Iditarod ~ it is a fine line ~ Part 2

Well we have just been through a record heat wave in Interior Alaska, nothing better to make a musher dream of winter. Then again, to be honest, almost everything makes a musher dream of winter. Summer at Dew Claw is a time to reflect on last year’s race season while preparing for the season ahead. The preparations are under way.  New construction in the dog barn/garage to help us be better organized. Gear is all cleaned and checked, ready to be pulled out next fall. Leader training is underway. And race plans are being drawn up. Of course we are still reflecting on this winter; what can we learn? where can we improve?

Although not record heat, today is another scorcher. The puppies are asleep in the shade of the front entry. Guppy and Whiskey are crashed out on dog beds in front of the fan in the living room. And I have a fresh cup of coffee and am ready to continue with the story of my 2013 Iditarod.

on to Shageluk:

Yes, this is the run I warned you about as I finished my last blog post. Memory is a funny thing, often softening or evolving over time. A simple event over time grows in significance to a cherished memory, a traumatic event seems less horrific with time and perspective, things change over time. But I am pretty sure this run was every bit as frustrating as I remember it and that I might not have handled it as gracefully as I remember here.

It all started off well enough. Team rested and ate well, and I was happy to be heading out and feeling good. The first hour or so was uneventful and smooth. And then… it started with a strange feeling in the runner under my right foot, it just no longer felt stable or strong. I think I kinda knew what it might have been, but didn’t look down (with the convoluted logic that if I didn’t see the broken runner then it could not possibly be a broken runner). As the part of the runner with my foot bed on it started to slowly slide down the runner plastic away from the rest of the sled I let my self look down and confirm that yes in fact my runner had snapped. And in such a way that the tail part of it was no longer connected to the sled, it was still slid onto the runner plastic that lines the bottom, but it could now slide right off that and be left in the trail as the rest of the sled was pulled forward. (learn more about runner plastic here)

I tried just taking it off and riding on one runner and the track, not ideal in the rolling trail conditions. An attempt at standing lightly on it pushing the tail piece forward to keep it in place was the best of all possible bad solutions. It meant I only needed to stop every 20 minutes or so to hook down the team and run back and grab the runner piece which had slid off and was left on the trail, again. I would slide it back onto the runner plastic and continue on as long as it held. I knew other mushers were coming behind me, and with my current sled problems would catch me. I was really hoping one would have some hose clamps or something I could use to splint my sled together. I carry a pretty good sled repair kit. Hose clamps are something I will NEVER forget again, but having carried then for ages and never used them they had been removed in an attempt to simplify and streamline what I carry.

I am limping along in my one runner fashion, frustrating for the many stops and starts I am having to make and painfully slow for the same reason. But there was plenty of time and trail to practice my new style of sled riding, and it did kinda seem like I was actually getting better at it. I had come to terms with my fate, I was dealing with it, I felt like mentally I could handle this set back. In my mind I was even loosely constructing the comical blog post about the one runner adventure. And then…

Now you would think when something as race shattering as a broken runner happens it would be accompanied by a mighty crack, tremors and sparks maybe, but no. Nothing so dramatic. Just a tiny click like the closing of a door. I hardly heard it, but knew instantly what had happened by the ominous feeling of the runner under my left foot.

Although it might have been the easiest thing to do on a very deep level I knew that sitting down and giving up was not an option. Forward was the only direction, and although I knew eventually someone would come up behind me there was no guarantee they would have hose clamps of be able to help. I had gone far enough along the trail that going back was not a good option. Plus I had just left Iditarod and knew there were no spare sleds hanging around or much chance of finding materials and tools to repair mine. Getting to the next checkpoint, the village of Shageluk was my best chance of finding a sled or repairing mine.

Of course now riding the sled required me to push forward on both foot beds to keep them forward while the were slid on the runner plastic, a little like water skiing. Except painfully slow, and I kept loosing the tail sections, stopping the team to retrieve them, sliding them back on taking a deep breath, and starting the process all over again. And again. And again. You get the idea, and we are not even at the half way point in the run.

