Below the frozen surface, the tides never rest. Offshore storms still make waves. The coasts are still buffeted by winds, but the water that would normally come crashing ashore is now forced to act in slow motion. The white ice-shrouded coasts move. Cracks open up, then come together again.
Pressure ridges form.
Huge chunks of glistening ice pile up and spill over each other, grinding their forms together, emitting rumbles that send shudders down the spine of anyone caught out on the ice when it's in the mood to move. The ice-covered ocean, frozen to the curve of the Earth, can become open water in a matter of hours if the wind decides to float the ice pack out to sea. Always dangerous, sea ice can change as quickly as a politician's promise. As the Iditarod mushers come off the ice and onto Nome's Front Street for the final dash to the finish line, they have had ample opportunity to experience the arctic coast and the ice in all its moods, for it has been with them off and on for more than 250 miles, ever since Unalakleet. This final barrier of the race, the frozen seacoast, hits everyone squarely in the face, including the pilots of the Iditarod Air Force.