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| Another full day on the trail after a crazy night! |
Even before my watch alarm had time to sound off I was wide awake. I could have easily hit snooze and fallen deeply asleep but for the parade of athletes pouring into, at this point, the all too cozy tent. While I'd slept, just about all the floor space had been taken up and occupied; clothing hung from every available inch of clothes line and more than a few improvised hangup points. It was crowded already and even more dead tired racers were stumbling in out of the cold night. That was definitely my cue to leave. Luckily that was already my plan and I was pretty much ready to go within 10 minutes of waking up. I quickly packed away my sleeping bag and inflatable ground pad, donned my dried out clothing and was out of the bustling tent. I'd forgotten to mention it, but somebody had placed an old sofa just outside the tent on the "patio" portion of the wood tent platform. I kinda thought it was a bit of a joke, but there was a racer curled up in a thick sleeping bag snoring happily away on it! Ha!
I buckled my sled bag onto my sled along with my snowshoes (yeah, I was still optimistic) and hiked up to the checkpoint for some breakfast. I didn't linger long as I was actually pretty excited to get going. I wanted to see some Northern Lights and this was to be a pretty clear night so anything was possible. There had been some discussion at the ITI pre-race meeting about seeing the Aurora. There was a guy there who whipped out his phone to show us an app that was forecasting high probability of seeing the Aurora around this very night I was headed out. The only downside I could foresee was that the moon was majorly waxing it was so bright! I didn't know if that effected Aurora visibility but I can't imagine it wouldn't; it was difficult enough to see the stars in the general direction of the moon. Anyhow, I ate some oatmeal, drank a few cups of coffee and was back out into the cold and surprisingly still night. No wind. Odd.
Anticipating the inevitable I go ahead and put on my snowshoes and then head on out the well packed trail knowing trail conditions will probably change shortly once I get away from the high use area. I knew from studying Lars's GPX track that this next section to Puntilla Lake would be mostly an uphill slog. Today's journey would take me most of the way uphill, out of the river valleys and on up into the Alaska Range. By comparison the final hike to the highest point of the course, Rainy Pass, which would come on the following section to Rohn, would be a mere foothill compared to today's elevation gain. Still, I was excited by the changing terrain and the overnight hike to knock most of it out.
Very soon after hiking out of camp I encountered already very different terrain from what I'd been accustomed too. Steep downhills followed by even steeper uphills! Until now the terrain had mostly been flat with the exception of the bobsled climb before Shell Lake. I was initially worried that my rope pulling sled harness system would prove to be a real headache with the steep hills. This proved to not be the case. For the most part when the sled would start to take up slack and catch up to me the caribiner that connected the sled tether to the backpack harness would get run over by the sled and act as a "brake" slowing or stopping the sled. So the sled would almost never nip my heels. Over the days to come and more hills encountered I began to be able to judge which steep down hills would potentially cause me problems and which I could safely hike or run down. The really steep ones were the most fun because I'd just sit on my sled and slide down! Whooooo! I'm pretty sure I must've hit 15-20 mph on a few short and steep bobsled runs. There was no danger of flying off the trail as the side walls of the trail were always at least a few feet tall.
Anyhow, on this night I was still figuring out the steep hills and so I carefully followed my sled down the hills careful to keep the beast under control. It was amazingly bright out. For the most part I wasn't even using my lights as the moon was so bright! After a few steep hills I found myself out on the banks of a river; wide open all around me under the moonlight. It was an epic sight! And oh so still and quiet. Unbelievable. But also the trail began to disappear. I'd been following fairly reliable tracks and finding reflective lathing but even the lathing was getting harder to spot as the trail had undoubtedly begun to get blown in from the winds earlier that day. While hiking along the "bank" of the river I lost the track completely. The moon was bright that attempting to use my small LED lights proved fruitless to try and pick up any reflective markers in the area. Instead I sort of "felt" around in my snowshoes to where the trail became soft and I'd be almost post-holing. Then I'd know I was off trail; that the firm portion had to be the trail. This seemed to work and after a short bit of wandering around I believed I'd found the trail again and set off marching across the frozen river. Not long later I began to discover reflective lathing that confirmed I was on trail. Ironically, it wasn't until I was nearly on the other side of the river did I think to look at my GPS track. It too confirmed I was a least following the correct electronic bread crumbs.
