Broken Trails (26 page)

Once they were occupied with their treats, she returned to the bags and cut them open with her Leatherman. She opened her sled bag, and began a quick inventory, carefully looking over her notes. Everything had been shipped and seemed in good shape. Comparing what Scotch suggested and what she already had, Lainey transferred gear and food into her sled.

She was pleased to note that she had some extra dog food. Flagging down a passing volunteer, Lainey asked for the location of the donation area. She would drop the extra there for other mushers who might have need due to accidents, ill planning or undelivered drops. If no one claimed the leftovers, they would be donated to locals.

When she was satisfied, she returned to the checkpoint and signed out. Twenty-two minutes. Not as good as Scotch's times, but Lainey felt pleased at the time in and out. Not bad for a rookie. Her notes warned for vigilance as she left Skwentna. It did not take Lainey long to see why. The area had a heavy population of dog mushers, and dozens of trails crossed hers. Fortunately, once she got onto the river the maze of befuddling paths lessened and the team traveled easily, eating up the miles.

Lainey yawned. "Not good," she said aloud. The river run was long and boring, and it seemed to go on forever. About forty miles from the checkpoint the trail was supposed to head into the hills through spruce and alder trees. She would need to keep awake or risk passing the trail. Retrieving her thermos, she drank straight from the ingenious pop top rather than attempt to pour a cup. The instant coffee was strong and relatively hot, its bitter taste causing her eyes to widen.

"Whoo! That ought to do it!" she exclaimed. Her dogs continued gamely on, ears twitching backward when she spoke. She capped the thermos and put it away, imagining the sensation of caffeine coursing through her blood stream.

Overhead the clouds thickened. As the team glided effortlessly over the river, a gentle snow began to fall. Snowflakes hit the brilliant light of her head lamp, the flurry seeming stronger than it truly was due to the speed of the dogs. The sight was distracting, and Lainey finally turned the lamp off to keep from flinching from the stuff darting toward her face. As soon as her eyes adjusted, she realized how truly light it was with all the whiteness surrounding her. The snowfall returned to its non threatening appearance, her only indication of its existence the chill spots of flakes as they hit her nose and cheeks.

As the snow did not get any worse, Lainey's fears of a blizzard became baseless. Besides, someone would have warned her at the last checkpoint if the weather was going to turn horrendously bad.

She stopped and snacked the dogs once on the river, quickly going over their feet and replacing booties before setting off again. Too many interruptions for too long a time could disrupt their run / rest schedule. While some delays were to be expected, the closer Lainey could keep them on their planned itinerary, the better. As they ran, she finished her coffee and snacked on a slice of banana bread she had put into an interior pocket to thaw with her body heat.

Thinking she saw a trail marker ahead, Lainey turned her head lamp on again. There it was, the trail leading into low hills. The snow continued its slow if relentless fall. She wondered how long it had been falling in this area.

"Sholo, Trace, haw."

Her leaders took the trail up off the river and into trees. They slowed quite a bit as they began the incline. Lainey had been hours standing on the runners. She began to see why some mushers had attached folding stools to their sleds. They, at least, would be more comfortable through the race. She decided to get off the runners for a little exercise.

The snow here was powder, and Lainey sank to her ankles. Up ahead, the trail was well marked, giving the appearance of being solid. As she trotted behind the sled, she realized her error. It had to have been snowing in this area for some time, leaving close to a foot of snow on the well-marked trail. It was no wonder her team was slowing.

They continued on, running over low hills yet still moving steadily upward. As they did, the unpacked snow grew deeper until Sholo and Trace were walking more often than running. Lainey cursed and called a halt, making sure to anchor the sled so it would not slide back the way they had come.

There was nowhere to get off the trail here, so she knew she could not take a long break. She had no idea when the musher behind her had left the last checkpoint. For all she knew, he or she was right on her tail. It was not time to snack the dogs, but she decided to do so anyway. They needed the extra energy and encouragement to make it the few miles to Finger Lake.

