February 22, 2002 Safety to NOME!

Well, I don’t know quite what I had pictured the Safety checkpoint to be like. Whatever it was, it didn’t live up to my expectations! Safety is a roadhouse – and that’s it. One single, solitary building stuck out on the coast.  Regardless, it was great to be there. The dogs and I all needed a little break from each other, so we were going to take a bit of a rest here. I snacked them, but left everyone’s tug lines done up and put down no straw to make it very clear to them that we were not here for a long time. They rest like this a lot in training, so they were quick to curl up and take advantage of being stopped. I went into the roadhouse and treated myself to a cup of coffee. Nick, one of my very favorite trail vets was working this checkpoint. I’ve worked with Nick at the John Beargrease Marathon, Grand Portage Race and two Iditarods. He is getting so familiar with my team (and he is such a attentive vet!) that he knows most of my dogs by name!! It was great to have a friend to visit with! Nick said Mark was at the Iditarod Headquarters in Nome waiting for me and if I wanted they would be happy to reach him on the phone so we could talk. I said no – I’d talk to him when I got there in the morning!

After about ½ hour I went out to leave. The dogs made it very clear that they were not ready to go. Although I spend a lot of time in training explaining to the dogs that when to go and when to stop is my decision, this seemed like a good opportunity to compromise. Again without straw and with tugs still done up, I let them rest.

After we had been at Safety for about 2 hours I went out and called up the team. They shuffled and protested but started down the trail. I promised them a great surprise at the next checkpoint!

The sun was coming up as we passed the vacant and drifted in cabins along the road. The morning seemed magical. Every single moment of that sunrise is burned in my memory.  There is one last major hill to climb as you approach Nome, the dogs climbed steadily upwards. As we crested it, there a little over 5 miles ahead lay the city of Nome. I can’t do an adequate job of describing the feeling that gave me, but I can tell you that, even now, almost 1 year later, my stomach knots, and my eyes threaten to tear up at the thought. Mixed in with all the other emotions was one I didn’t expect – sadness! I’ve heard other mushers describe feeling a sense of sadness as they reach the end of the trail, but I never really believed them, but there it was – sadness! This has been the most amazing adventure – not just the last 15 days, but the last 2 years. Iditarod and Nome have never been far out of my mind. I’ve been striving and reaching for this very moment. I’ve learned so much, about mushing, dogs, and most importantly, about me! I reflected upon all of this and once again, found myself wiping tears away. Of course this isn’t the end of the learning, or the mushing, or the last time on the Iditarod trail for me – I know that – but it is the end of a chapter. As all this was racing around in my mind, one of the dogs got his leg over a line and started to fuss. I was snapped back to the present and set my snow hook to go up and fix the problem.

As I was walking up the team, with Nome laid out in the early morning light on the horizon, I knew this was the moment to thank my dogs. Most mushers do this in Nome under the arch, but I wanted this to be between them and I alone. I untangled Nik and then walked back to the wheel dogs to work my way up hugging and thanking each one. Sissy, my little man - Striker, handsome Mannie, amazing Kaylinn, Surge the ‘puppy’, Nik, Butchie-boy, arrogant Chester, Camilla, big Jake, Smiley, the brothers Orion and Draco. I just clung to Grover and Gus, my main leaders for a bit. What amazing animals they all are.

That done, I pulled the snowhook and we headed into town. About 3 miles out we started seeing signs of civilization. A TV crew filmed us as we crossed a few of the roads. “How do you feel?” called out the reporter. “Never been better”, I smiled. The dogs were definitely perking up, they knew something was up. They took a wrong turn onto one of the roads, I stomped on my brake and they proceeded to drag me down the road a bit before I got them stopped and back onto the right trail.  Spunky, little turkeys! By the time we got to the outskirts of town, there were a bunch of vehicles pacing along side us on the road. As we came up off the coast and into the city limits where our police escort waited, I pleaded with Grover to behave going down Front Street. No visiting bars – I begged. The crowds lining the street overwhelmed me. How wonderful of everyone to make us feel so special! About 1 block before the Arch Race Director, Joanne Potts jumped out of the crowd and handed me the Red Lantern. I held it up high as we approached the finish line. The dogs were hesitant coming up onto the snow and into the crowd, but once they heard and saw Mark, tails started to wag! The next bit is pretty much a blur. Lots of hugs, smiles, a few tears, and some special words from special people that I will always cherish. Mark Nordman tried to phone Jamie Nelson for me on his cell phone, but couldn’t get a connection. Kids begged my Mark for the few booties the dogs were wearing, which he happily gave to them. I blew out the Widow’s Lamp, which had burned on the burled arch since the race started in Anchorage, 15 days ago and the 2001 Iditarod was officially over!

