8+ days on the Iditarod Trail: Part Four

Balmy bluebird day on the Iditarod trail. Another nameless frozen swamp between Shell and Finger Lakes.

Shell Lake to Finger Lake: ~122 miles, ~3 days 2 hours 

I ended up sleeping pretty good that night in my plush double sized bed.  I do recall snapping awake at some point because the fire had all but gone out and I sort of automatically got up, grabbed a log, put it in the stove and stoked it enough to get it burning again. Really fuzzy on that.  I think some other racer snuck in too in the night and was occupying the only bunk left.  I think they might have also gone through the fire stoking business at some point too as I vaguely remember it getting cold at some other point. Yeah there was the person that stumbled in to find no open bunks and then accidentally left the door not completely closed. That kinda sucked because as I was getting dressed I realized my boots were still damp and actually frozen in parts! Doh! Still, I put on fresh socks and layered up really good. I wasn't leaving right away, was going to get some breakfast in the lodge before I headed out; time to try drying my boots a bit. I was partially successful in that regard. I ambled into the lodge which was probably even more lively than the night before. Seemed like everybody was getting ready to leave at the same time!  I had a nice breakfast while eavesdropping on a number of conversations.

The most incredible story I heard was from Greg Mills who was skiing this year to honor his friend Rob who was the long time Rohn checkpoint captain who'd died tragically in an accident.  Greg was a couple miles out from Shell Lake following a different trail around the mountain that was longer but bypassed the big climb most of us had taken.  He came upon a lone moose in the trail that just about instantly charged at him and struck him! But the moose wasn't done. After it had knocked Greg off the trail into the deep snow it continued to stomp on him.  Greg was completely unharmed only because each powerful stomp on his chest just pushed him deeper into the snow! Greg was finally able to get behind a tree and keep the moose at bay.  Then, during a very long stand-off Greg started to get very cold as the temperatures dropped so he began to make short dashes from behind the tree to collect his scattered gear and back to the relative safety of the tree. It was a fight or flight situation, he felt like he was going to either freeze to death or get killed by the moose so he had to at least try to get his puffy jacket on to warm himself. Eventually, after he'd collected all his gear and had his skis on and ready to go, while the moose was distracted by eating something, Greg made a run for it and got away and sprinted the final distance to Shell Lake lodge.

I was completely floored as were the others who were there to hear the story. Unbelievable! However, after hearing Greg's story I no longer felt quite as safe in the deep woods as I once had. Every reflector I'd see at night was sure to be moose eyes! Sure I'd seen a ton of fresh moose tracks; tracks right over the top of snowmobiles that had just passed me by (several times) but I hadn't seen any moose up close; but I'm SURE they'd seen me!

I was getting ready to finally leave, my boots were a bit more dried out (or at least thawed out), when I overheard some discussion about cutoff times. A volunteer was reading from a piece of paper and they claimed that the cutoff to Puntilla Lake was 4 days which had me a bit concerned. That kind of blew up my race plan. Now it looked like I was going to have to suck it up and travel all this day and through the night to get to Puntilla, about 50 miles away, in enough time to get some rest before pushing on before the final cutoff!! Well, I admit I must not have been fully awake because that shocked me. I knew I was moving pretty slow but not THAT slow. What it did though was light a fire in me and not a good one. I rushed to gather my gear, donned my outer layers and stepped out into the deep cold. I'd heard it was -25F but honestly it didn't feel any more cold than any of the other cold mornings I'd experienced. I just kinda shrugged it off; growing numb and oblivious to the cold at this point in the race! Not sure if that was a good or a bad thing?

