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.

Rainy Pass to Rohn – Lots of Video Moments!

Our time at Rainy Pass was uneventful…treated a couple of sore wrists, everyone ate and rested well. It took us a couple of hours to get a vet check, as so many teams came in at once. This was also the first place where we encountered the nasty foxtail straw. I hadn’t noticed it so much when we stopped at Skwentna, but the straw we got at Rainy Pass was bursting with foxtails. Ugh! I typically spend all sorts of time, energy and money to avoid foxtails at all costs – they are utterly evil to dogs, who get them into their ears, eyes, nose and skin, where they fester and abscess and generally wreak havoc. I’ve spent too many trips and dollars on emergency after-hours vet visits having foxtails removed from where they’ve been inhaled into dog noses to ever think of them as benign. So I was pretty unhappy to see them in droves throughout the straw. One of the vets warned me of them, but I’d already seen them, however there was no alternative and nothing to be done except keep my fingers crossed that we would have no problems. Another vet then told me she was concerned about 2 of my dogs who were coughing and she thought they should be checked for pneumonia or kennel cough. Pneumonia? Try inhaled and ingested foxtails! They eventually got the foxtails out of their throats and stopped coughing, so we were OK…for now.

Heading out of the checkpoint, the dogs were so ready to go when we swung the team around to head to the trail I needed help holding them from some of the tourists who were stranded there due to non-flyable weather. Luckily they were game, and one gal was most helpful, including keeping her sense of humor and adventure when the team dumped the sled (and her). Then just out of the checkpoint we got off the hard packed trail and they dumped me. Sigh…my oh-so-well-trained team knows how to keep me humble.

The next humbling experience came when we hit our first open water crossing. A little stream…maybe 4 inches deep, about 10-12 feet wide…you would’ve thought I was asking them to cross the Pacific Ocean. Rope and Coast were in lead, we came around the corner to the water crossing, they put on the brakes and we all balled up…much to the delight of the couple sitting there on snow machines and taking pictures. While the woman took photos of our mess, the guy actually offered to help hold the sled while I got the dogs untangled and pulled them across the “chasm”. I knew once the front end of the team got across there was no way they were going back into the water, so they would pull the rest of the team across no matter how much they balked. It all worked as planned…didn’t dump the sled, just drug it through the water so the bottom and sled bag was pretty soaked. Thanked them and on our way.

As we started up Rainy Pass itself, the trail markers were a little thin, and we got off the main trail a couple of times – it was wide open, so that wasn’t a big deal as we could look around and eventually find a trail marker to get back on track. Then as we got into the heart of the Pass, the wind came up, and we were suddenly in a near whiteout. The trail crossed some exposed knobs that were deep with blown snow, and kept climbing, generally to the left. Shortly after the water crossing we came across a knob where the wind was blowing strongly toward our right (downhill) and the trail veered sharply uphill to the left. Rope would have none of turning into the wind and pulling uphill – he insisted on going downhill and out of the wind to the right. Just as we started a discussion about how that was not where the trail was, a helicopter cleared the rise ahead of us, circled and saw we were having problems, and went back to hover just above the rise and watch. Nuts! I tried a couple of more times, but it was clear it was going to take quite a while to convince Rope to head into the wind, and it was really fatiguing to hike up and down the team through the deep snow he’d pulled us into. So I opted to pick my battles…and save that one for another day. I switched he and Gerry, showed Gerry where the trail was – and off we went, much to the disappointment of the helicopter folks, I’m sure. As soon as it was evident we were on the move again, they continued back down the trail to find more trouble. Shortly I heard them hovering over the open water crossing, so they didn’t have to look far.

Rainy Pass, the upper gorge, and the Dalzell Gorge itself all kind of blended together. Not sure what I was expecting, but while there was a lot of pretty intense sled driving, it wasn’t undoable, it wasn’t scary, it wasn’t overwhelming. It was a lot of work and energy. HUGE moguls – we dropped into holes over my head, and the dogs would pull and out we’d pop over the opposite side. Steep uphills and downhills. Trees and rocks to avoid, sharp corners to negotiate…but so much snow it was eminently doable, and I kept waiting for “The Gorge” to bite me, but it never was as bad as I’d expected. The moguls were pretty tough on the sled however, and I think that’s where I broke the bracket on one of the front stanchions of the sled.