February 6, 2002 Race to the Sky 2002

Mark and I headed off to Montana for the Race to the Sky. Race to the Sky has a lot of history for us – both good and bad. In 1996, this event was our first distance race and we were very pleased to finish 4^th. In 1998 we attempted the Race again, but scratched in Seeley Lake. In 1999, after successfully completing the Knik 200 and Klondike 300, we were confident this would be a good year for us. It was not to be though, and some health (or maybe stress) problems with our dogs caused us to scratch in the last checkpoint, 50 miles from the finish line. So the score was; Karen 1, Race to the Sky 2. 
 

We spent Wednesday at my Mom’s place in Calgary. On Thursday morning our friend, Rick Austin (Rick and his wife, Jackie have a number of dogs from here) met up with us to help out for the week. The only glitch in the trip down was some trouble at the border crossing. It seems some of the ‘due dates’ on a few rabies certificates were not filled in to the satisfaction of the Border Guard, so we had to have properly completed ones faxed down from our vet in Westlock. Thank goodness we were crossing the border during office hours!!

We arrived that evening at the home of our hosts, Margo Brooks and her daughter, Nellie. Margo and Nellie warmly opened their beautiful home to us. That’s one of the really special things about racing – the wonderful people that you meet along the way. 

Pre-Race activities

First order of business was a school visit. The class I spoke with had done some studying on Iditarod and mushing in general and were full of well thought out questions. Rick brought Chester up for a visit. I’m not sure who enjoyed themselves more – Chester or the kids! 

After the visit we headed over to the County Market for our vet check. Everybody checked out fine. The vet commented on the excellent condition of the dog’s feet and inquired as to what type of booties I was using. He was shocked when I stated that I hadn’t had the need to use booties in training. That’s one plus of well fed, well conditioned, Siberians – feet of steel! 

Later that afternoon was the Driver’s Meeting followed by the Business Card Social, which is where we draw our bid numbers. The highlight of the meeting was an encounter with Rick Swenson. As I’ve said many times before, long before I was a musher, I was a fan of the Iditarod. Rick Swenson and the likes are heroes of mine. It still boggles my mind when they recognize ME and say ‘Hello’. When Rick saw me at the Driver’s Meeting he said ‘Hi Karen.’ and commented that he had seen our dog truck on the highway yesterday. Pretty cool! 

Saturday is the ceremonial events for Race to the Sky. In the morning we spent a few hours on the downtown Helena walking mall, doing a ‘Meet and Greet’. Most of my dogs think this is the greatest thing – although Butchie opted to spend the time lounging in his box. Some friends from Montana, Marlene and Doug, kept us company for a good part of the morning. Marlene even brought wonderful fudge for me to pack on the Race! YUM!

After the Mall, we headed to an athletic field for the ‘Ceremonial Start’. This was far from the highlight of the Race. One musher at the post race driver’s meeting described it as ‘degrading, demoralizing, and dangerous’. That about summed it up for me. We hooked up 8 dog teams to sleds on grass and then attached them to 4 wheelers to weave through a confusing (for the dogs) obstacle course. The spectators didn’t seem to think much of it either, because most of them cleared out long before all the teams had done the course. Oh well, I understand Race Giving Organizations need to try different things to attract sponsors and I appreciate that they were open to the driver’s criticism of this event and will look at fixing it for future events. 

Seven Up Loop

The next morning the Race starts for real in Lincoln. The weather was quite lovely and the dogs and musher happy and ready to get rolling!  

For the first 5 miles we have a rider in our sled basket. My rider was a delightful, young man from Helena. We had a nice chat as we glided along under a beautiful blue sky. When my rider was dropped off, I picked up one of my handlers, Rick, who rode with me another 5 miles until a road crossing at the High Country Beef Jerky. The team moved steadily and confidently through the crowds and along the streets of Lincoln – I was very proud of them.

The weather was really hot as we covered the 40-mile loop back to Seven Up Ranch, where the start was. I played ‘leap frog’ with Rick Swenson a fair bit and on one sharp little downhill our teams briefly tangled and I got a good face wash in the snow. J Several miles of the trail had horses wandering around on it. Although the actual animals had safely retreated away from the teams, their hooves left big holes in the trail and I had to go slow to avoid any dog injuring themselves. Despite that, we were making good time.  

We had been warned that there was some open water ½ mile from the checkpoint. I came across another team having trouble there. My leaders, specifically Oreo, briefly balked at the water, but a sharp verbal reminder that I wasn’t going to tolerate that kind of behavior sent her diving into the shallow water crossing. I had to get my boots a little wet straightening out a little tangle, but nothing to be concerned about. The dogs and I rolled into Seven Up Ranch spunky and happy.  

Mark and Rick knew I wasn’t planning on staying and had a snack for the dogs and some other gear waiting for me as I pulled in. We turned the dogs around at the entrance to the checkpoint. They barked and bounced for their fish. I quickly took advantage of the outhouse, grabbed some Gatorade, piled on some extra clothes, and readied the dogs to leave. They were keen to get going and we heading off on the 90-mile leg to Whitetail Ranch.  

