A 45-mile ride today, over bumpy sea ice, gorgeous overland trail, and more bumpy open river mouth, until we reached Elim, where after skiing in eight years ago I met Robbin, who loaned me her ground-blizzard-proof hat before this trip, and her husband Chris, who made the hat.

Here’s a shot of Chris that endures in the school. Is that a pencil behind his ear? He was a teacher here in the early 2000s, and he and Robbin have since moved to Fairbanks.

This is the Kwik River shelter cabin about 21 miles from Koyuk. These shelter cabins are built in some nasty wind country, in long gaps between villages. I’m happy to report that this one had dry kindling by the stove that may have been placed there by Andy, Lisa, Ed, and Matt, who skied from Koyuk to Nome last week and stayed in the cabin.

Once we got to Elim and got set up for the night in the school library, Kenji drilled another permafrost borehole and dropped in some thermisters. That’s the seventh straight day he’s drilled.

T’was time for a break. We dropped the drilling equipment and rode inland through spruce forest to a HOT SPRINGS about seven miles in. Yes!

A well-earned soak for this guy, who plays tug-of-war with a 40-pound drill and frozen ground every day.

And this guy, who’s there with him for every turn of the drill.

One of the most intimidating sections of the Iditarod trail for mushers and human-powered trail users is the 30-mile crossing of sea ice included in the route from Shaktoolik to Koyuk. This is windy country anyway, but sea ice offers no protection whatsoever.

This morning, the wind continued from the north at a steady 30 mph as we left Shaktoolik. Here's Kenji asking for directions to the trail out, always a time-saver.

Out on the ice, the wind would gnaw at cracks in your clothing as you banged over sastrugi drifts, but all the markers were visible and we made it in a few hours. Contrast that with the 14 it took Andy and I to cross on skis in 2000 (though we had a much faster trip across in 2001, about six hours).

Here I saw the biggest difference between ski travel and snowmachine. With the big wind, I felt cold on the machine for the first time, but skiing would have been impossible today.

The snogos are impressive machines. Tohru and I are on Ski Doo Skandic 550 wide-tracks and Kenji is riding a lighter Ski-Doo 440. They are new machines and start easy, even in the cold, and Matt at Veco in Fairbanks has extended the windshields of Tohru's and my machine. We ducked behind them many times today.

For the second time, I was in Shaktoolik for my birthday. First time was in 2000, when I flew in to join Andy, Kevin, and Dave as they completed their through-ski of the Iditarod trail. Andy baked me a cake as we were trapped in a pink house for three days, waiting out a ground blizzard.

Today, Shaktoolik looks a lot like that day, with snowdrifts making sharp ridges across the only street every few hours, until the road grader, aka the trail groomer, bites through them. The waves of snow return a few hours later.

The day started out sunny and awesome as we met up with the Iditarod trail out of Unalakleet. The Blueberry Hills remind me of the White Mountains a bit.

Here’s Tohru trying to jump to Besboro Island.

Here’s the truck, Shaktoolik’s landmark when approaching from the south. I see no live trucks in town. All snogos and fourwheelers.

Today, Kenji drilled in a ground blizzard a few steps off the Iditarod trail, by what’s left of the Old Shaktoolik town site, a victim of global change before global change was cool.

Momma, can you believe your baby is 45? We celebrated with some village-store neopolitan ice cream. Any day on the trail is a fine day. Even better when it's your birthday.

Glen, at Jerry Austin's camp at Golsovia, where 7 dog teams were resting and a few tourists were checking out the tower. Golsovia, a name on the map like so many others in AK, was the only sign of human and dog life in the 80 miles from St. Michael to Unalakleet. A nice sunny ride today, made smooth by thigh-deep snow.

The view from the tower. Note the sundog low on the horizon and the lack of trees. This is wind country, though it wasn't here today.

We're out of the Yukon Delta, and on The Coast.

After leading us 80 miles over tundra and sea ice from St. Michael this morning, Kenji treated us to pizza at the world-famous Peace on Earth here in UNK.

Tohru was clocked at 112 mph as he passed the UNK post office today.

T'was 18 below in St. Michael this morning. Kenji had me tape fur to the spot where my goggles fit over my nose. Robbin loaned me the hat, which Chris made and can take a 30 mph wind at 10 below without my brain freezing. It's like crawling into a sleeping bag.

Sunsets have all rocked here in Western AK (and don't happen till 9:30 because we're so far west).