Night 7, McCarthy

(Thanks to Mike for these photos)

We busted in. Made it to John Adams' B&B, home of two trays of lasagna, at 2 a.m.

About a 40-mile day, more than doubling the mileage of some days.

Started with a problem. As the boys were ready to go, I found my boots hard as concrete. Couldn't force my feet into them even though I removed the liners and bent them open last night. Sitting there, boots and feet in sleeping bag, an idea.

Forest took my boots over to the open Skolai Creek and held them both underwater. He didn't let go. The 36-degree water thawed them enough for me to wedge my feet in.

We took off, following the faded tracks of the three guys who did the glacier route.

The dipper, pioneer bird, flew to open spots on the creek, flushing as we got closer.

Found a snowmachine track at the toe of Nizina Glacier, and we were thrilled. Followed the track for miles and miles southward, the river giving a path to McCarthy that made us felt as if every poleplant was getting us closer. My repaired pole was so good I didn't notice any drop in performance.

The half-dozen crossings of the open Nizina always sound worse than they become. You plunge in, and your blisters fire, then fade.

We lost the main trail to the McCarthy Road for awhile and considered camping, but the boys let out a whoop when they found a snowmachine highway a few miles from the road.We hit the road at about headlamp time, and made it the six miles to John Adams' place in a few hours, really stretching ourselves.

We walked right into John's place, where I had stayed with my aunt and five other nuns a decade ago. Our journey was over.

I'm very thankful for these partners, who helped me finish much faster than I would have without them. I felt lucky to be with them every day.