Seven Up to WhiteTail

I remember some of the climbs on this leg from previous Races, the dogs were doing so well that these hills seemed insignificant. That is such a neat feeling and shows me how far the dogs and I have come in the last few years. We briefly got lost in the dark. The spot was confusing to the dogs and I because of a whole bunch of snowmachine tracks crisscrossing a meadow. After traveling 15 minutes or so with the feeling I was on the wrong trail, I called Gus around and headed back. He had sensed my unconfident mood and was glad to turn around. We regained the trail and I stopped to give everyone a pat and scratch to put them back in a cheery mood. Pretty soon we started passing other teams camped along side the trail. I intended to do the same, because we hadn’t stopped at Seven Up, but wanted a quiet spot. The wind picked up quickly and intensely. Pretty soon, I was just looking for a somewhat sheltered spot.  

We found a spot on the edge of some trees and I pulled out my cooler and bowls to give the dog a meal. They ate well and then slowly settled into the snow for a nap. I crawled into my sled bag and pulled my sleeping bag over top of myself to keep warm. Sleep didn’t come for any of us though, every ½ hour or so, it seemed, a light would shine through the dark and a team would pass by. The dogs and I all lifted our heads and watched each one go by. I had planned on staying 4 hours, but after 3, I decided none of us were getting much rest and it was time to move on. It took me a ½ hour to snack the dogs and pack up. About that time the dogs all started staring into the woods, obviously aware of some visitor – time to leave!  

We passed and were passed by a few teams as we traveled along. We traveled behind Cindy Gallea for a while. By this time the wind was getting downright scary. Trees were whipping and swaying above us. Nik started to limp, I checked over and massaged his leg, shoulder, and foot hoping it wasn’t serious, but he continued to favor it and eventually I loaded him into the sled. As there wasn’t much gear in the sled, he found a great spot to curl up and nap.  

As we approached the top of HuckleBerry Pass the wind was incredible, it actually was moving the sled on the trail – and seeing the edge of the trail dropped off the side of a mountain – that wasn’t good. It was a major struggle to keep the sled on the trail and my arms ached by the time we crested the Pass. The blown in trail made for slow going for the, normally fast, 10-mile downhill trail into Whitetail Ranch. Dogs and I were all ready for a real rest when we pulled in. 

Turns out the wind had been causing trouble in the checkpoint too. All the trucks were stuck here, as the one road out was blown in. One of the dog trucks was actually stuck out there. Race officials were worried that they couldn’t get drop bags into the Wilderness Checkpoint at Seeley Lake, as that was the next stop for teams. Mark lent them our second sled and they ended up ferrying supplies over by snowmachine, pulling the sled. 

The dogs ate really well, even Nik – but his shoulder was obviously too sore for him to continue. I tried to sleep, but it just didn’t happen and eventually I headed back out to hang with Mark, Rick, and the dogs. After our scheduled 4 hour break we pulled the hook and headed to the Wilderness Checkpoint at Seeley Lake. I wouldn’t see Mark and Rick until another 98 miles down the trail at Holland Lake. 

Whitetail to the Wilderness Checkpoint

This wasn’t the best leg for the dogs - they seemed sluggish in the heat of the day. As dusk came Gus started to limp and got loaded in the sled. Despite the extra weight, they picked up their speed for the final 13 miles or so into Seeley due to the cooling temperatures. I was hoping to make it in before I had to stop and put on my headlamp and we did.

Wilderness Checkpoint to Holland Lake

We got the dogs settled into a nice sheltered spot next to a snowbank. They didn’t eat with great gusto, but they eventually polished off everything. I had talked to one of the other mushers in the checkpoint and we had decided to travel to Holland Lake together. We agreed on a wake up time and I emptied out my sled bag, stripped out of all my outer clothes and boots, and crawled into my sleeping bag inside the bag. Man, that was the best sleep I have ever had on a race. It was so cozy and comfortable I hated to get up. Nancy had some sore dogs in her team and asked if we could stay for a few more hours before leaving. I agreed. I puttered around my sled and the dogs.  I had scratched Gus as soon as we pulled in, but left him with the team until I was ready to leave. Now as I sat around the fire watching him get up and move around in the gangline I began to question my decision. I went over, got a line and took him for a bit of a walk. He looked great. I brought the vet over to look at him and she agreed he was not sore anymore and good to go. I asked if I could ‘undrop’ him and she agreed. As he was marked out with orange paint on his white head, she wrote “OK” in orange next to the other mark. Gus was beginning to look like a walking billboard. 

The dogs were up on their feet and ready to go. I gave them each a little ‘Training Bit’ treat that was in a Goodie bag given to us by High Country Beef Jerky. They practically ripped off my fingers and danced for their treats. Surge was in lead and he pawed and nosed at the vet that was helping us out of the checkpoint. The extra 2 hours rest and cool night temperatures had really perked the team up, they were looking to play! 

