Broken Trails

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Broken Trails Page 19

by D. Jordan Redhawk


  A checker came to her sled and she opened the bright yellow bag to show her mandatory gear. Not only were the usual items in place, but there was a packet of mail and promotional material she was required to deliver to Nome. If she lost any of it, she would be disqualified from the race. Other than the necessary items, she had little else. She and Scotch had sent their primary racing sleds to Knik with the dog trucks. There they would transfer their belongings before heading out into the wilderness. Those were more rugged and packed to the ribs with everything they would need.

  "Everything's there," the checker said. She made a mark on her clipboard. "Have a good race."

  "Thanks!" Lainey said, and the checker went down the line to the next musher.

  "Lainey."

  She turned to see Howry approaching, a wide grin on his face.

  "Ready to go?" he asked, giving her a hug.

  "You know it," she said, waving at the antics of her team.

  He held out an envelope. "Scotch wanted me to give this to you. She said not to read it until you reach the end of your rope."

  The urge to rip it open right there was powerful, but Lainey restrained herself. She saw Scotch's neat handwriting on the front and smiled softly. "Thanks," she said as she tucked it securely in her personal bag.

  Howry shuffled his feet and she gave him a quizzical look.

  "Ben's been hinting around, asking me questions about you two. What do you want me to tell him?"

  Lainey sighed, knowing the topic would be inevitable after the musher banquet. "Go ahead and tell him the truth. It's not like he hasn't figured it out by now. He just wants verification."

  "You sure?" he asked, brow furrowed. He knew Strauss only on a professional level, and appeared worried he might make things more difficult for Lainey.

  "I'm sure. He's my AA sponsor and my friend. He might not like that I led him on in the beginning, but he'll get used to the idea."

  Howry blew out a breath. "If you say so."

  She grinned and gave him another hug. "I say so."

  A loudspeaker announced the upcoming official start of the race, and Lainey pulled away from the embrace.

  "I think that's me."

  He laughed. "I'd say so. We're going to take your sled to Knik and then fly to Finger Lake, so we'll see you there."

  "Ben, too?" Lainey saw a volunteer trotting toward her.

  "Yeah, Ben, too."

  "I'll see you then," she said, as she stepped onto the runners of her sled. Her last sight of him was his wave as the handlers guided the dogs to their position.

  The start was very similar to the day before. A large, prismatic crowd gathered along the barriers on either side of the trail, many calling her name and holding signs of encouragement. Her dogs, sixteen strong now, were just as lively. Her wild man, Jonas, hardly touched the ground as he reared up off all four paws. Even Bonaparte, regal snout in the air, wagged his tail and trotted with a swagger at all the attention.

  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.<
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  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.

  They wove along the trail, first on the river, then climbing into forest, dropping along a swamp, and back to the river. Three more mushers passed before the trail got too narrow to allow for it. When they broke through the trees, she saw the upcoming checkpoint and grinned. Her dogs increased their pace as they neared, and she slid into Yentna, laughing.

  "Four fifty-eight PM," the checker said as he handed her the clipboard.

  Lainey signed in, noting she had fallen to eleventh place. "Any news on Scotch Fuller?" she asked.

  "Not on me. You'll have to check up at the tent. How long you staying?"

  "About six hours." She leaned over her handlebars to open the sled bag for the gear check.

  "Everything's good." He initialed next to her signature. "Head on over there. The vet's need to do their check."

  Lainey urged her dogs toward the tent. A woman waved her toward a pair of veterinarians waiting for her.

  "How're they doing?" one asked, looking over the team as they came to a halt.

  "Very good. I haven't noticed any limps or problems. They've mostly been wearing booties through the new snow." She handed him her vet book, a small notebook with all the paperwork on each of her dogs.

  "Great." The two proceeded to give each of her dogs an exam, prodding wrists and shoulders, removing booties to check paws.

  "Everything checks out," the other said. He wrote something in her notebook and handed it back. "If you're staying, park over there. We've got straw, but you'll have to get water from a hole in the river."

  "Thanks."

  Lainey spent the next half hour doing a full inspection of her dogs herself, bedding them down in straw, and covering a couple of with blankets. As soon as they were resting, she retrieved a rolled up child's sled from her bag and went to the river to get water.

  The hole was jagged with chucks of ice floating in the water. Lainey carefully used the bucket dangling from a tripod over the hole to fill her pots. There was no concern for falling through as the sides indicated a good two feet of ice beneath the foot of snow on the river. She did not want to splash herself, however, and took extra care to keep dry.

