It was a Friday morning, shortly after 5 AM.  The third of my five alarm clocks had gone off, the one that was too far from the bed for me to hit the snooze button or off switch.  I had to get up, because when the next alarm went off, I'd need to get Doug, who was in 3rd grade then, out of bed so he would have time to dress and eat before the school bus came.  The final, fifth, alarm clock would sound to tell us it was time to suit up and head out the door to the bus stop.

Even before I lit the propane light in the kitchen (we were off the grid back then), I turned on the old car radio that was hooked up to my 12 volt electrical system.  I caught just the tail end of a little piece of breaking news:  "...hard aground on Bligh Reef."  I didn't know where Bligh Reef was, but a chill ran through me, leaving behind a feeling of oppressive dread.

Half an hour or so later, KSKA repeated that story, such as it was.  There were no details at the time, just that initial report that the supertanker Exxon Valdez had run aground in Prince William Sound.  There was no mention, at first, of an oil spill.  I cried, anyway, without any conscious knowledge of why I was weeping.  Later, at Sheep Creek Lodge for the neighborhood women's session with Jane Fonda, I saw a few seconds of video of the ship, tilted, leaning on that rock in the gray light of dawn.

Through the day, back at home, I listened for more news.  Not much came at first, and then it seemed like that was the only news there was.  As our world started thawing out, people from the neigborhood started going to Valdez to work on the cleanup.  It was the first (and only) economic boom Alaska had since the construction of the pipeline from Prudhoe to Valdez, and many of those people had been out of work for years.

Eventually, most of the cleanup workers came home.  One who didn't return was my beloved Shanda, daughter of Mardy, my life's longest best friend, who ended up outliving her daughter by only a year or so.  Shanda herself had been an even closer friend to me than her mother was.  Her death, on a boat in Valdez harbor, was from drug overdose.  We will never know whether it occurred because the disaster killed off her will to live, or whether the cleanup just provided too much, in money and drugs, for her to handle all at once.  Dealers and hookers and gamblers and grifters had flocked to Valdez along with those who were hired for the cleanup.

Everyone who returned from the coastal cleanup crews had horror stories and emotional scars.  I was reminded of one of those stories this morning, listening to Talk of Alaska on APRN.  A woman called in and spoke with difficulty, her voice breaking over the lump in her throat, of an enduring memory, of sea otters crying.  My neighbor Chuck came back and told stories of his job in the hold of a tanker ship that was sucking up the oil from the booms offshore.  His job was to clear out obstructions in the big hose that pumped the oily seawater into the tanker's hold.  Suited from head to foot in rubber gear, he'd have to reach into the mouth of the thing and pull loose whatever was stopping the flow.  Most often, what would clog up the pipes was a dead otter.

The spill and cleanup have never stopped being "news" here, as trials and lawsuits went on and on.  Recently, the final checks for reparations went out from Exxon, after the initial award of damages had been cut so severely to keep from bankrupting Exxon, that each recipient's share was so insignificant as to be insulting.  There was a small public outcry this year for the Iditarod Trail Committee to return a donation from Exxon in protest, but I say let them keep it.  They can find better use for the money than Exxon would, I'm sure.

I had intended to blog about the oil spill next week.  I don't know if I will.  You will probably hear more about it than you want to, when the national media pick up on the anniversary, March 24th.

This message was released last night to race officials, veterinarians, volunteers and the media:

As of  7:26 this morning, the current standings show Darst and Matray scratched.  Packer's status is ambiguous, but it is a fair guess that he is out of the race, too.

About an hour after Nordman's release, Craig Medred, Outdoors Editor of the Anchorage Daily News published an article under the headline, "PETA should be barking about Iraq's dead dogs," that may or may not be directly related.  Medred does not appear here to be aware of the latest deaths, and PETA is a source of widely-known, long-running irritation for the man.

