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IDITAROD
“Mush! Hike! All right!
Let’s go!” the musher commands.
“Line out!”
The lead dog pulls the
team of fourteen dogs out straight from the sled.
The race is on to the
Burled Arch…the finish line.
Day one of the 1150 mile
Iditarod dog-sled race from Anchorage to Nome, on the coast of the
western Bering Sea, begins.
One person, a musher,
along with only his dogs, against nature.
Traveling many miles of
rough, yet beautiful terrain.
Encountering jagged
mountain ranges, frozen rivers, dense forest, and miles of isolated tundra.
Below freezing
temperatures, zero visibility, overflow hazards;
long hours of darkness,
treacherous climbs, side hills and crevasses.
Spoken commands, not
reins, drive the dogs.
The leader of the team
must understand all that is said and guide
the others.
“Come Gee!” the dogs turn
right.
“Come Haw!” the dogs turn
left.
The tow, tug
and neck lines of rigging jingle through the cold arctic air.
Runners on the sled glide swiftly over the course.
The musher pedals,
helping to steer the team and sled.
Stopping for rest and food
only, each second of delay possibly causing the loss of the championship.
On the morning of the
final day, tired yet exhilarated, the Burled Arch comes into view.
Thousands are gathered, cheering, screaming, waving hands and flags.
Kids sit on fathers’
necks hoping to catch a glimpse of the racers.
Whether in the top ten, or
last place, winner of the Red Lantern,
all have accomplished a feat
few dare to attempt.
Rebecca Craddock
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