I waited on the trail for Nancy when we pulled out and she roared by a few moments later. Looked like the idea of traveling together was out the window. A mile or so out of the checkpoint I came across Rick Swenson and Kelly Williams each camped on opposite sides of the trail. Grover balked at going through the teams, in fact I thought he might even be lining up to (Gawd forbid) lift his leg on Rick’s sled. Kelly popped out as I was setting the hook to go up front and offered to lead my leaders through. I thanked her, but told her I’d like to try to drive them through. I went up front and moved Grover away for the sled and told him to go ‘On By’. When I went back to my sled and repeated the ‘On By’ they threaded through with no problem. ‘Very impressive’, said Kelly and I smiled. 

For the first 10 miles or so out of Seeley the trail is continuously uphill with a lot of switchbacks. It was fun to watch other headlights in front and behind us blink in the very dark night. Grover and Surge were still spunky and actually moved the team at a lope for a lot of the climb. 

About 20 miles out of Holland Lake I started to pass the front-runners that were heading back towards Seeley. First was Harmony - we passed on a narrow twisty piece of trail, but Surge and Grover did an admirable job of getting by the other team. Next was John Barron, this pass wasn’t so good, as Surge ended up getting between John’s leaders. I apologized profusely as I ran up front to straighten things out. John was cheery and insisted it was no big deal. He even made a very nice comment about how nice my team was. We had no other problems with the 4 or 5 more head on passes we made coming into Holland. Steve Madsen had passed me (going the same way I was) about 1 hour before the checkpoint, so I was surprised to see him coming towards me at the turn off into the checkpoint. Turns out he had taken a little detour and lost the time he had made up on me. 

Holland Lake to Seeley Lake

The vets had nothing but nice things to say about the team when they checked them over in Holland Lake. In fact, one even commented how very proud I should be to bring such a healthy, happy, spirited team as mine into the Race. He gushed over the condition of their feet – which were still bootie free! Gus was a worry though, he had moved strongly through most of the run, but about 1 mile out of Holland, had started to favor his leg again. I decided it was prudent if he remained behind.

Mark and Rick had a room at the Holland Lake Lodge, so in addition to a great meal and a nap in a real bed, I got a shower! What a bonus! 

Although I was concerned about the sun beating down on us, we left on schedule.

Sure enough, the warm temps slowed the team down again. They shuffled instead of trotting smartly along, but they kept moving and I knew things would improve when darkness came. We passed Nancy shut down on the trail. She asked me to send her husband out for her when I got into Seeley. She said her team had had it and wouldn’t go anymore. I sure felt for her. 

Our speed did indeed pick up during the night. By the time we started the final 10 miles back into Seeley Lake they were smoking along. Grover could see flashes of lights from the town through the trees and that really gets him rolling! 

The last 2 miles through the trees we had head on passes with a few teams heading out on the final push to the finish line. 

Mark and Rick had a good spot picked out to park the dogs. I understand they had to bribe Terry Adkins with the offer to clean up straw for the team he was handling for to secure it.

Rick Swenson was parked next to us. Rick was just looking at getting a good solid training run on his Iditarod team, so he was not up there with the front runners. It was a real treat to see so much of him on the trail and in checkpoints this Race. Rick gets a bad rap from the media but I consider him to be one of the real class acts in the sport. 

The Seeley Lake checkpoint had GREAT food. While I was busy pigging out, race officials were scurrying about trying to get help out to Nancy and looking for another team that was apparently lost. Eventually, Nancy was brought in and Lachlan was found safe.  I curled up in the corner and got a good 3 hours sleep. Promptly on the nose of my 6-hour mandatory break, we hit the trail for the 80-mile leg to the finish line.

Seeley Lake to Lincoln

In the early morning I had one of the neatest experiences on this Race. We were kind of slugging along, still waking up and getting ourselves together, when from a steep hill above me came the distinctive barking howl of a wolf. The dogs stopped and we all snapped our heads, trying to get a look at our visitor. I didn’t get one, but the dogs obviously did as they all of a sudden bolted! I was busy gawking and wasn’t hanging onto the sled well. Luckily I was wearing my ‘suicide line’, which is a line that is on the driving bow and is wrapped around my wrist (I only wear this on easy trails and when I’m tired and there is a risk of my drifting off and losing the team). Unluckily, this line was one Mark had made for himself and it was too long for me. Instead of being dragged in a position when I can regain the runners or press down on the brake with my arm, I was dragging helplessly behind the sled. I was never in danger, in fact, I was thinking how comical this must look as I pleaded with the dogs to stop. They did and I climbed back up on the sled, bummed that I didn’t get a glimpse of the wolf. 

Predictably, things slowed down as the sun gained strength. Smiley was now riding in the sled, so the extra weight didn’t help either. I wasn’t pleased about having a ‘passenger’ for 60 miles, but Smiles is an honest, hard working dog and if he says he needs to ride – he needs to ride. 

