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Journey Continues
Don’s Cabin to Anchorage
April 9, 2007
It was about 3PM when I pulled
into Don’s cabin for the second time. I didn’t expect
to see another human for 24 hours. This isn’t a big deal.
I’m fairly self-sufficient and have spent a lot of time alone
with the dogs during other races and training runs. In fact I’m
kind of looking forward to the mini-vacation. My body hurts, but
everything still works. I’ll be fine.
Don's cabin from
the outside. You can see the red tarp
I hung for a door and smoke coming from the stovepipe.
Platinum and Bass are in lead scarfing food from the
old straw pile. |
Don’s cabin is not the Hilton of
the Iditarod trail. A bear had torn the door off the cabin and worked
on the inside. There were holes in the walls (natural air conditioning)
and someone had spread straw all over the floor, the bunks, and inside
the stove. But there was a stove. I cleaned the stove out and swept
a small space on the floor beside it to sleep that night. I carry
a small space tarp (red plastic on one side and mylar on the other)
as part of my sleeping system and I hung that to replace the missing
door.
There wasn’t any wood, but lots of standing dead trees near
the cabin. Rather than use my axe (if I slipped and cut myself I could
bleed to death before rescue) I carry a small Sven (hand) saw. I started
cutting wood and built a fire in the stove. Then I gathered snow and
put my pot on top of the stove to melt water. I kept cutting wood,
amazed at how fast the stove burnt it and how little heat it put out.
Then I kept cutting trees and bucking them up into stove wood to last
the night.
About 7 PM I took the half melted snow off the stove, fired up the
cooker and fixed myself and the dogs a hot meal, then filled my drink
cooler with hot Cytomax so I had something to drink that night. I
pulled the last three trees I cut down up to the tarp/door of the
cabin so I could finish cutting them inside. As it got dark I spread
my sleeping bag on the floor and settled in for the night.
Inside Don's
cabin showing the upper and
lower bunk (covered in straw) and holes in the walls. |
The day was pretty warm, almost 20 degrees,
but with the clear skies it got cold that night. I work up several
times to refill the stove and keep the fire going but wasn’t
sure how much good it did. As the sun came up I stoked the fire and
held my hands inside to warm them up. I kept remembering “The
cremation of Sam McGee” at the end where his friend opens the
boiler and Sam says please close the door. This is the first time
he’s been warm since he left Tennessee.
The snow I was melting over night on the stove started to refreeze
so I fired up the cooker with the last of my fuel and fixed myself
and the dogs the last hot meal I had. Then I got serious about melting
more snow so the dogs and I would have something to drink. I wasn’t
worried because I expected Ellen and company to reach Iditarod by
now. Once the race officials knew the shape I was in someone would
be along to help. Besides I expected the trail sweeps anytime now.
I put more wood on the fire and went back to cutting trees.
Just before noon the Iditarod Air Force flew over, but didn’t
drop any notes. Twice more that afternoon the Air Force flew past,
circling to get a better look, then flying off. I didn’t understand
why they didn’t drop food or at least a note. Later I learned
that Heather didn’t get to the checkpoint until 3:30 PM –
they had no idea what I was doing or which of the 4 overdue mushers
I was. They saw smoke from the chimney and me moving around outside
and figured everything was ok.
I was no longer sure I would be rescued that evening and started searching
through the old straw beds for un-eaten dog food. I found a pile of
about 8 lbs of kibble, quickly gathered it, and thanked my unknown
benefactor. Then I gathered about 3 gallons of frozen half eaten ice/kibble
mix from the straw piles. I didn’t like feeding that, but figured
it was better than letting the dogs go hungry.
About 5 PM the trail sweeps came through on their snowmachines. One
of the sweeps was a Physicians Assistant (PA) and looked at my frostbitten
toe and leg – she didn’t think the leg was broken (in
Anchorage x-rays would show a spiral fracture of the fibula –
the small non-weight bearing bone). She wrapped the leg to reduce
the swelling and said to keep the foot warm. I might loose the toenail
and have a divot on the end of the toe, but that should be all. She
didn’t think I tore the rotator cuff in the shoulder, just badly
bruised it.
