corn wagon and let them pull me along the beach after work. We can practice on our “gee” and “haw” while we are bonding. I’ll put the smartest one out front in the lead and let him do the hard stuff. I’ll stick a Gene Watson tape in the cassette and sit back and relax. I figure this plan is fool proof. A few weeks in this weather and those dogs will be begging me to ship’em to Anchorage.

I’ve already sent off for a rule book and the official starting time. I hear all the folks that run the Iditarod are good people; a little kooky maybe, but really nice. It will be fun to race along beside them. They can point out McGrath, Takotna and White Mountain. I will tell them about eggs frying on the payment, heat waves shimmering off the porch and how the sweat collects on your chin before you can get to the mail box and back.

I am ready for some cold and ice! I may go up early and run the thing backwards as a tune up. They will have to dig me out of a snow bank to point me to the staring line. I’m planning to mush to the first check point in my bathing suit. I’ll attach snow shoes to my bare feet. I won’t have to worry about the goggle strap getting tangled in my parka hood or my socks getting wet. I won’t be weighted down with extra boots or those heavy Carhartt coveralls. This is going to be Sam McGee in reverse.

If all the Iditarod hype is true I’m surprised some of ya’ll ain’t rushed up to me with this idea way before now. I’ve heard tales of fifteen foot snow banks. Frostbite runs rampant. A large part of this race is run over frozen rivers. They have 40 below nights. A musher has to chop through the ice to get water for his dogs. The weather got so cold and bad in 1985 they had to halt the race for a couple of days. How good does that sound!

I’m going to be the envy of every dehydrated soul that has fanned and sweated through this summer.

The land of the midnight sun is calling me! The only down side I can see here is trying to remember sixteen dogs’ names. And there is, of course, the possibility of bouncing that sled off one of those giant Sitka Spruce trees. But I’m tired of triple digit heat indexes. I’m ready for frozen eyelashes and numb cheek bones. Bring on that arctic blast! I’m already working on my beard so the folks from Fairbanks, Skagway and Talkeetna will think I grew up in Prudhoe Bay.

Is it getting chilly in here or is it just my imagination……

Respectfully,

Kes