At the bottom of the Gorge the trail zig-zags on ice bridges across the Dalzell River, and a couple of those did bite me. Once they caught it on an Insider video (see the one titled “Tipped Sled in Rainy Pass”, shot on 3/6/2008). One someone caused…the video/audio team was on the left-hand side of the trail, and the dogs headed right for them, before suddenly veering back onto the trail. Glare ice, no steering, no stopping, so we slammed right into their sled and gear, as they jumped out of the way at the last second. At least the audio guy helped get us back on track…while the video guy kept shooting and I kept my mouth shut. But all in all a pretty fun tour of the Gorge, and I kept waiting for the really bad stuff – then suddenly I saw a sign on a tree saying 2 miles to Rohn. What?! And we were there, shortly before sunset…what a days’ work!

Skwentna to Rainy Pass – How ‘Bout Them Steps?

We departed Skwentna in the daylight and shortly left the river and started heading toward the mountains. Moguls and heavy, wet snow characterized most of the passage. Initially when we left the river we passed through forest and intermittent swamp trails, where you could see the Alaska Range drawing ever closer. Skirting lakes, occasional overflow, and it started snowing. More moguls…endless moguls. We all learned quickly that while the front part of the team might be able to skirt some of the holes, the sled was going in – just aim straight so you don’t tip.

We pulled into Finger Lake amidst some fairly heavy snow – didn’t plan to stay long, as I wanted to get through the Steps in the daylight. We ended up staying a bit longer than planned…the vets had to look over the team, I had to use the outhouse, and I chatted a bit with Laura Daugereau, whom they parked us beside when we stopped. Then of course we needed to put on new booties, as the dogs were getting to be quite efficient at pulling them off the instant we got into a checkpoint. However they also were getting quite proficient at “surfing” the ground where we were parked for snacks, and a few remaining kibble that might remain where a previous team had been parked. They would get the chance to perfect their surfing techniques during the upcoming checkpoints.

An hour later we pulled the hook and started toward the Steps…with much trepidation. We were rapidly losing our light and it was going to be dark by the time we hit the Steps – oh well, gotta go, certainly don’t want the dogs to be rested when we did them. That didn’t seem to matter…the dogs love running at night, and they got a new burst of energy as we started into the trail going through the Steps. The great news is that there was LOTS of snow. LOTS! Sinclair and Coast were in lead, the trail was twisty turny, and the 16 dog team were in high gear. And it was fun! It would have been even moreso had I not been thinking about the Steps drawing ever closer.

The Happy River Steps are a series of drops (“steps) bringing the trail down off the mountainside onto the Happy River, where it stays for just a short while, then starts climbing again toward Puntilla Lake and Rainy Pass. The drops are more like short cliffs, and once you start, down you go. I’d seen various pictures from summertime and from previous years, but really had no idea what it was going to look like or how you started them. The difficulty/dangers of the trail vary tremendously depending on the snow level. Why? In low/no snow years, your team is steamrolling down the mountainsides on rocks and ice, and with sharp turns there’s nothing to keep the team and sled on the trail. Deep snow is a blessing because you have a well-worn trail “slot” to follow. This year it was really a chute, sometimes with walls over my head. So as long as the sled got into the chute, you were golden – just ride it and hang on and have fun! I discovered this once I got in the first Step, but the anticipation was nearly killing me as we drew closer and closer.

The team was motoring along the winding trail when it seemed all of a sudden Sinclair looked to her left, spied the first step and DOVE for it. Literally lunged and jumped into it, and of course dragging the whole team with her. Me too…here we go! As soon as we got into the chute I realized how deep it was and that while I couldn’t really brake and control the speed, there was very little we could do to get into real trouble, as there was nowhere else to go. The sides of the first chute towered well over my head. I saw fleeting vignettes of walls of snow, flying feet, twisting dog butts, and kept ever focused on ensuring the bow of the sled followed my wheel dogs and stayed in the slot of a trail. Down we went. And it WAS fun! We were committed now, so there was no point in worrying any more…might as well enjoy it. The dogs certainly were – they always run silently, but if they had been teenagers on a rollercoaster, I can imagine they would have been hooting and hollering. They were clearly in their element. Swish! Whoosh! Whump! Slide…. Whip turn. Whoosh again! Accelerate!! Let’s go!!!

