The Ultimate Ride

One of my favorite places in Alaska--and maybe in all the world-- will always be Vern Halter's "Dream a Dream" dog camp.    It just seemed we were removed from the rest of goings-on of daily life on the planet and transplanted into this "other place" for Dog Mushing 101.   There was not a TV in the place, and Internet was just intermittent, so after awhile everyone just gave up trying to get online and settled into everyday life with the dogs and listening to former Iditarod veteran Vern Halter spin his tales about this incredible race.

Days started with "Puppy Walks" through the woods.  Eight little black and white balls of fur  scampered along in front of us while their mother tried to corral them on a trail hike through the woods.    They usually made it back to camp just fine, except for the time they got a little too far ahead a little too quickly and were temporarily "lost."  Everyone was certainly relieved when the little guys were sighted and ushered back to their spacious "puppy pen."

A highlight of our days there was the "cart ride."  Meant to be a simulation of a dog-driven sled ride, we helped harness 14 sled dogs and get them secured to the "gang line" so that they could pull us on an ATV.  This is a typical summer training event for sled-dogs, and they just love it!  Certainly, this is what is meant by the expression, "Born to Pull," as these dogs, some of whom ran last year's Iditarod, lunged forward and actually seemed to make light work of carrying us through the trails in the woods.  As can be seen below, nothing stopped them--not even a stream several feet deep.  They just went straight through it, and I learned the hard way why everyone kept saying to "put your feet up" when going through the stream!  Sopping wet feet was a small price to pay for a great memory and really seeing these working dogs in action.  Nothing like it!

Dogs, dogs, dogs!

After taking several turns down rain-soaked gravel roads that looked like they were going nowhere, we arrived at a handsome-looking modern log cabin.  When a pretty brunette with a turned-around baseball cap extended her hand in welcome, I knew we were in the right spot.   "Come on in!"  she greeted us, but she was inviting us not into her home, but into her dog yard.

We then entered a world we had never seen before, which was home to over 30 dogs.  It just happened to be raining, but that didn't stop our musher, Karin Hendrickson, from personally introducing us to each of her three dozen sled dogs, plus one pit bull thrown in just for fun.  The thing that impressed me the most was that 31 dogs barking at the same time can produce quite a cacophonous din of almost painful-to-listen-to sound.  However, with one voice command, every single dog instantaneously stopped barking.  When we expressed amazement at this transformation, Karin explained that she had to have quiet and cooperation--that the dogs had to listen to her-- if they were going to follow her 1,000 miles across Alaska.

As we made our way around the impeccably manicured dog yard, we met each dog.  One by one, each went to the top of his doghouse so we could give him a pat.  In the photo, the blue doghouses can be seen, as can the smiling Karin, and those well-taught, happy, much-loved dogs being groomed for "The Last Great Race on Earth."

After viewing some of Karin's Iditarod sledding equipment and memorabilia and hearing some of her fascinating stories about the race, including the fact that what she looks forward to the most at the end of the trail is her mom bringing her a cheeseburger when she crosses the finish line in Nome,  we reluctantly said goodbye.

Next stop:  Vern Halter's "Dream a Dream" dog farm where we would live and breathe Iditarod dogs for the next three days.  One of the best parts was the puppy walks through the woods, where eight darling black and white puppies and their mom immediately stole our hearts.

Finally Seeing Anchorage!

In exploring Anchorage, one of the biggest thrills for me was seeing 4th Street in downtown Anchorage, because that is where the Ceremonial Start of the Iditarod takes place the first Saturday in March.   I recognized some of the buildings from the photos I have seen of the races over the years, and it was just the greatest to stand on the very street where the race happens.  I could almost see snow and sleds, almost hear the dogs barking and straining as they are released to start the race.

Nearby, in a park,we saw a concert of native American dancers and singers.  They did a variety of performances from a creation story about how Alaska was plagued with mosquitos to songs about snowbirds.  Since these are typically performed in small places, the dancers' feet do not move.  All in all, eleven different cultures are in represented in Alaska, and it was great do be introduced to them in this colorful and memorable way.