I was kinda in a deep funk when I headed out that morning. Again in snowshoes! I honestly thought I was already chasing cutoffs and that's not at all where I wanted to be at this point in the race; not even half way! I was angry with myself and the world and cursed the slow conditions. I grinded out a pretty healthy pace on up the hillside to reach a fairly exposed ridge right at dawn.  There was some wind but it wasn't overly bad.  It was going to be a bluebird day I could tell. Clear and cold. I hiked strongly for the next little while as the sun slowly climbed from behind the trees at my back and the huge moon hung in the sky in front of me. The trail was soft, again big surprise, but I suppose I'd grown numb that that too by now. When it was light enough to finally see around the surrounding landscape I could see another high mountain ridge to my right and nothing but open swamp land ahead with an evergreen tree line in the distance.  This would be the pattern of the day. Swamp crossing to distant tree line, cut through the narrow band of trees, turn slightly in one direction or another then repeat. I would lose count of how many swamps I crossed soon enough.  However, I noticed on the ridge line next to me, high up, there was a blinking red light. As it got lighter out I could finally make out that it looked like a tower. A cell tower! Without thinking or hesitating I dug out my phone and called home; not even thinking about the fact that the windchill was probably 40 below! I didn't care. My wife Kathy answered almost immediately. I explained my situation and honestly, at the time I didn't know how far it was to Puntilla Lake. So I asked her to see if she could figure out how far out I was and try and text me (to my Garmin InReach device) every now and then so I could work out how fast (slow) I was going and if I was on track to make it to Puntilla in time. God I was awful?! Seriously? I still don't know why I did that; I typically relish a challenge but for some reason that punch in the mouth that morning really stung and exposed a weakness. I was practically crying on the phone! Ugly. It was a quick call because fairly quickly my phone buzzed to tell me power was almost gone! It was about to brick up in the cold!  I got off the phone, powered it down and buried it away in an insulated pocked on a mid layer I was wearing.

So I started getting texts to inform me about my pace (which was actually a healthy 2.5 mph) and how far out I was from Puntilla. I did the math and realized I had plenty of time as long as I kept my stop at Finger Lake fairly short; just long enough to grab my drop bag and move on. Damn! What about all the poor folks behind me? They'd have even slimmer margins!

So I kind of forgot about this crisis and just marched on; that's all I could control so that's what I did. At some point the French skier, Mathieu caught up to me and we exchanged a few words. In the wind I couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but it sounded like he was in a funk as well and didn't want to push too hard that morning; that I was setting a comfortable pace and he was fine just staying behind me. Nothing against Mathieu but I don't like being shadowed. It's an uncomfortable feeling. So I after only a short while, I pretended I needed to stop to food or water and waved him on. Sorry Mathieu! I was in a powerful funk myself and just needed to be alone. He was soon out of sight anyhow so he was definitely holding back; although I understand the first few days at least were tough on the skiers as well even with all the snow.

The morning wore on as my heading never changed overly much except as I'd pass through each, infrequent band of trees that delimited one swap from another.  The sun climbed higher in the sky and it was clear this was a Spring sun as I honestly felt it was providing heat rather than just lighting. The winds seem to die down as well; only the occasional cold gust. Soon I was starting to sweat in all my deep cold layers. So I began to unzip things to allow ventilation. That worked for awhile but it became clear that it was going to be a warm day in this area. I removed almost all my layers and was just down to my wool base layer and full zip wind pants. I wasn't even wearing any gloves or a hat most of the time! I had to be high in the high 20s Fahrenheit (or warmer). I actually welcomed the random cold gusts to help cool me off. I didn't dare strip off any more layers although I was wishing I didn't have the wind pants on.  But I just didn't want to stop anymore than I had to.

By this point of the race I'd pretty much dialed in my fueling routine. Everything that I'd need over the coming half day or so I'd have crammed in one jacket pocket or another. Bags of trail mix, candy, etc... So I didn't have to stop all that much except to take a quick drink from a bottle. That is something I'd definitely do differently next time; perhaps just one insulated container with water in my sled and carry the balance on my back in a small pack that would fit under all my layers. Having to stop to drink was tedious and time consuming.

Around mid day I heard the unmistakable whine of snowmobiles ahead of me. Was it going to be a Good or Bad cop? I was already in snow shoes so the trail couldn't be made any worse. Sure enough it was a Good cop in the form of Kyle the race director and another volunteer. They were putting out some course marking lathe (sticks with painted tops and reflective tape to be visible even at night) and otherwise just checking on racers and moving supplies around between checkpoints. So I asked Kyle about the cutoff situation and was told that I was in error, that the actual cutoff time to Puntilla was FIVE days NOT FOUR. I was ecstatic! I was basically a full day ahead of the cutoff and not riding the line! Phew! Don't get me wrong, I was still moving pretty slow but I at least had some buffer so that as long as I could continue to do what I've been doing with respect to sleep-hike cycles I'd be just fine. But, I had the idea that my race plan still needed to change somewhat as my best opportunity for rest wouldn't be until Puntilla. The reason is the Finger Lake checkpoint is very minimal. It's just a wall tent out on the shore of a cold lake; totally exposed to the wind. Most years it's either unheated or ended up being so by the time slower racers like me arrive there.  I had an inkling that there were a lot of racers near me or would catch up to me if I stayed at Finger Lake very long. That meant the little tent would get very packed in short order and it'd be impossible to get any good rest; sleep would be impossible with folks fiddling with gear and stepping over you to do so.

