We left from the truck, across Lake Louise, like a shot. Stump kept us pointed in the right direction and we were happy to be started. The whole south end of this big lake was packed down by snowmachine traffic. We didn’t want to follow most of the trail markers that were out there, as they were put in by locals marking trails to their cabins. I was glad to have had at least the small amount of open lake travel I have done with the dogs. After three miles, we got off the lake just fine and on to the correct trail headed overland for Crosswind Lake. John had already snowmachined out to the spot for reassurance that everyone got started correctly. The dogs were psyched to be running again and we cruised down the straight, smooth trail. Well, that is all except Gila who was more interested in finding a boy to breed her. I had to stop to replace her with Hawkeye, in lead with Stump. I felt I had made a big mistake bringing Gila, not Trip, since Gila was apparently not up to leading in her hormonal state. Not long after making that switch, we passed Perry, and then Becca. I knew they probably had faster teams, but I had to let the dogs burn off some of this pent up energy. The trail was very tame and it didn’t really feel like we were in Alaska, except for the huge glacier covered peaks of Mounts Drum (12,010’) and Sanford (16,237’) in the distance. Dan Kaduce passed us not long before we dropped down on to Crosswind Lake and the trail got pretty soft. Luckily, we were only out on that punchy trail in the hot sun for a few miles before returning to hard pack through the low spruce woods, headed back to Wolverine. Becca came by and handed me a juice box when I stopped in the shade to let the dogs cool off for a few minutes. That was pretty nice of her, I thought. We more or less followed her back to the lodge and got in 5 minutes behind her team at 3:48pm Monday, having done the 52 miles in 4 hours 42 minutes. Molly, Karen, and Perry were not too far behind, but Perry took his team straight to his truck, instead of the “dog yard” where the rest of us had our dogs fed and laying on beds of straw for the long rest here. He was scratching from the race, with a team that he said wasn’t “in to it.”

With the dogs fed, wrist-wrapped, bedded down, and comfortably sleeping in the late afternoon sun, I turned my attention to packing the sled for the next 250 miles of travel with these 12 friends of mine. I could only take what was in the checkpoint bags I had packed, but that still left some decisions. Eventually I was satisfied with my choices and went inside to eat and sleep. I got to chat with Bob and Moe over dinner, and after I ate, they encouraged me to go sleep. I headed for the mushers bedroom and laid down for a while on the floor upstairs, even though I was paying for a room with a bed right down the hall. All mushers had to be on the same playing (and sleeping) surface, so the floor it was. After tossing and turning for a couple hours, I got up to check on the team. The dogs were getting a little restless under the full moon. I was glad to be getting ready to go again after the “easy” first leg. Back at the bar, I had another dinner and plenty of water while I waited out the remainder of the mandatory rest, chatting with other mushers and handlers. I drew up a rough schedule of what I thought our times would be for the rest of the race and handed it to Bob and Moe. This afternoon’s run was just a warm-up, now the race was going to get really started. It was down to around ten degrees when I filled my water bottles and went out to bootie the team and get ready to go.

After watching the three teams in front of us pull out and disappear around the point at the end of the short bay the lodge sat at the end of, it was our turn. As with the teams in front of us, the leaders were keen on following the same path we’d taken earlier in the day, but we had to stay to the left this time and head north. We were allowed handler help getting out of here, since it was fairly confusing for the dogs, and Bob led Stump and Hawkeye out a bit, until they were firmly started the right way. With the moon glowing brightly and some dim northern lights dancing, I shut off my headlamp almost immediately and marveled at the beauty all around. The team maintained a nice quick pace on the open lake. I could see Zoya and Becca’s headlamps out ahead of us by a mile or more and before long I could see Molly and Karen’s lamps a bit farther behind. After ten miles or so, we made a short little portage of just a few yards from Lake Louise to Susitna Lake. This lake was only five miles or so wide, instead of ten plus on Louise. At some point, Susitna Lake becomes Tyone Lake and then as the lake narrows down, Tyone River. Before we got in to the narrower confines of the river, I could see a team getting closer from behind. Eventually, Molly caught us and went on by at a spot where the trail had several possible paths. This country was still fairly heavily snowmachined, and although there was one main path, many corners of the river had been cut with short cut paths. Stump and Hawkeye did a great job keeping us on the firm trail, most of the time.