Narrow trail with deep soft snow flanking it was going to make passing difficult if anyone caught me, I could only hope it would happen in a good place. As luck would have it, it did not. On a downhill section of tight trail is where Travis Beals caught me. But being the good sport he is he gladly stopped and dug into his sled for hose clamps. Matt Giblin was close behind him, and joined in the emergency repair efforts. With 4 hose clams and a few trail markers we were able to splint my runner tails to the sled. I really can not thank these guys enough for their help. They put their entire race on hold to come to my aid, and did it without a second though. As if that were not enough they smiled, made me laugh at the situation and reminded me to just keep moving forward.

Once we had jury rigged my sled together we were ready to take off. But there was still the issue of the narrow trail and deep snow. So we decided I would stay where I was and try to lead until we got to someplace teams could go by me. I did as best I could, but was very glad to let the men by at the first possible opportunity.  You see I was now traveling with 4 hose clamps wrapped around my sled runners to hold it together, each clamp wrapped around the plastic was like a mini parking brake on the surface that should have been smoothly sliding. Yeah this was going to be a Sloooooooow run.

With Travis and Matt now traveling ahead of me I continued on with my busted sled, trying hard to remember that ‘this too will pass’ and ‘Dig Deep you can handle this’ but it was a demoralizing run. The hose clamps made travel possible, but the metal wrapped around the runners made it more difficult. And the hose clamps themselves would get loose, the wood splints would slide loose, pretty regularly I was stopping to tighten the clamps or readjust things. And still we are not at the public use cabin that marks the halfway point.

Upon reaching the cabin I parked the team for a little rest and meal while I did a major overhaul of the sled repairs. A group of snowmachiners not related to the Iditarod where there and had obviously gone to bed. So I camped outside the cabin by the woods. I made a pot of water so the dogs could enjoy a meal. Even when mushers do not plan to stop between checkpoints they carry mandatory gear as well as food and fuel for an extra meal. And times like this are exactly the reason why. The dogs enjoyed the rest while I changed the runner plastic (the old set had taken a beating) and reset all the clamps and splints.

The next section to Shageluk was pretty much the slow travel with regular stops to readjust the clamps. This may have been the low point for me. And in my mind for the first time ever I thought, “why go on?” I mean really not 1 but 2 broken runners, no one would fault me for scratching. I was demoralized and felt beat down.

But one of the nice things about a really long journey is it gives you time to reflect, and on this hellishly long journey two thoughts came to me that would help keep me moving forward. Like a catchy song that gets stuck in your mind, these thoughts continually popped up, reminding me and keeping me focused, ran like a theme through the second half of my race. My motivation came from my minds ramblings on the worst run of my life.

Whiskey and I showing off out “I WILL” bracelets

Thought to keep me going #1:
I asked for this, it is an honor. There are people out there who struggle bravely with real problems they never wanted and do so with grace and courage. How dare I face this challenge/honor/ that I asked for with anything less! I actually had 2 very important reminders of this with my on the trail. My “I WILL” bracelet (more info at the I WILL facebook page), showing support for Will Huggins, as he stands up to Stage 4 colon cancer. There was actually a group of Iditarod and Quest mushers who sported the I WILL bracelet this year. Here is a great photo of the I WILL mushers and supporters at the Quest banquet.

I was also carrying Beads of Courage. Iditarod mushers carry beautiful hand made beads along the trail, and return them along with a message for a child fighting serious illnesses. The beads are given to the children as they progress through treatments as s symbol of their courage. Here is a photo album of the Alaskan volunteers preparing the beads for the 2012 Iditarod.

With such vivid reminders to help me keep my “suffering” in perspective it was hard to feel really sorry for myself. And if I am being honest I must admit that later in the trail I would be thinking about these very things when I found myself wanting to give up. And then thinking about people facing real life altering situations who find the strength to go on, and they don’t have the option of just packing it all up and trying again later. “You can’t scratch from Cancer” was the exact thought that made me want to try harder and not let the negative thoughts in my head get the better of me.
*Typing it all now it sounds silly; not as poetic and powerful as it did in my mind then. But trust me, that one thought alone had the power to make me want to do my very best to stay positive and keep going.

