Arriving at the Deshka Landing check point Sunday evening, 6:30 p.m., February 5. As I came around the corner, there was Josef. Whoa, man, all of those problems, all of those bad thoughts just vanished. Josef was there, Mary, Janae, Matt, Lori, Mark, the film crew. What a rewarding feeling it was when I came into that check point, and they were all there to greet me.
Then after three hours of downtime, it was hitch up and go again.
Putting booties on.
Here my carabiner was frozen solid. I had to beat on it to get it loose, so I could open it up and get my snow hooks hooked up.
Then running through the night again.
Now, here’s something that’s very, very interesting that I learned that I think will have tremendous value to everybody. We live in a world today where there is no quiet. Our minds are just full of data. We’re on data overload. We’re busy constantly. Our minds are taking in all kinds of information, but how do we process it?
One of the valuable things I found out there on the trail in the cold and lonely quiet was the quiet. All I could hear was the crunching of the sleigh runners in the snow, the pitter patter of the dogs’ feet in the snow, occasionally a bark, and occasionally a howl—but I was just there for hour after hour after hour, hanging on, and hoping I didn’t have a rollover or get wrapped around a tree or go over a bank or slide into a river. All kinds of challenges. But I had time to think, because it was quiet. It was quiet.