The trail pops out for a few miles onto a plowed road and then swings back into some really big ‘hills’. As we came off the road, there were a few signs on the post indication hunting restrictions and such. A big, bright sign that I hadn’t seen before caught my attention – it said “CAUTION – GRIZZLY BEARS IN AREA”. Hmmm – I began to mull over in my mind when exactly Grizzlies come out of hibernation – it was awful warm and spring-like out. (For anyone that might know the answer to that question DO NOT email me – I think I’d rather stay, blissfully, in the dark about this!). About this time Surge grabbed something off the trail and was packing it along with him. I stopped the team and went up to check out his treasure. It was a deer leg. Hmmm – probably some hungry grizzlies first meal since coming out of his winter nap. That ought to be him in a GREAT mood! I tossed the leg far off the trail into the snow and, nervously scanning the countryside, got moving. 

The dogs crawled up the pass we were in – it was definitely the slowest they had moved on the Race, but they kept moving. Eventually, the trail leveled out a bit and speed improved. We passed the turnoff into White Tail and I was pleased that the dogs didn’t try to turn in the Ranch. They looked – but kept moving by. At the base of HuckleBerry Pass I stopped, watered the team and gave them each a fish. I had a little chat with Smiley and he agreed to go back in harness for the hellish, 10-mile climb up the Pass. 

The climb was as brutal as I expected. What a hill!! A few miles up there is a nice spot that you can see over the valley for miles and miles. I stopped and gave the dogs a quick break while scanning the trail below looking to see if any teams were gaining on me. Sure enough there was a team moving across the flats at a phenomenal speed. My stomach sank, but I figured any team moving that quickly at this point in the Race deserved to finish ahead of me. But wait…something wasn’t right….it was hard to tell, but it sure looked like there were a lot of dogs in that team. Any race team should only have 8 – 10 dogs at this point. I had a clue who it was, but figured I’d know for sure in a bit. Sure enough, about 20 minutes later Doug Swingley, who lives and trains in the area, roared by me with a 20-dog team. That team was moving as quickly up that Pass as mine moves down it - very, very impressive. We exchanged greetings and Doug told me how far I had to go till the finish line (about 15 miles). About ½ hour later, Sonny King also rolled by with a 20-dog team. This was just not a big confidence builder, but they are awesome teams and they were running much bigger strings then I was.

It seemed like the top of HuckleBerry would NEVER come. The dogs valiantly kept moving forward, but we were all tired. I understand a few teams had much more trouble with the climb then I. One team even shut down for 6 hours just before the top. Finally we were there. At about that exact moment the wind started. Very quickly my sunny day turned into another struggle to keep my sled on the trail.

Honoring my agreement with Smiley. I stopped and loaded him back into the sled. He had been fine at the slow speed moving up the mountain, but the speed coming down was too much for him. I took the opportunity to put on my wind anorak and headlamp. The wind continued to pick up and the team was heading straight into it. Grover was thriving on the challenge – it seemed the harder the wind blew the faster he moved the team. 

By the time we turned off the main trail for the final miles into the Finish Line we were really moving. Still, I kept glancing nervously over my shoulder for other teams. 

The team came out of the trees into a stiff wind on a barren ridge. I had my fur ruff pulled low to help block out the wind, but out of the corner of my eye I caught some light. It was the large Canadian flag on the finish arch – standing straight out in the wind and lit up by spotlights. How gorgeous. The US flag – also lit and standing straight out came into view and we were at the finish line. 

Unexpectedly, there was a pretty good-sized crowd there. We took a few pictures under the arch (Smiley stuck his head out of the bag to make sure he got included!) and then moved the team over to the truck. John Barron stopped me and once again commented on how nice my team was and how nice it was to share the trail with us. I was so flattered. The next day at the Driver’s Meeting he said some very kind things in front of everyone about my skill as a dog driver and the journey I have taken to get there. I can’t begin to explain how that made me feel. It was one of the highlights of my entire mushing ‘career’. 

I was touched to see that my friend Marlene had braved bad road conditions to come out and see us finish. Vet, Turner Lewis, went over the team and pronounced them all in terrific shape. He even felt that Smiley’s problem was not a big one and he would be back to himself in no time. It was so obvious to me how we have improved since the last time I finished this Race. I finished a longer version of the Race in less time, with a team that looked much, much better then the team I finished with in 1996. I couldn’t have been any happier!

Many thanks go out to Mark and Rick for doing such a TERRIFIC job of handling for me. But my biggest thanks, of course, go to my canine athletes for the wonderful journey. They were: 

Grover, Oreo, Surge, Butch, Kaylinn, Orion, Draco, Mannie, Chester, Smiley, Gus (dropped in Holland Lake), and Nik (dropped in Whitetail).  

Karen – 2, Race to the Sky - 2

December 22, 2001 White Mountain to Safety

I had to go looking for officials in White Mountain. As it was the middle of the night, I (and the locals) were lucky that the first door I knocked on was the right one! With the help of a checker, I got the dogs parked. They ate ravenously and then curled up in their straw beds. When I got up to the checkpoint, I was delighted to find a mattress and blankets in the corner for mushers. What a treat to get a few hours of real comfortable sleep.

