With Iditarod a short but distance memory (and of course our heartfelt congratulations to Lance Mackey on winning four championships in a row) the time has come to start looking forward to summer.

There is no better way than listening to the arrival of spring. The drip, drip, drip, of snow and ice melting from our rooftops. This always signals spring is more than on its way. Our roads are for the most part barren of ice and snow, and just a bit wet from the meltdown. We know we are keeping the windshield washer fluid people in the big bucks this time of year.

This week, the first week of April, for the first time in years we have motorcycles on the prowl. What a great sight!. The freedom to cruise the now open road with the wind in your face, the sun above, and the mountains out in front of you!

As I cruise, I see the surrounding mountains. The sun shines gloriously upon the face of each, with not a cloud to be seen. The snow is a brilliant white, the sky an azure color more akin to that of the oceans.

My mind wanders back for a split second to our various journeys into the back country of our mighty ranges; The Alaska, The Wrangles, The St. Elias, The Brooks and more. All have the same message: "Come and See this Great-land!"

I squeeze the throttle just a bit as if I could catch them. They rise skyward into the blue, and I know I cannot grab but a mere memory of this moment.

I pull over just to watch. Waiting for the unknown. I sit back on the backrest and marvel at it all. Before me from South to North, a collection of wonderment; from Volcanoes of the Cook Inlet, to the granite peaks of the Alaska Range. Will I ever tire of this? Not a chance!

A cool breeze brushes past my face, and I picture a group of our "blue jacketed" travelers joining me... just to watch. A big smile breaks out on my face and my riding partner asks "what's up?". How do I explain the joy of showing "this" to a group of friends from all over the globe? I cannot begin to even try.

Soon a couple of fellow riders join us. Both are from our local military bases. They ask, "don't you ever get tired of this?"

My response is quick: "Nope, and just think, the tour is just beginning."

With that, I pull on my helmet, crank up the motor and ease back onto the open road. With a smile and a chuckle I go, as I sit "Behind the Windshield".

Iditarod Time! - By: John Gailey

As winter rapidly approaches what feels like the half way point, I see more and more dog trucks and sleds than I can recall in many a year. I then realize we are nearing the very special event in Alaska that makes winter what it is; Iditarod!

The image of fourth avenue in Anchorage that first Saturday in March, with all the spectators gathered along the sidewalk for the Grand start, brings a smile and a chuckle to mind. I wonder if Joe Redington Sr. had any idea how big his dream would actually become.

Hundreds of dogs howling, barking in anticipation of being hitched up in team, and then the sled. The excitement of young and old as teams race off into the wilderness and desolation of Alaska's deep interior. In talking with friends on the trail, we all think back to what it was like just to move in this country. No fast moving snowmobiles, only the teams of dogs, pulling their mushers, and sleds laden with cargo.

We sit trail side on the back of our "Iron Dogs", looking across the frozen muskeg and snow, and realize the majesty of where we are. Denali rises skyward, calling us to come. Many more peaks of the Alaska Range show us just how small we are, even with all of our mechanical marvels. And just when we think we have it figured out, a lone wolf lopes across the snow a mere quarter mile away.

Even with the temperature hovering near zero, none of us want to leave this place.

I think of the dog teams that will pass by here soon, and realize they will experience this with different eyes. The dogs leaning into harness, pulling with a steady pace, headed further into the unknown. And no matter how many times you are down the trail, it is always different. The dogs smelling the trail, keeping a pace that will push them onward. I remember as a trail breaker pushing on into the villages along the trail's route, we never got the reception as the mushers, for they are Alaska's hero's.

Well the sun is moving, and getting ready for a quick exit. As though orders given, we all pull the rope and fire up our motorized dogsleds, pull on our helmets, and zip up our jackets; time to head home. But I'll be back! For sure in March. To again see the many teams moving out into the great beyond, moving out into the unknown. That which is Iditarod.

So for you "southerners", pop some corn sit back and tune in the television for the start of our great race (Daytona has nothing on us). I will be sitting on the back of my sled, with the grille cooking away waiting for the sound of the teams as they make their way north by northwest. Always wondering what it was like back in the day, sitting behind this windshield.