8+ days on the Iditarod Trail: Part Seven

A little worse for wear, the morning after my rough bivy in The Burn

 The Burn (near Charlie Lake) to Bear Creek Safety Cabin: ~220 miles, ~6 days, 8 hours

Somehow. I slept. Deeply. The wind whipping the branches directly above my head must've lulled me to sleep. That and the fact that I was so deeply spent and exhausted might've also contributed. It wasn't much, but it was restorative. Now the problem was how to extricate myself from this tiny fox hole and get going. It was already near dawn; clearly light enough to travel by without a lamp.

The worst part of any long stop is getting going again. My only focus the night before was finding a safe place to sleep out of the wind and to avoid any of my vital gear to freeze up. So my sleeping bag was crammed full of hydration bottles, damp clothing, food and who knows what else ended up in there. Definitely pieces of alder branches ended up in there because I could feel them poking me on the back and on my face! The other equally bad thing about being all nice and snug in my bivy was that I had to go to the bathroom; badly. But for my normal early morning constitutional I probably could easily have slept another several hours. But the pressure down below was now impossible to ignore. I had to get up and out! I won't provide any details, but let's just say it's extremely difficult to perform the morning rituals from within my tiny fox hole, practically buried in alder branches.  Very tricky!

I then carefully began to crawl and roll around in my limited space in order to gather up and re-pack gear. Eventually everything found a place back in my sled bag or on my person (in one jacket layer or another) and then I found myself carefully low-crawling out from my alder oasis and back into hostile territory. The wind had abated some but there was definitely a change in the weather in store. It was a cloudy day and really looked like snow was coming. I confirmed this notion a bit later by pulling down a weather forecast on my InReach device. There was forecasted snow expected to hit sometime this late afternoon and lasting 24 hours. Up to two foot of fresh...  followed by some more deep cold! Ugh!

More Farewell Burn goodness...

Lonely trail sign along the trail.

It is what it is. Nothing to do but keep moving forward. So that's what I did. All morning long I just kept marching on; not seeing another soul for many, many hours. I slowly made my way through the burn and approached Farewell Lakes and a signs of civilization. The bison hunter's camp. If not for them there probably would've been far less trail to follow from here to Nikolai as they were the only folks, beside fellow Iditraod athletes, to travel through here within the last week or so since the big snow storm. It also meant to exiting of the burn and transition into a bit more pleasant scenery as I dropped onto a series of frozen lakes.

"Only" 20 miles to go to the Bear Creek Cabin.

I look back at the Alaska Range from the burn before Farewell Lakes.

Snow is coming...

It was getting near lunch time and I was hungry enough to want to stop to cook a quick back-packing meal. I'd've liked to stop sooner near one end of a lake but that's when I spotted the orange geodesic tent of the bison hunter's camp and the obvious airstrip they'd used to drop gear. Good location! Smoke poured out of a chimney in the tent but I saw no sign of activity. Still, I decided to move on a bit further before I stopped to cook a meal.  A short time later I passed by a dead bison off the side of the trail. Looked pretty fresh (no snow coverage). I kept on trudging along until I heard the obvious sound of approaching snow machines. Sure enough it was the group of bison hunters, probably returning to camp. They were well armed by the looks of it and totted sleds with gear behind them. They nodded and seemed friendly enough but they kept right on going, disappearing behind a rise behind me; the sound of the engines slowly faded. I then found myself on yet another frozen lake and was excited that I'd waited to stop, because the views on the lake were spectacular!

Looking back at where I'd come from. The Alaska Range from Steele Lake.

Another look back but my lunch spot next to a small "island" on Steele Lake.