It was completely dark and I figured we were done with all the looky-loos and videographers looking to capture teams in trouble. Wrong! How naïve of me…that’s what lights are for! As we approached the last Step, I noticed a glow above the trail ahead of us – how odd, being out here in the wilderness. We rounded a corner and there was a guy standing there at the top of the Step – as we zoomed by, he commented dryly “Have fun!” Great…so this one is worse than the others. The lights were set up to video the bottom of the Step, and yes, we dumped for a split second. I’m not sure how dramatic it was however, since the snow was so deep we landed on our left side, I stood up, up righted the sled, and off we went. It didn’t seem like that big a deal to me, and the snow was certainly soft and cushy…

Suddenly and dramatically we were down on the Happy River, and the trail was eerily flat. Deep snow down here in this gorge too. Then as we started to climb out, the trail got twisty again, and LOTS of really deep mogul holes…it was to be like this the entire way to Puntilla Lake, although I didn’t know it at the time. I was travelling with a couple of guys who were also rookies, and so we all helped each other out if one got stuck or tangled. It was a fun trail. Up and down, round and round, in and out. Finally got to a side trail where there was a tent where someone was set up to provide hot water you could put in your cooler to take into the checkpoint, a couple of miles ahead. Since it was dark and no moon, it was hard to tell exactly what we were passing through, but that area seemed wide open, maybe another lake or meadow. Then we dropped down onto Puntilla Lake and pulled into the Rainy Pass checkpoint. We were all pretty happy with ourselves, having enjoyed the Steps…so what was the big deal, anyway? ;-)

The Real Start (Exciting and Boring and Terrifying, Oh My!)

The Re-start on Sunday at Willow Lake was almost surreal. I was fairly calm and relaxed, and needed to gainfully find a way to spend 5 ½ hours before I actually left the start line. Luckily, a whole series of minor events popped up to occupy my time. Friends kept offering food and drink, so I was able to nibble and snack my way to the race start. Several folks stopped by for pictures, interviews, etc., my Idita-rider and Ceremonial Start dog handlers, among them. The zipper and Velcro on the sled bag needed repair and Lori got those taken care of with a couple of hours to spare for packing. New race collars for the dogs, a few final pictures for the team photo frame, visiting with neighboring teams, entertaining Amy, Karen etc., final packing items, changing into trail clothes, bootie the dogs, ready, set, go!

On one hand, the actual start of Iditarod is just like any other sled dog race start. Teams leave the start at prescribed intervals. Lots of help to get the team to the line and hold the sled. Crowds lining the starting chute. Dogs getting all revved up. Did I forget anything major?

In other ways it is very different. Never before had I lined up 16 dogs in competition, never before had I had friends show up in such force just for me at a sled dog race, never before had I been in a race where I had to wait nearly 2 ½ hours after the start of the race before I started. It was nice all the hoopla was there to entertain my friends, and my world compressed just to the dogs, my sled, and myself. Everybody looking good? Where are my boots and snow suit? Did I remember enough hand warmers to get to Skwentna? Time to pee…no, not yet.

Once we left the starting line, my whole objective was to get the team under control and into a trot. Didn’t crash and burn on Willow Lake or on the road…whew! The team was going strong but not 100% all out -- glad we had a chance to do a few last minute runs toward the end of the week and take the edge off of them. The first team that passed me was Fabrizio’s, early on Vera Lake. Everything was familiar since we’d run these trails a million times, so the dogs did seem pretty settled down, as if we were going 20 miles not 1150.

Turned to head down the Corral Hill trail to get down onto the river, and my race was almost over when it had barely begun. A couple of other teams had passed me, there were lots of spectators on the trail sides, and ahead where the trail turned sharply and dropped onto the river, a ton of folks there to spot/help in case a team had problems. So above that, as we had just started down Corral Hill, I expected no trouble. Then I heard a snow machine heading up hill, toward us, as we headed toward a sharp left turn. The snow machiner burst from around the curve just as we reached it – he was going WAY too fast, and swerved violently to miss my leaders. He almost didn’t miss – swerved first right, then a hard left, then another hard right as the machine fishtailed out of control. The dogs jumped back and forth to avoid his machine…Tie and Coast in lead, and with Tie having been involved in the Klondike 300 snow machine accident, he knew what was happening and made sure to avoid the machine, and was barely able to do so. I didn’t see anything except that the guy had a red snow machine. He finally ended up on my left-hand side, I hollered at him to slow down and he rooster-tailed us as he sped by us up the hill. Everybody was OK…but what a jerk!

Down onto the river without further incident, and smooth sailing to Yentna. I wasn’t planning to stop – good thing, as I couldn’t…the dogs were going to have none of that! We signed through and on our way – no taste of spaghetti dinner for me! That’s OK – later on we passed some tailgaters handing out hot dogs shortly before Skwentna, and they were wonderful (as anything would be at that point, I was hungry!). On into Skwentna, and the dog chore routine began. The dogs really appreciated their snacks, straw and meal; I treated a couple of sore wrists, the team settled down to rest and I muddled my way up the hill to the roadhouse for some food and sleep.