Broken Trails

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.

Another musher came up before Lainey got into her sleeping bag. She smiled in welcome as Scotch drove past and pulled in front of her. Foregoing her nap, Lainey walked up the line to greet her friend.

“Hey, you’re early.”

Scotch set her snow hook and wrapped Lainey in an embrace. “Had to catch up to you. I needed a hug.”

Lainey laughed and returned the squeeze. “Always glad to oblige.” She sighed, eyes closed. Sometime over the next couple of days, Scotch would go beyond Lainey if her luck held. For now, she welcomed what intimacy she could get.

“I’d better snack these guys,” Scotch murmured, obviously not wanting to release her.

Looking at the expectant team, Lainey chuckled. “Yeah, you’d better.” She forced herself away to allow her friend to begin her tasks.

They spent the next half hour discussing what was behind them. Scotch had not had the misfortune of breaking trail toward Finger Lake. She had traveled in a pack of four who had apparently followed another front runner. The snow had stopped falling, as well, so no new accumulation had piled up to impede their way. Don had been awake for her arrival, and sent greetings to Lainey along with a message that several reporters wanted to interview her in Nikolai.

“I’m supposed to do the interviews, not be their subject,” she grumbled.

“That’s the price you pay for fame,” Scotch said airily. She ducked a snowball thrown in her direction. “Ah, ah, ah. None of that. We need to conserve our energy for Rainy Pass.”

Lainey saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Best get some sleep while you can. You’ll need it.”

“I know.” Lainey stood and gave Scotch another hug. “I’m glad you’re out here with me.”

Scotch grinned. “Ditto that.”

The beep on her watch was more than irritating in the silence, and Lainey forced herself awake to shut the damned thing off. At some point, daylight had arrived, and she dragged herself out into it with a lurch. Muscles and joints creaked in protest, and she quickly donned her gloves and boots to retain sleep warmth. The most annoying thing was her bladder demanding release. She grabbed a roll of toilet paper and trudged away from the trail and sleds for a bit of privacy. Baring her hind end to the cold woke her up further, and she grumped in complaint, wondering if any woman had tried to use a catheter in the race before. She was not sure if the discomfort would outweigh the sharp bite of frost on her ass.

Her private call answered, she returned to the sled, pausing a moment to see Scotch’s knit cap poking out the top of her sleeping bag. A fond smile curved her lips, her mind’s eye supplying the vision of Scotch in her sleep shorts last summer, thighs and belly bare to her wandering gaze. The thought of arriving in Nome to finally succumb to Scotch’s touch caused her chest to ache and her blood to rush to points south.

Lainey shook herself as a team appeared from around a bend in the path. She waved as the musher passed, hearing only the gentle tinkle of gear and panting as they slid along. It was time to get things together.