When I woke up the officials were up and about. I snuck into the shower and just stood under the hot water. Neither that, nor the soap I sent out in my drop bag made a dent in the deep layers of grime that I was coated in, but it still felt wonderful! In clean clothes I padded into the kitchen in my socks and scrounged through my stuff for food. While that was heating up, I got chatting with Slim - trailbreaker extraordinaire - he was telling me about the next piece of trail. It hit me like a brick - I was 77 miles away from the Nome. I was so wrapped up in just going from 'tree to tree', checkpoint to checkpoint, that I had failed to realize just how close to my goal I was.

I went down to feed the dogs. As I was picking up bowls I was telling the dogs what Slim had told me about the trail (this may seem weird to you folks sitting in front of your computer, but after spending 2 weeks with these guys as my constant companions - it sure seemed logical to me.) I was picking up Jake's bowl when I was overcome with a wave of emotion - we were going to finish the Iditarod. I wrapped my arms around his neck and cried.

I left White Mountain under the most beautiful blue sky you could imagine - it completely matched my spirits. The trail was spectacular. My only disappointment was that I finished up the last picture on my disposable camera on the way out of Elim and I hadn't sent one to White Mountain.
For only the second time on my trip I had pulled out my Walkman. It was Sunday night and the Officials Finishers Banquet should be on KNOM - one way or another, I was going to be there! Sure enough, I was able to pick up the station as I worked my way over the Topkok hills. It was great fun to listen to. I was deeply touched when Palmer Shagnoonik was awarded 'Most Inspirational Musher' - they could not have made a better choice. Palmer is a class act and a real, identifiable role model for kids in the coastal villages.

As we came off the hills and onto the coast my batteries died. I rifled through my sled bag but didn't find any fresh ones. I even waved down a few snowmobilers and asked if they had any. They didn't and I resigned myself to not hearing the rest of the celebrations. As nighttime fell I could see a glow ahead on the trail. Over the last years I have done probably around 60 - 70 presentations on sledding and Iditarod. I have a three-minute video 'Idit-a-Rock'n' Roll' that I show each time. On of the lines in it is 'see the lights of Nome coming up the coast'. Since my scratch in Shaktoolik in 2000, every time I showed the video when that line came up I would quietly vow to myself that I was going to do just that in 2001. My friend and handler for Grand Portage race, Bill Boutang, emailed me that wish prior to the Race "See Nome from the coast". It was my mantra and there, ahead of me I was seeing the glow of the lights of Nome. WOW!

There is a road through Safety out of Nome, so starting 25 miles out there were mileage markers along the way. When I saw the first one, I knew I was just 3 miles from Safety. I looked at my watch and was pleased to see I was right on the schedule I had hoped. I decided to stop and snack the dogs as a treat. STUPID…STUPID…STUPID. All that did was put the idea of taking a break in their heads. They inhaled their snacks and lay down for a break. I suggested we get going and they pretty much flipped me the canine finger. The next 2 hours were spend begging, cajoling, switching leaders…..anything to try to get us going. About ½ hour into this we had moved along just enough that I could see the headlamps of the checkers at Safety. The dogs refused to be impressed by this and continued their protests. Finally frustrated, exhausted, and very angry with myself for my stupid mistake we arrived at the Safety bar.

December 22, 2001 Elim to White Mountain

In Elim, despite the kind words and helpful nature of the officials, I really felt that I was holding things up. The trail sweeps left town the second I showed up, checkers were making flight arrangements out and sweeping up, and, worst of all, the outhouse stuck on the ice outside the checkpoint door was full!! YUCK!

I had to make sure the vets didn't misinterpret the blood on my dogs - it wasn't theirs, rather mine. Blood had soaked through my thumb dressing and everywhere I had touch the dogs without my over gloves I had left tracks of red. One of the checkers re-wrapped it for me. Bleeding like that, it looked worse then it really was.

I didn't want to spend a lot of time here as I felt some pressure to get moving - although Jasper, the checker made it perfectly clear that he was happy to wait until whenever I wanted to leave. By the time I packed up, he was waiting with a pilot and they roared over head before I was ½ mile out of town! J
I did take the time to phone Jamie, Mark was already in Nome and pretty much unreachable. I don't even remember what we talked about (but I'm guessing it was dogs!), but it was reassuring to speak with her.

The dogs left town smartly, but slowed up pretty quickly. I think they had been planning on a longer break! Eventually they resigned themselves to forward momentum. The trail out of Elim was spectacular. It hugged a rocky coastline, seabirds swooped and dived, at times I could see open water out on the horizon. As we came off the ice Grover got a real treat - a herd of about 200 caribou! Of course that picked the pace of the team up and we began the climb up Little McKinley at a good clip.

One of my strangest encounters of the Race happened as darkness took over that evening. I had stopped to straighten out a problem when a snowmachine came up from behind. The driver cut his engine and came over to talk. I was already using a headlamp and was careful not to blast him in the eye with my light. We chatted for a moment, and then he asked whether I was a guy or girl. When I answered, he uttered a oath and said he was hoping to take a leak (well, that's not the EXACT word he used, but you get the picture). I promised discretion and called up my team, leaving him to his business. You would think that with only a handful of people within 20 miles or so, privacy would be pretty easy to find!