So I hatched a plan to only stay in Finger Lake a relatively short amount of time and travel through the night and not stop until I reached Puntilla Lake. There I'd take a long rest; a full reset as I'd need it because I'd have very little opportunity for a good rest for the next 100++ miles! It was only 22 miles or so from Shell Lake to Finger Lake; a relatively short day even at my slow pace; it just made sense to keep moving and not stop so soon and so long.


The warm conditions persisted a little while longer but I knew it wouldn't (couldn't) last.  As I was approaching yet another tree wind break having crossed yet another long swamp I noticed something different.  I could actually hear something different. Although I couldn't feel it, I could hear the wind blowing strongly just on the other side of the tree line! Crazy! That wind sounded pretty angry and I was about to pass into its domain! So I proactively layered back up with the anticipation that things were about to get a bit crazy for awhile.  Sure enough I was struck by the gale force gusts as soon as I stepped from the relative protection of the thin tree band. Also almost immediately I realized the trail had almost completely disappeared! The picture below shows how the blowing snow had completely buried the trail!

Wow, what a difference one thin line of trees made! I was now caught up in a full blown gale! Luckily it was more of a quartering wind for the most part; blowing me sideways; but there were plenty of gusts right in my face. The trail had all but disappeared. My only indication that there was a trail ahead and underneath me was the fact that I wasn't postholing up to my knees.  I'd follow what I thought was the thin white line only to suddenly punch through, snowshoe and all, up to my knees! Ugh! I began to realize that if I looked carefully at the ground ahead of me I could see the telltale signs of snowshoe footprints so I'd aim to try and step right on them. That worked. I began to follow a trail of what I started calling "snowshoe sastrugi".  I'd never seen anything like this; wish I could've snapped some more photos but it was too cold and windy to try and stop and get my phone out.  Basically the snowshoe tracks I was following compressed the snow enough to keep that column of snow together and strong enough to resist the corrosive force of the wind. So, over the course of several hours I followed this snowshoe sastrugi path. Overtime, such was the abrasive nature of the wind on loose snow that those snowshoe sastrugi became vertical columns; 3D snowshoe prints! The wind had gradually blown away the loose snow around the compacted footprints. Weird and wild stuff! While it did eventually provide a pretty good indication of the route to follow, much like rock cairns along trails above treeline, it made passage extremely difficult. The trail was no longer smooth but very rough with trenches, steps and cornices everywhere; tough enough to just snowshoe through but pulling a 50lb sled made the effort extremely arduous.

Finally though, I could sense I was getting close to the Finger Lake checkpoint. I started seeing low flying airplanes shuttling Iditarod gear and supplies into and out of Finger Lake. You see just about every checkpoint the ITI utilized was now shared by the dogsled race as well. So they were very active spots now as the dog sled race start was just a few days away.  The trail of snowshoe sastrugi eventually lead me out onto a large clearing that was definitely Finger Lake and not just another swamp. I could see small cabins and several larger buildings on the far "shore". I could also see a medium sized canvas wall tent set up a noticeable distance away from any of the other structures.  Apparently the Finger Lake folks only sort of tolerate our existence here.  I don't blame them, folks pay a hefty premium to stay at this swanky winter lodge and here are a bunch of stinky athletes funking everything up! So, yeah that explains why our ITI checkpoint tent was so far removed!  I'm only sort of kidding. I think because there is so much activity at this small location we'd all do well to keep some separation between our racers, the Iditarod volunteers and dog teams and the patrons and staff of the lodge.

