February 14, 2021 Get your Engines Running

The sun seemed to be pushing up sooner this morning. Before 9:00, the mountains were pink already. At -25, I wrapped myself up leaving no skin exposed, and headed down to the staging area of the Iron Dog Race . They have a mandatory 14 hour layover, and all twenty, 2 person teams, had pulled into McGrath last night. I knew some of them would be ready to pull out by 9:30.

This was a different world from the Iditarod sled dog race, which we saw twenty years ago. When mushers pulled in, they were disheveled and ragtag. On arrival they needed to make a fire and cook for the dogs. Then they inspected all of the dogs as well as their leads, harnesses, booties, sled etc. They lay down straw for the dogs’ beds. Then they take care of their needs.

The Iron Dog drivers left the restaurant with coffee mugs heading to their neatly lined up machines. The pairs had their matching fitted suits with matching sleek helmets with little ear buds and microphones like FBI agents. You could make out their fine physiques. They had swagger.

This photo shoot would be splendid with the sun rising, smoke and fumes billowing, and the racers pulling the recoil starters with their whole body. When I removed my mitt, my finger froze. My goggles were steamed making me blind. The hazards of an arctic photographer.

Some pickup trucks were idling with spectators inside. Enterprising kids had a Loco Cocoa Wagon, a walled tent stand selling hot chocolate. A couple groups of dogs were tussling. A huge fire was stoked by some men. A couple of officials and a cameraman, all underdressed, we’re scurrying and looking busy.

From a distance bathed in the sepia of orange smoke and fogged goggles, it looked like a Bruegel painting. I could see someone throwing up in a corner, a fist fight, a procession of priests, a couple petting, and even Icarus.

Then the racers gunned their engines, made a sharp jump out of the staging area, and catapulted down to the River. It was a ballet of sorts.