It got pretty cold as we curled our way along the turns of the river in the dark of the morning. I don’t carry a thermometer, but I bet it was near -20 by the time dawn greeted the sky. I pulled out my facemask and pulled up my hood. The low, spruce covered river banks began to change to much higher bluffs and the river widened before reaching the Susitna River. The “Big Su,” which eventually drains to Cook Inlet near Anchorage several hundred miles downstream, seemed big indeed. I’d guess it was half a mile wide here. Just around the first bend, we came upon Dan, Zoya, and Becca all camped at what was figured to be about half way of this 111 mile leg to Maclaren Lodge. Dan was sleeping on his sled. A few hundred yards up the trail, Zoya and Becca were chatting over a warming cooker. I briefly thought of stopping and sharing their company, but decided it best to keep the team moving while it was still good and cold. “On by boys. Good dogs.” Now there was just one team in front of us, although I had no delusions of racing to the finish line, still almost 200 miles away. I figured I’d run the 12 more miles and get off the Su and on to the Maclaren before resting and watering the team. Not far up the wide open river, the trail became wind-blown and the team followed Molly’s tracks on to a side path paralleling the main trail. At first it seemed like these two trails would come right back together, but as we veered away from the real path, our trail got very soft and punchy. I stopped and tried to direct the team to the left, but the snow was too deep for me to walk through and the dogs liked the soft trail better than no trail at all. We wallowed on for another mile or two before finally getting to a place where Molly had decided she’d had enough of this and had gotten her team back on to the main trail. That seemed to have taken a lot out of the team and they didn’t really pick up the pace when we were back on real trail.

Dan caught us and made a clean pass just five or six miles from where he had been camped. He asked “Are you doing this run straight through?” “No, no, just trying to take advantage of the cold. We’ll be stopping soon.” To me, it seemed pretty obvious he had the team to beat, and to him too, I’m sure. I think maybe he wasn’t going to let too many teams get ahead of him, and he had packed up pretty quickly after we passed his camping spot. He had nothing to fear from us. We were slowing down, in need of a rest, and Hawkeye, Gecko, Logan, Merlin, Ambler and Jim were showing more and more signs of intestinal unrest. By now, the side trails had become nonexistent as we were out of regularly traveled places. I couldn’t find a spot to park the team and didn’t really feel like wasting time pulling out the snowshoes to pack a parking spot. Finally, a little before 8am, I found a windblown shelf on an apparent gravel bar with a mile-long view back down the trail. Good enough. “Easy boys, let’s take a break.”
 

Just as I was pulling out my cooker, cooler, and fuel, John came along on his snowmachine. He stopped as I began the process of melting snow for the dogs’ meal. John said the turn on to the Maclaren River was just around the next bend, so I had all but made it to where I had planned on stopping. I told him I’d be taking 3 or so hours here to rest. He had seen some of the loose stool on the trail and asked if it was from my dogs. “I’m afraid so,” I said, somewhat ashamed, “It seems to be working it’s way through the team.” He has seen it all and just reassured me to keep plenty of water in them and they could work through the stomach virus now plaguing more than half my team. He left with a smile and “See you at Maclaren. You’re going to enjoy it there.” “I’m looking forward to it. See you there.” We were quickly re-enveloped with silence of wilderness. The dogs ate well once the water had heated. I heated up some of my food, too. Ummmm, meatloaf. It was warming up fast and the dogs were very content, balled up in the snow. I pulled out my extra parka and lay down on top of the re-packed sled for a while. I think it was about 11am when Zoya and her team came up alongside us. She stopped and chatted for a few minutes. She too told me we had a lot to look forward to as we climbed to Maclaren. You could really tell she and John both have a real love for that place that they call home for summers, and this year they were living there all winter.

The dogs perked right up with Zoya’s passing team, so at about 11:30am, we were back underway. The team was kind of sluggish coming out of this rest. I maybe fed them too much. Now they had full bellies and hazy sun on their backs. Bad combination. We were again running in the heat of the day. A porcupine in a tree just off the trail perked them up. That thing was the size of a bear. Everything is bigger in Alaska. The lower Maclaren River still had trees down to the bank and seemed to have numerous channels, small islands, and gravel bars under its thick mantle of ice and snow. It was already more interesting trail than out on the broad Susitna. Even with a team that was sick and getting sicker, I was having a ball. The country was amazing. Huge snow covered mountains loomed in the distance. The trail took some overland portages and was fun for both the dogs and me. Becca caught us a bit further on and I waved her on by. She said her team seemed to think they needed to pace themselves, in case this was another 1100 mile journey. She stopped her team just up the trail a bit further and we pulled up behind and also stopped. It was too early for a rest, but there wasn’t really room to pass and I knew she had the faster team anyway. She said she wouldn’t be too long. I told her how the daytime heat and stomach bug were affecting my team. She encouraged me to take the booties off my team, as it was now pretty warm. “It’s easier to deal with a sore foot or two than it is with an overheated team.” “You’re right, Becca. Thanks.” She really helped me clear my mind and it came at a great time for me. She was another fine example of the incredible sports(wo)manship I encountered on the trail. I was extremely grateful for her instant friendship and good advice.

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