Broken Trails (25 page)

As they continued on, she took the opportunity to have a snack break of her own. She pulled a small thermos of Gatorade from her personal bag, eagerly downing the lukewarm contents. Trail mix and Scotch's special recipe for pemmican filled her stomach. The food disappeared quickly and she was amazed at how hungry she had been, despite the knowledge that she had been on the sled through lunch.

They wove along the trail, first on the river, then climbing into forest, dropping along a swamp, and back to the river. Three more mushers passed before the trail got too narrow to allow for it. When they broke through the trees, she saw the upcoming checkpoint and grinned. Her dogs increased their pace as they neared, and she slid into Yentna, laughing.

"Four fifty-eight PM," the checker said as he handed her the clipboard.

Lainey signed in, noting she had fallen to eleventh place. "Any news on Scotch Fuller?" she asked.

"Not on me. You'll have to check up at the tent. How long you staying?"

"About six hours." She leaned over her handlebars to open the sled bag for the gear check.

"Everything's good." He initialed next to her signature. "Head on over there. The vet's need to do their check."

Lainey urged her dogs toward the tent. A woman waved her toward a pair of veterinarians waiting for her.

"How're they doing?" one asked, looking over the team as they came to a halt.

"Very good. I haven't noticed any limps or problems. They've mostly been wearing booties through the new snow." She handed him her vet book, a small notebook with all the paperwork on each of her dogs.

"Great." The two proceeded to give each of her dogs an exam, prodding wrists and shoulders, removing booties to check paws.

"Everything checks out," the other said. He wrote something in her notebook and handed it back. "If you're staying, park over there. We've got straw, but you'll have to get water from a hole in the river."

"Thanks."

Lainey spent the next half hour doing a full inspection of her dogs herself, bedding them down in straw, and covering a couple of with blankets. As soon as they were resting, she retrieved a rolled up child's sled from her bag and went to the river to get water.

The hole was jagged with chucks of ice floating in the water. Lainey carefully used the bucket dangling from a tripod over the hole to fill her pots. There was no concern for falling through as the sides indicated a good two feet of ice beneath the foot of snow on the river. She did not want to splash herself, however, and took extra care to keep dry.

Lainey lugged her water back to her dogs, her sled receiving an envious look from a fellow rookie from Minnesota who carried his pots by hand. She gave a silent thanks to Scotch and her detailed notebook, a carbon copy of it nestled in Lainey's bib overall pocket. Lainey had the benefit of experienced coaching to rely upon.

Back at the sled, she set up her two cookers and began boiling water. Some mushers only carried one, not wanting the extra weight. But Scotch was of the opinion that weight ultimately counted for nothing if you were not able to take care of your dogs. By using two cookers, Lainey cut her cooking time in half, would be able to eat with her dogs, and get through her checkpoint chores faster, thereby allowing her more time to rest. The dogs were the athletes, the ones who were well cared for through the race. The mushers, on the other hand, rarely slept more than a couple of hours in a day as they worked to keep their teams happy and healthy.

She dumped a measure of meat and fat into one pot, and tossed a boil bag of meatloaf and fried potatoes in the other. While she waited for the food, she dug out her notebook and skimmed through the information.

According to Scotch's notes, Lainey was a bit slower than Scotch's previous runs to Yentna. That was to be expected, really, since Lainey's team was officially second string. A lot of her dogs had been on the Iditarod trail with her, but as Scotch was attempting to maintain a professional racing team, she had gotten the better dogs in the kennel.

Lainey noted the travel times between Yentna and Finger Lake, her next scheduled downtime, committing it to memory before turning pages. A shiver crawled up her spine as she saw the words 'Heavy moose population' in capital letters. She did not want a repeat of what had happened in November. Her eyes flicked past the warning and she read up on what to expect on the trail.

When dinner was finished, she added dry chow to the mixture and went up the line, dropping plastic food dishes and filling them. Her team roused from their nap to eagerly lap up the offering. Lainey returned to the cookers, plucked her dinner from the second pot, and added the boiling water to the leftovers in the dog pot. Again she went up the line, giving the dogs a meaty watering, talking to them, and treating them to rough affection as she went.

