Rohn to Nikolai: (Near) Disaster…or How to Practice Hanging on to the Freight Train for Dear Life

Upon leaving Rohn the team winds its way through the woods and VERY shortly finds itself on the glare river ice. VERY shortly meaning the team is fresh and just getting warmed up when we hit the river and then things really start to rock and roll! Gerry was in lead…and whenever I have “mushing adventures” it is almost always with Gerry in lead. This run proved no exception. Oh, did I mention that Gerry likes to go around the world to the right??? So of course out on the river, running headlong with no chance of stopping, the trail angles…left. He continues to veer right. I realize we’re off the trail and tell the team “HAW!” We start to swing left – at a dead run – and cut across a gravel bar which is inconveniently in our path. Which was bouncy and the sled was clattering along but still upright and I had this fantasy everything was under control…right up until we hit the driftwood and boom! Tipped over to the right and down we went, “WHOA! WHOA! WHOA!!!!!” OK, slowly assess damage and injury and try to stay calm – as soon as we get upright again, we’ll be off to the races. A busted stanchion top, a torn sled bag, and a scraped up forearm…EASY!...here we go again!

No more gravel bars, but at a dead run we missed the trail exit off the river into the trees – and I desperately wanted to get off that river and glare ice. So we finally stopped and managed to get the team turned around, then drive them back to the point where we were supposed to enter the woods and finally got them to go in. Whew…so I thought… We were now embarking on the infamous “buffalo tunnels”, many miles of twisty tiny trails through the woods created by the many buffalo who roam the area. Although I didn’t actually see any buffalo, I heard them in the woods a few times as we went by, and saw plenty of evidence of their work in crafting the area to their own needs. Twisty turny tight trails, lots of ups and down, replete with stumps, roots, rocks and precious little snow it was very much like a caricature of a trail, or one dreamed up by an evil fairy godmother. So of course the dogs LOVED it! Every twist, every turn, it seemed as if all they did was accelerate. “Woo-hoo! Let’s see if she can hang on for this bump! Did she make that corner? How about this one?”

It was intense and required total concentration…and you could really feel the power of a 16 dog team. Then in an instant disaster struck and the experience went from being exhilarating to excruciating. I think what happened is that we struck a rock, which dumped us on our right side, and one of my snow hooks which were riding on top of the sled fell to the ground underneath the sled and embedded on a log/root on the right side of the trail, bringing the team to an immediate halt. I finished falling to the right as the sled dumped, and landed on the iron bar on the back of the snow hook – landed hard. Luckily the team was securely stopped, so I could holler and writhe in pain to my heart’s content without fear of losing the team. So I did. Eventually (maybe 30 sec to a minute) I managed to get up and hobble up to the team, and proceeded to unhook all the tug lines except for the leaders and the wheel dogs, to cut down (drastically) on the power available for them to use. At this point Rodney Whaley caught up to me and helped me right the sled and get the snow hook out of the log…and away we went again! Only this time it was relatively more controlled and no more disasters, even though I thought I could feel the blood pooling in the huge bruise growing at the top of my thigh. We were satisfyingly boring going across the Post River Glacier, much to the disappointment of the videographer waiting and hoping to catch the team struggling or me losing it – nope, just motored across and up it like we did it every day.

A few hour rest at Buffalo Camp, then on our way again to Nikolai. The pre-dawn hair-raising adventures were replaced by an endless and easy trail to Nikolai, except for the interminable moguls. The sled of course went into every single hole and the dogs pulled me out the other side. The front end of the team would try to avoid the mogul holes – go around, jump, etc. but the back end had no choice but to go where the sled went. About 15 miles out of Nikolai Utah did some gymnastics to avoid yet another mogul hole, only this time he came out with pronounced gimp as he managed to pull or strain something in his front end. By this time too my leg and hip where I’d landed on the snow hook were nice and swollen, and becoming increasingly immobile. Nuts to both! I would have to deal with them when I got to Nikolai.