Volunteers step in to grab the dog leads to keep them in place. Or, as in place as you can keep a team of 16 dogs that were bred to run all-out while pulling hundreds of pounds. Teams that stop for a rest are directed toward a slot on the ice. The ones that are going through turn left, go up a hill, and disappear behind the lodge. Mackey's team gets a lot of company as the frozen lake is converted to a dog lot. "They love to lie down and play in that straw. And of course they love to eat and drink. It's a party," says Plettner. Soon enough, hay, frozen meat, and dried dog food litter the once-pristine snow.

While feeding her dogs, Plettner has the first of two meals she'll eat at the checkpoint simmering in her portable cooker. It's her routine. It never changes. "You're no good to your dogs if you don't take care of yourself," she says. Though she usually cooks the second meal herself, as well, at Finger Lake, there's one waiting in the lodge kitchen for every musher. For many, it's a welcome chance "to sit on a real chair and talk to real people in a real, dry atmosphere," says Plettner. Mackey stays at the checkpoint more than eight hours and works two lodge meals into his day.

As mushers walk into the kitchen, they shed their heavy parkas. Gossip and banter come easy as they eat. Rookie mushers, with a look on their face that makes it clear that they're starting to understand what they've gotten themselves into, gather information from the veterans. Plettner and the others offer what they can, but, by this point, it won't do much. "It takes so many years to get good at this. If you handed [a rookie] the top winning team from last year, they would not make it to the finish line. It's like giving a little kid a Ferrari," she says. "It's not possible to verbally give somebody information that will do anything but improve the quality of dog care."