Cold temperatures, high winds and drifting snow have teams at the head of the pack pinned down.  This morning's APRN Iditarod report on KSKA said that Sebastian Schnuelle and John Baker, in second and third positions are at a shelter cabin.  The GPS Tracker, APRN says, previously showed that Aaron Burmeister and Mitch Seavey were at the cabin, but now shows that they have returned to Shaktoolik. 

Lance Mackey reached the Elim Checkpoint at 4:20 AM today and at the time of the latest update available, 7:26, he was still there.

I will keep checking my sources and report what I find if there is any significant change.  If I can do it next year, even if I have to go further into debt for it, I intend to pay for an Iditarod Insider subscription so I will have access to the Tracker data.

If those words, in that order, don't stimulate any change in your heartbeat, then you probably don't get a lump in your throat when you hear, "Eight stars of gold on a field of blue...," either.  Or maybe this is just another of the ways in which I'm different.  Usually about as sentimental as a turnip and as patriotic as a poached egg, I get choked up every time I hear the flag song, Alaska's Flag (<<MP3, by the Alaska Chamber Singers).

Even if I can blink them back through the first few lines, when the music soars on, "...the great North Star with its steady light..." the tears start to drip.  It has been true from the first time I heard the song, and it is still true today.  I know because I put myself through it all over again just now, when I found that link for you.

Almost, but not quite, as moving for me as the song, is that last stretch of the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race, and I'm at a loss to explain why I choke up over it.  First time I listened to a storyteller tell of the heroic dogsled relay that carried diphtheria serum from Nenana to Nome in 1925, it choked me up. 

Maybe the race that was conceived to commemorate that serum run has taken on some of that emotional energy by association, or maybe it's just that every year when it gets down to Elim the feelings are running high from one end of the trail to the other and I am one empathetic puppy.  Anyhow, Lance Mackey and fifteen dogs checked into Koyuk a minute before noon today, Monday March 16, 2009, and Sebastian Schnuelle checked in with his fifteen almost six hours later, after a run from Shaktoolik that took him about an hour longer than Mackey's seven-hour run.

When they finish resting their teams and check out, the next stop will be Elim.  Don Bowers said of the trail here, "This leg always seems longer than it is. Plan on five to seven hours, more if the wind is blowing... the wind can blow hard in the Moses Point area and the trail can drift over very quickly."

Elim to Golovin, Bowers said, "This is one of the more interesting legs on the race, with quite a variety of trail and terrain in a very short distance...If the weather is bad, the trip over the mountain can be a long, hard one because it is almost all above timberline and exposed to the wind. The trail over Little McKinley can range from icy and windswept to soft and punchy."

Golovin to White Mountain:  "This is normally a yawner (unless the wind is blowing or it’s snowing)...  The last few miles are on the river. There is sometimes overflow on the lagoon or river. Plan on two hours for the trip, perhaps three if the wind is blowing..."

White Mountain to Safety:  "This can be one of the most dangerous stretches on the race when the wind blows or a storm hits. It can make or break champions, not to mention back-of-the-packers. Mushers have nearly died within what would normally be a few hours' easy running to Nome. In reasonable weather, this is a pleasant five- to eight-hour run; in the worst conditions, it can be impassable."

Safety to Nome:  "This is the home stretch, but it can be tough at times... completely exposed to the elements—there are no trees anywhere close to Nome unless you count the “Nome National Forest” of used Christmas trees on the ice behind Front Street. The road is normally not plowed past Cape Nome, but the surface can be blown down to gravel. The wind can blow very hard sometimes (especially around Cape Nome) and ground blizzards aren’t unknown even as you pull up the seawall to Front Street."

Another day, day and a half....

The second FG challenge for March was inspired by My_HAT_is_older_than_you,  who wrote a post full of humorous self-revelations.  I am too late for the first March challenge, which was supposed to be about being late, so I'm getting in on this one.   I cannot hope to be as funny as Old Hat, but I can certainly be frank and self-revelatory.

I am the literal-minded one who thinks that people mean what they say, unless and until they bother to set me straight. My husband gets a lot of laughs out of this.  He tells me that "everybody" lies or shades the truth to make a favorable impression on others, and "everybody" wants others to like, or at least to approve of them.  Then, he goes on to contradict himself by asserting that I am not, as he has implied, "nobody."