Finally, we drove up into the mountains which are a little south of Anchorage.  It is hard to put into words how awesome they are--beautiful, grand, and picturesque.  As we got closer, we realized a few were glaciers!   I was totally unprepared to be face to face with their magnificence.  I wondered what it would be like to mush a team of dogs by such natural wonders.  I think then I began to start to comprehend a little of why The Iditarod mushers do what they do.

Tomorrow:  we meet the dogs!

Update Saturday

After an awesome day exploring Anchorage yesterday, we are heading toward three days at "Dream a Dream" dog camp this morning.  Internet coverage may be intermittent, so I will have plenty of stories and photos to share once we are "live" again.  Happy trails until then!

We arrived!

I can hardly believe our much-anticipated journey to Alaska has begun.   Door-to-door, it took three different planes and over twelve hours to reach Anchorage.  In my heart-of-hearts, I was secretly glad it was a long trip.  If it were shorter, it would not seem so monumental.  The longer journey helps me appreciate the unparalleled opportunity I have been given.  I know it will be worth every minute it took to get here--and then some!

As we began our first flight to Dallas, the sun was enormously bright and glistening as we seemed to float over the cloudscapes.  Outside my plane window, the landscape that occasionally peaked through the clouds changed and rearranged.  At one point, as I glanced out my window heading from Dallas to Seattle, I saw snow-covered mountains...the Rockies, perhaps?  Dorothy, we are not at home anymore!

Reading veteran musher DeeDee Jonrowe's book, Iditarod Dreams, seemed a fitting thing to do as our airplane cabin on the Seattle-bound flight seemed to have sub-freezing temps.  When I read the chapter where Ms. Jonrowe wrote of the perils of encountering moose, I was reminded of my husband's brother Mike's counsel just before we left:  "Remember, moose always have the right-away."  This echoed what Ms. Jonrowe explained, "Most people think of moose as friendly, gangly animals who don't give anyone any trouble.  Those people don't live in Alaska!"  (Iditarod Dreams, p. 86)  I promise we will be on the look-out!

As we boarded the final plane from Seattle to Anchorage, I tried to sleep but was beyond excitement, so I kept reading and actually finished the book just before we landed in Anchorage.  As the clouds cleared, the mountains of Alaska beneath us were nothing short of majestic.   Once there, we were surprised how cool it seemed as we waited for our shuttle to the hotel...60 degrees or so and a brisk breeze made us both reach for our jackets.  Yes, we were in Alaska!

By the time we arrived at our hotel, which is known as "Iditarod Race Headquarters," we realized we needed dinner and found a uniquely picturesque spot just outside our hotel where we could have delicious salmon patties and watch seaplanes taking off and landing on a lake.  We were having dinner in the bright sunlight at what would have been nearly midnight at home.  It was almost too beautiful to describe.  In the photo above, I am standing by the seaplane that takes folks on bear expeditions...perhaps that is for another day?  (Planes such as these are also used to transport dogs as needed during the Iditarod and after the race.)

Sitting there, soaking up all this incredible beauty, and so glad to finally be in Alaska, DeeDee Jonrowe's words--from the book that had been my companion all day--came to mind.  She wrote after conquering her first Iditarod, "You feel pretty special after doing something like that.  You feel whatever happens, it's OK because you've done it."   In some ways, I believe this is how I will feel about this once-in-a-lifetime trip to Alaska.  What a wonderful welcome to the "land of the midnight sun."

Why the Iditarod?

Since this blog was born a week ago,* questions have flooded in:  why Alaska?  why this race?  what's this grant all about?  what does "Iditarod" mean anyway?  As a life-long dog-lover, I fell in love with this race from the first moment I first learned about it.  The idea behind it is something I can only dream about:  traveling 1,000 miles across the vast expanse of Alaskan wilderness on a sled behind a team of dogs has a lot of intrigue for an English teacher from the relatively moderate climate of Indiana.

