DOG LOT DETAIL

Wednesday, 10:00 p.m.
It was just twilight and the temperature was steadily dropping in the negative numbers. The first three finishers were in Nome and their teams were nestled in their straw beds in the dog lot. I was wearing four layers on my legs, five on top, three pairs of socks under my “serious” boots and gloves under mittens. All of it truly outdoor gear, and none of it adequate by the time 2:00 a.m. rolled around!

This was our shift in the Dog Lot. With just a few dropped dogs to watch (who were fine and sound asleep), and the three finished dog teams sleeping-off the 1,049 mile run they just accomplished, we were essentially babysitting…overnight, outside, next to the frozen ocean. Had the lot been busier with dogs there would have been more to do to keep us in motion and warmer…but our quiet shift was more like security guard patrol. Every once in a while a gust would blow and a blanket would need to be re-adjusted on a dog - or at least I wanted to think that to have a reason to mobilize my limbs. In fact, most of the times I “tucked-in” a dog with straw and blanket...the dog would undo my work. These huskies are fully capable of bedding-down to insulate themselves – and partial to feeling the cold air. And 20 degrees below zero is comfortable for them…20 degrees colder than that is still fine, especially when they are running. (Sidebar: these working northern breed dogs NEED it cold – the unfortunate hyperthermia situations involved are related to getting snowed-in on a once-cleared trail that mother nature erased and not being able to move…even more dangerous to the human musher!)

Sebastian Schnuelle’s team was in the lot that night – they finished in second place – and so Sebastian’s sled was there too. He keeps a thermometer mounted on the outside of his sled bag, and when I saw him the next day I thanked him for that because, as I told him, “I could see exactly how cold I was!” It was in fact twenty below BEFORE wind chill while we were on duty. However, I don’t think “dog lot at night” is the most uncomfortable of the many volunteer jobs.

While we monitored the dogs in the cold night…the “pee team” had to come in and collect samples from them! It is Iditarod policy that the first 20 dog teams to finish the race are drug tested, so when a finished team is parked in the lot and the vet check has been completed, regardless of time of day, the squad arrives. Now that’s the dirty work as far as I’m concerned…and watching that process made me feel that I had absolutely nothing to complain about!

The last 15 minutes of that shift felt like a lifetime, and being tired didn’t help. I was thinking about the mushers out on the trail and people that have physically unpleasant jobs and duties all the time…especially the military. I again realized I had nothing to complain about…and an end was in sight for me.

The highlight of the night – and the thing that would make me sign-up for it all over again – was the most beautiful serenade I ever heard. One of three-peat winner Lance Mackey’s dogs got up, followed by another and they had a dog discussion (we thought perhaps a lover’s quarrel). One of them let out a howl and then another one did, then another and another…so on and so on. Picture about twenty huskies, snouts to the night sky, howling in unison. From around the lot, dogs from other teams joined-in. Some were standing, some woke-up just long enough to poke a head out, contribute, and go back to their curled-up burrow. It was absolutely magical – they were embracing their inner wolf and I felt privileged to see, hear and feel it. There was also one from John Baker’s team (third placers) who joined-in late and started just as the others were finishing…now there’s a dog I can relate to!!