I am the one who, when I see some little speck of something I can't identify, takes the digital camera out and gets a high-res image of it, so I can save it to the hard drive, and get a look at it at 1024x768.  Oh, my, how that has expanded my world-view!

I am the one who reads dictionaries to help me say what I really mean. Not that it helps others get my meaning, since few of them read dictionaries, but I have been doing it ever since I got one of my own when I was in eighth grade.  Before then I would make special trips to the library to look up words I didn't know in the big unabridged dictionary laid out on a lectern in the middle of the room.  For as long as I can remember, I have felt at home in libraries.  For a little while, in 1969 and '70, I was literally "at home" in the public library.  Homeless, I spent my days in the library and nights wherever I could find shelter.

I am the one whose prayers are always granted.  Since I got hip to what Jim Morrison said in The Soft Parade, that, "you cannot petition the Lord with prayer," I have not bothered asking some force outside myself for miracles.  I started seeking within for the strength, wisdom and presence of mind I need in order to cope with reality as it is.  I turned the abbreviated Serenity Prayer and the Synanon Prayer into affirmations, made effective use of other affirmations such as those of WFS, and miraculously ended up serene, truthful, happy, loving, responsible, understanding, strong and wise, most of the time, until I slip and forget, for a while, that I'm enlightened.

I am the one who writes long blogs full of links, and doesn't care whether anyone clicks the links or even reads the blogs -- but anyone who comments on my blog without reading it first is inviting a harsh reply.  Blogging is first of all an outlet for my creativity and self-expression, and only secondarily a public service.  Sometimes a blog serves me as a reason or excuse to go on long trips around the web on search engines, researching a topic, organizing the information, finding pictures to illustrate it, and putting it all into words.  I'm the one who loves words because they help me understand and communicate, and the one who is often frustrated because they don't quite say precisely what I want to know or wish to convey.  I love it when my thoughts and words click with someone else, but sheer numbers of comments mean nothing to me.  Pointless props, spammy non-comments and "propped you, prop me back" BS can get you some well-earned snarkiness from me.

I am the one with whom few people argue -- at least not more than about once.  If someone disagrees with me, and expresses that disagreement in such a way that their position makes compelling sense and is obviously a superior perspective to my own, I'll abandon my old position, so there is no cause for agument.  On the other hand, if an opposing argument is weak or a premise is absurd, I won't abandon an argument, no matter what.  In my far from humble opinion, the idea of "agreeing to disagree," is an absurdity.  Of course it's okay, it makes perfect sense, to acknowledge that I disagree with someone -- but "agree" to leave it at that? -- nonsense!  You deserve every opportunity to change my mind.

As you might have noticed above, I don't have humble opinions.  My opinions are well thought out, honest and unpretentious, never masquerading as fact, but always strong and supported by facts and/or observations.  In contrast with my opinions, I personally am quite humble, and deservedly so.  I am the one whose quirky memory causes me to heedlessly snub old friends at the general store or the library because, although their faces do look vaguely familiar, I can't recall who they are or where I've seen them before.  Maybe I should have written "longtime acquaintances" instead of "old friends," because most of those who know me well and care about me know what a space case I am and will walk right up, get in my face, and remind me who they are.

I'm such a defective specimen of the species that anything but humility would be an untenable position.  Those who know me only by my writing would have no idea of my deficiencies, handicaps, shortcomings and disabilities, if I didn't occasionally blurt it all out here.  I blurt a lot better in writing than I do when speaking.  Readers don't see how sometimes there is a gap of several minutes between words, while I go through online dictionaries and thesauri or consult family members for a word I know exists but just can't remember.  That is a form of agnosia, as is the problem with recognizing faces mentioned above, as well as the tendency I have to sometimes call my husband by my son's name or my son by the dog's name.

