It was nearly ten years ago that a (now ex-)boyfriend copied down the number of an employer seeking help from the job board in the University Center. He was photography student looking for his next project and knew I was new to Missoula and in search of work to help cover the newly acquired exorbitant costs of out of state tuition. I had lost nearly all my scholarships when I transferred to the University of Montana from Delaware Valley College (now Delaware Valley University). Soon I was the one calling up the number and setting up a time to interview with a mushing kennel on the outskirts of Seeley Lake, MT.
Lucky for me, it wasn’t long before Twila Baker, owner of Quinault Kennels, and her stunning team of Alaskan Malamutes stumbled into my life at a near perfect moment. It was on the back of a sled being pulled by what is possibly the most photogenic dog sled team that ever existed that I knew the Iditarod was within my reach. I didn’t know how, or when, but some day the Last Great Race would be a reality for me.
However, when my husband’s job took us to live in Anchorage, Alaska there was no time like the present to get out on the Iditarod trail. For my birthday our first year up here I treated myself to an Iditarod Trail Committee (ITC) membership. As soon as registration was open my name was in their records to be a volunteer and in 2015 I volunteered in multiple positions. In 2016, my background working with mushers and my willingness to operate in multiple positions for the ITC allowed me to be selected to go out on the trail. Unfortunately, this was right when Brian was returning from a 9 month deployment and we had long before planned a trip outside of Alaska for his welcome home. I had to turn down something I had dreamed of for so long.
Two-ish weeks before the 45th Iditarod was scheduled to start my email pinged to alert me I had a new message. It was from one of the volunteers in head of the communications department asking if I wanted to head out on the trail. Unable to keep my excitement in I immediately leapt up from my desk and barged into my boss’ office to declare I’d be some time off in the near future. Now I sit in a small airplane hanger in Galena, Alaska – propped up against a backpack that is filled to it’s limit – waiting to board an even smaller plan to my checkpoint. I can’t help but think about the mixture of thrill and fear I once felt stepping onto the back of that dog sled. It’s easy to remember that feeling as it’s the exact mixture of emotions buzzing inside me right now.