By Joe Runyan
This stretch of trail is important, but it doesn’t knock your socks off for bizarre landmarks. At first glance, it just looks like more big river and a lot of traveling on ice. It is easy to think, “Once you see the Yukon at Ruby, you have seen it all.” However, if you have traveled on the river in the summer, the transformation of the Yukon into a quiet, sleeping giant is impressive.
I used to fish commercially at the mouth of the Yukon, and have several times made the 750-mile trip from the village of Tanana to the fishing grounds. That is a lot of river to see by boat, especially when the time comes to go 750 miles back upriver. Situated about midway between Galena and Nulato, the trail passes a collection of tent frames, smokehouses, wood shacks and fish racks on the north side of the river. A big promontory of stone known as Bishop Rock guards a bend in the river. In the summer, this huge eddy of surging Yukon water is a favorite fishing place for salmon. The powerful current pushes and buffets a fisherman’s skiff as it goes back and forth to the nets. During high water, uprooted trees and driftwood spin in circles in front of Bishop Rock.
At the time of the race in March, the Yukon is quieted by a cap of ice three to four feet thick, and is well-behaved and tranquil. Mushers pass Bishop Rock like they were traveling on a farm pond. Visualizing the turmoil, which exists just under the runners of one’s sled, is an interesting mental exercise. Fortunately, the trail on the Yukon is very safe, unlike other rivers that are downright dicey for travel. In some places, the wind blows hard enough to polish the ice, and it is an interesting diversion to grab the handlebars firmly and to stare into the aquamarine depths of the Yukon as the sled glides along. Occasionally, cracks in the ice present a hazard for footing, but most dogs are savvy enough to avoid injury.
Most mushers are quite satisfied to arrive in Kaltag and put the Yukon out of their minds for another year. The checkpoint is by a big log community hall. It is a relief to be high on the bank and to escape the relentless cold breeze of the Yukon. It is now very common to see the mushers bedding their dogs down on straw and then putting a four-foot by four-foot blanket on top of them. From now until the finish, mushers will pull out yards of old army blankets or polypropylene scraps from their checkpoint bags and give the dogs a little extra protection while they are resting.
At Kaltag, a sense of urgency and renewed determination characterizes the front pack. Even though there is still about a third of the race left, it feels like the leaders are preparing for the final push to the finish. For most of the race, the mushers have been running their own schedule, but now they are keying off the other competitors. They know even a short time advantage is very difficult to erase. Some of the mushers may forego the luxury of sleeping in the community hall and instead bivouac on top of their sleds, just so they can be sure to know when the other teams depart Kaltag.