Skyline Trail, Jasper

45km; 7:12:02 running; 7:35:26 on trail

I knew what I was in for before I left the car. According to my guide book, "if there is snow anywhere in Jasper it will be on the Skyline". Driving into Hinton, all I could see was snow-capped peaks. Yeah, it was going to be a tough day.

Against my guidebook's recommendation, I decided to start from the lower Signal Mountain trailhead, which is 520 m below the Maligne Lake trailhead. I was willing to pay for the elevation deficit by reasoning it would be easier to find a ride down the Maligne Lake road at the end of the day than finding a ride up. I actually had no idea whether this was true and I was prepared, in theory, for an empty parking lot and a 45 km run back to the car.

The trail begins with an uninspiring 8.5 km grind up an old fire road. It was an annoying grade - not steep enough to justify walking but steep enough to make my calves burn and sweat pour from my brow.

The trees ended when the trail left the fire road and the views improved dramatically. Here the trail crosses the shoulder of Signal Mountain.

Alpine fir on the slopes of Mt. Tekarra.

Soggy meadows above Tekarra Lake.

Marmot! Did you know marmot are also known as whistle pigs and are the namesake of Whistler, BC? Me neither.

Switchback up Ambler Mountain above Centre Lakes.

From here trail conditions became more challenging as I make my way to the summit of Amber Mountain.

Panoramic view looking north from Amber's summit.

Looking south towards The Notch.

Looking south from The Notch towards Big Shovel Pass.

Looking north from Big Shovel Pass at The Notch above Curator Lake.

Looking south from Big Shovel Pass towards Snowbowl and Little Shovel Pass.

Looking towards Snowbowl from Little Shovel Pass.

Little Shovel Pass.

Contrary to my expectations, I never saw Maligne Lake from Little Shovel Pass. Instead the pass was a big slurpee of melt water pools beneath a cover of snow. The final 10 km was a quick downhill. Fortunately the Maligne Lake parking lot was full and I was able to quickly catch a ride back to my starting point.

I would definitely recommend the Skyline Trail as a run or backpack. It's considered one of the best hikes in North America for a reason. Just wait until the snow melts. With weather like this, the wait won't be long.

Psst, I want to share a secret. Pass it on. Please!

My favourite trail running destination in the Edmonton area is the Waskahegan trail section that passes through the Ministik game bird sanctuary. I love everything about running there, which I have done in all seasons and in all types of weather. The trail rolls through mature aspen forest often along the shores of active beaver ponds. Wildlife is abundant, particularly songbirds and waterfowl during spring and fall migration. Other notable sightings include moose, coyotes, and a Barred Owl.

Ministik is not a great destination for high-intensity training because of the challenging conditions (more on this below). Miquelon, Blackfoot, or Elk Island are better local destinations for hammering trail runs. Besides, Ministik's scenery is too gorgeous to speed through. The best part of Ministik is the solitude. Less than an hour drive from a million people and I can run for three hours without seeing another person. I've seen more deer than people on this trail.

So why share my secret? Well, this beloved solitude has created a problem. The forest is reclaiming the trail due to lack of use. This is particularly true in the centre of the park furthest from the parking areas where the dog walkers and Sunday strollers rarely venture.

I love Ministik too much to give up on it but it's getting difficult to run on a trail that I can no longer see. The self-inflicted injury from plowing through endless brush is also reaching borderline stupidity. A huge thanks to whomever recently chainsawed many of the large trees that had fallen across the trail. Now to tackle the wildrose and alder. So come out and help beat back the vegetation. I guarantee you'll enjoy it. Just wear pants.

Iron Horse Trail, Pt. 1: Waskatenau to Smoky Lake

Ever since I completed the Iron Horse Ultra I've been wanting to explore more of the Iron Horse Trail. So, over the next several months (or years) I will endeavour to cover the full 300 km from west to east.

 I set off on Sunday from the eastern-most end of the tracks in the town of Waskatenau.

 

I got a late start so the temperature was already above 20C when I set out. Because the forecast was for 28C, my only training goal for the day was to pee. Sounds simple enough, right, maybe even unavoidable? Not necessarily so, especially when the temperature climbs. Running in the summer heat is something I have little experience with and that may prove to be the most important factor deciding the outcome of my next two races. Distance running has been described as 'an eating and drinking contest with a bit of running thrown in'. Fueling, and in particular hydration, is extremely important. It's also a real struggle to continually stuff food and fluid into a stomach that is constantly in motion without threat of a revolt. I'm hoping this is something I can train for.

The Iron Horse, at least in this region, is as flat and straight as you might expect a rail bed-come-trail to be. It's so straight, in fact, that I passed through the town of Warspite (11 km from Waskatenau) before reaching the first bend in the trail.

The trail beyond Warspite was lined with thicker and taller trees. This was functionally irrelevant on my outbound leg when the sun was high in the sky. The trees did provide some sporadic shading later in the afternoon that allowed me to occasionally escape the sun on my return trip. There also were lots of birds and deer in the trees, which was a nice distraction from the farm fields.

