When the locals are out hunting and get caught in some weather, they know they can always head back toward the trail and hit the pole line. The wind is always brisk and the feeling of vulnerability is palpable. The opposite scenario tightens up every nerve in your body. The musher arrives in Shaktoolik just after dark. The wind is blowing across the spit.
Hands grow numb just taking the booties off the dogs.
Some of the straw laid down for bedding blows away before the dogs can settle down. The musher tries to stomp depressions into the wind-packed snow and make a bed of sorts. A vapor stream races away from the dog food cooker. Sometimes the wind fans the alcohol burners and creates so much heat that the aluminum shroud around the cooker starts to melt and vaporize. The cookers glow in the dark.