Agnosia is a neurological thing.  I have more such "things", and a lot of neuromuscular "things" as well.  I cannot run at all, stumble a lot when I walk, and never walk very far without stopping to catch my breath.  I wouldn't be breathing at all without the help of medication.  I could transcribe or copy and paste a long list of symptoms, but that's a lot of work for me and you might not even be interested in reading it.  If you're curious about the symptoms of myalgic encephalomyelitis, click here.  I am the one who, at some time or another in my life, has had just about all of them.  Around my house, we talk about the "symptom du jour."  I am ever so glad that they come alone or in small bunches instead of all at one time.

I am the one who loves life, not in spite of all its challenges, but because of them.  If it had not been for the challenges of this life, I would not have learned humility, coping skills, gratitude, and a multitude of other valuable lessons.  If I wasn't such a mess, I'd really be a mess of an entirely different sort.

If you want Xanga to know what kind of person you are, write it, post it, then go HERE and leave a link to your post.

Alaska Volcano Observatory has upgraded Redoubt to Orange/Watch alert level.  Seismic activity is back up to the level it was in January and February, but there is still no eruption.

Yesterday, minutes after Doug had taken over the computer, I asked him to refresh the Iditarod standings for me.  They showed that Lance Mackey had checked into Unalakleet on the coast of Norton Sound at 15:10.  I had been watching for that update, and it came just a bit too late for me to blog it yesterday.

Lance talked to an APRN reporter there, saying he doesn't really need all fifteen of his dogs now, but they "all deserve to go to Nome."  Along the trail this year, Lance has been expressing his pleasure at the performance of the younger "new" dogs in his Iditarod team.  He said that the worst thing about being out front is not knowing what's going on behind him:  who's there, how close, and how the other teams are doing their run/rest schedules.  He added that he feels good with the consistent 8 MPH his team has been running.

While Lance's team was resting in Unalakleet, Mitch Seavey checked in with thirteen dogs at 21:20.  One minute later, Hugh Neff checked in with eleven.  Lance checked out at 22:17, and one minute after he left, Aaron Burmeister, who farther back down the trail had said that Lance Mackey is "Superman," checked in with twelve dogs.  John Baker checked into Unalakleet at 22:36 with fourteen dogs, and at 23:00 Jeff King and Sebastian Schnuelle checked in with fifteen each. 

Lance's team rested a little over 7 hours, checking out at 22:17.  In the half-hour before midnight, Hans Gatt checked into Unalakleet with fourteen dogs.  King and Schnuelle checked out together at 03:15 today in second and third positions.  Burmeister dropped two dogs in Unalakleet and was out at 03:21.  Mitch Seavey dropped a dog and checked out at 3:28.  John Baker dropped a dog and was out at 3:33.  Three minutes later, Hugh "Huge Mess" Neff checked out with his eleven.  Gatt dropped a dog and checked out at 4:47.

Between 4:15 and 5:15, four more teams checked into Unalakleet:  Cim Smyth and ten dogs, Sonny Lindner (13), Dallas Seavey (11), and Jessie Royer (leading the women, with fourteen dogs).  Between 6 and 8 AM, Ken Anderson, Aliy Zirkle, Paul Gebhardt and Dee Dee Jonrowe checked into Unalakleet. 

Meanwhile, Lance Mackey and his team of fifteen were through Shaktoolik, in at 4:20, out at 4:57, for a short distance of overland travel before heading onto the ice of Norton Sound for one of the most treacherous runs of the race, where wind can tear out trail markers and windblown snow restricts visibility.  Next checkpoint, Koyuk, is 58 miles away.

Don Bowers called this run:

bleak, flat, and deadly monotonous. Locals say the actual distance is under 50 miles, but it always seems like a hundred. There is not so much as a shrub on this stretch, most of which is over the sea ice of Norton Bay. Plan on five to nine hours for the crossing, more if the wind is blowing hard.

The trail runs almost due north from Shaktoolik, overland across very low rolling terrain for about nine miles to Reindeer Cove, then across the ice for five miles to Island Point, then back onto the ice immediately for the last 45 miles to Koyuk. There are no hills.