At her sled, she got out her snow shoes and donned them before going up the gang line with treats. Each dog received lavish attention and thanks before she finally made it to her leaders. Sholo appeared a bit cowed. It was no wonder. He had never been on the Iditarod before and did not know what to expect. His experiences were with the mid range races. Lainey gave him lots of cuddles, wondering if she should swap him out. Montana, whose experience was the same as Sholo's, appeared eager and willing.

"I think you need a break, boy," she told Sholo. "You've done a great job. Good dog, good boy." She gave him an extra piece of fish, and detached him from the gang line. "What do you say, huh? Give you a break?" Lainey pulled Sholo back one spot. In a few moments, she led Montana to the front. When the switch was completed, she gave Sholo another affectionate rub, so that he knew his displacement had not been because of something he had done. She was not sure if the dogs understood that sort of thing, but if they did . . .

Lainey trooped back to her sled, but did not climb onto the runners. She popped the snow hook and ordered the dogs forward. The new blood at the front of the line sped things up a bit, but they were still moving at a walk. Lainey moved past the dogs, calling encouragement until she reached the front of the line. There she grabbed the line and began breaking the trail herself.

It was arduous work, and she had to stop and remove her parka or risk sweating too much. Sweat soaked clothing rapidly froze in these temperatures, and was a constant threat of hypothermia. Shedding extra clothes had been drilled into her by the Fullers, the entire concept at odds with her tropical oriented experience.

On they went, inching along it seemed. Eventually, they broke through the trees and Lainey looked out onto a frozen lake. The snow had stopped falling, as well, but it still remained deep and loose.

"Passing," someone called.

Startled, Lainey looked around to see a head lamp shining about a hundred feet away. Her team, tired from their exertions, hardly made a fuss as she directed them to one side now that the trail had widened. When there was room, the musher moved past, his dogs a bit more alert than her own. She wondered how long he had been back there benefiting from her struggles, and could not help but feel slightly resentful.

The musher passed and pulled to a stop just in front of her team. He stepped off his sled and walked back toward her. She recognized him. He was Drew Owens, a veteran of the race having finished the Iditarod four times.

"How you doing?" he asked.

"Not bad. Tired."

"Yeah. The trail here can be pretty bad some days. Since you broke the trail coming through there, I thought I'd do the same for you across the lake to the checkpoint. It's only fair."

Surprise tinged her exhaustion. "That sounds great. Thanks."

He grinned, his frosted beard crackling. "You're welcome."

While he made his preparations to break trail, she took the opportunity to treat her dogs. Heldig's bare paws had developed little balls of snow and ice under the toes, and Lainey carefully broke them apart before applying ointment and yet another set of booties.

"Yo! Why are you blocking the trail?"

Lainey stood to see the irritated newcomer pulling up beside her. "We have to break trail to Finger Lake. Drew's going to take the lead."

The disgruntled musher appeared momentarily nonplused before shrugging her shoulders. "Oh. I guess coming up behind you I didn't realize how bad it was."

"It was bad." Lainey packed up her things but returned to the head of her team. Regardless of the two mushers leading the way, the snow would still be somewhat loose, and she planned on walking the rest of the way to the next checkpoint. Ahead of her, Owens began the trek toward the lights visible in the distance, followed by the recent arrival. Lainey pulled her dogs back onto the trail.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

THE GOING WAS much better with two mushers breaking the trail before her. It seemed the snow had not fallen so thick here, a mixed blessing considering what she had gone through in the hills. When the teams started out distancing Lainey, she removed her snow shoes and got back onto the sled to ride the rest of the way to the checkpoint.

Up ahead, the lights grew brighter. Lainey grinned as she realized she was seeing a massive bonfire party near Shell Lake lodge. She had been told to expect it, but the reality was more than she had believed possible out here in the middle of nowhere. The noise carrying across the frozen Finger Lake sounded like the shindig was still in full swing. Despite enjoying the silence and solitude of the wilderness, her heart lifted at the sight and sound of the celebrants. It was hard to believe that it was five or six in the morning. They must have been going at it since the first musher arrived.

