dry island buffalo jump

When planning your next adventure into the great outdoors, don't forget about the prairies. I'm sure most folks don't equate the prairies to wilderness and the great outdoors, which is a shame. Maybe it's because there is so little natural prairie left. Or maybe it's because the prairies are not as in-your-face with their beauty as the mountains and the average person is too distracted, unobservant, or lazy to be captivated by something so subtle. How else do you explain the popularity of reality television? I want to challenge the notion of the prairies as flat and boring by giving you Dry Island Buffalo Jump Provincial Park.

The word prairie tends to invoke images of farm yards and crop fields stretching to the horizon, which is what you'll find today in many places that were once natural prairie. These landscapes have their own beauty. They feel quaint while simultaneously feeling vast, which is a big part of the prairie allure. Wallace Stegner (1960) helped petition for the preservation of wilderness in America by drawing, in part, on similar images of a Saskatchewan prairie from his childhood.

"We need wilderness preserved... because it was the challenge against which our character as a people was formed. The reminder and the reassurance that it is still there is good for our spiritual health... A prairie [landscape] big enough to carry the eye clear to the sinking, rounding horizon, can be as lonely and grand and simple in its forms as the sea. It is as good a place as any for the wilderness experience to happen; the vanishing prairie is as worth preserving for the wilderness idea as the alpine forest... We simply need that wild country available to us, even if we never do more than drive to its edge and look in."

I encourage you to drive to the edge of Dry Island and look in because the view is spectacular.

I also encourage you to explore further

because, like the arctic tundra and alpine meadow, there are small-scale wonders waiting to be discovered in the many pockets and folds of this country.

And while you're there, why not explore nearby Rumsey Natural Area. This classic knob and kettle landscape is home to mule deer, waterfowl, and numerous species of prairie songbirds. They're not hard to find, just open your mind and look.

oh christmas tree

Nothing says Christmas like cutting your own tree. In Alberta, anyone can do that for just $5 (here).

Family photo with our trophy.

S and K with their find.

Doing the deed.

Taking it home.




Heading to the truck.

Loaded and ready to go.

Running, I've missed you.

Seems I got a little off course. I was in the middle of my second long run on a brutally hot July weekend when I realized I wasn't having any fun. It wasn't an exhaustion-induced "why-the-hell-am-I-doing-this" kind of revelation. Somewhere along the way I lost track of why I ran. The freedom, relaxation, and adventure that I looked forward to on every run was replaced with routine. Training had become a job and I didn't need another job, especially one that I wasn't getting paid for.It was time for a change of pace. I was mentally and physically exhausted, and I'd fallen behind on or completely lost track of every other aspect of my life. I wanted to get away from training so I could reconnect with the rest of my life and rekindle my interest in running.

It's amazing what you can do with an extra 15 to 20 hours  a week: gardening, hiking, hunting, time with friends and family. I've even done some work on my thesis. Imagine that. While the past few months have been fun, something has definitely been missing. My sleep patterns are all messed up, I ache in places I have no reason to ache, and I'm continually stressed about things not worth stressing about. In short, I don't feel like myself. It's time to start running again.

When I was in my early 20's I was in Jock Sportswear in Saskatoon buying a new pair of shoes. The second and last pair of Nikes I've ever owned. "What are you training for?", the salesperson asked. The question caught me off guard. I wasn't training for anything. I'd been running regularly for several years at that point and had never thought about entering a race. I ran because I like running and because I liked the way it made me feel. "Life", I replied. He chuckled but was otherwise unimpressed.

I don't have any plans to race again. Then again, I don't have any plans to not race again either. I'm just going to run for awhile and see where that takes me. Maybe I'll see you out there.

running the water numbers

Byron Powell's ultramarathon how-to book is currently on my reading shelf. Unfortunately it's usually buried under a pile of science papers so I don't pick it up as often as I'd like but that's a trail I don't want to run down right now. From what I have read it appears there is useful information for beginner and veteran runners. Get your own copy at iRunFar.

After my Sinister7 dnf I've decided I need to add a bit more rigor to my racing and training. I particularly want to develop a fueling strategy for Lost Souls. Up to this point I've tried to eat and drink frequently without any definition of what that means.

Following Bryon's section on fluid loss I did a little test of how much water I need to consume every hour to prevent dehydration. I went for a 25.3 km run at a 5:46/km pace (so says my gps watch). The entire trip took 2:26. It was calm, blue skies and 24 deg Celsius. A nice summer day. I lost 8 pounds in sweat! I know I sweat more than the average fella and, given my lack of hot weather running, I expected to be pretty sweaty but that's 4 litres of water. According to Bryon's figures I need to consume 1.65 litres of water per hour to remain hydrated. I don't think that's physically possible. I can feel the sloshing in my stomach as I type.