The trail is also the main snowmachine trail to Koyuk and is well used. However, winds can wipe it smooth in hours. It is well marked with Iditarod trail stakes, spruce boughs, or both. The trail can range from a groomed speedway to rough ice to drifted snow to glare ice. The wind is usually blowing, and almost always right in your face. Days with less than 20 or 30 mph breezes are uncommon. The wind can blow at hurricane velocity out here and ground blizzards can reduce visibility to zero in minutes. You MUST check the weather carefully before heading out. If you get caught in a storm on the ice, you will be in very serious trouble.

Another problem is that some dogs are put off by the white expanse and won’t go or will try to turn back. Every year teams stall here; some drivers are able to get their teams going after a rest, and some can get their leaders to follow another team across. Some have to scratch. This is where a “coast leader” is invaluable; these are leaders used to running in this environment and who aren’t fazed by winds or wide-open spaces.

Lance probably won't be into Koyuk before noon.

UPDATE:  I was wrong about ^that^.  He checked into Koyuk at 11:59.   *hehee*  I was close.

Of the teams who have made it to the Yukon River, only Judy Currier's and Jim Lanier's have not officially completed their mandatory 8 hour layovers.  She is in Kaltag, completing hers now in the last Yukon checkpoint.  He is back in Eagle Island, and since he has been there for more than 8 hours, I assume that his layover will be marked as complete if and when he checks out.

Only three teams still in the race have not yet reached the Yukon:  rookies Lou Packer, Blake Matray and Kim Darst, all currently out of the ghost town of Iditarod, on their way to Shageluk and the Yukon.  Kurt Reich scratched at Ophir on Sunday.  Laura Daugereau scratched at Grayling today.

In Nome yesterday, the city started hauling tons of snow onto Front Street for the race finish, expected to begin in 36 to 48 hours.

In Eagle Island Saturday, Lance Mackey dropped a dog from his team, the first drop for him in the 2009 Iditarod.  This brings his team strength down to 15 dogs, the same number as in the teams of his closest two competitors, Sebastian Schnuelle and Jeff King.  The only teams that are still at full strength of 16 are non-competitive rookies at the back of the pack, at least one of whom, Jen Seavey, is training a team of puppies and hopes to get them all to Nome for the experience.  Some other teams are down to as few as nine dogs now.

Lance rested his team in Kaltag for three and a half hours during the night, leaving at 3:58 this morning.  At 5:30 AM, Sebastian Schnuelle checked into Kaltag, and out again at 5:55.  You can't call that a rest -- maybe a snack.  Jeff King had entered Kaltag fifteen minutes ahead of Schnuelle, but he rested his dogs four hours, leaving at 9:15.  Mitch Seavey was in Kaltag almost five hours and dropped one dog, leaving five minutes after Jeff King with 13 dogs.  Hugh Neff is down to eleven dogs, out of Kaltag five minutes after Mitch Seavey, after a rest of four and a half hours.

Harry Alexie, in 40th position with 12 dogs, is still leading the other rookies, but Karin Hendrickson and her fourteen dogs are giving him a run for Rookie of the Year.  She was out of Grayling in 41st position, just two minutes behind him this morning.  Chad Lindner, in 46th position with 14 dogs, is only a couple of hours behind them, so he also has a chance to be Rookie of the Year.

Rookie Rob Loveman was forced to withdraw from the race on grounds of being non-competitive.  He wasn't the last musher into Ophir early yesterday morning, but was still there when the four behind him had passed through.  Everyone but Loveman had already completed their mandatory 24 hour layovers. 

The rule that was invoked to withdraw his team from the race is intended to clear the trail of stragglers so that checkpoint staff and volunteers can go home within a reasonable time after the winner has reached Nome.  He had been showing signs of non-competitive slowness as early as the restart in Willow a week ago.

Another clue to his intentions comes from his profile, where he says he wants to write about his various "misadventures."  Setting out for MISadventures doesn't suggest that his heart was really into the competitive spirit of the race.  **sigh**  He's not the only one out there for reasons other than the competition, I know.  I hear grumbling every year about another non-competitive "camper" on the trail.  At least their entry fees help support the race, and the publicity they bring to it doesn't hurt.

