Three of us make a very quick trip to the Iditarod restart in Willow, then hang out with cats; how Charlie fared in the beard contest

If you are looking for lots of good pictures from the Iditarod Restart, this is not the site to come to. I awoke this morning feeling completely exhausted, run down, as though I had not slept at all. I had a terrible headache, a bit of a sore throat and I felt just plain weary - barely enough energy to drag myself into the kitchen and cook some oatmeal.

I figured, though, that if Jacob and Lavina brought Jobe by for Margie to watch and then took off with Kalib to watch the dogs go, I would follow, but I would be very lazy and shoot just a few so-so pictures, just to say we were there.

After all, there would be scores of photographers seriously documenting the event for all sorts of publications, many would go on to follow the race and they would be working extremely hard and putting everything they have into it to get the best shots possible, so, really, what could I add to the mix?

I would just stick with Jacob, Lavina and Kalib, get a few lazy pictures and let it go at that.

A little after noon, Lavina called to say that they would not be coming at all. It would be nearly a 200 mile round trip for them, they were very tired (after all, they do have a newborn) and Kalib seemed to be coming down with something.

OK, then, I decided, I would just stay home.

Then Melanie called. She and Charlie wanted to see Lance Mackey take off. He wore bib 49, and was scheduled to leave the chute at 3:30.

Okay, I decided, I would go with them, but would still be lazy.

Melanie had to drop her car off at Mr. Lube here is Wasilla to get an oil change, so they would ride with me. Mr. Lube closes at 5:00, so she had to be back before then to get her car.

We left Wasilla for Willow at 2:20, twenty minutes after the race had already begun, reasoning that we had better head back home no later than 4:15 in order to get back in time.

We managed to find a parking place not far from the action, but wound up trudging through deep snow the long way around, so it took us awhile to reach the raceway. We got there just about the time that the 40th musher was charging down the chute behind his dogs.

This is musher 41. Dallas Seavey. In 2007, the day after this former state wrestling champion turned 18, he became the youngest musher ever to run the Iditarod.

These are the famous white dogs of number 43, Jim Lanier of Chugiak.

This is number 49, Iditarod Hall of Famer Lance Mackey, who Melanie wanted to watch depart. Mackey may be the toughest long-distance musher ever, having come back from a deadly battle with cancer to take multiple victories in the Yukon Quest and the Iditarod and winning both in 2008 and 2009.

You can find a bit more of his story here.

Pretty soon, we had to go. Traffic was sometimes very slow, but we got Melanie back to Mr. Lube with 13 minutes to spare.

Then Melanie and Charlie came to the house for dinner, and to hang out with our cats. Here is Charlie with Royce and Jim.

Charlie, Royce and Jim.

Charlie and Jim.

Melanie and Royce. Before they left, Melanie was trying to write a check out for me to cover Royce's upcoming vet care but I was being elusive. So she wrote it out and gave it to her mom.

Charlie and Royce.

Chicago and me.

Now, as to that beard contest...

I am too tired to tell the whole story, but, to make it short, there was some confusion about which category Charlie was to enter. He wound up competing against men who had at least some gray and white in their beards and they beat him.

That's because it was the category for men with gray and white in their beards, although it was described as being for men with multiple colors in their beard. Charlie has brown, red and blond in his beard, so he thought that meant him.

Afterwards, he learned that he should have been in the "Honey Bear" category. Two judges told him that they really liked his beard - if only he had been a Honey Bear.

He is thinking about going to the nationals in Bend, Oregon, in June, where the categories are more clearly delineated.

I will probably be blogging light for the next few days - maybe all week. I've got a lot of work to do and I feel like... heck.

(I was going to say, "hell," but once again I remembered that ten-year old girl who I am told reads my blog everyday.)

The country that Willow knew, before it was called, "Serendipity"

In this blog I have often lamented about the construction of the destruction of the life that I had known here before they tore down my woods and put up the subdivision called Serendipity. I have also noted how easy it was to take the dog on a walk back then, as I could let her run free while I walked, contemplated, and played with words. By pure chance, this image of Willow running through the woods now gone and called Serendipity, just popped up in my computer.

And this one was nearby. So there you go. Now, I will shift to my latest walk with Muzzy, right through Serendipity.

Here come the dogs: Iditarod Restart; Mike Williams, who runs because he lost his six brothers; Rose Albert - artist - first Native woman to race

What is it that thrills people so, just to see dogs run across the snow that covers a frozen lake as they sprint away to begin a 1300 mile race from Willow, Alaska, to Nome?

I don't know, but damn, it is thrilling. It thrills me.

Now, please, click on this photo so that you can see a larger copy.

I can't stand it, thinking that you might only see all these faces so small as they appear here.

Two of this year's Iditarod dogs.

A team comes charging.

Here come the white dogs who pull Jim Lanier of Chugiak.

And this is Mike Williams, Yupiaq Eskimo of Akiak, being pulled by his dogs. Mike is a rehabilitated alcoholic who runs to encourage all those who battle that same disease to try sobriety. Once, he had six living brothers and he loved them all.

All six are dead now, and all were killed by alcohol.

Mike draws closer to the camera. 

In the year 2000, I followed Mike along the trail in my little airplane, the one I called "Running Dog;" the one that sits broken at the side of the house, now.

Mike passes the camera.

When I first started this blog, I stated that I would mix pictures and stories of the present up with those of the past. 

Yet each night when I sit down to do this, time presses, and so I have yet to do that. 

I think I will start with Mike. Sometime between now and when the race ends, I will post a few of the images I took in 2000, along with a little bit of his story.

And there Mike Williams goes, off to Nome.

I photographed many other mushers at the restart, and many dogs, but for the sake of space and time, I have limited this to my friend, Mike Williams.

I had another good Iditarod musher friend at this year's race, namely Rose Albert of the Yukon River village of Ruby, who now lives in Anchorage. In 1982, Rose became the first Alaska Native woman to run the race.

In February of 1983, I visited her and her late brother, Howard, at Howard's trapping cabin, 50 miles upriver from Ruby. Howard was a veteran of the race and Rose had ran with his dogs. In 1983, Howard was running again.

Rose is a full-time artist and, no offense Jon Van Zyle, but in my opinion, she is the best Iditarod artist out there. She paints her life, and her natural talent is great.

And some come to the Iditarod not just to watch dogs, but to make snow angels atop the lake.

Come back tomorrow, and I will introduce you to a few of my fellow photographers who were at the restart.

They call it "the restart" but it is actually the real start. What happens in Anchorage is all ceremony, done for show.

The race starts when the dogs leave Willow.