Once on the other side of the river I encountered what I called the first of the Happy Steps. Not sure if they technically start this soon, but they were definitely STEEP. I'm not kidding, I was having to crawl at times on hands and knees just to have enough friction traction to end up sliding right back downhill! And the trail was also virtually non-existent. It didn't matter though as about all one could do was climb as the route was taking me through some steep-walled gullies where there weren't many navigational options. Still, it was hard work and I was soon having to remove layers in order to avoid sweating out. I was postholing so often it was unbelievable; can't even imagine trying to tackle this kind of terrain without them! This was definitely going to be a climbing day as I encountered steep uphill after steep uphill without hardly any downhill in between; just a bit of a break out of the dark woods while I crossed a moon soaked meadow. I kept staring at the skies during these rest intervals hoping to spot any sign of an aurora but never ended up seeing any this night! Drat!
It was during one of these meadow crossings, as I continued to steadily climb the foothills of the Alaska Range, that the winds returned with a vengeance! I thought I'd experienced some pretty fierce winds earlier but those were nothing compared to what I was instantly getting slammed with! At first I'd simply duck my head and adjust my fleece buff over my mouth and nose and be fine. But as the temperature also steadily dropped as I climbed I could feel my face getting cold and the Buff icing up. So I stopped and dug out my thicker fleece balaclava, neoprene face mask and ski-goggles. With my back to the wind I swapped out head gear and put on the balaclava. That allowed me to endure the wind blasts for a while longer. I began to look forward the next climbing section as those were typically in the thicker woods where the trees acted as a pretty effective windblock. But soon it was even windy in the woods! I've no idea what the windchill was but even with the thick face mask and layering up with full Goretex ski jacket I could feel the penetrating cold. Didn't feel dangerously cold but it was enough to convince me I needed to keep moving! My nose and mouth felt cold again so I put on the neoprene mask directly on my face with the balaclava over everything and that finally did the trick. Toasty!
With the bright moon I'd mostly been limiting the usage of my lights as the trail was mostly easy to follow now that I'd gotten the hang at "reading" various tells. It was a thin white line but it was there. I also began to get concerned that perhaps my choice of regular alkaline batteries was a mistake. My lights, even in power saving mode were dimming. Fast! So now I was using the bright mode only when I was attempting to spot a reflective trail marker and otherwise just keeping them off. This made the going mostly 2D; no depth perception at all; the level and smooth seeming trail definitely wasn't and I'd stumble periodically in a hole or soft section. Still, I persisted like this for a while until, to my amazement the trenched out, single track trail emptied out onto a road? WTF??!! I thought for sure I was lost now. There shouldn't be a ROAD out here should there be? I checked my GPS and, sure enough I was still on track. So, for whatever reason, there was a nice, wide and well plowed out road right here in the middle of the wilderness. So I turned to the right and continued to follow the GPS track of Lars. He'd come this way in the past so it must be the right way to go. Even with the surface now being somewhat firm I kept the snowshoes on fearing it wouldn't last. I also largely kept my lights off as the moonlight was definitely ample to continue following something as wide as this road! That was my first mistake.
