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The Sites & Sounds of The Start

An Experience to Savor

by June Price

03/04/2006

Capturing a sense of the Ceremonial Start in words is a difficult thing. All of your senses are involved. Whether its sensing the softness and warmth of furs being sold at tables along the sidewalks, catching a whiff of a steaming hotdog being grilled, or soaking in the warmth of a hand-warmer, all these and more are part of the experience. Visually, there’s an array of colors, not just team colors, but the buildings and stores that stretch along historic 4th Avenue. Of course there’s the sound of the dogs, those wonderful dogs of the Iditarod. Their excitement is almost tangible.

Others far more savvy about competitive mushing than I am will make observations on who is poised to win, who could challenge, and whose dogs looked best. As a result, I decided simply to try to convey some of the quick moments of the start, to give you an idea what it would be like for the average fan to be there.

Mushers are spread out, parked along streets adjoining 4th Avenue. It’s difficult not to wonder what you’re missing elsewhere while lingering in one spot, I have to admit. It’s also difficult to envision how seven teams crowded together on a side street will be able to stretch out ganglines and harness a full team of sixteen dogs, let alone the eleven teams positioned in places, but despite some grumbling, all manage. They do all this, I might note, while signing autographs, posing for photos, and answering a barrage of questions from passing fans on the street and sidewalks. Media types and cameras, both still and video, are also everywhere. There’s little privacy on 4th Avenue.

The dogs are the stars of the show, of course, and they know it. You’ll see some almost seem to pose as cameras are hoisted, others yawn, obviously bored with it all. Later, one can be seen at the line practically leaning into its handler’s lap, only seconds from the start. Two others, their heads moving in sync, seem fascinated by a helicopter flying overhead and are following its progress, only to be interrupted when it’s time to start. One, with a bit of encouragement from its musher, begins a chorus of howls as its team stands at the start line. It’s all just part of the experience, unplanned, quick moments captured by only those lucky enough to be on hand at that moment.

Some moments are serious, like Jim Lanier’s heartfelt tribute to his friend and mentor, the late Colonel Norman Vaughan, whose ashes are going up the trail to be scattered in a variety of places by Lanier.

Jamie Nelson walks past at one point. “Hey, Jamie, aren’t you running this race?” someone asks her with a laugh. Jamie simply smiles and nods, knowing exactly how much time she has left before her turn at the line. Teams leave at two minute intervals and the mushers have been told exactly what time they will be leaving. It’s like clockwork, plus it’s interesting to see how many do the exact same thing as they arrive at the line. Drop the snow hook or put someone on the brake, and then move up the line of dogs to pat and encourage each dog one last time before the race becomes real. John Baker adds a new element to this, in fact, shaking hands with fans as he walks to the line.

And thus, one moment segues into another and another, the dogs of the Iditarod heading off of 4th Avenue. Idita-Riders are safely tucked in the sled and the fans are cheering. Tomorrow, of course, it’s for real. Today, however, Iditarod dreams are fresh. Anything seems possible.