The dogs were pretty flat as we rounded the top of the Mountain. They picked up a little as we began the downhill side. I was snapped to panic mode when they made an abrupt 90 degree turn off the trail and bolted down a hillside. It seems a few grouse flying up under their noses was more then they could stand. It took a few moments to get things under control but, when asked, they quickly swung around and worked their way back up the hill to the trail.
I was grateful for the 'heightened awareness' that the team had sparked in me, for when I looked up into the clear and cold night sky, I was treated to the only real display of Northern Lights that the trail granted to me this year. It was an amazingly bright and vivid display that I enjoyed from the back of my sled for well over an hour. Although dimmer by then, the Lights were still dancing as I came into Golovin.

Jasper had told me that Golovin wasn't really a checkpoint, but that a couple that lived in town would be there and would have me sign in when I showed up. Yet, as I drove my team through the sleeping town, I saw no one and no trail markers. We followed the road to an air field, when I saw the 'RESTRICTED AREA' signs, I figured we were lost. I turned the dogs around and made another pass through the community looking for markers I might have missed the first time. No luck. On my third pass through, I flagged down a teenager on a snowmachine. He pointed to a dark house as the home of the unofficial checkers. I asked the way out of town and he directed me to a downed trail marker with another one off in the distance.

The dogs were having flashbacks to Shaktoolik! 'That was a town and we should have stopped' was the message I was getting from them. I struggled along with them for a very long time, walking in front, switching leaders - eventually I hit upon the magic formula - Camilla and Kaylinn in lead. After her success coming into Kaltag, I had tried Kaylinn a few times in lead, but she would have none of it. Now she seemed to realize that she was really needed. The trip from then on was unbelievable! The girls literally smoked down the trail - maybe they sensed a checkpoint ahead, maybe they were sick of listening to me whining - who knows, but, man, did we make up time coming into White Mountain.

August 6, 2001 Koyuk to Elim

Koyuk, in my books, rates as the friendliest checkpoint on the trail. For the first time, not only was I the last team on the trail, but also the rest of the teams had already left the checkpoint when I got there.

Despite that, a good crowd was there to greet me. My, now rising, spirits were further lifted by the terrific welcome I received. Kids came by asking for autographs and I handed out a bunch of little Canada flag pins that I was carrying in my sled. One of the locals brought by the most wonderful pots of homemade soup. YUM! I shared a big bag of beef jerky with them in return. As it turns out beef is a fairly 'exotic' meat along the coast of the Bering Sea - it was fun to see how much they enjoyed it.

The dogs were looking terrific. Mannie had been a little off, but the vets helped me find a small split on his foot that was probably causing him some discomfort. Now that I had found it, I was able to actively treat him and keep him bootied, which would bring him back around immediately! Everyone ate very well and seemed very happy and content with a full meal in their belly! They all got extra scratches and rubdowns. I can't tell you how nice it was to be sitting in Koyuk with 15 healthy, happy dogs.

While getting ready to leave, I made a bone head, 'Karen' mistake (that it looks like I will always carry a scar for) - I went to cut a piece of electrical tape joining a set of lithium batteries and took off the tip of my left thumb in the process. I was more angry with myself then anything, but the bleeding just didn't want to stop. One of the vets did a fine job of pressure wrapping my thumb to try to stop the blood flow. Before I left, less then ½ hour later, blood had soaked right through the bandages and I had to get it rewrapped. I had to cut and modify my liner gloves to accommodate my bandaged appendage. The checker also had to do up my parka as it was too awkward to do up a zipper. I did manage to figure out a system for putting on booties but was especially thankful for my team's tough feet, as it certainly took some time.

The trail to Elim was much different then I expected. For the first while it ran along the edge of the sea ice, then turned up into some hills. I was dozing on my sled when we made that swing and 'snapped' around thinking I was off the trail. Luckily, I trusted my leaders, mainly Grover, enough that I pressed on forward instead of doing anything rash, like turning around.

As morning rolled around we got into quite the windstorm. Some snowmachiners were holed up in a shelter cabin along the way. I felt no need to wait it out. I snapped some pictures of the dogs with all their tails blown over to the side from the force of the wind. I was very pleased with my 'kids'. They marched along without any hesitation into the weather.

We passed through the abandon 'Old Elim' - a product of a mass move of the village years ago. Slim and his trail sweeps passed by. I had the pleasure of running into an old friend out there! In 2000 I spend several hours at the Tripod Flats cabin with another musher and a friendly couple snowmachiners that were following the Race, one of them, Bob was on his way back down the trail after going to Nome this year. He took some pictures, passed on some encouraging words, and chatted for a few minutes.

The last little bit of trail into Elim follows a road that pops up seemingly out of nowhere. It seemed really strange to peer over a guardrail at the coast below! What a spectacular day!

