Iditarod Trail, Alaska I

Monday, March 8, 1993

Iditarod Trail, Alaska I

The snowmobile seemed like a good idea. I'd never actually spent much time on one before, but I'd seen it done lots of times. And not just on TV either. I mean you just sit there and go, right? We're not talking recombinant DNA technology here.

It was miles from Unalakleet and about four feet above the frozen river, as I tumbled ass over teakettle with the hard blue ice approaching fast, that I started to have second thoughts...

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I was off to photograph the Iditarod. Dog race. Alaska. Eleven hundred miles of butt-cold wilderness. High point of both the Anchorage and Nome social calendars. Which seems to mean drinking until you fall down. Get up and repeat as necessary.

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INTRODUCTION

For much of my adult life, I have been lucky enough to get paid doing the things I love most. My work as a itinerant travel and wildlife photographer has sent me around the world and across all seven continents.

Over the last two decades, I have had ample opportunity to appreciate the absurdities of life on the road, having once spent 27 memorable hours during my first trip to Kenya digging a bogged safari truck out using only a sauce pan. In addition to my work in Africa, I have traveled extensively in Alaska, Australia, Antarctica and Asia.

I hope to work my way through the rest of the alphabet in a timely fashion.

Each year, I spend five or six months on the road. Along the way, I try to make time to scribble something in my notebooks. More often than not, it’s about whatever mishap has befallen me on any particular day. This collection offers a random sample from those journals, notebooks and emails.