Read Online Iditarod Nights by Cindy Hiday - Free Book Online
Authors: Cindy Hiday
Tags: love, loss and grief, Secret Past, ptsd post traumatic stress disorder, alaska adventure, sled dog racing
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put 'em on."
"Got it."
***
As the sun pushed high above the mountains,
driving the temperature to twenty-five degrees, a trio of women
sang the National Anthem over the loudspeaker, followed by a local
student choir with Alaska's state song. At 10 a.m., a race official
announced the beginning of the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race and the
first team to leave Anchorage took its place at the start banner.
The noise and excitement level jammed into high gear.
At 10:34, Claire heard the countdown for bib
eighteen and knew Dillon was on his way. She had less than ten
minutes. From the back of her sled, she regarded her team, now in
harness, being guided to the starting queue by Iditarod Trail
Committee volunteers. Handsome, his head up, tail whipping, shared
the lead with Ranger. Toolik, a tan and white give-away from
Shaktoolik, ran swing next to Treker, a smart little female with a
peppy attitude. Trouble, a brown and black mutt with a notched left
ear for a fight trophy, teamed with Pepper, whose mild temper
Claire hoped would keep the scrapper pacified.
Next came the sunshine boys, Singer and
Riley. True to their nature, Singer tipped his head back in a
boisterous doggy song while Riley grinned at his Iditarod
volunteer. Zach, named after a friend of Matt's who died on Denali,
lunged in his harness and danced on his hind legs, eager to get
down the trail. Fast, with a die-hard drive, Claire paired the
compact husky with Ginny, a quiet, long-legged female who preferred
to remain invisible, but was a dependable follower. And in wheel
position, the even-tempered sisters, Sugar and Daisy.
A crew of veterinarians had examined the
dogs, and the race marshal inspected her sled for required gear,
which included a packet of U.S. mail to be delivered in Nome as
tribute to the carriers who used to deliver mail by dog teams.
Her Iditarider, Dr. Lee Osgood from Texas,
was bundled in the sled, ready for his eleven-mile thrill. Once
again, Claire prayed he didn't get more thrill than he paid for. In
tow a few feet behind her, Matt drove the tag sled. Janey and Andy
were in charge of getting the dog truck with the rest of her team
and gear to Campbell Airstrip, where they'd reload everything and
drive to Willow for tomorrow's official start. The open waters of
glacier-fed Knik River were often impassable for sled dogs, and the
Department of Transportation deemed it unsafe for mushers to use
the highway bridges, making the restart necessary.
From Willow, she and her dogs would be on
their own. By tomorrow evening they'd reach Yentna Station, the
next checkpoint, forty-two miles from Willow. Then it was another
thirty miles to Skwentna and their first food drop.
One checkpoint at a time, Matt
reminded her whenever she got herself worked up over keeping all
the details straight – where the worst sections were, what to look
for, when to stop. Just take it one checkpoint at a time.
And then she heard, "Next up, wearing bib
twenty-two, rookie Claire Stanfield, an attorney from Portland,
Oregon!"
Volunteers held her eager team at the start
banner. With her sled secured, she took a few quick seconds to walk
the length of the gangline and give each dog a pat or hug. Someone
thrust a microphone at her. She smiled and waved for the camera.
"Hi, Dad!"
"Fifteen seconds!"
Claire trotted back to the sled. Matt gave
her a thumbs-up and she returned the gesture.
"Five! Four! Three! Two!"
She nodded at the volunteers to release her
team.
"One! GO!"
Chapter 11
Thousands of people waved and cheered from
the sidelines as Claire's dogs lunged down Fourth Avenue. They
plowed through the churned tracks of previous teams, dog poop and
thrown booties. Cameras flashed. Dr. Osgood laughed and Claire
joined him with a whoop.
Ginny shied from the noisy attention and
sidled into Zach, breaking his rhythm. "That's a good girl, Gin.
Straight on." The leggy female responded to the encouragement and
pulled into her harness.
"They look
"Got it."
***
As the sun pushed high above the mountains,
driving the temperature to twenty-five degrees, a trio of women
sang the National Anthem over the loudspeaker, followed by a local
student choir with Alaska's state song. At 10 a.m., a race official
announced the beginning of the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race and the
first team to leave Anchorage took its place at the start banner.
The noise and excitement level jammed into high gear.
At 10:34, Claire heard the countdown for bib
eighteen and knew Dillon was on his way. She had less than ten
minutes. From the back of her sled, she regarded her team, now in
harness, being guided to the starting queue by Iditarod Trail
Committee volunteers. Handsome, his head up, tail whipping, shared
the lead with Ranger. Toolik, a tan and white give-away from
Shaktoolik, ran swing next to Treker, a smart little female with a
peppy attitude. Trouble, a brown and black mutt with a notched left
ear for a fight trophy, teamed with Pepper, whose mild temper
Claire hoped would keep the scrapper pacified.
Next came the sunshine boys, Singer and
Riley. True to their nature, Singer tipped his head back in a
boisterous doggy song while Riley grinned at his Iditarod
volunteer. Zach, named after a friend of Matt's who died on Denali,
lunged in his harness and danced on his hind legs, eager to get
down the trail. Fast, with a die-hard drive, Claire paired the
compact husky with Ginny, a quiet, long-legged female who preferred
to remain invisible, but was a dependable follower. And in wheel
position, the even-tempered sisters, Sugar and Daisy.
A crew of veterinarians had examined the
dogs, and the race marshal inspected her sled for required gear,
which included a packet of U.S. mail to be delivered in Nome as
tribute to the carriers who used to deliver mail by dog teams.
Her Iditarider, Dr. Lee Osgood from Texas,
was bundled in the sled, ready for his eleven-mile thrill. Once
again, Claire prayed he didn't get more thrill than he paid for. In
tow a few feet behind her, Matt drove the tag sled. Janey and Andy
were in charge of getting the dog truck with the rest of her team
and gear to Campbell Airstrip, where they'd reload everything and
drive to Willow for tomorrow's official start. The open waters of
glacier-fed Knik River were often impassable for sled dogs, and the
Department of Transportation deemed it unsafe for mushers to use
the highway bridges, making the restart necessary.
From Willow, she and her dogs would be on
their own. By tomorrow evening they'd reach Yentna Station, the
next checkpoint, forty-two miles from Willow. Then it was another
thirty miles to Skwentna and their first food drop.
One checkpoint at a time, Matt
reminded her whenever she got herself worked up over keeping all
the details straight – where the worst sections were, what to look
for, when to stop. Just take it one checkpoint at a time.
And then she heard, "Next up, wearing bib
twenty-two, rookie Claire Stanfield, an attorney from Portland,
Oregon!"
Volunteers held her eager team at the start
banner. With her sled secured, she took a few quick seconds to walk
the length of the gangline and give each dog a pat or hug. Someone
thrust a microphone at her. She smiled and waved for the camera.
"Hi, Dad!"
"Fifteen seconds!"
Claire trotted back to the sled. Matt gave
her a thumbs-up and she returned the gesture.
"Five! Four! Three! Two!"
She nodded at the volunteers to release her
team.
"One! GO!"
Chapter 11
Thousands of people waved and cheered from
the sidelines as Claire's dogs lunged down Fourth Avenue. They
plowed through the churned tracks of previous teams, dog poop and
thrown booties. Cameras flashed. Dr. Osgood laughed and Claire
joined him with a whoop.
Ginny shied from the noisy attention and
sidled into Zach, breaking his rhythm. "That's a good girl, Gin.
Straight on." The leggy female responded to the encouragement and
pulled into her harness.
"They look
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