Will called the race officials on his satellite phone to let them
know I was ok and try to arrange extraction. There was no place near
to land a plane. Will asked about a helicopter, but there wasn’t
one available. I’d have to ride out with them on the snowmachines.
We started getting ready to leave. I fed the team dinner, then split
them in half and rigged lines in front of two snowmachines. The trail
was so rough the sweeps didn’t want to carry my sled out (it
made the load top heavy) just my gear. I said I’d like the sled,
but would understand if it was too much to ask. It was almost dark
and I was booting the last two dogs when Will Petersen changed his
mind – we had 50 miles to go and the trail was rough and poorly
marked – let’s wait and do it in the daylight. Bucko carried
a chain saw and got serious about gathering wood. They ensconced me
in the top bunk to keep the foot warm (heat rises, but it was against
the cold wall) heated some food and shared with me. Bucko carried
a hip flask and shared – one of the nicest things that happened
all day.
The next morning I fed the dogs the frozen water/kibble mix, then
I took the last 2 lbs of kibble, some frozen bison I had saved, and
a little frozen meat I’d found and made a hot soup to top off
the cold meal. The sweeps heated food and shared again – even
hot chocolate for breakfast. I bootied and hooked up the dogs and
about 11 AM we were off. The snowmachines were going slow enough that
if my leg wasn’t hurting so bad I could have walked beside them,
and it was rough enough I’d have tried. Even at 2 to 3 miles
/ hour we were bouncing back and forth. I watched Bucko roll his machine
on its side, stop and roll it back. Will later described the trail
as a cross between driving a school bus and riding a mechanical bull.
He told me they had broken the suspension on 4 of the 5 machines and
stayed in McGrath to fix them.
After a couple of hours the air force flew by and dropped a note.
They had found a small meadow about a mile off the trail and were
waiting for me. When we got there Bruce Moroney and Dave were waiting.
They had been diverted in mid-air to pick me up. We split the dogs
between the two planes and I climbed in with Bruce. They worried about
getting off the ground safely so my gear went to Iditarod with the
sweeps. Ten minutes later I was enroute to Unalakleet.
When we landed at Unalakleet, Iditarod had an air evac nurse/paramedic
and she came out to the terminal and looked at my foot, leg and shoulder.
I was quite the hit with the volunteers – everyone wanted a
photo of the frostbitten toe. The vets and dropped dog people took
my dogs out and hitched them to a chain link fence. We put down lots
of straw and fed them a hot meal, but couldn’t get them out
of the wind. I filled out my scratch paperwork and gave my vet book
and trail mail to the race judge, Jim Gallea. I told Jim that my number
4 bag in Nome had my civilian clothes for after the race and he arranged
for the Air Force to fly it to me the next morning.
Then they took me to the volunteer area where the cooks fixed hot
meals and snacks. We slept of the floor of the gym. I’d left
my sleeping bag on the trail, but had my arctic gear and stayed warm.
When I got up I caught a ride to the airport to care for my dogs.
One of the dropped dog people volunteered to feed them so I could
sleep but I need to see them and snack them to make up for the thin
meals at Don’s cabin. When I got back to the bunkhouse my clean
clothes from Nome were there – a hot shower never felt so good!
That evening Iditarod put the dogs and I on a Pen Air Caravan (donated
by Pen Air as race sponsorship) and flew us back to Anchorage. The
next day was spent visiting doctors – frostbitten toe, broken
fibula, badly bruised shoulder. The break was high enough they didn’t
cast it, but let the calf muscles support the bone. The care directions
were 1) don’t fall on that leg again 2) don’t freeze the
toe again 3) check back in a week for follow up. So I’m on heavy
doses of Advil – better living through chemistry and trying
to stay quiet.
Keep ‘em Northbound
Eric
© 2007 All rights reserved
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