The grant provides me with the opportunity to examine this most unusual happening in an "up close and personal" way by actually going to Alaska to investigate it.  Discovering for myself the details, stories, and heroes of an event that is fresh and new every year, because the mushers, dogs, experience level, and weather conditions all come together in a unique combination every time the first Saturday in March rolls around, and the teams rush through the streets of Anchorage to start this ultimate dogsled race we call the Iditarod.

First run in 1973, the Alaskan Iditarod Dogsled Race commemorates a 1925 life-saving run by dogsled from Anchorage to Nome.  The word, "Iditarod" reportedly has several meanings.  Iditarod is a small ghost-town about the middle of the race route.  According to Iditarod Fact Book by Sue Mattson, it  means "clear water" whose source is the Iditarod River.  "Distant Place" is an alternate definition.  It is thought that these definitions come from Ingalik Indian terms and Holikachuk phrases referring to the river.  (16)

The history is intriguing, which is why I hope to become a walking Iditarod encyclopedia, sharing more insights  as I uncover them through my study, but first and foremost, I hope to learn the unsung stories behind the race, as told by the mushers themselves.  I hope you will go along with me as I have the time of my life trying to capture the essence of what has understandably come to be called, "The Last Great Race on Earth."   In just a few short days, I will travel to Alaska.  I can hardly believe it is finally time for my own Iditarod journey to begin!

 *I would be remiss if I did not thank  Emily and Sarah., two exceptional teachers with whom I work, for their technological expertise in helping me launch this blog, as well as Cathy, Heidi, and my husband Don, for their unending support.   
                  

My Inspiration

Now, I can hardly remember a time when I did not know and love the Iditarod.  I cannot imagine not  looking forward to it the first Saturday of March, the much-anticipated day the race starts each year.  I do not want to even think about not having this "real life connection"of what my students are reading to something "really cool" which is actually going on in our own country, but admittedly representing a life-style very different from our own.  I cannot imagine not following the race with my students, as it is one of their very favorite things all year--mine, too.

 However, if I reach way back about 15 years, I remember a dear, dear teacher in the classroom next door to mine, Mrs. C.,  who started  talking about the Iditarod about mid-February.  She is a math teacher, and I am math-challenged, so at first I actually thought she was talking about a math term!  Then, she would excitedly say, "The Iditarod is coming!  The Iditarod is coming!"  Finally, my curiosity got the better of me, and I admitted my ignorance and asked her to tell me what on earth she was talking about!   When she told me, with great enthusiasm, that it was (and is) a 1,000 mile journey across Alaska via dogsled, and sprinkled in some wonderful anecdotes about the adventures mushers--people who drive the dog teams--have, I was hooked.  The same day, I did a little research about the race and its history and soon remembered we had copies of Jack London's The Call of the Wild in our language arts storage room.  I literally ran to my department chair with the idea of having my students read this classic, which centers around using dogsleds for transportation during the great Gold Rush,  while following that year's Iditarod in real time via the Internet.  She approved it, and one of the most effective teaching tools I have used to date was born.

It was interesting that my younger daughter was in upper elementary at the time in, and her class was also following the race, so I was able to adapt some of the activities her class was doing for my older students, and my cousin, who was a Media Specialist in an elementary school in Oregon, was also using it as a tool to get students excited about reading.

All of these pieces came together to result in making my English class suddenly interesting to students who formerly would probably not have thought of English as even near their favorite.  There was a whirl of excitement and activity every morning as all of my students would hurry into my room to  check the race updates (published on the Internet by the Iditarod Trail folks in Alaska) and move the "sled" of the musher each student  was "following" across our giant map of the route across Alaska we had posted in our room.   This is one of those things which make teaching magical...to see students really connecting with a subject being taught.

I wish you could meet Mrs. C. someday. As shown in the photo above,  I caught up with her  recently so I could tell her about my upcoming trip to Alaska, and she could give me a book she had brought back from her last trip there.  I could not believe it when she opened to the author's inscription to both herself and to me, which he had done at her request.  Two teachers who share a bond, a love of something which worked in our classrooms and taught us endless life lessons in the process.  Thanks, Mrs. C.; you opened a whole new world to countless students--and to their grateful teacher and your student, me!