Happily, I survived the experience and even returned to Alaska to photograph in 1996 and 1998. My fourth race will be Iditarod 2001. It begins on Saturday, March 3, and, as I’ve learned over the years, it should offer a great opportunity for photographers who plan a few months ahead and are willing to go the distance.

The plane banked and dipped over a frozen Cook Inlet, bringing me suddenly out of my reverie as we touched down at Ted Stevens Anchorage International Airport. On the day the race begins, downtown Anchorage is transformed into something bright and colorful. The city is filled with thousands of fans and thousands of barking and sleeping dogs, as well as international media, ice sculptures, loud music, banners, hay bales and mounds of snow that have been trucked in. It’s quite a spectacle—easily worth 10 rolls of film or so.

At 10 a.m., the 55 sled teams in the race begin leaving the Anchorage starting line one by one, one every minute, each carrying two passengers and most dragging two sleds. Each team comprises two mushers and an "Idita-rider," a passenger who has won an auction for the right to ride along. (Bids start at $500 and have run to $6,500 for rides on the teams of former first-place winners. To bid for one of these front-row seats for the Iditarod, call 800-566-SLED.)

This first leg of the Iditarod is largely ceremonial. The real start, often called the restart, is from Wasila, about 50 miles north of Anchorage on State Route 1 and State Route 3. The teams run a 20-mile course through Anchorage and its outlying areas to the cheers of fans, ending up in Eagle River. There they climb into kennel trucks for the 29-mile drive to Wasila, which lies across the almost-never-frozen Knik River.

A car bridge spans the Knik, but the Alaska Department of Transportation decided in 1980 that cars and dogs could no longer safely share the bridge. That left no choice but to disassemble the teams, truck them across the bridge and restart the race at a point across the river. This gives photographers two chances to photograph the start of the race, a rare opportunity in sports.

If you choose the Anchorage "media start," bring film with high color saturation and moderate speed. While ASA100 will work great on a sunny day, you can’t count on sun in Anchorage. Short to moderate telephotos are appropriate, as are wide angles. Even if you don’t have photo credentials, you’ll be able to find a spot to shoot. A mile or two from downtown, there’s all the room in the world.

The Wasila "restart" convenes at the old Wasila airport on the second day of the race. The teams are reassembled and dressed up with sponsors’ harnesses. Hundreds of dog handlers and vets are present, as are dozens of support airplanes, along with media representatives from the far reaches of the Northern Hemisphere, including Sweden, Norway, Switzerland and even Russia.

Wasila is best handled with longer telephotos, as distances are greater between the crowd and the racecourse. Although Wasila is not far from Anchorage, the weather there can be quite a bit more severe. Low overcast skies are common, so use medium- or high-speed film.

Wasila also offers an opportunity to photograph the Iditarod Air Force, a few dozen of the very best bush pilots and aircraft in the state of Alaska. These brave souls ferry photographers, media, dogs, food, vets and hay to the more than 20 checkpoints along the route. They fly in some of the toughest conditions and remotest locations in Alaska, and have developed a following of their own. Harrowing stories, told over steaming cups of strong coffee, can be heard wherever you go. These pilots and their rugged aircraft are excellent subject matter for character portraits (and boy, do they have character!).

This could also be an opportunity to strike up a friendship that may later turn into a ride to a checkpoint in the Interior. Seats can be had in these aircraft, but only race officials, vets and the well-to-do get aboard without being friends of the pilot.

From Wasila, the trail stretches across a frozen Lake Lucille, then north along roads and trails to Knik. From there, the mushers head out into the wilderness nearing the Arctic Circle. The weak sunlight of Anchorage gives way to a dusklike glow lasting no more than eight hours, until at last it plunges the mushers into utter darkness.

If you are lucky enough to have hitched an airplane ride to one of the checkpoints, and the weather happens to be clear, the view of the night sky and Northern Lights can be incredible. Bring a tripod and tungsten-balanced film to record the phenomenon.

Most photographers, however, will watch the sled teams leave the restart in Wasila, then hop a flight to Nome, which is the end of the Iditarod Trail. Race headquarters is jammed with spectators, officials, food and souvenirs. The first mushers won’t finish for nearly a week, so this is a time to relax and explore Nome. It’s a city with a colorful history and more texture than a Minor White barnboard shot.

Several evenings can be whiled away talking about sled dogs, drinking coffee and monitoring the race progress at Fat Freddies, a local hangout. If you can find a snowmobile to rent during the short days, explore the few roads that lead from Nome. They don’t go anywhere, but along the way are abandoned gold dredges and photographically challenging snowscapes.

In town, the pace picks up as the leading mushers are reported on the ice at Unalakleet, 270 miles out of Nome. A few years ago, two mushers and their teams were stranded on a 20-mile-long ice floe that drifted out to sea. They didn’t even know they were stranded until they realized they were surrounded by water. Fortunately, the floe drifted back to the ice pack and the teams escaped unharmed.

While the sled teams struggle through the final days of their arctic odyssey, fighting subzero temperatures in the face of 75-mile-per-hour winds, the crowds in Nome wander through crafts fairs, various social functions and the world’s northernmost golf tournament, held on the sea ice behind Fat Freddies.

Last year’s winning Iditarod team scored a record finish of just over nine days. As arrival time approaches, spectators gather at the famous wood arch on Main Street. When a team nears town, a bell is rung, a ritual repeated more than 50 times during the next three or four days and nights.

Teams can arrive at any time, and fans are always there, cheering in the stragglers as well as the leaders. Photographers at the ready can capture a gamut of emotions as the teams arrive, jubilant, exhausted, euphoric and hungry. In this remote celebration of nature at its purest, flash strobes seem an intrusion, so bring a camera and film suited to low-light photography. Reserve your flash equipment for shots in total darkness.

Five days after the winner has arrived, all of Nome turns out for the mushers’ banquet, held in the community’s largest building. Here, electronic flash is entirely appropriate. Mushers are presented with their prizes, and each tells a story from the trail—sometimes horrific, sometimes hilarious.