 Like the Ceremonial Start, the experience of watching the restart will differ from person to person. Some will come early and lay claim to one tiny piece of Alaskan real estate for the day, viewing the entire race from that perspective, while others will wander, taking in bits and pieces here and there as it unfolded. I'm one of those wanderers, hence my vantage point varied, as did my experiences. Ask someone else who followed in my footsteps only a couple of handfuls of minutes later, and their experience and insight will differ. That's part of what makes the Iditarod so much fun to follow, to be honest, the uniqueness of experience.
 Arriving somewhat early, I couldn't help but find my eye being drawn to where the restart banner stood on Willow Lake. For fans, it's a wonderful backdrop for a photo opportunity, while for mushers it might be considered the symbol of the beginning of their dreams of finishing in Nome with a happy, healthy dog team. All are gathered
here, fan and musher alike, for a variety of reasons, but the arch's symbolism, daring you to live your own dreams, is strong. Watching fans approach, stop and just look at the arch, which was largely off limits to fans until post race, you get an idea how much this race means to them. It's simplistic to view it as just a dog race. No, it holds the dreams of many, perhaps beckoning fans to dare to live out their dreams in the same way the mushers are striving to bring their own dreams to life.
 But, back to reality. Since my time was limited, I would be leaving before the actual restart, I wanted to take in as much as possible in a short time. One reality of the Iditarod is its increased media coverage. KTUU was very visible, its satellite truck parked behind the Willow Community Center, other news vans in the parking area. As I watched, workers tested a platform that would allow them to raise and lower announcers and cameras focused on the race. Cameras were very much in evidence, this year seeming to boast more video cams than I remember in the past, with tripods set up here and there in the musher parking area to catch the action.
 Or maybe I should say the lack of action. Paper plates with bib numbers written on them marked parking areas, each clearly outlined with red spray paint in the snow, but while there were a sizeable number of trucks, many spaces were still empty. Mushers are advised to be on the lake early and the rookies at least were heeding that advice. Although the "big names" soon began to arrive, it's obvious that experience has taught them the optimum time to arrive and still be able to feel unrushed and prepared when their start time rolls around.
 Some have also learned how to wait in style, such as Martin Buser's family and followers. Watching Martin's dog truck roll in, with several people atop the dog boxes, I was drawn over to watch whatever was about to unfold. Unfold turned out to be a good word choice, too. No sooner were they parked than sturdy tables and chairs emerged from the inside of the truck, the beginnings of what might best be described as an Idita-Tailgate Party. Although envious, I resisted the urge to party crash.
 While all this was unfolding, as more and more musher trucks arrived, activity was picking up. Dallas Seavey was across the way from Buser, chatting with friends and his new race sponsors, while Karen Ramstead patiently took micro-chip readers around her truck. All Iditarod dogs have a microchip implanted to ensure their identity and it's the chore of volunteers to make sure that the right dogs are going on the race. It's always a tense moment when a reading can't be immediately obtained, too, even though, by this point, everyone involved knows the dogs have chips and have already been checked the day before. These records are kept by the Iditarod Trail Committee, I might note, and can be utilized to identify dogs many years down the road if necessary.
 As I walked, I realized that I hadn't seen anything of Jeff King or Robert Sorlie, not entirely unusual, tho' I did spy Doug Swingley and musher wife Melanie not too far from Danny Seavey. Ray Redington, Jr. walked past, looking for all the world like just another fan, while Louis Nelson, Sr. was seen in a huddle with friends. Perry Solmonson, who'd go out first, was busy laying out his gangline and checking and rechecking supplies, hoping to be organized early so he could relax. Many sleds were on their sides and sled runners were affixed while elsewhere, mushers and handlers packed sled bags.
Elsewhere, other mushers simply relaxed, spending what relaxed time still remained with their dogs. It was an odd mixture of hurry up and wait, in a sense, depending upon where you were at any given time. Heck, tho' I'm not sure if it was a musher or not, I even came across someone sitting at the front of a sled reading!
Many memories, planes overhead, snow machines racing around nearby, and oddly enough, relative silence. The sounds of the dogs wouldn't begin till later, when the first teams began to harness. Until then, my favorite moment was a quiet one, involving musher Don Smidt's dogs. Handler Jeff Slicker was sitting in the doorway of an enclosed dog truck, seemingly just watching it all unfold. I could only see one dog, but it was near him and reached its head down, perhaps close enough for its warm breath to be felt on Jeff's neck. Jeff leaned back, acknowledging the dog, sharing a moment that lasted mere seconds, one I felt privileged to have seen.
After all, this is what the race is about, the dogs.
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Like the Ceremonial Start, the experience of watching the restart will differ from person to person. Some will come early and lay claim to one tiny piece of Alaskan real estate for the day, viewing the entire race from that perspective, while others will wander, taking in bits and pieces here and there as it unfolded. I'm one of those wanderers, hence my vantage point varied, as did my experiences. Ask someone else who followed in my footsteps only a couple of handfuls of minutes later, and their experience and insight will differ. That's part of what makes the Iditarod so much fun to follow, to be honest, the uniqueness of experience.
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