The winning team is expected to pass under the Burled Arch in Nome sometime between the late evening on Tuesday, March 17th and the early morning of Wednesday the 18th.  Iditarod Insider will present live streaming coverage, which I will not see because of (a) my slow dialup connection and (b) the lack of funds to get DSL, subscribe to the Insider, etc.  If you have an interest in seeing it, a fast enough internet connection, and an extra thirty-some bucks, subscribe now before it's too late.  If you have some spare time and mega-bucks, you could be there on Front Street watching in person.  Hurry up.  What are you waiting for?

We call it "cabin fever," but I know there has to be a more fitting term, something in German or Portuguese, maybe, that translates into English, roughly, as "winter-weariness."  I think there is probably a word in Portuguese to express longing for warmth and green things, simply on the basis of , "saudade," a word that expresses longing as none other I have ever known.  German... well, that language has a facility for gluing two concepts together:  schadenfreude, weltschmertz....  Also, I infer from these pictures I have found recently at Der Spiegel that Germans also grow weary of winter, and yearn for warmth and green things.

This was in Freiburg...

Recently, I expressed my enjoyment of another Xangan's pictures of spring growth by mentioning just how far we in this place are, in time, from any of the traditional signs of spring.  Then I got a comment in return, on one of my recent snowy scenes.  It said,  "Have no fear. Blooms will come sooner than you think. And chirping birds. And sunlit afternoons."

Need I tell you how that idiotic statement struck me?  Need I tell you that I responded with vehemence?  Not if you know me, I don't need to tell you!  "Sooner than I think?!"  Yeah, right... as if I am not paying attention to the deepening snowdrifts, the damned digital thermometer displaying a minus sign (in Fahrenheit) almost every night, and the dwindling woodpile!

I said something in return, to the effect of, "Bullshit!  I don't know why you think (a) that I am fearful, or (b)  that I don't know when the seasons change in my neighborhood."

Birds chirp around here all winter:  chickadees, little puffballs with antifreeze in their veins, as monochromatic in their feathers as the woods are in their snow and leafless branches.  I'm waiting for the songs of the red breasted robin and the swooping cries of the violet green swallows.  Even if they come this year earlier than last year, it won't come earlier than I "think." 

I think climate change might (or might not) bring earlier warmth than usual this year, just as it brought that unprecedentedly cold and rainy summer last year, but so far this winter all it has brought is deeper snow than usual, and embarrassment to all the weather pundits who told us last fall that we would have a "mild" winter.  Even here in Southcentral Alaska, a three week "cold snap" of thirty to fifty degrees below zero does not signify a "mild" winter.

That misguided attempt to reassure me that spring is near -- bullshit!  Stifling that reflexive response would only raise my blood pressure, so why try? -- ...that stupid ignorant twaddle doesn't even acknowledge that when migratory birds come back the muskeg will be flooded and the scent on the air won't be from "blooms," but from a winter's worth of defrosting dog droppings.  The depth of snow out there now will translate to a proportionate depth of mud on those "sunlit afternoons."

The author of that crap probably doesn't know that in this part of the world, "spring" is not a time, but a place, where we go to get our water.  The season that keeps summer from slamming into winter is "breakup," when the ice breaks up, and all the winter-killed things and other things dropped or discarded in the snow throughout seven or eight frozen months, begin to thaw and rot all at once. 

As nasty as it is, I can hardly wait for breakup -- to come and be over!  No way will it get here "sooner" than I think.  I have been thinking about breakup since last fall when the first signs came suggesting that this winter's snowfall was going to be excessive, meaning that breakup would be brutal, more brutal than it usually is, lasting longer, with deeper mud, and more winter-killed moose and other animals rotting and stinking in the woods.

We have to get through April and May --

...before we get to June

...July

and August.

There were a few things I neglected to mention in my earlier post, where you can find detailed standings as of about noon today.

