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We'd been warned that we had a difficult start, with a 90 degree turn
which went down a hill, but we all negotiated that, only to fall
about later. Someone had a difficulty shortly afterwards, and I
ended up stopped on a downhill slope just ahead of a reverse cambered
curve, and wasn't quite in control of my sledge when the big dog
yanked forward and set us going. I managed to get on and hang on,
but the outward swing of the sledge dislodged me and the whole thing
crashed over and almost into the trees on the side. I bounced and
lost my grip on the sledge, breaking the first rule. Without me on
the back, the sledge righted itself and the dogs kept on going. I
was more shocked that I'd let go than that I'd fallen off, and leapt
up to give chase, yelling out so that those in front could slow it
down, or take evasive action. Fortunately, the snow was quite firm
and the way was narrow, so the dogs couldn't really get away but I
wasn't quite quick enough to stop the sledge banging into the driver
in front. The dogs seemed to have enjoyed their escapade more than I
did, but we were soon moving again.
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After
lunch I went off again, at the start of one of our more difficult
sections. We got into close formation to cross a major road as a
single group, and then set off, but, with a big rise to get onto the
road, my sledge went over again. This time, I hung on, and the dogs
stopped but, not wanting to end up in the middle of traffic, I hauled
the sledge up and set them going again in no time. (My good recovery
was even picked out in the briefing that evening.) However, on the
other side, we were skidding over a thin layer of snow on a bitumen
road, which meant the foot brake just couldn't dig in, and there was
a serious descent around a corner. Fortunately this road was wide
enough to accommodate several sledges abreast, as few of us could get
our dogs to stop. Then just as we straightened out into single file
again, we found ourselves going down the main street – at least,
there was a Post Office, though not any other traffic. On the
further outskirts of town, there was a farm with reindeer and loose
dogs, which came near to causing chaos as a sledge load of dogs
diverted towards each.
As
the town signs had said Maze (pronounced Marzeh) and the itinerary
had said we were going to Maze, I started to think the day was nearly
done, so the last five klicks were most tiresome. I was also last
(except for Sid) due to the near-pile up as we entered town, so when
we got to our camp for the night, I had a fair while to wait before I
could get my dogs onto their stake-out. With the snow soft, the
anchor wasn't all that reliable, so I had to stay on the foot brake,
but my dogs were mostly behaving themselves, at least. Some of the
others had quiet enough dogs that they could wander off and chat, so
I was the nearest when the team in front of me started fighting. I
raced off to stop them, and twanged a hamstring in the soft snow,
only to then be nearly run over by my own sledge, as the hounds had
spotted their moment. Grrr! When I finally got a spot to park my
dogs, the two at the back started fighting whilst I was taking them
in and I got shouted at for not hitting them hard enough, so I was
pretty irritable even before I discovered that there was a snowy 45
degree slope up to the lodge, where there was no running water and,
as I was last, I'd been left with a lounge to sleep on. Fortunately,
one of the early arrivals had put a kettle on, and I started to feel
a bit more human after a cup of tea, even if it was black Earl Grey.
Then the doctor, who had been given a two-bunk room to herself, found
a mattress and let David and I have her bunk room. This was a lovely
holiday house in the country, with the girls in one bunk room
upstairs and the boys in the other, a big lounge with a fire, and a
kitchen either side of the entry hall, with a couple of two-bunk
rooms beyond that. That left hand kitchen was made the managers'
office, and as David was considered the fSPRI rep, he was part of
their pre-briefing briefings each night.
So,
with a prospect of a proper bed, I went back down the slope to help
with fetching water, to discover I was too late to help drill the
lake, and back up again after filling a few water bottles. My team
was meant to be on dinner that night, but one of the others had
banged her knee quite badly and wanted a swap, so I ended up back on
dog feeding duty. It was almost a pleasant task that evening, as the
others in that group had a real team spirit, and made sure that we
each fed our own dogs personally. Alastair had already had the duty
of setting up the sauna, which was by the lake, and half way through
the doggy dinners, he was called away by the girls to help them, as
they'd let the fire go out! Full moon was replacing sunset, on a
quiet still evening as we packed the dishes away, and the dogs all
started howling, crooning together as they usually did just after
feeding time. I'm not fond of noisy dogs at home, but in this
setting it was just magical.
Whilst we were busy with the dogs, there had been a change of shift in the sauna so, rather than trudging up the hill for my togs, I stripped off my smelly gear and hopped straight in. Alastair had got the room steaming up nicely again, and once we were all warmed through the topic of rolling in the snow inevitably came up. We'd seen the girls rushing out across the lake and knew we couldn't let the side down – and anyway, how often does this kind of chance come up? The snow on our bare feet was horrendous, and the others were about to dive into the first flat snow – not being able to see that this was where we'd been feeding the dogs! A quick roll in the snow, a very brief snowball fight, and we were all back in the warm, holding our feet up to the fire, before using some of the warmed water for a wash. It turns out the women had put on their boots, which was why they'd run further than we had – but they'd also found thinner snow and crunched into the ice of the lake surface.
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After dinner that night, the doctor came rushing in to say the Northern Lights were brilliant. There was an instant pile-up in the hall as we all tried to find our boots, but we were too slow as they had disappeared again. Even so, by the time of the briefing, everyone seemed to have got past the first day difficulties and we were all enjoying the trip. Later, the breakfast crew went down to the lake to collect water whilst a few of us stood in quiet contemplation of the sky. There was the occasional streak and glow, but not much more by the time we turned in some time after 10pm. I wasn't too disappointed as I knew my bladder would give me another sky-viewing opportunity later in the night. In fact, since there was supposed to be a lunar eclipse that night, I thought I might have a double chance. I think I went out again at 00:30, but I didn't see the eclipse. There was some cloud in the sky, so perhaps I just didn't notice, being a penumbral eclipse and me being more asleep than awake. However, there was a great yellowy-green curtain hanging from the sky, possibly moving, though it was hard to tell. Nervous that it would disappear again, I went back in after a couple of minutes to wake David. This turned out to be a big mistake, as David wasn't wakeable and I was seduced by the warmth and my exhaustion and crawled back into bed. Not staying outside longer that night was my only regret of the week, but I still got a decent view of the Lights.