I had crossed onto Steele Lake I believe (looking back now at my track) and was mid way across when I spotted a small "island" in the lake that looked like the perfect place for a lunch stop.  Sure enough it looked like someone else had found the spot good enough to bivy. By deduction it could only be Mathieu as I saw ski tracks and he was, at that time to the best of my knowledge, the only skier ahead of me. Good spot Mathieu!  I quickly dug out my stove and fired it up for a quick boil. It probably took longer than it should've, I'm not very good at priming it and probably wasted too much fuel doing so! But it was worth having a warm meal and coffee right then. I needed something good as I just knew it was going to be long day and very uncertain how much progress I'd make with the coming storm.

As I was relishing my meal, Greg, the skier who was attacked by a moose earlier in the race, caught and passed me by with a little wave. Next along came Jill who paused briefly as she passed close by. I said isn't the view wonderful? As I was facing back along the way we'd come, towards the Alaska Range, she also turned around to look and said something like I always got to remind myself to take a look back every now and then. It's true. Some of the most amazing views on the Iditarod Trail, for me, where when I'd pause and look back the way I'd come. Simply amazing and indescribable! What you can't capture in any pictures is the the sort of real time light changes; almost minute by minute or faster as the sun would dart in and out of the clouds. It's moments like that I'll always cherish and take with me and will continue to fuel my desire to return!

Anyhow, I packed up my stove after melting a bit of snow and noticed that I really did not have that much fuel left! Yikes! Perhaps just enough for one more boil! I'd really have to make it count. Based on my initial, pre-race plan, this wasn't a problem as I'd planned to have to use my stove in between Rohn and Nikolai anyway, but if I had to endure a longer slog to Nikolai than expected because of the storm I might be needing to melt more snow for water! That was a big Yikes! I'd just have to be very careful and mindful.

I was on my way, I could still just see Jill far ahead of me basically at the far end of the lake. So at least I'd have somebody to follow for awhile. I was thrilled. After solo trekking for so long it was nice to have some "company" even if it wasn't close company. Just seeing a fresh track in the snow is hugely uplifting.  By the time I reach the other side of the lake, it's already beginning to snow.  Somewhere along here I think Jill decided to also take a short break because I quickly catch up and move along; so much for the "company". Ha ha! Still, I can just make out Greg's ski tracks so that's something. But even those begin to disappear in the slow but steady snow.

As I move along I'm trying to do the math. Always a bad idea this long into an adventure. My goal was to make at least 50km this day and hopefully end up near the Bear Creek Safety Cabin which would leave me another 50km or so the next day to Nikolai then a final 50+ mile push to the finish in McGrath. Only it was general knowledge by now that there was no trail cut to the Safety Cabin which was a mile off the Iditarod Trail.  I can't remember how I acquired this knowledge but I knew it by then. Lame. I think perhaps I was hoping that there might be a path cut by now by fellow athletes who decided to go for it. I was too optimistic. I was dog tired but kept trudging along.

Endless tunnel of spruce, or yet another scene from The Shining.

FRESH moose tracks, but no moose spotted...

At least I was finally out of the burn area and into the land of endless spruce trees. The Iditarod trail had now become an endless tunnel of spruce. The path itself growing steadily deeper and deeper as the snow continued to fall. As evening approached the snow fall really began to intensify. I remember messaging Kathy to ask her to look at the forecast for the area over the next day or so. She confirmed my fears. A lot of snow was on the way and then it was going to get super cold. Wonderful! But what could I do? But at the time the fear was now real. It was getting dark, it was snowing heavily and all I could think about was how was I going to find a place to sleep tonight? The trail was truly a deep trough now; the snow bank on either side was incredible in places; the snow level off the trail unbelievably deep. How could I make camp in that? I'm not an experienced winter camper, I was very unsure of myself, still. In my mind, in that moment, I figured my ONLY option was to just keep walking, all night long and hopefully make it to Nikolai within the next 24 hours. Ugh! I silently cursed myself for not making fast enough progress. For stopping too long back at Rainy Pass Lodge. If I'd only cut that rest in half I'd already be in manageable range of walking through the night to Nikolai. So much second guessing of myself. But really, I was going all I could do. When I rested long it was because I really needed it, if I got by on a short rest it was because it was all I needed.