Thought to keep me going #2:
My dogs looked great, were eating well, happy. If there was any scratching to be done, it was because I could not go on. OK maybe a broken sled would give me an excuse, but I was still moving toward another checkpoint, and there was always hope that things could get fixed or a new sled found. Even when my depressed mind was looking for an out, I would look up and see my dogs and know that they were not going to give me a reason.

So here we are still traveling to Shageluk, riding a wave of emotions. The village comes into sight, and although I know there is still a long ways to go it perks me up to see the end is in sight. Still having to stop to tighten clamps and adjust things, but at least the end is in sight. My optimism was growing, but that would prove to be premature. So close and yet… one of the metal bands on a hose clamp actually snapped *poof* gone. So I am back to holding one tail section on with friction from my foot and one clamped on. A bit later I need to tighten the one that is on, and I see that its metal band is starting to break. Oh Joy.

I limp along being very careful of the almost broken clamp side while trying to balance on the unattached runner side. We cross a little creek outside of town and turn up onto a  road that leads to the checkpoint. And that was the point where the broken clamp runner side came undo and went flying off the back end of the sled. Yours truly had had it! I just left it there and rolled in on one unconnected runner and the drag mat. Seriously I was beyond caring.

Karen Ramstead was there to check me in. I may not have the conversation word for word, but it went something like this:
Her: “where’s your other runner”
Me: “I left it on the road coming into town”
Her: Smiling (heck she might have been giggling my memory is foggy) “well we better go get it, cause your going to need it to get to Anvik”

Travis and Matt had already told her about my situation. So she expected my mood and knew I would need a sled. But the weather was grounding planes, and sleds are last priority anyways. Dogs, vets, and critical race supplies always come first, as they should. I was not the first one to roll in on a busted sled either. I was in good company, both Ramey Smyth and Dallas Seavey had come in on busted runners. So sleds were in high demand. Ramey had fixed his sled in Shagekuk and was going on with it. Mitch Seavey had sent a sled to Shageluk so he had changed sleds leaving one there. Dallas had taken his Dad’s sled as far as Anvik where he had a sled waiting for him.  I had a sled in Unalakleet, but we could not get it flow down. But a plan was in place to get mine working well enough to get me to Anvik, where I could pick up Mitch’s sled that Dallas had left. I declared my mandatory 8, and the wheels were in motion for me to get fixed up and keep going.

Before leaving I had another real low point. I was so tired, and felt like things had gone so wrong. I was nervous about riding the broken sled, and about riding a sled I had never seen before. There was going to be lots of extra work repacking in Anvik and again in Unalkleet when I got to my sled. Thank you so much to Karen for being there. She laughed and said “That’s the Iditarod” and we both knew she was right. It is the euphoric highs and crushing lows and whole wide open abyss of possibility, cause good or bad things rarely work out the way you neatly planned in your mind.

on to Anvik:

With my pep talk taken to heart I headed out after 8 hours, and wobbled my way to Anvik. Metal splints, and drill and some bolts were holding me together now, and I had high hopes that the sled would hold. I DID!

This section is on the river, so traveling was not bad. The dogs seemed to enjoy not having to stop every 15-20 minutes for sled repair adjustments. Actually they probably thought I had lost my ever loving mind with all the stops on the way to Shageluk. I was extremely pleased to see that run did not seem to have bummed them out, as they were traveling along nice now.

In Anvik they were ready for my arrival, and the checkpoint volunteers had the new sled waiting right at the checkpoint. I had already decided, although it would cost more time then just throwing all my gear in and dashing I was going to park the team, give them a snack, change booties, and take a little time to get reorganized. Moving the gear over went smoothly. The new sled was a sit sled, and I have never ridden a sit sled before. I had a back compartment to pack stuff in and a place to rest my butt.