So I continue on down the road for the better part of a mile and I'm moving faster than I have in a while as the road is trending flat to downhill now. I'm still checking the GPS track but probably not as closely as I should or certainly not with the map zoomed in near enough. Most of the time I kept the map zoomed out so I could see major weigh points ahead; the big picture. Well I should've had that map zoomed in much more and been more concerned about navigation. For I soon found myself heading fairly steeply downhill and all of a sudden the road is nearly completely blown in with snow. In front of me is a berm nearly 4 feet high! I can tell the road continues on the other side so I make my way to the edge of the berm where it's a bit lower and clamber up the soft wall along the edge of the road and post hole my way across the soft snow to the other side. Back on the road it makes a steep bend downhill to the right and it's wide open for the better part of a 1/4 mile or so as best I can tell; to the left the view is overlooking the Skwetna River lit up by the blazing moon. Another Christmas card moment, no photograph could do justice to that view! It was simply amazing! It was bobsled time, I believe I removed my snowshoes as it was clear I *thought* I was going to be on this road for awhile more. I then sat on my sled and zoomed down the straight road all the way down to river level. Back on my feet I started to get the impression that perhaps I'd messed up. The road was starting to deteriorate as I approached the shoreline. There was a collection of conex boxes here too; probably storing equipment of some sort. That's when I paused and really looked at my GPS map closely; finally zooming in. That's when I audibly exclaimed, Ah *uck! My current position was well off of Lars's track. Not only off, but well below in elevation. I realized then that I must've missed a trail intersection that left the road some miles back. Damn! Right about this time I get a text message on the Inreach. It's Kathy and she says I'm off course! No *hit! I zoom in on my location and I see on the topo map that there is *supposed* to be a winter trail or old road near my position that looks like it re-connects to Lars's track. Well, I wandered back and forth several times right in the exact area of the ghost road and never found/saw anything. There was simply way TOO MUCH SNOW to truly tell if there was anything there or not. Didn't matter, even if there was it was buried so deep to be impassable.
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| The "Youngren Bypass" a.k.a. just a wee bit off course! |
But, they weren't snowshoe tracks at all! There were very fresh moose tracks! Judging by the fresh piles of moose scat they'd just been through here! What to do? I was committed now, there was no other way to get back on track. I was so close! So, breathing heavily and sweating from the effort, I continued to post hole through the deep snow following the moose tracks (no not the ice cream; I could only wish!). Thankfully I never saw any moose but I'm certain they saw me and were saying, "What a dumb SOB!". At last I emerged out of the deep snow and onto a well beaten down path right at the woodline of the Happy River; right at the beginning of the true Happy Steps! Unbelievable! I was back on course! I think, but for the milling about looking for the ghost road, this *might* have been a time-wise shortcut to the Happy Steps. Certainly more entertaining I imagine, but also very, very sketchy; especially for a bike or without snowshoes. But on a more normal snow year??? Who can say. Perhaps somebody will use my GPX track in the future: The Youngren Bypass.
I took a breather and sat on my sled. It was well into morning twilight by now; still no moose in sight or could be heard. I'd really dodged a bullet there; moose tracks all around me. Fresh. I took a long pull from my water bottle and eat a few handfuls of my trail mix concoction. I'd really burned some calories over the past hour. I could now tell for sure I was back on trail; I could see a clear path and Iditarod trail markers. Yes! I sent a message back to Kathy and then I was on my way once again. I've no idea how much time I'd lost; if any? The track led to a narrow ice bridge over a bit of some exposed Happy River flow. Only a little bit scary compared to where I'd just journeyed; probably quite a bit on top of the Skwetna River itself near shore where the ice probably wasn't as solid judging by the pools of overflow I'd passed by along the way. Across the ice bridge the trail turned extremely steeply straight up. Thus I'd now arrived a the actual Happy Steps!
Honestly, compared to what I'd struggled through overnight, the Happy Steps were a bit of a let down. Sure they were wicked steep, but with snow shoes and sticky packed snow I made slow but sure work of this short section. In all this time I'd not seen another soul; not even any animal. It was quite lonely but the scenery was incredibly breath taking. It was a very cold and clear morning and a wonderful time to be alive! I'd never been so happy to see the sun!