With a sigh, she found clean snow nearby, not wanting to trek all the way back to the hole in the river. She piled it onto her small sled and started another pot of water for the dogs. Only then did she sit in the bed of her sled and eat her meatloaf, washing it down with the last of her Gatorade. Lainey checked her watch, seeing it had been an hour since her arrival. Scotch would no doubt be there soon. As much as she wanted to enjoy a nap like her team, she still had a couple of things to do. She forced herself to her feet, pleasantly full and warm from her meal, and retrieved the now empty dog bowls. Another bag of meat and quarter pound of fat went into dog cooker, and she started another pot of water on hers. When both were ready, she took the finished products and poured them into two coolers on the sled. To one she added the dry chow and vitamin supplements, a meal ready for a pit stop on the road. In the other, she deposited five of her juice packets, now frozen from the cold. When she got out on the trail, they'd be thawed enough for her to hydrate herself.

Chores finally finished, she debated where to sleep. Her dogs were curled up together, still on their tug lines, though she had released the neck lines from their harnesses to make them comfortable. Taking a cue from them, she settled into her sled bag once more. Scotch would arrive soon. Lainey would just wait here for her to arrive.

She never knew exactly when she fell asleep.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

"HEY, ROOKIE."

Lainey grumbled as someone nudged her sled. She dragged herself to consciousness, peering into the dark.

Scotch grinned down at her.

Still groggy, Lainey returned the smile and forced herself to sit up. After a wide yawn, she looked around the cordoned off musher area. "What time is it? When did you get in?"

"I got here about six fifteen. It's almost ten o'clock now." Scotch squatted in the snow beside her. "I saw your time in when I got here. You're due to leave in an hour or so, aren't you?"

Lainey rubbed the sleep from her eyes, amazed she had been out of it for so long considering the cold weather. "Yes, coach," she said, throwing her legs over the edge of the sled. "I've got to get more water."

"So do I." Scotch stood and took Lainey's hand, helping her rise. "I'll go with you."

Upending the child's sled to knock the snow from it, Lainey grabbed her pots and walked with Scotch. They stopped further on at Scotch's team so she could grab the same gear. They trudged through the snow toward the river.

Now fully awake, Lainey looked around the checkpoint. A lot of the mushers had decided to take a rest break here. Not everyone, however. She speculated on who had left early. Were they driving their dogs harder than she? Or was it just the forerunners, those who had arrived before her, that had left?

"So how'd it go?" Scotch asked as they approached the watering hole.

"Not bad. I still can't keep Heldig in booties. I don't know what she does, but they fly off as soon as we're on the trail." She grinned at Scotch's laughter.

"That's nothing new. Just make certain to keep ointment on her paws."

"I will." Lainey took Scotch's hand and pulled her close until they bumped up against one another as they walked. "I've missed you."

Scotch squeezed her hand. "I've missed you, too." She craned her neck around, searching for witnesses before giving Lainey a quick kiss.

They continued on and Scotch drew water, waiting for Lainey as she did the same. As they made the return journey, Lainey asked, "How did your trip go?"

"Not bad. Ran into a mama moose about ten miles from here, but she was more concerned for her safety than into challenging the dogs."

Lainey grimaced. "I'm glad you didn't have trouble with her."

"Me, too. I don't want to suffer an incident like Susan Butcher," Scotch said, referring to the 1985 Iditarod where a musher had to scratch early in the race because an enraged moose had attacked her team. At the time, she had been considered a potential winner for that year's race and, as it was, another woman won instead - Libby Riddles, the first woman to win the Iditarod.

"No one does."

Back at the musher area, Scotch stopped at her team. "This is where I get off."

Grinning, Lainey said, "Oh, I think you'll be getting off somewhere else. In Nome if things go as planned." She chuckled at Scotch's blush. "I'll see you on the other side of Finger Lake?"

"Yup. Three miles past. I'll be there."

Unable to help herself, Lainey gave Scotch a long hug, not caring if anyone else saw them. Scotch returned the embrace and then they broke apart. Reluctant, Lainey took her pots of water down the line to her dogs.