Went inside the checkpoint long enough to fill my thermoses with hot drinks and eat a quick hot meal. Got to chat a bit with legendary musher Ken Chase who lives there.

on to Grayling:

Took off from Anvik on the new sled, planning on traveling past Grayling. At this point in time I am so far off my planned schedule I am having to adapt and make the best choices I can about how to manage the team for the remainder of the race. Headed to Grayling we are running at night, and wind and blowing snow are starting to really pick up. I got through the checkpoint smoothly, picking up some supplies from my drop bags, and straw for camping. Grayling is a nice community, and they do a really good job with the checkpoint. Sorry to have to pass it by, but moving on is what the new plan called for.

on to Eagle Island:

Traveling at night in blowing snow and breaking trail, but still making OK time.  This was one of the times I was really glad for all the hours if leader training we put in over the summer, being able to call dogs one way or another in a open space with no obvious trail is really really nice. We camped a few hours out past Grayling, and then headed back out toward Eagle Island.

My first trip on the Iditarod trail the Eagle Island checkpoint was not my favorite. It is a tent based camp set up just for the race, and if the weather is bad can be fairly inhospitable. There is a tent with a  heater for mushers, but space is somewhat limited. And it is one of the checkpoints where the musher must be completely self sufficient, melting snow for water and providing all their own food and drink. Although it is worth noting that even then Jim Gallea, Tyrell & Tekla Seavey were doing a first rate job of making the place as comfortable and welcoming as possible. And this time around they were all back in full force. Improvements included: better weather so I could camp the team in the sunshine on the river instead of climbing up into the trees by the camp and french press coffee. Well done Jim, Tyrell, Tekla, and all the Eagle Island volunteers, thanks, your efforts did not go unappreciated!

on to Kaltag:

I left Eagle Island planning on traveling the Yukon River and camping right before Kaltag, setting myself up to run through Kaltag and go on to camp at Tripod cabin further down the trail. Like most of my plans this race it did not quite work out, but not so far gone as to cause real problems. I was looking for a good camping spot at about the right time, and came to the realization that I had earlier passed a few prime camping spots and now was going to have trouble finding a good one. So I ended up camping in a less the ideal place, the dogs did not seem bothered in the least. After they were fed and cared for I settled in for some rest. So far I had been able to catch a cat nap in my sled bag just wrapped in my parka. But this evening was a bit colder, and I got out my big -40F sleeping bag and settled in next to the dogs on the straw.

Was pretty freaking tired when I crawled into that sleeping bag. Too tired to notice (or care) that my glove liners were frosted. Which meant I woke up to cold wet hands, Not Good. Immediately changed into dry gloves and set about getting the team ready to go, while periodically jogging up and down the team to get the blood flowing.  Was very glad to get moving, and even more so as the sun came up and I felt the warm on my face.

Kaltag was around the corner, and the sun was coming up. Once we were moving I sat down on the sit sled and got chemical heat packs for my mitts and spent some time warming up my hands. My hands are my weak link, frost nipped once in a brutally cold GinGin 200 race, they are now more susceptible to cold. (here is a video from the finish where I describe conditions on the trail)

on to Unalakleet:

We ran through Kaltag, only stopping long enough to put hot water on meat in my cooler (which makes it easier & faster to feed when you get to camp), fill up on coffee, and grab some stuff from my drop bags and straw for the dogs. In no time we were headed to Tripod cabin, one of my favorite spots on the trail. Actually the run from Kaltag to Unalakleet has the potential to be one of the most beautiful, weather permitting. And it appeared the weather was going to co-perate if not  be a little warm. I followed Jason Mackey for a bit till he pulled away, and I settled in a position behind the Berrington twins. From this point on we would be seeing each other quite a bit, and I enjoyed their company at checkpoints. I had cheesecake bites and they had smoked salmon and we would share some snacks and laughs after the hard runs on the end of the trail. Also passed Mike Williams who had lost one of his runners’ plastic and asked if I had a spare set. I did not but was able to forward his question to Anna, who had a set she was able to leave on the side of the trail for him to pick up.

At this point we are traveling through what might be some of the most beautiful country in the world. Full 360 view of snow covered mountains as far as you can see. You get a real feeling of being in the middle of nowhere (which when I say it nowhere is a good thing)  It is one of those places that makes you feel incredibly lucky to be traveling through, especially when considering how few people do.

