Broken Trails

Lainey watched the two teams in front of her take off, each time feeling an impatience to get out on the trail as she was forced to wait. Her team echoed her sentiment, voicing their disapproval with yips and howls. Then she heard her name and number and was ushered into position. When the announcer called “Go!” she did not even command the dogs. Trace and Sholo shot down the chute, glad to be free as they raced away.

Once past the designated chute, Lainey pulled onto a snow covered highway. The way was smooth and easy, her dogs speeding along. She knew they would not keep this pace, but at least it would hold her competition at bay for the moment. Lainey fully expected Scotch to catch and pass her before the day was through.

Along the way, fans idled along the path. Several had fires or grills going and Lainey smelled burgers and steaks cooking as she went past. She had never thought to see hard core enthusiasts sitting on the side of a road with plastic lawn chairs, not with ten foot snow drifts only a little further beyond them. The whole scene was surreal as she waved to those calling to her. It reminded her of parades she had seen in the bigger cities, where the locals camped out on the sidewalks the night before to ensure a decent view of passing floats.

Up ahead, the road lifted, and she saw a yellow railroad crossing sign. A few volunteers loitered about the tracks with shovels, ready to pack snow between the rails should a train cut through the race. She grinned at the weirdness and kept on going.

The crowd never thinned as the miles went by. Lainey’s team slowed to a more normal pace, and she relaxed into the now familiar sensation of mushing. She watched the dogs run, checking them for odd gaits indicating potential injury. Doing so was second nature for her, but this trail was an easy one and none of the dogs appeared to be nursing a shoulder or paw.

As it came closer to noon, it warmed up. With some care, she pulled her parka off, leaning over the handles to tuck it into the sled bag. Now she wore bib overalls and several layers of shirts and sweaters.

“Passing!”

Lainey craned her neck to see a team coming up behind her. As much as it galled her, she didn’t attempt to speed up. While her heart, and that of her dogs, was set on the term ‘race’ the reality was the Iditarod was an endurance test. If she pushed her team to their limits now, they would scratch halfway through the course.

“Whoa,” she said, as the musher began to overtake her. “Trace, Sholo, gee. Whoa.”

The dogs pulled to the side of the road, and she set her snow hook. Now was as good a time as any to snack them. Her three trash talkers cussed out the passing team, but they were trained well enough to remain where they were rather than take chase.

Lainey grabbed a bag of frozen fish from her bag and went up the line, encouraging and praising each dog as she fed them. They reciprocated with licks and wags, letting her know they were ready for anything.

“Looking good!” a man said from the sidelines where he sat in an old rocking chair, nursing a cup of coffee. His family sat around him in beach chairs, echoing his sentiment, though none came forward to interfere.

“Thanks.” Lainey smiled. Another team passed her as she double checked the gang line on her way back to the sled, and Chibee barked at them, shaking himself indignantly as they went on. She gave him a good scratching and finished her quick inspection.

The man raised his travel cup in salute. “To Nome or bust!”

Lainey laughed, stepping onto the runners and retrieving her snow hook. “To Nome,” she repeated. To the dogs she called, “Ready? Let’s go!”

It was not much longer before she reached Knik. The checkpoint was near the lake, and surrounded by a couple thousand fans. Barbecues and icy picnics seemed the order of the day, and voices rose in welcome as Lainey’s team neared. The exuberant nature of the crowd reminded her of tailgate parties at the Superbowl.

She directed the team to the official checkpoint where she stopped. Her time in was noted, and she opened her sled bag to show her mandatory items. “How long you staying?” the checker asked.

Lainey saw Howry and Strauss waving at her near the checkers’ station. “Just long enough to swap sleds,” she said.

“Remember to check out when you go.”

“I will.” Lainey trotted to the front of the line and led her leaders toward her friends, not trusting them to voice commands when they were still so excited to be on the road.

Howry waved her ahead and she saw her sled waiting to one side. Strauss had a camera about his neck, and waggled it at her. “Since Don’s covering Scotch, I figured I’d help you with your article.”

She grinned, stopping the dogs in front of her replacement sled. “Good! I expect I’ll get some photos once things settle down, but right now it’s just too hectic.” Lainey sped up the line. At the sled, she disconnected the gang line and shock cord, transferring her team to the new sled. With swift motions, she moved her gear over and double checked that everything she needed for the next fifty plus miles was in place. She removed her racing bib, packing it with the promotional package she carried; she would not need to wear it again until she left Safety for Nome.

The trail would leave civilization from here on out. In preparation, she stuffed dog booties in her pockets and went back up the line. She thoroughly examined each dog, checking paws for damage and replacing lost booties on each, and gave them a bite of moose liver.

“Time to go,” she said.

“Good luck,” Howry said, and Ben nodded agreement.

Lainey waved and hopped onto the sled runners. Pulling the snow hook, she paused only long enough to officially check out of Knik, having only been there for twelve minutes.

The trail climbed into a forested area, and trees soon hid the festive atmosphere at the lake. Her tension eased at the solitude, only now aware of how edgy the crowds had made her. She laughed aloud, the dogs’ ears flicking back to listen to her. Of course she had been worried. Nothing like the rookie eating snow on the national news, huh? She had already left the trail so readily the day before. Lainey hoped her team would vindicate themselves from that little wrong turn by keeping the trail for the next thousand miles.

Winding through trees, dropping onto frozen marshland and ponds, it was smooth sailing for her. Several other teams passed, but she consoled herself with the possibility that they would burn themselves out and she would see them again as they ate her powder. Her dogs bad mouthed the passing teams, receiving like sentiments from their competition.

Lainey dropped down onto the Susitna River. Here she saw the occasional marks of dog teams that had pulled aside. Taking their cue, she did the same. As soon as they stopped, her dogs enjoyed a brisk roll in the snow, snapping up mouthfuls to cool themselves down.

“Snack time, guys,” she said, shaking the bag of fish. “We’ll have supper in a couple of hours.” She made a cursory inspection as she went, small talking the dogs who were eager to show their appreciation for the break and her kind words. Many had lost their booties on the trail, and she replaced those that needed them.

The sun was beginning to set, and Lainey took the opportunity to get out her head lamp. She checked the batteries and bulb before fitting it over her musher cap, then made certain extra batteries were handy. It was starting to cool down, as well, so she put her parka back on. When all was ready, she called, “Okay, kids. Let’s go.”

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.