Broken Trails

She zipped up the sled bag, and checked the munchie bag hanging between the handles. Here was a thermos of warm Gatorade, a couple of bags of candy, and some trail mix. Another lesson learned - the dogs were not the only ones working on a run. Tangles with brush, balking dogs, and running behind the sled to lighten the load gave her lots of exercise. The mushers at the finish line last March had made the whole thing seem easy. Lainey was discovering how much work was truly involved for the human element of the team. She was glad she had let Scotch bully her into running every day through summer and fall.

Lainey looked over at Scotch who finished her last minute checks. They had agreed to head out together, but split up about three miles out. Scotch wanted to take her dogs through the ravine, mushing them along a narrow creek bed and up onto the road near the kennel. Lainey hated that run. It reminded her of an Olympic toboggan chute more than anything else. If something happened, she would never be able to muscle her dogs and sled out of it, and probably be dragged behind instead. She already had a couple of experiences of eating snow; she did not wish to repeat them.

She planned on hitting a milder trail near a snow covered meadow. There was a loop there the Fullers had dubbed Dupont Circle after the notorious traffic circle in Washington, DC, with several trails sprouting from its central path. It reiterated Lainey’s spoken commands to her leaders, as they had to pay attention or go off on the wrong trail. The run might not be as hazardous as Scotch’s destination, but there were some wonderful switchbacks along the route Lainey chose. The Iditarod was over a thousand miles long, and she needed to prepare her dogs for any eventuality.

After the run, she and Scotch planned to meet up at the hot springs to greet Miguel’s overnighters and snack the dogs. They’d take a rest break there and bring the teams home in time for dinner.

Everything was ready. Lainey glanced over at Scotch, who stood on the runners of her sled, grinning at her expectantly. She smiled and waved back, mirroring the woman’s stance. With one hand on the handlebar, Lainey crouched down to pull the snow hook, placing it in the specially made pouch at the back of the sled bag. She heard Scotch call out commands, and watched from the corner of her eye as her team pulled out of the yard.

Not wanting to be left behind, her team lunged forward, wanting to follow, barking for all they were worth. The sled skimmed sideways, still attached to the pole by the snub line, and she held the handle tightly.

“Ready!” she called. Cochise and Sholo, her leads, pulled forward, straightening the line of dogs. Lainey released the last mooring, and yelled, “Let’s go!”

Free to run, the team shot forward, tails wagging and tongues lolling. Within minutes, they were out of the yard, the clamor of those left behind fading in the distance. The dogs always went quiet when they began running, and Lainey sighed at the silence broken only by panting dogs and the swish of a sled going over snow. This was so much better than with an ATV. No running motors, just her and the dogs and the wilderness. Lainey had worked in the bush of many different countries, always enjoying the chance to be alone with nature. It was with some delight that she realized she would be afforded an even deeper sense of solitude on this race.

Up ahead, she barely caught sight of Scotch as she rounded a bend. Small wonder considering the distance. Cochise and Sholo were about twenty feet in front of Lainey, and there had to be a thirty foot gap between them and Scotch. That was another thing about sledding; she could be mushing with all three Fullers and rarely catch a glimpse of any of them unless they passed one another.

The dogs were going at a good clip; Lainey figured they were running at about ten miles per hour. That was to be expected since they were all well rested and eager. A couple of more trails would pass and she would cut off this one and onto another, leaving Scotch to her breakneck roller coaster ride.

The trailhead came up, its entry marked by a fluttering red strip of cloth. As Cochise came abreast of it, Lainey called, “Haw!” The husky and his all black partner automatically turned left and onto the path. Behind them, the swing dogs - Montana and Meshindi - followed the smooth arc, leading the rest of the team forward and into the turn. Dablo, Bast, Tecumseh, and Heldig plodded dutifully along. When the sled arrived at the turn, Jonah and Aziz, the burly wheel dogs, put their formidable strength into it, yanking the sled onto the now trail with relative ease.

“Good dogs!” Lainey called, watching ears prick back to hear her praise. She grinned against the chill wind along her cheeks. Had anyone told her she would one day relish being in below freezing temperatures on the back of a dog sled, she would have laughed in their faces.

All in all, it had been a good idea to arrive at the end of June. It had given Lainey an opportunity to become acclimated to the cooler temperatures and gradual change of seasons. The weather did not affect her nearly as bad as it had in March, coming from sweltering sun to icy expanses. With Thom Fuller’s help, she had purchased the proper arctic gear, as well, and she rode her sled with little discomfort. Native mukluks covered her feet, and she wore bibbed snowpants recommended for mountaineering. Her parka was a pullover, like Scotch’s, the lack of zippers and snaps giving added protection as wind and snow had no points of entry. Helen had sewn an extra pocket high up on the right side, its size perfect to accommodate a hand warmer nestled against Lainey’s ribs.

Toasty and warm, she watched the world open up as the team pulled into Dupont Circle. Each of the half dozen trails were marked with a different colored flag. The one she wanted flickered green, but Lainey allowed her team to pass it without command. There had been another spate of snow the night before, and the dogs took the opportunity to bite at snow drifts as they passed quenching their thirst and cooling off. She looked over the lot of them, careful to note their body language, searching for anything out of the ordinary to indicate discomfort or injury.

The dogs ran well, loping back around the circle. Sholo glanced over his shoulder as they passed their point of entry. Lainey could imagine what he was thinking - You brought us here. Where the hell are we going? She laughed aloud and called the command when they got to the proper trailhead. “Gee!”

Like a well-oiled machine, the team turned right, leaving the meadow for a run through dense brush. Here Lainey paid more attention to her surroundings as trees crowded close. Sweepers were a real danger, limbs hanging low enough to knock the musher from the sled. The close confines caused the dogs to slow a bit, and Lainey hopped off the runners, trotting behind the sled to lighten the load. Up ahead she saw orange paint on a tree trunk, indicating the first switchback.

Sholo and Cochise easily navigated the trail as it doubled back on itself. Of course, they had the benefit of years of experience on the paths around the kennel. They ran out of sight, and Lainey watched the rest of her team disappear around the bend. When the swing dogs were the last, she jumped back on the runners, leaning hard to the left. The sled jerked left, the momentum forcing her right like the end of a whip, but her preparation kept the her upright and on course. Exhilarated, she stepped off the sled and ran some more, her breath steaming in front of her. The dogs, tails wagging, continued on to the next hairpin turn.

After the third turn, Lainey noticed the team’s attention diverted from the trail. Their ears pricked toward the right, and she peered in that direction, unable to see anything through the undergrowth. Maybe they smelled a rabbit or another dog team in the area. In any case, their divided attention became her concern. She kept close eye on the dogs. One or two of them were young and untrained enough that a romp through the woods in search of an elusive rabbit would be quite entertaining. Something like that had the potential to either cause a mutiny in the ranks or some major damage to the sled and gear should they make a run for it. Lainey reached into the sled for the snow hook, hanging it over the back of the sled bag for easy accessibility.