Free Iditarod Nights by Cindy Hiday Page A

there.
According to the log, he went through Finger Lake two and a half
hours before she and her team arrived.
    Suggesting she might finish the race ahead of
him had been an entertaining thought while it lasted. She smiled to
herself. As long as she got her team to Nome, making him wait for
her had its appeal too.
     
     

Chapter 13
     
    After a five-hour rest at Rainy Pass
checkpoint, elevation 1,800 feet, Dillon and his team began the
long, uphill climb toward Rainy Pass summit, a valley that cut
through the mountains at 3,160 feet, the highest point on the
Iditarod Trail. A layer of clouds rolled over the surrounding peaks
and the air cooled as the afternoon grew late. Dillon couldn't have
asked for a nicer day. When he came through this area two years
ago, whiteout conditions obliterated the trail and reduced
visibility to an ass-tightened adventure. But even on a bad day,
this country fed his soul. He breathed deep, pulling it into his
lungs.
    "Looking good up there, Chevy." He'd put
Chevron in lead with Bonnie, giving Maverick a rest in the middle
of the pack. They'd need the little dog's agility over Mav's speed
once they started their descent into the gorge. "That's my girl,
Bonnie."
    The trail steepened as they neared the
summit. Dillon peddled from the back of the sled to help his dogs
push through the soft snow of avalanche territory. "Come on, kids.
Hike." They traveled face-first into the wind channeling down the
valley. The muscles in Dillon's legs burned. "Almost there. Hike.
Hike."
    And then they were over the top and dropping
into the heart of the Alaska Range. The trail narrowed and twisted
through stunted willow brush and rocky ravines. Dillon alternately
rode the drag to keep the dogs' speed in check and steered to avoid
the pits and bumps and snags of Pass Fork.
    "Easy. Take it easy." He maneuvered the sled
around a boulder jutting into the trail. "Come on. Easy."
    Five miles later, the trail opened onto the
wooded valley of Dalzell Creek. "Alright. Good job, kids."
    The smooth run lasted a couple miles before
the trail swung to the south side of the valley and made a sharp
climb to a forested shelf. Dillon braced for the rollercoaster drop
into Dalzell Gorge.
    "Hang on. Slow. Take it slow."
    For the next two miles, the trail descended
hundreds of feet, jumping back and forth across Dalzell Creek on
narrow snow and ice bridges that spanned open water. Trail marker
ribbons tied to the trees snapped by. Mountain cliffs closed in on
both sides, mocking Dillon's claustrophobia.
    Guy's hind legs flew out from under him, but
the team's momentum helped him regain his footing in a couple quick
strides. "Watch yourself, big man. That's my powerhouse."
    Thanks to the great work of the Iditarod
trail-breaking crew and recent snowfall, the going was easier than
Dillon had seen it in the past. He thought they might actually get
through the gorge without any problems, when the middle of the team
cut a turn too tight, tangling Guy and Annie in a clump of willow.
"Whoa! Wait!" Setting the hook, he tramped to the front of the sled
to free his wheel dogs and line-out the team. Tramping back to the
sled, he pulled up the hook. "Okay, take it easy."
    A few yards later the team tangled again and
he repeated the process. The two-mile stretch of trail felt like
twenty before it leveled and broke out onto the Tatina River.
    "Good job, kids. We did it. Straight
ahead."
    Glare ice caught the last of the day's light,
making the surface of the frozen river shine like wet glass. The
dogs kept a steady pace. Dillon spotted overflow – where water
below pushed up and over the ice – along the bank, far enough away
that it wasn't a threat.
    At 7:15, they reached Rohn checkpoint – a
Bureau of Land Management cabin sheltered from the wind by tall
spruce trees. Ideal for getting some rest. Other teams had arrived
ahead of them and were in various stages of settling in.
    "I'm staying," Dillon told the checker.
    In the time it took to