My lead dog was a lesbian - Brian Patrick O'Donoghue [104]
Harley and Raven didn’t get to savor their rendezvous. The second they separated, I put the lovers to work chasing Mormile, who had slowed to wait for me.
When Don and I caught up with Terhune, he took point for our trio, driving his dogs with a verbal whip. The storm blew over, and the stars soon returned. When we caught up with the group, Terhune quit yelling at his dogs and yelled at Johnson instead. The young musher swallowed the abuse; there wasn’t much he could say.
My night of torment continued. The sled was pounding, pounding, pounding over rock-hard drifts. I lost my footing several times and was dragged on my knees or chest. The lights of Koyuk beckoned, but the village didn’t seem to be getting any closer. Checkpoints were never more than an hour beyond the first hint of lights. Yet these lights stayed out of reach. I found it harder and harder to stay awake. The temptation was growing to park and curl up inside my sled.
Harley was giving me fits. Those lights and the other dog teams were dead ahead, yet he kept veering to the right. Always to the right. I kept having to drag him back to the tripods and the scratches in the hard drifts that defined the trail.
Convinced, at last, that Harley was dragging us toward another village dump, I lost my temper and ran up front. The big dog was cowering as I caught myself on the verge of making an unpleasant scene. He didn’t deserve blame for seizing the opportunity to get laid. It had happened during my watch. I put Chad and Rat in lead, figuring they wouldn’t lose sight of a checkpoint. But they too kept turning right. What was going on?
Man, was it hard to stay awake. We had to be close. So close. I kept driving, screaming at Chad and reaching for the pretty lights. We were mushing toward the Emerald City. In the distance, I could see the headlamps of my companions. They were driving their dogs up a spiral staircase, climbing twin towers rising on either side of a huge gate in front of the village. I calmly wondered what it was going to be like, climbing that Emerald City tower. Nothing seemed unusual about the scene. Reality was blending with fantasy, and the Yellow Brick Road wasn’t all that strange compared with mushing dogs toward these unearthly lights.
My trip to Oz was rudely interrupted when the dogs plunged over a ten-foot cliff, the result of a pressure ridge formed by past movements in the ice. I hadn’t noticed that we were climbing a big fold. The sudden drop flipped the sled and sent me crashing hard. I hung on, landing chestdown on the ice and smacking both knees. That one hurt. I wondered if my legs were broken. The dogs sensed my distress. For once, they passed up a chance to drag me.
Nothing was broken. I pulled myself together and resumed the march. Herrman was the first to arrive in Koyuk, checking in at 5:25 A.M. Traveling about 45 minutes behind, I watched the other teams entering the village. Drawing closer, I could see headlamps moving near a brightly lit building. Had to be the checkpoint.
The trail swung left, looping into the village. Observing the activity by the checkpoint, Chad made a beeline for it. Too drained to protest, I concentrated on hanging on as the team crashed through several backyards, dodging parked cars and snowmachines, before finally emerging on the street below the checkpoint.
“Why didn’t you follow the trail?” the checker asked sternly.
“These guys had other ideas,” I mumbled, terrified he might make me reenter Koyuk using the marked trail. I was at my limit, ready to beg. Please. Please don’t make me do that. But the villager was just curious.
A mushing angel appeared at my side.
“There’s a good place for the team over there,” said Catherine