I obviously don't run that fast on longer outings, which will lower my fluid needs. I will hopefully acclimate to the heat over the next 6 weeks, which should further reduce my sweatiness. I also need to repeat this test a couple of times to confirm that number (and hope its not that high again). Whatever the final number what is clear is that I need to consume way more fluids than I have been.

Sinister 7: dnf

That was ugly. Unfortunately my race went as feared rather than hoped. I dropped out part way through the 4th leg with swollen hands and uncontrollable muscle cramps in my legs. This was a hard course. The race director wasn't kidding when he said, "There are no easy legs. Some are just harder than others."

Less than a quarter of the registered soloist finished. That doesn't make me feel any better about my own performance. I know what went wrong:

1) I was grossly under-prepared. This was largely my fault. A month of field work and crappy weather didn't help but I became complacent with my training. I hadn't done any hill training. The last hill I climbed that I didn't ski down was Lost Souls 2010. My overall mileage also was way down. I've been rather uninspired to run lately. It's felt more like a job than a pleasure and I've got enough work on my plate right now to take on anything else. Hopefully I find that spark again.

2) I went out faster than I could sustain given my level of training and my unfamiliarity with the course. I kept telling myself 'this terrain will slack off soon and I'll catch a breather.' It never did. The brutal uphills, which were often so steep they were difficult to walk, were often followed by equally steep downhills that took just as much concentration and strength to descend. Leg 2, in particular, was way more difficult than I expected given it's relatively moderate ranking among legs.

3) My fueling was way off. Temperatures were higher than I was use to and I was quickly running a fluid deficit that I was never able to make up. As the dehydration grew my appetite shrank and my condition went from bad to worse. I tell myself the same thing after every race: "drink early and drink often". This course was too unforgiving to let me get away with not heeding my own warning. I need to make a fueling plan for Lost Souls that I will follow.

What I saw of the course was beautiful and I look forward to toeing the line next year.

Point Lay, Alaska: more alternative training

One of the perks to being a field biologist is that I get to visit some pretty cool places. Some places are closed to visitors or are prohibitively challenging to get to. Other places offer no main attraction to visit but are pretty spectacular none the less. Point Lay, Alaska, is such a place. A small subsistence community on the coast of the Chukchi Sea, it's more than a little out of the way, which is fine for most because there is no obvious reason to go there.

I was in Point Lay this past week to help a friend capture loons. I should have been training for Sinister 7 but how often am I going to get an all-expenses trip to the arctic? I reasoned that tromping around the tundra chasing down loons would be all the workout I needed. Besides, I was suppose to be tapering so why not do it somewhere really cool, right? 

We didn't do so well on loon captures: 10 captures attempted, 7 captures successful, and 1 geolocated recovered, which was the whole point of capturing the birds in the first place.

I also didn't get much accomplished on the workout front either. While we did some tundra marching it seemed like I spent more of my time lying motionless on the soggy ground fighting off hypothermia while trying not to bite off my tongue from shivering so hard. This was slightly less enjoyable than the blanket of mosquitoes that appeared as soon as the temperature became near warm. I can't complain too much. At least I was dry. Dan was usually wet from a dry suit that was no longer dry.

One the huge plus side we caught some loons! You also see a tonne of birds up close while laying motionless. I even saw a few caribou!

Point Lay didn't disappoint either. What a great community with exceptionally friendly people.

We were fortunate enough to be in town during their nalukataq. This is a very important celebration of the spring bowhead whale harvest. The successful whaling captain distributes whale meat and muktuk to all the families in the community. The formalities are followed by fireworks, candy scrambles for the kids, a blanket toss, and traditional dancing.

Our trip home was through Barrow, which is now the furthest north I've ever been. We had some time to kill between flights so we sat at Arctic Pizza and had burgers while watching bowhead whales sound in the bay and flocks of Common Eider stream past the shore. It was pretty surreal and a great end to a great trip. Thanks Dan.

a day of birding at calling lake

My training has been suffering. Why? Cause I'm wandering around the bush counting birds. It's a pretty good workout but it's not going to carry me through Sinister. I foresee a whole lot of discomfort in a few weeks time. Anyway... this post is a typical day of work for a boreal songbird biologist.

Get up with the birds.

Stop at the local Tim's.

The morning commute.

First stop.

Check the address.

Do a little work.

Off to the next site. And repeat...

The Great Gazoo homeward bound.

Home.

Second breakfast.

A little distance sampling.

Head into town

for supplies

and lunch.

Back to camp and time for a run.

Just me, the birds, and the bugs.

And these guys.

Time for a lake bath.

A little data entry.

A dinner of champions.

That looks so inviting.

Bed time.