  Lainey lugged her water back to her dogs, her sled receiving an envious look from a fellow rookie from Minnesota who carried his pots by hand. She gave a silent thanks to Scotch and her detailed notebook, a carbon copy of it nestled in Lainey's bib overall pocket. Lainey had the benefit of experienced coaching to rely upon.

  Back at the sled, she set up her two cookers and began boiling water. Some mushers only carried one, not wanting the extra weight. But Scotch was of the opinion that weight ultimately counted for nothing if you were not able to take care of your dogs. By using two cookers, Lainey cut her cooking time in half, would be able to eat with her dogs, and get through her checkpoint chores faster, thereby allowing her more time to rest. The dogs were the athletes, the ones who were well cared for through the race. The mushers, on the other hand, rarely slept more than a couple of hours in a day as they worked to keep their teams happy and healthy.

  She dumped a measure of meat and fat into one pot, and tossed a boil bag of meatloaf and fried potatoes in the other. While she waited for the food, she dug out her notebook and skimmed through the information.

  According to Scotch's notes, Lainey was a bit slower than Scotch's previous runs to Yentna. That was to be expected, really, since Lainey's team was officially second string. A lot of her dogs had been on the Iditarod trail with her, but as Scotch was attempting to maintain a professional racing team, she had gotten the better dogs in the kennel.

  Lainey noted the travel times between Yentna and Finger Lake, her next scheduled downtime, committing it to memory before turning pages. A shiver crawled up her spine as she saw the words 'Heavy moose population' in capital letters. She did not want a repeat of what had happened in November. Her eyes flicked past the warning and she read up on what to expect on the trail.

  When dinner was finished, she added dry chow to the mixture and went up the line, dropping plastic food dishes and filling them. Her team roused from their nap to eagerly lap up the offering. Lainey returned to the cookers, plucked her dinner from the second pot, and added the boiling water to the leftovers in the dog pot. Again she went up the line, giving the dogs a meaty watering, talking to them, and treating them to rough affection as she went.

  With a sigh, she found clean snow nearby, not wanting to trek all the way back to the hole in the river. She piled it onto her small sled and started another pot of water for the dogs. Only then did she sit in the bed of her sled and eat her meatloaf, washing it down with the last of her Gatorade. Lainey checked her watch, seeing it had been an hour since her arrival. Scotch would no doubt be there soon. As much as she wanted to enjoy a nap like her team, she still had a couple of things to do. She forced herself to her feet, pleasantly full and warm from her meal, and retrieved the now empty dog bowls. Another bag of meat and quarter pound of fat went into dog cooker, and she started another pot of water on hers. When both were ready, she took the finished products and poured them into two coolers on the sled. To one she added the dry chow and vitamin supplements, a meal ready for a pit stop on the road. In the other, she deposited five of her juice packets, now frozen from the cold. When she got out on the trail, they'd be thawed enough for her to hydrate herself.

  Chores finally finished, she debated where to sleep. Her dogs were curled up together, sti
ll on their tug lines, though she had released the neck lines from their harnesses to make them comfortable. Taking a cue from them, she settled into her sled bag once more. Scotch would arrive soon. Lainey would just wait here for her to arrive.

  She never knew exactly when she fell asleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  "HEY, ROOKIE."

  Lainey grumbled as someone nudged her sled. She dragged herself to consciousness, peering into the dark.

  Scotch grinned down at her.

  Still groggy, Lainey returned the smile and forced herself to sit up. After a wide yawn, she looked around the cordoned off musher area. "What time is it? When did you get in?"

  "I got here about six fifteen. It's almost ten o'clock now." Scotch squatted in the snow beside her. "I saw your time in when I got here. You're due to leave in an hour or so, aren't you?"

  Lainey rubbed the sleep from her eyes, amazed she had been out of it for so long considering the cold weather. "Yes, coach," she said, throwing her legs over the edge of the sled. "I've got to get more water."

  "So do I." Scotch stood and took Lainey's hand, helping her rise. "I'll go with you."

  Upending the child's sled to knock the snow from it, Lainey grabbed her pots and walked with Scotch. They stopped further on at Scotch's team so she could grab the same gear. They trudged through the snow toward the river.

  Now fully awake, Lainey looked around the checkpoint. A lot of the mushers had decided to take a rest break here. Not everyone, however. She speculated on who had left early. Were they driving their dogs harder than she? Or was it just the forerunners, those who had arrived before her, that had left?

  "So how'd it go?" Scotch asked as they approached the watering hole.

  "Not bad. I still can't keep Heldig in booties. I don't know what she does, but they fly off as soon as we're on the trail." She grinned at Scotch's laughter.

 

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