I turned off at Tripod while the twins went on to Old Woman. Like the past years there was a good supply of firewood at the cabin, and a nice area packed down by snow machines where I could park the team in the sun right by the front door. It is a beautiful location in the mountains, nice and quite, the dogs and I both rest good there. I set to work feeding them, starting a fire in the cabin, heating some moose stew I had and making drinking water for humans. Soon after Mike Williams stopped his team by Tripod, I saw him camping so I called down that the cabin was hot and I had moose stew. We shared a nice meal and then settled in for a nap. He left a bit before me, I closed down the cabin and was now running toward Unalakleet and the coast.

The next section is also beautiful, wide open and wind swept. I passed by the old Old Woman Cabin, now in disrepair, and left some coffee for the old woman. And then further down the trail the new Old Woman Cabin, a popular camping spot, and saw teams camped there. After that it is mostly downhill into Unalakleet. But right before you get out onto the ice and into town you travel along this little mind twist of a  creek.  My rookie year Lance had told me about it, says it will mess with you because you turn this way and that so much you get disorientated (you do). And you see the radio tower red light, and run towards it but then you turn and run away from it, which messes with you (it does). And you think you are right there, but it still take what seems like forever (so true). That is exactly how I felt. At one point in time I even questioned if maybe somehow I had gotten off course and was now just doubling around back on myself. But I also knew I was tired and remembered what Lance had told me. So I just kept following the markers, and waiting to pop out onto the open ice with the lights of Unalakleet ahead of me. And when it did I breathed a little easier and let the team run on in.

My sled was there waiting for me, so after feeding the team I needed to get right to moving my gear and changing sleds. I really enjoyed having a sit sled for parts of the Yukon, it was nice to get off your feet in such a comfortable position. But I can also see where it would be very easy to fall asleep on one. And I am eternally grateful to Mitch Seavey for making it possible for me to continue. In spite of the fact that there were moments it would have been so easy to throw in the towel, ultimately I am so very glad I was able to continue on with my team.

After the dogs and sled were set I went inside for a meal and nap. Unalakleet is also a great place to dry out gear and charge my sled light battery. But really the high point is the nap. You see the Unalakleet checkpoint has beds for mushers, with pillows! Two beds to a dark quite closet. It is wonderful, and I slept like a log. One drawback, it sure is hard to peel yourself out of bed after only a few short hours.

But you do and its back on the trail.

on to Shaktoolik:

This is another wonderfully beautiful section of trail. Up into rolling hills, the sunny day was beautiful if not a little hot. We ran into some fat tire bikers who were cycling the trail. You actually see a few bikers out there the dogs get all excited to run across something new and different out on the trail. There is another, lesser known race on the Iditarod trail, racers on foot or bike travel unsupported to either McGrath or Nome. You can read more at the website Iditarod Trail Invitational. *and people think mushers are crazy!

After leaving Unalakleet you head into the hills, and roll around up there for a bit enjoying some amazing views before heading down to sea level and the long stretch to Shaktoolik. As we were getting ready for the long rolling downhill, one of the most funnest sections of trail to run, I noticed something I had never seen before. You can actually see Shaktoolik from there! In my past runs the typical high winds and ground blowing snow had completely obliterated it from the landscape. But this year it was clear and calm down there, and it could actually be seen. The downhill run was, once again, super fun as the dogs rolled along on trails that are just loopy enough to be exciting, but not so much that you get white knuckles. And we were all in a good mood as we hit sea level and started the long straight level trail that leads to town.

After the seemingly endless stretch of monotony that is the trail into Shaktoolik I pulled into to find it completely still, not a breath of wind. This was nothing like what I had experienced the last 2 years. I was able to take off my parka and gloves and work bare handed in my sweater, which is just absolutely bizarre for Shak. Not complaining, just explaining.

on to Koyuk:

On leaving Shaktoolik a light wind had started to pick up, and it would seem to grow and follow me for the rest of the trail. So much so that by White Mountain I joked with a  checker that once when talking to a musher who wanted to know about running Iditarod I had quipped, “make the wind your friend and you will never be lonely on Iditarod” and somehow the wind heard about it, and was now holding me to it.