Someone noted the approaching head lamps on the lake and a cheer rang through the wee hours of the morning. Checkers and volunteers spilled out of a tent, and several of the well wishers moved closer as Owens mounted the embankment leading to the checkpoint, followed by his fellow mushers.

"Five forty-three AM," the checker said, marking it on his board. "Number thirty-five. Staying?"

"No. Blowing through."

"Got it." He stood back and waved the vet volunteers forward while Lainey produced her dogs' medical notes. After a thorough check she was released.

"Lainey!"

She looked up in time to have a photo taken of her. Blinking against the flash, she barely made out her editor grinning apologetically.

Strauss trotted forward. "How's it going?"

"Great. Had to break trail through the hills outside Skwentna, but otherwise, we're doing well." She glanced over her team, all the dogs looking over their shoulders at her to see what they were doing next. "I've got to get going. I'm supposed to meet Scotch three miles out. If I stay much longer, these guys are going to expect to be fed here and may mutiny."

Strauss nodded understanding. "She's about an hour behind you now. Maybe less - she's got a good team according to Don."

"Where is Don?" Lainey asked, looking over his shoulder at the revelers.

"Snoozing. I told him I'd wake him when Scotch came through."

"Tell him hi. I've got to get going."

Strauss stepped back. "We're flying to Nikolai."

"I'm taking a sixer in Nikolai," she said, referring to a six hour rest break. "I'll see you there."

Lainey officially checked out and left Finger Lake. The side of the airstrip was peppered with small bush planes outfitted with skis instead of landing gear. The party like atmosphere combined with the comings and goings of reporters and race fans would be a detriment to the rest she and her team needed.

The trail out of Finger Lake was a winding one as it followed the Skwentna River. Since the next leg would make or break her team, Lainey waited until they were well out of sight and sound from the parties before she pulled off the trail. Scotch would be by soon, and they would spend this break together.

She gave her dogs a quick snack as she removed booties, rubbed ointment into paws, and did the rest of her chores. Again she fired up the cookers, using melted snow to prepare the next meal out. For now, she fed the team from their cooler and used her cooler for their second watering.

Since there was no straw here, Lainey dug into her sled bag and produced blankets for her dogs. By the time she collected their plates, they were snuggled into their blankets and drifting off to sleep. Lainey yawned, a wave of drowsiness flowing over her, but she forced herself back to her chores. By the time she finished eating her breakfast - two slices of pizza, wrapped in tin foil and heated on the lid of her cook pot - another dog meal was in their cooler. She drained two of her juice packs to rehydrate, dropping half full frozen bottles of Gatorade into her cooler.

As she worked, she speculated on how the race was progressing. She had arrived thirty-five out of seventy-six, and Owens had left immediately after his veterinarian check. The other musher had remained at Finger Lake. That meant that at her last rest break, at least twenty mushers had gone through Yentna Station while she took a break. Scotch had started the race an hour and thirty-six minutes behind her and now was an hour back, maybe less. Lainey checked her watch and noted the time. It would not be long before Scotch arrived, at that rate.

She tried not to feel disheartened by her fall in the standings. The reality was that it really did not matter who was where unless you were at the front of the pack, and even that membership would change as the days crawled past. It was a rare thing for the first musher reaching the halfway point at Cripple checkpoint to actually come in first in Nome. By the time Lainey reached Cripple, the mushers would be settled into the front, middle or rear of the pack for the remainder of the race. Between now and then, accidents could happen - gear could irreplaceably break down, kennel cough could sicken the dogs, and Mother Nature could intervene to cause even the hardiest of souls to scratch. She reminded herself that though she was falling back, her goal was not to win but to complete the race.

As Lainey ate, three more mushers went by, nodding or calling a greeting as they went. Veterans all, she wondered if they had rested at Finger Lake or avoided the crowds like herself. She packed up the tin foil from her breakfast, drank another fruit drink, and devoured a piece of carrot cake. Then she pulled her arctic sleeping bag from the sled. She had about four hours to nap before getting the dogs ready to go.