Soon it was time to cut my lights on.  I was now within a few miles of the turnoff to the shelter cabin. I had no real hope that there would be a trail, but I was considering if it'd be worth it to break trail to the cabin; just to find a place out of the snow and wind and cold for the night.  Decisions.

Just then I heard something. Snow machines. Several of them. The bison hunters? Kyle the RD?Coming up from behind, the head lights cut through the falling snow making it twinkle like fire flies. Amazing sight! I struggle to pull myself and sled up onto the snow bank and out of the way. I'm waist deep in snow with my sled when the lead snow machine pulls up next to me and pauses. I see all sorts of Iditarod regalia on him including a "Trail Breaker" bib I believe. He says that he's part of the official Iditarod trail breaking team and they're going to break trail to the shelter cabin to spend the night! Un-freaking-believable! I let out a silent cheer as the team throttled up and pushed away. Each member of the team pulled various equipment or supplies behind them. Heavy sleds and other devices designed to help pack down and smooth out the trail.  I'm super weary as I climb down from the snow bank and keep moving forward. It's like I'm barely moving. I soon spot another light behind me and it's Asbjorn Bruun, the extremely fit skier from Denmark. He zips on by and soon Jill also catches up and slowly moves away. So, our rag tag group of four ITI athletes, two skiers and two foot athletes all eventually converge at the shelter cabin along with the six Iditarod Trailbreakers. It was going to be a tight fit that night, especially if other athletes made it to the cabin in the middle of the night. To our surprise, NOBODY wandered in that night! From the horror stories we would hear later, some athletes had just passed by the then unbroken trail to the shelter cabin before the Iditarod trail breakers had arrived and ended up pushing ALL the way to Nikolai over night. Some ended up attempting to bivy in the deep snow. I am now so thankful of my luck in being where I was when I was. To think of all the decisions I'd made up to that point; the time wasted, the time saved, all the breaks and pushes to arrive on the trail where I did just in time to be there when fresh trail was broken to a safe and warm place to stay the night! It was truly a small miracle!

As the boisterous trail breaking team eat candy bars for dinner and told tall tales, the four of us kept stoking the small wood burning stove in order to melt snow or heat water for meals. I remember the trail breakers commenting that it looked like a lot of work to get water. Then again they said, their supply of water was all frozen solid outside with their snow machines.  I believe they were drinking something else to re-hydrate... Anyhow, this was an awesome opportunity to save precious stove fuel. So despite my weariness I also began to collect snow from outside into gallon sized ziplocks in order to slowly melt overnight. It's so disappointing on how little water you get out of a full bag of snow! Lame. After a quick meal, most of us were ready to sleep; even the trail crew. Looking out the windows, it was STILL snowing heavily. Already our sleds were becoming buried in the fresh snow.  It was pretty clear to me that we'd be waiting leave right after the trail breakers the next morning. It simply was not worth the huge effort to break trail through 2 feet of snow for endless miles before the trail team caught up. Far better to just wait until they left the shelter and follow their freshly broken trail to Nikolai.

So everybody began to settle in. I carefully hung out my damp gear to dry where it hopefully wouldn't get lost or drip onto somebody else; no small feat! I think there were six of us that crammed in like sardines in the upper loft to sleep. I was thankful for the space I had as I'd secretly feared, being the last to the cabin in our group, that I'd have no place to go other than on the floor or back outside! Ugh! After spreading out my air mattress it became immediately clear I didn't need my sleeping bag, or many clothes to wear! It was seriously HOT up in that loft! The stoking of the fire to melt snow and make meals had totally hot boxed that tiny cabin. I was almost sweating up there and it was glorious! Thankfully there was a small window in the loft that we could just prop open using a piece of one of my trekking poles. We'd get just enough of a cool draft to make it manageable. We could also see the thick snow flakes still falling quickly. In an instant I was blissfully asleep!