Bjornar Andersen of Team Norway was released after an overnight stay in the hospital, and reunited with his dog team.  His injuries are not serious.

Lance Mackey apologized to his team for what he put them through on the trail out of Shageluk yesterday.

My first thought today when I looked at the current Iditarod standings was for Jan Newton, at left with Jeff King several days ago at her place in Takotna.  Marc Lester captured the original image.

Jan is famous.  She won her place in the Iditarod Hall of Fame by her hospitality and her cooking.  She bakes pies and grills steaks, seafood and cheeseburgers that for years have made Takotna the mushers' favorite place to spend their mandatory 24 hour layovers.  On Wednesday and Thursday, teams were coming and going continually, with about thirty of them in there at any given time.

At one minute before seven this morning, the last team, Kim Darst's, in 64th position, checked out of Takotna.  I can picture Jan, if she's not catching up on her sleep now, leaning back with her feet up, getting some well-earned rest.  Kim, who took her 24 in McGrath, checked into Takotna at 5:35 with 15 dogs, stayed long enough to feed and water her team and eat breakfast, and dropped a dog before checking out with 14.

Teams in 60th through 63rd positions:  Loveman, Packer, Matray and Reich, are in Ophir.  Rob Loveman (14 dogs) and Lou Packer (16) got there within 5 minutes of each other about half past one this morning.  About eight hours later, Blake Matray (14) and Kurt Reich (12), checked in one minute apart.  Loveman's team (left, in an image from his website)  is the only one in the race that still has to complete the 24 hour layover.

At the other end of this race, two-time defending Champion Lance Mackey has been in Eagle Island Checkpoint about four hours, checking in at 8:33 with all sixteen dogs of his starting team, led by lovable but often goofy-looking Larry, who has his own fan club.  Membership is $10 by PayPal to sarida333 *at* sbcglobal.net, or by check or money order via USPS to:
Sarida Steed-Bradley
115 Wickets Street
San Antonio, Texas
78210-1160
Your ten gets you the patch pictured above and donates $7.00 to Lance's Comeback Kennel.  More details and international ordering instructions at above address and at comebackkennel.com.  The patches are snazzy and well-made.  I have one with Zorro's picture on it, identifying him as "Foundation Stud," with the words, "Who's your daddy?"  Same terms and ordering instructions for Zorro as for Larry.

Sebastian Schnuelle and Aaron Burmeister led the pack out of Grayling around 3 AM, but that doesn't mean much because neither of them has taken his 8 hour Yukon layover yet and eight of the next eleven teams through Grayling at this time have completed theirs.   Schnuelle arrived in Eagle Island at 12:32.

Also through Grayling:

Hugh Neff (AKA "Huge Mess" -- love that nickname, conferred on him by fellow mushers in Yukon Quest, for his habit of starting strong and "messing up" along the trail) out at 03:18 with 12 dogs
Mitch Seavey 5:39 with 14
Jeff King 6:35 with 15
John Baker 8:07 with 14
Paul Gebhardt 8:17 with 10 (still needs to complete 8)
Ken Anderson 8:39 with 11 (ditto)
Cim Smyth 8:43 with 12
Aliy Zirkle (first woman to win the Yukon Quest, and technically* the leader among the women in the 2009 Iditarod) 8:49 with 13 (still needs to do the 8 hour layover)
Sonny Lindner 8:58 with 14
Hans Gatt 9:45 with 14
Dallas Seavey 10:02 with 12

* Jessie Royer, in fifteenth position, checked into Grayling with 14 dogs at 8:43.  She has already completed her 8 hour layover, giving her in effect an 8 hour lead on Aliy at the time that Jessie checked in and Aliy checked out.  Either of these women could beat the other into Nome, depending on run speeds, rest times, trail and weather conditions, dogs' moods and conditions, etc.  Dee Dee Jonrowe, also in Grayling at this time with 14 dogs and both mandatory layovers completed, is another female contender.