Once more she set water to boiling. Another meal for her and another for her team soon bubbled away. Her dogs slept on, trained to take rest when they could get it, and she watched them fondly.

When the dog stew was ready, she distributed their plates, gently waking each animal with words and caresses. She used the chow in the cooler and transferred the freshly cooked meal into it afterwards. Again she made two trips, using the lukewarm water from her cooler to water the dogs. She ate her midnight snack, chicken and rice with broccoli and carrots mixed in, and used some of the freshly boiled water to brew instant coffee in her thermos. The rest she put into her cooler with the juice packs.

Her team was fed and frisky, ears up and eyes bright, a good sign. Lainey donned a pair of surgical gloves with hand warmers nestled in her palms to brave the frigid weather. She applied ointment to dog paws, all sixty-four of them, massaging the pads and wrists, checking for cuts and abrasions, looking for soreness in shoulders and hips. No indication of injury was forthcoming by the time she finished with her leaders, and she nodded to herself, satisfied.

Sleeping in the cold had stiffened her, and she winced when she stood upright again. Lainey removed her surgical gloves and collected the dog dishes, packing everything into her sled, or into a trash bag. Fortunately Strauss had given her the parka at the mushers' banquet - Irish had had time to adapt it for a hand warmer before the race began, and Lainey stuffed one into the pocket next to her sore ribs.

She scooped the ever present doggie doo into her trash bag, packed up the remainder of her belongings, and found someplace to dump the garbage. Then she sorted through her snacks and refilled her personal bag on the handlebars. Once everything was completed, she dug a watch out of her pocket and noted the time. Her six hours were nearly up. It was time to get back on the trail.

Lainey made another pass down her team, putting booties on all the dogs, even Heldig the Notoriously Barefooted.

The traditional husky licked her face, grinning at her as if to say 'Why bother?'

"Try, Heldig. Keep them on for a half hour, that's all I ask." Lainey gave the dog a hug.

She climbed aboard the runners and gave the team their commands in a quiet voice so as not to disturb the other mushers drowsing nearby. As they passed Scotch's position, she waved and Scotch blew a kiss in her direction. Wearing a silly grin, Lainey arrived at the checkpoint.

"You're out of here then?"

"Yep. Lainey Hughes. I came in eleventh."

The checker, a bleary eyed older woman located her name and time in. "Okay. You're out at... exactly eleven PM."

"When was the last departure?" Lainey asked.

She scanned the times listed. "Looks like Dave Creavey blew through the checkpoint three hours ago."

"Thanks." To her dogs, Lainey called softly, "Ready? Let's go."

As they headed away from the checkpoint, darkness descended. Lainey switched on her head lamp. Her team ran easily, the rest having done them good. It was eerily silent as they traveled, the only sounds were the swish of snow and her dogs panting as they ran. Overhead the sky was dark, scattered clouds blotting out the vivid starlight she had grown accustomed to out here in the bush.

A trail marker came into view ahead, and she ordered the dogs to the left to follow it. They climbed into a spruce forest, the path wide and smooth. Despite the apparent ease, Lainey kept her attention on the trees they passed, not wanting a branch to sweep her off the sled. The dogs were refreshed and lively. If she fell off, they could very well make it to the next checkpoint without her. She did not relish a thirty mile hike to Skwentna.

The hills were low, but Lainey took the time to run up them. She needed the exercise to remain awake, and it eased the load for her team if they did not have to drag her weight as well as the gear packed sled. Then they slid back down to the river, an easy run.

It seemed no time before she saw lights ahead. The Skwentna checkpoint loomed in the dark, and she directed her team to the welcoming lights. She pulled in, ran through the inevitable sled and vet checks, and guided her team to where the food drops were stored. There were no drops at Finger Lake. They would have to carry everything they needed for the next seventy-five miles until Rainy Pass. Between Finger Lake and Rainy Pass was the treacherous Happy River valley to traverse and they would need to be prepared for damage to the sled and extra food and gear for the team.

Lainey found her three bags, color coded with her name on them. She lugged them out of the storage area and onto the sled before urging her team a little further away. As soon as she stopped them, she went down the line with a bag of white fish, snacking them.