August 6, 2001 Shaktoolik to Koyuk

I was a rambling, messed up musher in Shaktoolik. All the checkers had come out to say 'HI' and make sure I didn't park for a long visit (what a great group!) - they knew my plan and wanted to make sure I didn't waver.  First order for me was a trip to the bathroom. Once that was dealt with I walked out to figure out what I was going to do. I was greeting by a bouncing, barking dog team. That, the encouragement of the checkers and vets, and that darn promise to Jamie prompted me into action. I loaded the sled, secured some straw to the top of everything and headed out.

I will never forget the look on Surge's face when I asked that team to leave the checkpoint. Up to this point in the Race, checkpoints had always been a guaranteed spot for food and rest for my team. Surge, the youngest of the bunch didn't understand why we weren't stopping here. But they did leave. Their pace was little more then a walk. Clint, Buck, and Beth all passed us within the first couple hours. It was quite dark out, but I kept seeing shadows of trees and power poles (don't ask) along the trail. I was confused, I thought once we left Shaktoolik we were on the ice all the way to Koyuk. I saw no sign of the shelter cabin and finally decided to shut things down for a break anyway. I fed the dogs and laid out the straw for them. Bed for me was the top of my sled bag.

As the morning started to lighten things up I was amazed to realize that there was no trees, no power poles, no NOTHING around me…..well, except for that shelter cabin that was visible about ½ mile ahead!! ARGHHH!! The dogs had been resting 4 hours and I made a halfhearted attempt at getting them up. They looked at me like I had ROCKS in my head and went back to sleep. Okay….2 more hours seemed like a good compromise.

During that 2 hours, Dave Tresino's team passed. As it turned out, that was the last dog team I would see in the Race.

After the extra 2 hours, the dogs were willing to head out. The trail was every bit as flat, featureless and intimidating as people had told me. I stopped briefly at the shelter cabin and stuck my head inside. Turns out cross-country skiers had spent the night there and there was still a warm woodstove. Oh well, my night on the ice probably built more character then a night in a warm cabin would have done!
Several hours closer to Koyuk the trail breakers passed me. They were encouraging and said they would see me in the checkpoint.

A few hours after that a plane flew fairly low overhead. I later learned that it was Doug Swingley doing his 'victory visits' to the coastal villages!! :)

A little more then a hour out of Koyuk the dogs and I hit the other side of our 'slump' and they were really moving well, loping in fact, when we came off the ice and into town.

August 6, 2001 Unalakleet to Shaktoolik

I really knew '2000 baggage' was getting to me when I even opted out of a pizza feast from the best little pizza place in Alaska - 'Peace of Earth' pizzeria in Unk! I didn't get a lot of sleep and prowled the checkpoint rather aimlessly. I left the dogs pretty much alone after initially feeding and bedding them down. I didn't want my feelings of dread to rub off on them.

A bright spot was a quick visit from Tanya, who had graciously opened her house to us in Nome in 2000. She was now working in Unalakleet and I was touched that she was tracking the race well enough to know when I would be showing up.

As I packed the sled up, the flashing little snowbirds that live all around town flitted around the team. They are really cool little birds!

To my delight, the dogs left the checkpoint not too badly at all. Absolutely no repeat of the turning around that was the problem last year. Once we got into an uphill portion of the trail they really slowed down to a crawl. Now, with distance and time, I can confidently say that they were playing off my moods and fears, but at that time I began to think that the end might be near.

We had a momentary spark when a herd of 7 caribou started shadowing us along the trail. Grover definitely has a thing for caribou and the team was almost out of control for close to a mile. When we hit the base of the Blueberry Hills things really got into a rut. Somewhere in there Dave Tresino passed us and that picked the dogs up (further proof they weren't really tired, just playing off my mood). One of the checkers came up to the top of the hills to see my team. He said he had heard a lot about my pretty Siberian team and wanted to see them on the trail. That was neat! I double checked with him about a cabin Palmer Sagoonik had told me was at the base of the Hills. I was planning on stopping for an hour or two there and then going straight through Shaktoolik and onto the Rock, a shelter cabin 7 - 10 miles out of town, for a longer rest. I had PROMISED Jamie Nelson I wouldn't stop in Shaktoolik under any circumstances - just pick up my supplies and get outta' town. All part of a 'master plan' to prevent a replay of last year's 'crash' on the ice.

I flayed around looking for that cabin and never found it. In fact, I wasted close to an hour looking - so much for the 'plan'. I decided to head straight into Shaktoolik and work on reformatting a new plan on the way in. We chased caribou for a bit and then settled into a decent pace. The wind really began to pick up. I had Camilla / Grover and then Camilla / Gus in lead. The team kept veering around and going off the trail. It took my Iditarod fogged brain a long while and a lot of wasted time to figure out that the problem was Camilla. She didn't like the wind! About 1 mile out of town I switched her out of lead and we started going straight ahead, but of course, I hadn't been able to concentrate on a 'new plan' and came into the checkpoint not sure of what I was going to do.