But the team was still moving nicely and I was feeling good. By the time we were close to Koyok it was dark, and I had seen the lights of town. As we got closer I had a series of gear malfunctions that managed to mess with my head. First my headlamp batteries went dead. this alone is not a problem, I carry a spare headlamp and extra batteries. Plus I have this wonderful super-bright Lupine Piko LED light mounted to my sled with a 10 amp hour rechargeable battery. (Mush thanks to Mike Pickell) Being since I was so close and had my sled light I was not worried about the headlamp. Till – the sled lamp went dead as well. So now we are rolling along and I am digging in my sled for the back-up headlamp. And also noticing that we are starting to run away from the lights. By the time I have the new headlamp on you can no longer see the lights of Koyok. I am still following markers, so had I been more awake and sure of myself I would never have given it a second though. I was, in fact, neither of those things. I had a nagging voice in the back of my mind saying, what if you missed a turn off? What I had done in fact was merely turned a bend in the river and with the angle I was at the lights were not visible. I know that now… but then I was unsure. Things had not gone super smooth for me so far, and I did not want to waste time and energy going the wrong way. I knew Kristie and Anna were behind me so why not snack the dogs and take a deep breath. In a matter of moments I could see headlamps. They were actually much farther off then I thought, but I held tight and waited, I think in my mind I was still unsure and wanted to make sure the headlamps didn’t all of a sudden turn off on the trail I was afraid I missed.

They came up on me somewhat confused as to why I was sitting there, and as soon as they passed me I was on the move as well. My friend Karen Ramstead had moved down the trail and was now the Koyok judge. She was glad to hear I had stopped over light problems and nothing worse.

Topaz

Pepsi

In Koyok it became clear that The Twins, Pepsi & Topaz had given 100%, but it was in their best interest to be dropped. One with a sore neck, the other a sore wrist. Nothing serious in either case, and they were both cared for by vets in Koyok. Then flow to Anchorage where our dear friends TC and Dave pick them up and care for them like their own kids till we get back. The Twins were a joy to run, seeming to feed off each other for support on the long runs. I was very sad to see them go home, but not pushing them on their first Iditarod I keeps their experience positive, making sure they will be happy to race again.

on to Elim:

The run to Elim was long and hot. We were traveling well but I was concerned about the dogs in the heat as the run went on. I was stopping to let them roll in the snow and check on them much more then I usually would. But at this point I was more focused on making sure the dogs had a good solid run to Nome then how fast we got there.

Before getting into Elim there are a series of hills, in the heat of the day they were particularly un-fun. I had been climbing for what seemed like an eternity, when up ahead I saw a single trail cutting up the side of the steepest mountain yet. Although we were still a ways off from it my heart sank. The prospect of running up that hill was about as much fun as a visit to the dentist (sorry to my dentist friends, but its true). I was already psyching myself up for this, planning on stopping at the base to take off yet another layer of clothing. I had already stripped off two layers in the heat of the day.

Just imagine my joy when I got to the base of said hill only to find it was a snow machine trail and that the Iditarod trail took a turn onto the road and started the downhill ride into Elim!!!

My friend Philip Walters and his brother Jeff were volunteering at the checkpoint and were kind enough to snap and share these photos.

Coming into the checkpoint, you can see how hot it is

Checking in with Chris Kalerak, long time Iditarod volunteer in Elim

Getting booties for the dogs as we get ready to go

MK a superstar finishing the Yukon Quest & Iditarod in his first year of racing

One of my favorite pictures from this years race: a few miles out of Elim, night is falling and the team is on the move

on to White Mountain:

The trip to White Mountain went very smoothly, as part of this run you have to pass through Golovin, which is not really a checkpoint. But to a tired dog team it sure looks like one. A few of the local villages were out in the middle of the night to cheer us on, and my team rolled right though without missing a beat. I must take a minute to say how much it means to get a little boost of support. Here I am traveling firmly in the back of the pack, and it was the middle of the night, and for people to still make an effort to come out and give a yell and some cheer, well you just have no idea how much that meant right then.