After the Happy Steps the trail began a pattern of long lake crossings followed by very steep uphill grinds then a long swamp crossing followed by more back breaking uphill. On and on all morning long. At least the views of the surrounding mountains were amazing to behold. So still and quiet I easily felt like it was just me out there as I hadn't seen anybody else on trail for so long! While crossing one particularly long lake I happened to look behind me to see the same biker who'd stopped at Finger Lake for over a day. Very quickly we figured out how I'd gotten off course. He said he'd been following my tracks that early morning, some hours after I'd left, and wound up right down at the Skwetna River just like I had! However, he decided to back track up the hill and eventually found the obscure turn off the road onto the Iditarod trail. There were reflectors there but they were very dull and covered with snow. He said He placed some alder branches down at the intersection to aid other racers coming along as to the proper direction to go.
The biker was on his way quickly after that. I recall he claimed he wanted to make it to McGrath within a couple more days I believe? I think he said something like he hoped to make it to Rohn by that night and then basically all the way to McGrath in one huge push! I might have the details wrong, it has been a minute, but I do recall being shocked at how far he wanted to go to finish up in time to make a flight home. I wished him luck and that was the last I saw of him. The biker in black fled across that frozen lake and I followed...
The uphill grind continued. But now I could begin to tell that I'd gained quite a bit of elevation. Every now and then I'd catch a glimpse of the huge, surrounding mountains through gaps in the trees. This was clearly the Alaska Range; I'd seen so many photographs from this portion of the course; unmistakable! I tried to guess where Rainy Pass Lodge was; how far away and which gap in the mountains might be Rainy Pass itself. It was getting well past midday as the expansive views of the Alaska Range emerged as I continued a steady uphill hike. I was getting very tired by this point and just when I thought things couldn't get any slower; the wind started to pick up yet again; fierce katabatic winds right in my face! The uphill grade was just enough to feel but visually it just seemed like another long swamp crossing. My body ached I was falling asleep on my feet; I just needed to get there! I'd planned a long rest at the next checkpoint at Rainy Pass Lodge on Puntilla Lake. This would be my last opportunity to get some quality rest for over 100 miles! Between Puntilla Lake and Nikolai there was only a small tent checkpoint awaiting racers just on the other side of the Alaska Range. After that we had to travel at least 75 miles (most likely much more) to the tiny habitation of Nikolai. Yeah, a very LONG way to go just to have another 50-54 miles to go after that! I tried not to think about it. Just focused on getting to the next checkpoint and taking some serious down time to reset.
Eventually the uphill slog abates and now I'm back into the woods; no more long swamp crossings! The trail now features some frequent steep downhills that are super fun to bobsled down! From checking my GPS track and maps this is a good sign that I'm getting close to Puntilla Lake. Other good signs include more frequent air traffic passing overhead. I'd seen several planes fly close by over the past hour; low and slow. And then, in the very late afternoon I finally see Puntilla Lake and several structures in the near distance. Yes! It's been a long night and pretty full day and I'm just ready to eat and lie down and sleep until the following morning! But first I navigate my way along the shore of the lake and soon reach the small village of cabins, buildings and a flurry of snowmobile traffic. I pass by the old cabin that used to serve as the ITI checkpoint. Man that thing really IS small! This year's ITI checkpoint is much more swanky (check out the photos below). After wandering around the the structures for a bit I finally stop and ask some folks loading up a snowmobile trailer with firewood where the ITI checkpoint cabin is. They point the way to the cabin with the "crooked stove pipe" and soon I'm there.
But I was lights out shortly there after. I climbed up to the top bunk, put in my ear plugs and covered my eyes with my warm balclava. I was dead to the world and never heard or woke up as the bunkhouse slowly filled up over night. No idea! All I know was that this full reset was necessary for me to have any chance at pushing through all the way to Nikolai which was still well over 100 miles away! But I pushed those thoughts aside as I lied there. Tomorrow early I'd be heading out and up the highest point on the course: Rainy Pass. To me this was the most symbolic location on all of the Iditarod trail that I'd see and wanted to visit for well over 20 years. And finally I'd be there! I could hardly wait!
If only I knew that I was headed for some wild and dangerous experiences that next day... That's the Iditarod trail for you; always keeps you on your toes!