Barring unforeseen trouble on the trail, Rookie of the Year will be Lance Mackey's protegé, Harry Alexie, out of Shageluk in 27th position at 08:15 with 14 dogs, after completing his 8 hour layover and dropping one dog there.  About three and a half hours on the trail brought him into Anvik in 29th position, right behind Gerald Sousa.  Sponsored by the Alaska National Guard, Alexie's mission on the trail is to talk up the Guard with other Alaska Natives in the villages along the way.

Next among the rookies are Chad Lindner, now in 38th position with 14 dogs, and Karin Hendrickson in 39th with 14.  They have been leapfrogging each other in the middle of the pack for most of the race.  He checked into Shageluk an hour and a half ahead of her this morning.  Rookies Wade Marrs, Michael Suprenant, and Tom Thurston are scattered along the trail behind them, a checkpoint ahead of the little pack of eight rookies in the rear, led by Jen Seavey and her team of Seavey kennel puppies in training.  All sixteen pups are still going strong.

Osmar and Scdoris are between Suprenant and Thurston.

 

Lance Mackey has a substantial lead now.  That much is clear.  Who his closest competitors are and how close they are isn't such a simple matter to calculate.  Asked yesterday who he thought would be his toughest competition, he said, "Mitch Seavey and Jeff King, in that order."  Maybe, maybe not.

Mitch, one of three Seaveys in the 2009 Iditarod, is definitely Lance's current closest competition.  He left Anvik with fourteen dogs, seven minutes after Mackey and his team of sixteen left Grayling, eighteen miles further along the trail.  This put them approximately 20 miles, or about two and a half hours, apart, around eleven PM Friday.  Lance's team had left Anvik about 8 PM, fresh from an 8-hour rest, and stopped in Grayling for only five minutes.  Mitch's team had been fresh from its 8-hour layover when they left Shageluk, 25 miles before Anvik, about a quarter to eight.  They spent only two minutes in Anvik before checking out again.

Those 8-hour layovers are very important, and they are the key to the complications in figuring out current standings.  Official standings show Jeff King (with 15 dogs), Sebastian Schnuelle (15), Aaron Burmeister (12) and Hans Gatt (14) between Mackey and Seavey around midnight Friday night / Saturday morning.  Gatt blew through Anvik about 11 PM, and the other three are shown as in Grayling since about 11:30.  None of these four has completed the mandatory 8 hour layover that must be completed on the Yukon, in a checkpoint between Shageluk and Kaltag.  King arrived in Grayling ten minutes ahead of Schnuelle, who was one minute ahead of Burmeister.

Hugh Neff and 12 dogs left Shageluk one minute ahead of John Baker and his fourteen dogs, a little after 9 PM, in tenth and eleventh positions officially, but since both of them have completed their mandatory eights, they can probably overtake everyone ahead of them who hasn't yet done the 8, which means everyone but Lance Mackey and Mitch Seavey.  Jeff King left Shageluk about four and a quarter hours ahead of Neff and Baker, which puts him actually almost four hours behind them.

Confused?  Don't worry about it.  It is only a dog race.

There's some confusing stuff in the stats from the back of the pack, too.  Rob Loveman, Timothy Hunt, Kurt Reich and Kim Darst are the only four teams who have not yet completed the mandatory 24 hour layover.  Kim Darst (with fifteen dogs) has been in McGrath for 22 hours, so it looks like she's doing the 24 there and will be eligible to check out around 2 AM Saturday.  Hunt with thirteen dogs and Reich with twelve, appear to be taking theirs in Takotna, and will be eligible to leave at 1 AM and 4:15, respectively.  All this seems straightforward, no surprises.

What Rob Loveman's plan is, I can't guess.  After poking along in last place for most of the race, he has passed five teams as they rested in McGrath and Takotna, spent only 12 minutes in Takotna, the last best place for a 24, and was headed out on the trail to Ophir at 7:47 Friday evening.  Maybe he's planning to rest for 32 hours somewhere on the Yukon... but wait, I said I couldn't guess, didn't I?

Bedtime for me.  I'll be back later, fershure.