Now I said earlier that the trip was smooth, and that is true. As long as a never ceasing bitter wind can be considered ‘smooth’. And after this year’s experience I suggest anyone thinking of running this race add brutal winds to your definition of a smooth run. OK, actually by coastal wind standards we were getting off lightly, wind chills had not totally plummeted temperatures to dangerous levels and visibility was basically good. But the winds was still a factor, one that could have very realistically bummed the team out, and I was so proud that our team never let it get to them. Even at the end as we made our way to Safety and on to Nome, and the wind kept at us, they never seemed to let it get the better of them.

I arrived in White Mountain, with the end in sight, and 8 hours to get ready for that one long last push. One last time to go through the sled and see what weight you can jettison and send home in your return bag. One last feeding frenzy, you and the dogs. One last good nap. And one last run to the finish.

on to Safety:

You leave White Mountain and head for the hills. The wind was right there with me, except ironically the section of trail at the bottom of the Topkok Hills called the blow hole, which was oddly calm. The wind kept beating at us the entire way to Safety. The team was shouldering in and dealing with it, but I felt like I was going to go insane if I had to spend much more time in the rushing winds. Not sure if knowing the end was only hours away made it easier to deal with the wind, but I kept telling myself that anyhow.

~ and finally on to Nome Sweet Nome ~

Once I was checked into Safety I took a moment to snack the team and check booties before making the last run of the race. At this point in time Orchid was the only one of my nine dogs who knew where we were going. She and I were the only ones with any idea that this was the end of the journey.

Orchid, as strong as she is sweet

Leaving Safety the team was a little flat, not as perky as they had been before. I could imagine what they were thinking, “drat, we just went through a checkpoint and back out into the winds”. So a little ways out of Safety I stopped the team to re-arrange some dogs. Mixing things up can be a fun way to improve the mood of the team. And as part of this I got to thinking, and came up with a plan. I was going to try running Orchid in single lead for the last leg of the race. I went up to her and was giving her a little love before we took off again to head over Cape Nome. I was thinking to myself, does this little girl have it in her to single lead this team to Nome. And like she was reading my mind she looked up at me with those big brown eyes, and gave me a this look like she was telling me, “don’t worry mom, I got this under control”.  And she did.

It was a beautiful trip over Cape Nome, with orchid rocking single lead and night falling. The only downside of that was I had done the math and realized I would be getting in just after Airport Pizza closed. Luckily Dan had also done the math and figured the same thing. He had been shopping and was ready to cook me a steak dinner at Kristine & Ian’s, our friends we stay with in Nome.

As you get closer to town you start seeing fish camps, and later even travel in view of the road. Dan was out there to cheer me on at one of the out of town road crossings, I swear the dogs ran faster when they heard his voice.

hard to explain the feeling that came over me as the team ran the last section of sea ice, making their way onto Main Street downtown Nome Alaska. The excitement of running into Nome. Relief, I think we were all more then ready to be out of the steady pounding that the winds was giving us. And a touch of sadness that the adventure was over. And standing there in the finish chute Orchid seemed pretty proud of herself up front alone. For the rookie dogs the excitement was a treat, followed by the reward of being led to a campground, where the flybox was waiting for them like a straw filled luxury hotel, and a warm meaty meal was ready. They would only spend a few short days resting in Nome before they would fly home with Dan, while I stayed in Nome for the finish banquet.

It may not have been the Iditarod I dreamed about, but experience has shown me more often then not we get what we need not what we dream about. I am thankful for having had the chance to travel the Iditarod with these dogs we have raised, trained, and love. You do not go that far without learning a thing or two about yourself, including an awareness of all that you still have left to learn. And even that last part is a gift if you choose to take it as such. And for the record, I do.

I am also very thankful to everyone who made this possible, because there is no way I could do this alone! So to the people and companies that make up Team Dew Claw ~ my heart felt thanks for being a part of the team.

Thanking Sponsors & Team Dew Claw at the finish banquet in Nome