Megan Sullivan

Photographically, I was discouraged from the very first checkpoint, Mile 101. No, that’s a lie. I was discouraged when we were told two weeks beforehand that we would be taking pictures in the dark for 14 hours in severe cold of an event that few of us even followed in the newspaper. The race officials and volunteers didn’t help these already low spirits, giving the impression that our Extreme Alaska class wasn’t “extreme” enough to be out there in the first place, calling us teenagers and telling us to be sure to stay out of the way. I suppose they had a right; we weren’t hard-core mushing fanatics to begin with, much less generally informed spectators.

Spirits livened, though, at the next checkpoint, the Steese Road House in Central, Alaska. If the Yukon Quest were a football game, Mile 101 would be the by-the-book referees and Central would be the fans and hot dog vendors. The vibe in this community was energetic and encouraging, even though they must have been tired from the 24-hour workdays serving the race affiliates. The restaurant was rustic and warm - crowded one minute, sparse the next. Unlike Mile 101, this checkpoint offered a good place to get warm, store our gear, and recharge batteries.

The kindness of these people in Central was unreal. I had on every piece of winter gear I owned, and it still wasn’t enough. I must have looked even colder than I felt, because the checkpoint manager went to her truck and pulled out a parka and literally put it on my shoulders and pushed my arms through the sleeves.

Cold was still a hindrance, though. It killed batteries, stalled flash units, and could have badly damaged the cameras. When an object goes from a cold of minus 40 degrees to 60 degrees above, like my camera did when brought indoors, condensation forms inside the camera. The only way to avoid condensation is to put the camera under your clothes and warm it up slowly before going inside. Imagine putting an ice pack on your stomach while standing in a freezer.

When I was told that we were going to cover the Yukon Quest from dusk till dawn, I remember thinking how much that was going to suck for pictures. And did it ever. Besides the difficulty or working with flash, in the dark, against white snow, my new Canon camera didn’t sync with my old flash unit. Using an off-camera cord, I held the flash in one hand and used the other to adjust aperture, shutter speed, zoom and focus – things that aren’t that easy with only one hand. Auto focus doesn’t work in the dark, especially when mushers and dogs won’t stand still. The cold slowed down the recharge time of the flash; many of my shots came out black. I remember thinking I had a great shot of a musher, the “Cover My Ass” shot for the night, only to look at it later, and see that it was out of focus. Looking at my pictures, I’m not sure if it was worth the trouble it took to push the shutter.

I broke even on the Yukon Quest; the experience compensated for the lack of decent photos; I learned a lot, worked with an awesome crew of journalists, and got a fantastic view into the culture of a small community centered on one race.