Anyhow, I dutifully followed the markers indicating "Stay on path" so I avoided the airstrip and found my way over to the wall tent. I looked empty from a distance and sure enough it was. I poked my head in and there was nobody there. I could see Mathieu's sled and gear there but otherwise the place was empty. Nice! It was also HEATED! There was a wood burning stove at the front and a propane stove at the back. The place was toasty, even despite strong wind gusts rocking the tent pretty good! Being set up on the exposed lake didn't seem like the ideal spot, but the place was warm enough and there was even a portable toilet outside the back of the tent.  Pretty plush digs if you ask me!  Since I had my choice of spots, I quickly unhooked my sled bag from my sled and dragged it to the very back next to the gas stove.  I quickly laid out my sleeping bag and pad to claim my spot and headed back outside as I heard someone arrive. It was Mathieu who'd just come from the actual checkpoint with his drop bag and some food. I hadn't studied much about this checkpoint so wasn't sure where to go to formally check in and get my stuff and hopefully some grub. He pointed the way and I so I walked towards the main encampment in the late afternoon sun; already dipping below the trees. It was a strange sensation to walk freely after so many days of encumbered hiking. It was wonderful! I hiked up a steep and slippery hill and quickly found the ITI checkpoint, a small bunkhouse amid many and right across from the main lodge and Iditarod checkpoint.  The area was fairly active with snowmobiles gliding by and a lot of trail markings indicating the route for the dogsled teams to travel into and out of the checkpoint.

I entered the small cabin to find Lars and a couple other racers inside amid a sea of drop bags; both discarded and those yet to be retrieved. At the ITI once a racer scratches (drops out) their drop bag instantly becomes fair game to be pilfered. ITI volunteers or other racers in the area at the time help sort discarded drop bags into semi-coherent piles of similar items, batteries, hand warmers, breakfast foods, canned meats / jerky, candy, energy gels, etc...  It was like Christmas! So interesting to see what other racers, especially from other countries, packed in their drop bags. Things I would never have thought of but should have. The biggie was lithium batteries. They were like gold out here on the trail. That's the first time I had the sinking feeling that I might be in trouble later on as I didn't pack lithium batteries; just regular old alkaline. Still, they'd worked pretty well so far, but it hadn't been very cold yet; at least when I was travelling in the pre-dawn, post-sunset twilight. As I was chomping down on a warm burrito, complements of the Finger Lake Lodge kitchen, I noticed Lars was looking for batteries among the myriad of piles. I'd gone through my drop bag and realized I had extra batteries so I offered Lars my extras. He asked if they were lithium? Nope. Whoops! Well at least I had plenty, or so I thought. This would be another foreshadowing moment...

I hung out for a bit, discarded some of my drop bag items and collected some new ones.  Of all things, Lars wanted to know more about the Barkley Marathons (he'd been to my neck of the woods to do the Barkley Fall Classic) and other difficult races I'd done. It was a fun few moments to relax and just talk about far away places and ignore the current reality of just how far I had to go! I'd get a chill of fright every time that thought would creep into my mind. So far to go and how difficult it was just to make it this far!  Lars asked about my race plan. He recalled our conversation outside Skwetna and I told him that my plan was still fairly intact. I said I was going to try and get a few hours of sleep then head out by midnight that night. I figured I wouldn't be able to get any more sleep than that as racers would soon be arriving for the night. He sounded pretty tired and said he'd plan to rest a bit more and leave in the morning. A biker that was hanging out with us felt the same way as Lars. He'd been in the lead (or near) pack coming into this check point almost 24 hours ago. Conditions then he said were frightful. Deep cold, howling winds and very soft, unrideable, snow. He'd gotten pretty shaken up from the experience and decided to stop for awhile and rest. He said he'd start again in the morning hoping the trail would have "set up" overnight a bit more to be more rideable. I hoped so too as I was already pretty done with snowshoeing. Little did I know that I wouldn't be snowshoe-free for a LONG while yet!

So I made my goodbyes and walked back downhill to the wall tent to rest. As I was leaving the cabin, the Kiwis had just arrived as well as some other folks who I can't remember now. Anyhow, back at the tent nobody new had arrived there; it was just the Frenchman who was already laid out trying to sleep. So I quietly went through my sled bag and rearranged items and hung other damp stuff out to dry on the many lines strong across the tent.

I set my watch alarm for 11:30 p.m. with the goal to be headed out on the trail by midnight. I was actually looking forward to travelling overnight for some reason. It was a clear night so there was a chance I could see the Aurora Borealis; something I'd dreamed about seeing as I never have! The moon was also nearly full and so bright! It looked like it was going to be a magical night! Best of all the wind had completely stopped; the tent no longer rattled and I was instantly asleep!

I had no idea then what a tough night and very full day I had ahead! If I knew I probably wouldn't have changed my race plan; I probably just wouldn't have slept as well those few hours!