Instant Karma? Perhaps as a quick reward to my renewed appreciation for little adventures throughout my Yukon adventure (see last post), I got called into the boss's office the next morning with a request I couldn't turn down.
Could I drive up to Dawson City tomorrow and cover the second half of the Yukon Quest?
Absolutely!!
The photographer and I left Whitehorse yesterday on a six-hour drive up the Klondike Highway to Dawson. The drive was a scenic split through snow-topped mountain chains, roadside stops at gas stations with dirty toilets (a requisite for any road trip), sporadic, stack-y radio feeds from CBC, depending on how far we were from the last town.
We pulled in about 5:30 p.m. and I was thrown right into the throws of Quest coverage, running around with my head cut off, trying to secure interviews with race officials, trail markers and, of course, the guy in first place who stands to repeat his fourth win of the Yukon Quest.
The Yukon Quest is a dog sled race from Fairbanks, Alaska to Whitehorse. It was spawned from the Iditarod as a race meant to be tougher, more authentic and with longer distances between checkstops. People and dogs have died on the Quest. It's intense, to say the least.
This morning, someone in the wood lodge here called out, "Musher!" and immediately, heavily-booted feet quickly marched out through the doorway to the checkpoint line on the riverfront. The seventh musher was in, looking tired, with eight dogs strung up before her. Watching the mushers and their dogs is so ... wow! It just hit me I'm describing the toughest dog sled race to people who, for the most part, are my family and friends in Ottawa who maybe saw the movie "Iron Will." Ok, so I don't know that you'll "get" the magic of Dawson City, which has been preserved since the gold rush days and is therefore spotted with old, Saloon-looking buildings with facades reminiscent of City Slickers. Nor will you likely know the magic of watching a man and his sled dogs run over the hilltop into the checkpoint, exhausted after having just run maybe 10 hours out in the barren wilderness. It is moving.
My favourite part is when everyone cheers as the teams slow to a halt in the checkpoint, giving the onsite veterinarians a chance to look over the dogs real fast and race officials to records timings.
You never know what you'll hear when they arrive. They may report an injured dog, a beautiful ride, a treacherous trek up over large snow drifts, tales of desperation or excitement.
We wait hours between mushers, in which time period anticipation builds, and takes of past quest runs are exchanged between rookies like myself and seasoned Quest mushers who have since retired.
My interview with the front runner occurred at one of the local pubs over his celebratory rums. The informailty of the chat and the level of his achievement do not match.
The mushers and the dogs are so impressive. It’s beautiful to see this dedication. I mean for most of the participants, mushing is their life.
And here I am, wide-eyed and a big giant newbie, soaking it all in, getting lost in the majesty and thrill of the Yukon Quest.
As the msuehrs race on, we move too. I expect to be out of Dawson tomorrow night, staying over in Pelly Crossing.
See you then!