The trail was in great shape but I can't say that it was a great running trail, not this first leg at least. The Iron Horse was designed for snowmobiles and ATVs, not runners, which meant the footing was less than ideal. From Waskatenau to past Warspite the gravel was coarse and the bottoms of my feet eventually became sore from the constant jabs through the soles of my shoes. Between Warspite and Smoky Lake the gravel turned to sand. The foot was loose in spots but traction could be found on the edges and in the worn tracks. Trail consistency was at its best just west of Smoky Lake. However, there was an offensive smell of oil that was overwhelming at times. At first I thought the trail was surfaced in recycled asphalt that was melting in the hot sun but it was probably just treated with something. Either way, I was glad to spend little time on it.

My overall impression of this first leg was mixed. It wouldn't be my first recommendation to runners because of the rockiness and sore feet issues. Among self-propelled sports, this leg might be better suited to cycling or x-country skiing. You also require an appreciation of prairie landscapes. Still I wouldn't discourage anyone from running it. The novelty, lack of crowds, and proximity to Edmonton make it worth the trip. Just carry lots of water. Sadly, today's training goal was a failure. I consumed 6 litres of water, nuun, and gatorade over the course of 4.5 hours and I returned less than two shot glasses of fluid. All that remained of all that liquid was a thick salt crust on my hat, shirt, and shoulder straps of my backpack. I'll hope for cooler racing temperatures while I continue my hot weather training.

peace and solitude

I've been struggling to find my legs all week after being knocked on my butt by three days of flu. My parents happened to be visiting at the same time, which would have hampered training anyway, but the after-effect would have been less physically. The absolute crap weather we continue to endure also has not helped my motivation. Two months ago the concern was drought. Now the question is, "how bad will the flooding be"?

The forecast for today was sun and the leaden-feeling in my legs, chest and head was largely gone. I was looking forward to today's hill workout as a chance to push myself a bit, as well as an opportunity clear my mind.

One of the things that I enjoy most about running is being alone with myself. It's a great opportunity to escape the noise and frantic pace of a city and focus my mind on a single topic or, as is often the case, on nothing at all. Even on the rare occasions that I run in a group I still manage to keep largely within my own space. This is especially true during high-intensity workouts like hill repeats. My senses are overloaded with feedback from my body - burning thighs, rapid breathing, pounding heart - and my mind is focused on 1) staying on pace and 2) not tripping and falling on my face. Generally nothing distracts me.

Except today. I had just turned to start my next ascent when I heard the nothing's-wrong-high-pitched-scream of young girls. I ignored it and continued up the hill. Nearing the top and thinking only about ending my discomfort I suddenly became aware that I was not alone. I turned for my descent into an on coming wave of grade-school kids coming up the hill behind me.

Some were running, some walking, and a few were having none of it and sat in the grass at the bottom. I guess the local school went on temporary recess so teachers could detune the restless students. It was funny to watch. Some kids ran up and down several times, some log-rolled down, and some chose to sit and enjoy the sun. Either way, they all appeared a lot less spastic when the time came to return to class leaving me once again alone with my thoughts and another three repeats to go.

my other life

While I'm an adventurer at heart I'm a biologist by trade. At one time adventure and biology went hand-in-hand. I once spent many months of each year living and working outdoors. Adventure was 24/7. Not so much any more. It seems the longer I spend in this career the further disconnected I become from what attracted me to the job in the first place - being outside.

To break the monotony of thesis writing and to remind myself why I wanted to become a biologist I was happy to take a 10-day job counting birds at Calling Lake in Alberta's boreal forest. This field site is luxury compared to many I've worked at - there are buildings to escape from bad weather,

a lake for bathing,
the study grids are well-marked, the birds are plentiful, and there are few mosquitoes this early in the year. Best of all there are no people, cars, phones, television... It is so peaceful.

First on the work list was clearing trails to access the plots.
Next, a little survey practice
and confirming the identities of any unknown species.
Mud was to be the theme this year.
Never have I experienced a worse road than the Calling Lake road. The slightest amount of rain creates grease.
An ATV with paddle tires results in mud everywhere.
Images from the field. A Swainson's Thrush.
Wolf print on the road outside camp. I heard a pack calling at 3 am a few days later on the lake shore less than 100 m from my cabin.
Bracket fungi on a poplar.
Marsh marigold.
I guess frogs can drown.
Beaver dam flooding a pipeline, which made for a long detour to access three plots.
Forest reflection on another beaver pond.

I enjoyed my time in the bush and I found the much needed motivation to return to writing. I also realized that, while I miss the field, I don't necessarily miss field work (certainly not consecutive months of it). The rain, mud, bugs, bears, heavy backpack, thick bush, rose thorns, 4 o'clock mornings, and 14-hour days are exhausting, and not in a good-ultra-marathon-training way. Speaking of which, it's time to get back to running.