At the Races

 

 

“I wonder what sort of tale we have fallen into.”
The Two Towers  —  Tolkien
 

Hysterical about things
taken for granted
 
trying to learn
without acting stupid
 
closer to truth
snowy racing in Wyoming 

The sky was low and gray and snow was falling on their party.  Nobody mentioned it at the Vintage Snowmobile Races, but they did allowed the drivers to take a “familiarization lap” before gunning their engines into a blur of white where the track was hard to even see, much less race on.  A foreign photographer, unfamiliar with falling snow mixed with fog, wondered if she was on or off the racetrack while taking pictures for residents of warm place like Southern California.  

 

A little boy asked me why I’m carrying that ski pole.  “So I want fall down,” I said.  He looked away as folks do from someone undesired or stupid.  “Can I take your picture beside your sled?” I asked.  At least I knew that “sled” is their nickname for a vintage snowmobile.  At that, another boy wanted to be the picture also. 

 

The youngest of them is six, and the oldest in their category is about eight.  They line up with safety gear in case of a rollover, and a transponder so they can be tracked in case they stray off the racetrack. 

 Here he is on his sled, just old enough for kindergarten, and ready to idle up to the starting line.    

 

And here he is just after the start, running second behind the green sled.   

 

The green sled holds the lead as they speed out-of-sight, into the snow and the fog.  

 

The green sled takes the checkered flag.   

I didn’t get a picture of the champion in the green sled, but here is the second-place winner holding her trophy. 

 

An upcoming racer finds nothing strange going on here and will no doubt be driving a sled in just a few years.   

The youngsters operate smaller and slower sleds than adults.  This full-sized snowmobile is a vintage 1977 or earlier model, as required to enter the adult races. 

 

Adult racers blast off from the gate in of flurry of kicked-up snow that leaves slower drivers blinded and set back at least for the first lap.

 

They jockey for position going into the first turn, and I wonder if I’m far enough out of their path to avoid someone who goes off course. 

 

As they fly into a back curve in Lap 4, the yellow sled-driver is either looking at me or trying to cut in front of the driver to his right.

 

This dog is saving her energy for the sprint.  
I call this dog Joan.

Dog sled races are more vintage than old snowmobiles.  They look like more fun, in my opinion, and carry more sense and sensibility.  Dogs go slower, and mushers have only voice commands to guide them.  Also, the dog sleds start at three-minute intervals, avoiding a crowded and dangerous start.  Most of the dogs ignore all that and are just excited to know they will soon run their fastest.   

 

There’s a lot a howling, barking, and leaping as excited dogs get their spirits up long before the race starts. 

 

They have to be restrained or these rambunctious animals will take off before being given the “mush.” 

 

Once they’re off and running, devoted dogs give it all they have, tugging on the line, athletes in a sprint. 

 

As the race wears on, they cease most of their barking and howling, lower their heads, and settle into the serious business of just making it.  

 

It might have been a snowy and foggy day for the dogs and mushers, as it was for the snowmobile “sledders,” and maybe dogs don’t care about running through beautiful Wyoming on a sunny day.  But for me and the mushers, their spectacular course added great pleasure to this event.    

 

Please see maps prepared by Michael Angerman showing the places the places I stayed.

Map for the summer trip of 2020:  Michael's Map 

Map for the winter trip of 2021:   Google Map for Winter 2021