A Rookie’s Journey – Unalakleet to Shaktoolik
July 06, 2006

The Bering Sea coast is notorious for fierce winter storms and howling winds. I’m thinking about that and the glare ice on the lake we crossed coming into town and ask one of the local people about the trail to Shaktoolik. He tells me that the East Wind (which this is) is a good wind and it should diminish as we climb into the Blueberry Hills. He also says that the trail has been rerouted to the shores of the shallow lakes, so the bare ice shouldn’t be a problem. Normally you put booties on the dog’s feet to protect them during the race, but if you are going to be on ice you want the dogs barefoot so they have better traction. If a dog slips and falls on the ice they can easily injure a shoulder or a hip and that is harder to heal than sore feet.

I take some more Imodium, and walk out to the berm sheltering the dogs from the wind. Even on the lee side of the berm the dogs are in 10 mph winds. As I feed them the dishes tend to blow away and I have to be quick to rescue them. Finally I get everything ready and we pull out from behind the berm at 10:35 at night.

BAM! I knew the wind was blowing, but as we left the manmade shelter it was like a physical blow. The wind was about 50 mph from the right side and doing it’s very best to blow us all the way to Siberia. Just like coming in, the outbound trail runs down the slough behind town. I’ve got Bass and Platinum in lead and we are trying to follow the stakes, but several have been knocked down and in the dark it is very difficult to find the trail. I see a stake marking a trail into town and the dogs eagerly turn their backs to the wind and climb the slope up the island. From the top of the slope I see a plowed road running into Unalakleet, but no stakes. I stop the dogs with the sled on the last bit of snow before we hit the road and look around in the dark. There is a rough open area to my right and eventually I realize it is the town dump, but there is no sign of the trail.

One constant rule on the trail is never walk behind the sled. If you drop something, leave it. If you are behind the sled and the dogs pull the snowhook you have no chance to catch them. If you are in front you can grab the sled as it goes by. But I need to find the trail, so I set the hooks as firm as I can, say a prayer, and walk back down to the last stake. I stand there for what seems like eternity looking for a stake (they all have reflective tape on top for night use) and finally see one way down the slough. I walk back up the hill to the dogs and convince them to turn around into the wind and go back to the stake. Bass doesn’t complain, he just follows my lead. Later in Shaktoolik I’m sharing my adventures leaving Unalakleet with the staff and they tell me that no matter how well they mark the outgoing trail, it never survives. One of the mushers who left just ahead of me said that he had knocked over about a dozen stakes himself. The wind just blew his sled into the stake and over it went. It’s just a fact of life.

The stakes remain sparse and there are several conflicting trails leaving town. In the storm and dark it is a challenge, but we eventually work our way through it. Shortly we come to a series of windswept lakes and, just like the gentleman told me, the trail has been rerouted alongside the lake instead of straight across it. However it isn’t one trail, but a wide swath the crosses and re-crosses in the night. The stakes are actually on the ice right on the side of the lake and I’m having a tough time keeping the dogs in the brush on the edge of the lake so I can see the surviving stakes, rather than going off to the left where the going is easier. Of course the wind is still blowing hard from right to left making matters worse. After about 15 minutes of this Platinum has had enough and swings the team to run downwind. I get them stopped and move Platinum back into the team, leaving Bass in single lead to fight the storm. Bass brings the team back around to the shoreline and we are moving down the trail again. On the Yukon, where the going was fairly easy Bass was stopping and goofing off. I was concerned because if he quit I might not be able to finish. Here on the coast in the nastiest storm I’ve ever had to travel in Bass is rising to the challenge, and doing it alone in single lead. What a Pro!

Eventually we leave the flat open country and start to climb the Blueberry hills. The lower parts of the hills are forested and it is nice to get out of the wind for a bit. As we climb higher there is only short brush for cover, and on the tops there is only grass and frozen tundra. I remember flying over this country as a volunteer one year and commenting on how there was no snow except the thin line of the trail. I thought it must have been pretty warm to have melted everything else. I never guessed that it was the wind blowing away anything that was not firmly packed down or attached to the ground.

With the storm at night the whole country has a kind of surreal feeling to it. The trail is a thin ghost like thread that connects us to Unalakleet on one end and Shaktoolik on the other. This thin winding lifeline climbs up through the trees, into the thin brush, and finally on top where all life huddles close to the ground trying to survive. The dogs are tired and stop frequently on the climbs. I’m walking up the hills beside the sled trying to ease the burden and I share the physical exhaustion with the dogs. The wind howls mercilessly across the tops of the hills then we drop down into the sheltered areas only to climb back into the wind on the next hill. Sometimes our white lifeline disappears and we are running on bare tundra. Once I look down to see the trail has become ice so clear I can see the short vegetation through the ice. While the dogs are climbing slowly they ignore my requests to take it easy going down the hills and attack this thin winding downhill trail with everything they’ve got. The wind catches my parka hood and blows that down over my headlamp and eyes just as the dogs pick up speed. In seconds we go from a boring exhausted trudge up the hill to a screaming heart pounding blind downhill roller coaster ride back into the trees only to repeat the performance on the next hill. After several hours we drop out of the hills and down onto a long flat peninsula leading to Shaktoolik.

I know we are about 10 miles from the checkpoint, but I can see the lights of town in the distance. Here again we are crossing frozen lakes that have been blown completely free of snow. The few surviving stakes and the scratches in the ice make by the skis of the snowmachines are the only indicators that we are still on the trail. Bass is doing a phenomenal job finding and holding the trail in single lead in these tough conditions and I stop to tell him so. The tougher things get the steadier he becomes. Without a good leader that you can count on this would be a pretty miserable trip. With Bass in lead working with me to get the team to Nome, we are slowly, but steadily, making the trip and I have no doubt we will prevail.

It takes us about 1 ½ hours to make the 10 miles, but we pull into the Shaktoolik checkpoint at 5:50 AM. The winds have eased some and the staff parks us in the lee of the building as much as they can. The vets are concerned about the weight of several of my dogs and I plan to give them a long 12 hour rest and try to put 3 good meals into them. I’ve been giving the dogs cold water as soon as we get into the checkpoint because they seem to like it and hydration has not been an issue this race. Then I’ve been feeding dry kibble, again because the dogs like it. About 2/3 of the team eats when I feed on arrival, and 2/3 eat when I feed again before leaving. That means that 1/3 of the team is eating the 2 meals they need per checkpoint, but 2/3 are not. The vets suggest I cook a hot meal for them with lots of fatty meats and I do that. I found out later that many of the front runners are feeding the same way that I was, but by the time their dogs started to get thin they were in Nome and their dogs are resting. I go into the checkpoint and one of the volunteers fixes me a hot breakfast. My diarrhea is acting up again and I pop some more Imodium before I set my alarm for noon to feed the dogs a second meal and by 8 am I’m sound asleep.

Keep ‘em Northbound
Eric
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