Cut to the Chase

Author: Rhonda

Since returning from Maine, on numerous occasions we have been asked "what happened". So, here goes. I'll fill in events related to the middle portion of the race later on.

6 miles outside of Allagash the dogs picked up the pace. Dharma and Rhone were in lead. Perhaps they knew where they were!? They took me on a white knuckle ride the rest of the way into checkpoint! Skimming trees, hard 90 degree downhill turns; I laughed and screamed with pleasure! When we pulled into the checkpoint I could barely stop the team upon arrival to sign the vet book. I believe everyone was expecting a limping dog team. No way! Friends were there to greet us and later said they couldn't believe how awesome the dogs looked. I smiled.

Bob and Weston helped to escort the team into a nice, shady, quiet spot under the trees.

Jaye was parked nearby and came over (before she prepared to leave) to say hello and see how I was doing. I broke down in tears. It had been a tough, slow run and prior to that white knuckle ride, I had seriously considering scratching here in Allagash.

OK. Back to work. Booties off, quick snack for each of the dogs....

While I'm attending to chores, the vets are going through each dog making certain everyone is healthy. We have a mandatory vet check here in Allagash. Since I have to work on the dogs myself at this stage, I prefer the DVM's to conduct their exam now. Sheila Morressey (DVM and fellow YSHC member) was one of the DVM's on duty. She was highly complementary of the condition of the dogs. Damn, I must be doing something right although at times it certainly does not feel like it.

...start the soup, suck down an Ensure, wrist wraps on, dole out the meal, bed the team down, pee, I really really have to pee. Volunteers come up to me now and wish to conduct the mandatory bag check. All I want to do is pee. OK, let's get this over and done with so I can head inside. Sleeping bag; check. Knife; check. And so on. One of the ladies conducting the bag check commented that she has "not seen a sled bag this neat and well organized in a few years.... since that tall musher and his wife from NH"..I chimed in Mike and Sue Ellis?, "ran". She says "yes". Boy, did I smile then!

Waddle inside and use the toilet (heck with the amount of time I had been on trail, it would have made no difference if I had stopped while out there to pull my pants down... besides, the only musher behind me was another woman). Whew I feel better. Grab some coffee, place a food order and then back outside to repack the sled. Having chose to ride the Husky Creek with QCR rails, I had been unable to replace the runner plastic. It was now pretty scraped up. Clearly the scraped up plastic had caused us unnecessary drag but with only 40 miles to go and more plowed road, I figured I can't mess with it now. Lesson learned: Will never take a sled in a race over 60 miles again, unless it has Matrix runners!!!

Hanging around in checkpoint for awhile, friends who had finished the 250 and 60 were sharing horrible stories of plowed road and log yards. In retrospect, nothing I haven't done in training or up to this point in the race, but at the time, I was really starting to freak out. With much needed sleep themselves, a promise of Long Trails to greet me at the finish.. our friends head off to wait for Jaye at the finish line.

Bob then encouraged me to take a nap in the bunk room. I was shivering and could not sleep. This happened to me in Maibec as well. Too lazy to pull my sleeping bag out of the sled, I suffered. In retrospect, I should have made the effort (at both checkpoints) as I would have been assured a more comfortable nap.

After 5 hours in Allagash, I went outside and checked on the team. Removed wrist wraps, gave everyone another snack and another round of soup. A few dogs looked like they might enjoy staying longer, so I head indoors myself.

Almost an hour later, I'm back outside. As I complete my chores, I contemplate whether to leave Granite back. We only had 40 miles to go, much of it that I am familiar with from years of running in the 30 and 60. However, something had happened to me on every leg of this race. Mind you there was absolutely nothing wrong with Granite. "Granite" so happened to be the code word the DVM's were using if a musher was in the unfortunate position to be carrying a deceased dog. Two years ago, when Bob finished the 250, Granite just a yearling at the time, enjoyed a sled bag ride into the finish shoot. In my sleep deprived state, I see having Granite on my team as an omen.

In retrospect, I should have immediately recognized the mindset I was in and declared a few extra hours of sleep for a total layover of 8 or 10 hours (since the rules would have allowed me to stay until as late as 6am Tuesday). But at the time I was very anxious to get through the pre-discussed log yard section before nightfall, did not want to run in the full sun again (which comes up, blazing hot, at 8:30am) and I was sensing some pressure by the checkpoint coordinators to get out of there.

Bob and Weston help lead the 10 dog team I arrived with, out of our parking spot. Again, two feet on the bar brake, I can barely hold them back. A volunteer comments that this is one of the most excitable, physically strongest teams they have seen coming into and leaving checkpoint. I've heard this now three times, I smile! OK, deep breath, we can do this!

When you leave Allagash, the trail drops immediately down onto a river. The Portage Lake crossing was a major challenge for me. I did not want the momentum of 10 dogs and a snow hook that won't hold taking me across this river. Before they count down my departure, I undid 4 tugs so I may be able to better control the team on the river and get through the log yard without being dumped. What the hell was I thinking! One; I had Cosmo in lead who rather than follow the survey stakes, took us around the parameter of the lake where he saw someone (perhaps with a dog) up on the bank. After screaming a whole lot, getting control of myself and taking Cosmo out of lead, the person on the bank beams his flashlight in the direction of the trail. I hand walk the team toward the trail to show them where we are headed, and off we go.

Not long after you get off the river you start a slippery accent up a mountain steep like that of Mt Crumpit in 'The Grinch'. The dogs looked depressed... no shit. Climbing a hill with a heavy backpack takes some serious effort and I was asking them to do it with 4 less tugs attached (I should have rehooked tugs the moment we got off the river but I was anticipating the log yard which I later learned was toward the end of the route). In my mind I was afraid the team might run depressed like that the whole 40 miles (obviously forgetting that less than 2 miles ago, they were barking like crazy and I, barely able to hold them back). What if I broke their spirit.. I'd never forgive myself. So... I decided. Turned the team around. Ears perked, tails wagged, dogs barked and I enjoyed a white knuckle ride through a beautiful single track section of trail, fly up the embankment at marx speed as I pray that a logging truck does not come whizzing by, right back to the pile of straw where they had been bedded down. Damn!! They clearly had it in them, just played me.

Epilogue to follow....