Broken Trails

The only thing keeping her on the trail was an acronym she had learned in her AA sessions - H.A.L.T. It stood for Hungry, Angry, Lonely, Tired, and whenever she felt one or more of these things she knew to not make a hasty decision. Her entire being throbbed with those emotions but her experience taught her not to jump to wrong conclusion. That was the only thing keeping her in the race now.

She chuckled grimly as she prepared the team to leave Kaltag. The choice to quit the race was out of her hands so long as she refused to make a decision. If she made it to Nome it would be because of that. What a way to finish the race., too morose and exhausted to quit. She doubted anyone else could claim the same.

Returning to the assessment of her dogs, she questioned one of the vets. He graciously went over her team again and returned with a verdict that they could make it to Unalakleet in one hump providing she watched them closely for any signs of injury. None appeared on the verge of strain, but things could happen on the trail as she well knew.

Lainey thanked him and continued readying the team. One of her reasons for pushing through was her distaste for camping in the middle of nowhere. According to the standings, unless someone behind her blew through Kaltag and tailed her, she would be in the wilderness, hours away from anyone the entire time. If she forced the team to keep going, at least they could take another eight hour break in Unalakleet, a town of several hundred people. Civilization was preferable to the bush and after a ten or twelve hour run, the extra rest would be beneficial before they started their run on the Alaskan coast.

The sky was cloudy, the rising sun obscured by murky gray. Weather reports said a bit of storm was expected, but nothing too outrageous. Still, this stretch of trail was notorious for sudden and extreme storms.

H.A.L.T. She laughed to herself again. No hasty decisions. If the situation came up, she would stop and camp out. If not, look out Unalakleet, here she came.

Lainey finished her chores and brought the dogs to the checkpoint. She signed out, mentioning that she was going to attempt a straight shot. Better to warn the officials; if she took too long to get to the next layover, at least someone would have an idea when to start the search for her.

She did not need to yell to be heard anymore. The dogs had calmed down considerably with their time on the trail and easily picked out her voice. “Ready,” she said. Her team, ears pricked in eagerness, awaited her order. Trace and Sholo pulled them straight, their eyes only for the trail leading out of the checkpoint. “Let’s go.”

Over the next hour and a half, the team climbed a gradual ascent through woods and tundra along the Kaltag River valley. There were a couple of places where the sled tilted with the grade. It remained on track though, following the well delineated path of previous mushers and trail breakers. By the time she reached the summit, about eight hundred feet above sea level, the sun had fully risen behind its veil of cloud cover. The sky was gray and heavy and the ground white with a dry, powdery snow. Trees in varying achromatic shades broke the landscape but not the dreariness. The view was not as stark as the Farewell Burn had been, but Lainey’s already dismal mood seemed to descend with the trail into another valley.

The drop was as gradual as the rise, and the path was an easy one. No snow had fallen recently, and the trail was packed solid and smooth. It was bitterly cold, as well. When Lainey forced herself to eat something, she finished by putting on her face mask and tightening the ruff of her parka hood.

What the hell was she going to do about Scotch, other than the obvious, when she got to Nome? Was she really entertaining the notion of retiring from free lance work to settle down? Introducing Lainey Hughes, Alaskan housewife! Ludicrous! The reason she became a photo journalist in the first place was because she loved cameras and had itchy feet. Sooner or later, the urge would hit her, and she would be on the next plane out of Anchorage, guaranteed. It was a rare gig that kept her attention for longer than six months.

She ignored the little voice reminding her she had yet to feel that itch in the nine months she had been cooling her heels at the kennel.

Besides, that domestic daydream rested largely on Scotch’s shoulders. Who said she wanted more than a brief liaison? They had never discussed a relationship, only the need to hold off from jumping into the sack until after the race was finished. Lainey had played the field for years. Women as attractive and confident as Scotch were usually players. Granted, she did not have the opportunity to sow wild oats out here in the bush, pun not intended, but the potential was there. Had Scotch grown up in New York, she would be the toast of the town, sleeping her way through a multitude of warm and willing partners.

Despite her thoughts, Lainey grinned. Taking Scotch to New York would be fun. It would be a blast to visit her old neighborhood, take Scotch to Broadway, go dancing and show her off. Her pleasant thoughts disintegrated at a vision of some hussy cutting into their dance, smiling with sharp teeth and a seductive eye.

“Ugh!” she yelled.

The dogs heard her, but did nothing more than flick their ears in response, not hearing a useful command.

Lainey took stock of her surroundings, surprised they were no longer moving downhill. Instead, they had wandered around many small lakes - she had a vague memory of passing several - and now traversed a wide flat land. She checked her watch and realized another two hours had passed while she wallowed in her pit of gloom. A quick look at her notebook told her she was firmly in the Tripod Flats area.

It was long past time to snack and check the dogs, and she called them to a halt. In less than fifteen minutes, they were moving again.

Okay, so maybe taking Scotch to New York would not be such a hot idea. Lainey could not imagine asking her to give up dog sledding. It would be fun to bring her on photo shoots during the summer, though, when she was not in training. Egypt, Africa, Australia - Scotch would love to see these places. She always grilled Lainey on where she had been, what the people were like, and what she had seen. Scotch had a deep curiosity about different cultures and foods. Maybe Lainey could take her on as an assistant for a couple of months out of the year. But eventually, Scotch would want to return home to drum up sponsors and begin the next season’s training.

Running a kennel was expensive what with entering the Iditarod and any number of other races each year. With Rye turning eighteen soon, the family’s cost of racing would double. Lainey had listened in on a few of their ‘board meetings.’ It was a pretty sure bet that Rye and Scotch would have to switch off each year. Fuller Kennels could only afford to send one of them at a time. As it was, this was only Scotch’s fourth Iditarod, and she had been eligible to run it for seven years. The reason she did not have to skip this year was because of the magazine’s involvement and sponsorship.

Lainey frowned in thought. If it was a foregone conclusion that Rye would be entering next year’s Iditarod, that would free up Scotch for an extensive ‘vacation.’ Lainey could hire her as an assistant for the next few months, maybe even a year. The money Scotch would make could be funneled to the kennel and cover Rye’s entry fees. Living in the bush of any number of third world countries meant saving a lot of money as Lainey well knew. And since Scotch had a home in Alaska, rent free, she would not have the money drain that Lainey had with her sublet in New York.

It was something to consider.

Hell, if Scotch was amenable to a long term relationship, Lainey could give up her apartment and officially move into the cabin. Would that make her eligible for the Fuller Kennels board? If that were the case, she would gladly invest in the kennel, especially if she was able to enjoy the occasional racing season herself.