San Diego, land of sunshine and conferences

Every couple of years I head off to a conference, headily titled the "International Veterinary Emergency and Critical Care Symposium", and this year the event was to take place near the waterfront in downtown San Diego. Last time I went was Nashville Tennessee, and I was very happy it wasn't there again....  Chicago in 2009 was unexpectedly cool, and New Orleans (2007) was awesome, but San Diego is a pretty neat place as well. My bridesmaid lives there, but unfortunately due to a plumbing incident he was not able to come down for lunch, so I will send him the blog link as well. So there Steve, see you in another 10 years!

View from the hotel room

I flew out of Vancouver a day early, and spent the extra day at the zoo (visiting family). I also walked along the waterfront past very nice large boats, which were eclipsed by the city-block-sized Lady Christine, a fabulous yacht that is available on charter. For $528,000, you can have her. For a week. The first night I also walked into the Gaslamp quarter where all the restaurants are, and after about 2 blocks it was closed for the next 4 or so because "someone rented the street" for a party. Apparently I was not on the guest list.

Glad he jammed his little butt tightly in there - I don't think he can pop loose no matter how far he slumps

UNBLINKING VIGILANCE IS KEY...... 

Slurping happily at the large pond

I WISH animals could talk...  what I wouldn't give to hear her say "Yumm"...

Snoozing in the pool

Have you noticed a trend of what animals do in the daytime???

Oh yeah - the conference. Very convoluted issues were discussed.

The Everything Ultimatum

I always had this sneaking suspicion that if I climbed more than one day a month I might be a happy climber again....

But living on Vancouver Island meant I worked a lot, then would try to plan a Squamish trip, catch a ferry that might be cancelled, full, recently hit a dock and destroyed it... or it would rain. Or I would get one amazing weekend, realize that I can actually climb ---- and then not get back to Squamish for a month or more. At which point I have forgotten how to climb and back to Square One. 

However, having moved to PoCo I thought that would change. Last summer, once the raining finally stopped (August, was that?) we went climbing a few times, and kept climbing slab. Marc would lead a lot, and I would whimper. I HATE slab. Featureless, slippery or grippy, I can never tell, stupid insecure  run- out pro.... mmm slab. 

This however, is the Summer of Sun. We ran up to Squamish for some climbing as early as May, went to Red Rocks, bouldered on hot days - and in the last week climbed a lot of slab. Hey - I LIKE some slab! Not sure about the leading, but it is sticky, for the most part, and I'm starting to see features.  Amazing what little crystals, divets and slopey waves of rock can do!

I haven't been to the very top of the Chief yet - despite innumerable trips up the Apron. The easiest line is the "Ultimate Everything" - long, but easy. Take the easiest route up the Apron, then either up Broomstick 5.7 for 2 pitches or anything you want, then hike to the base of the South Buttress and climb for 10 pitches......

We prepared. 

Preparing for a climbing day can be hard work. Chocolate waffles.....

We did a few prep runs up the Apron, simo (simul?) climbing some routes, even climbed Snake just for kicks. This is a good picture of me, because you can't see my face.

Anchored on Snake 

On D-Day - we got up nice and early and started at the very bottom, pretty much road level. We simo (again - simo- or simul-? "simo sounds bad-ass, like a sumo wrestler. Simul- sounds like a nutritional supplement, like a colon cleanse. But that could be fast, which is the point of simul-climbing...and Sumo wrestlers would be hard on a rope) So, we simul-climbed the bottom pitches, with me leading just for kicks. Marc took over where I stopped, and then led up Banana Peel, a lovely and completely run out slab up the Apron. We pitched out the first one, then simul-climbed to the top. I was wearing my watch, and at this point we were about 2 hours since the start, which was pretty much record time for us.

Hike to the base of the Buttress, and then up we went. Hard pitches alternate easier ones, so climbing them together is tough because no one wants to be on the hard one as a simul-climber, so we kept pitching them out. Slow, but fun. Marc started with all the hard leads, because he's cool. And I hated his pitches even on second.  I kept checking time, and it was 2:20 in the afternoon. For several pitches. Being an excellent diagnostician I decide that we have the ability to stop time. This is a handy superpower.

After a while my pitches went from romping up 5.7 to a layback-then-mantle 5.9. Fun, and easy cruising to the anchor. Quite a few more pitches, and Marc's leads became slightly easier, and the alternate ones (mine) picked up a touch. I led the amazing traverse - and placed gear, clinging tenuously to the rock, and then noted the giant bolt they'd placed for me that I missed on my initial scan around. Not once, but three times.....

Then there was the last few, and I felt obliged to take the last 5.9, then he would take the 5.4 and the 5.10. My 5.9 was a little stouter than imagined until I actually found the secret handholds. Twice. Style may have been poorer than I care to admit to, but in the end I was at the anchor.

Marc led up the last headwall - super cool wall, great pitch - and very intimidating once you're in it. I'm sure the blank wall had some footholds, and maybe next time I get there I'll see them, but at this point it was pretty dubiously blank for a section. One of those climbs I'll do in a few years and think "How did I not see THAT giant foothold (tiny wrinkle in the rock) last time?"

This is the top. YAY!!!!!

Marc at the last anchor

Squamish and Howe Sound Below

Garibaldi in the Background. Sandwich time, which is why I can't look at you

We seem to have also developed the ability to restart time, which is good for the rest of the universe. Unfortunately we do not have the power to restart my watch, but I'm sure a watchmaker with fresh batteries does. 

We got home in time to have dinner and for me to sleep really well until the alarm went off. As always, much to soon - but isn't that everyone's dilemma?

Summer on The Rock

I FINALLY went to Newfoundland!!!
Since that is where Marc is from, and I was in St Johns once since we've been married, we decided a trip to his home town of Rocky Harbour was long overdue. Rocky Harbour is a small town right in the middle of Gros Morne National Park, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. He left a week before me and visited family and friends in St Johns, on the other side of the island, and I flew into Deer Lake an hour from Rocky Harbour for a week of sunshine, family, friends, hiking and amazing scenery.
Since I usually write and have no pictures, I will change this blog entirely. So much so that you'll think you're on someone else's blog...

The hospitality shown by Marc's relatives was truly amazing, and we ate, drank and talked and I got to meet a lot of people that I can't wait to see again. We did take some time out to burn off some calories and go for a hike or two,

The main hike is called the Long Range Trail, and it starts with a short walk in to Western Brook Pond, then an hour boat ride into the "Pond" to get to the trailhead. Up the fjord to the plateau on top, and then along the plateau south to Gros Morne itself. There are 4 campsites, but having stuff to be at we only stayed 2 overnights.

Foggy walk in to Western Brook Pond

Western Brook "Pond" - the boat to take sightseers for a loop around and us to the start

Fog clearing in the Fjord that surrounds the Pond as the Boat is leaving

Trail friend

Looking back down Western Brook "Pond" 

Walking along the Plateau

Campsite next to a small pond

Campsite view in the early morning

More walking

Looking down into another Fjord

The next few days were spent exploring around Rocky Harbour. The sky gave for dramatic pictures. This is where Marc grew up playing on the beaches.

Newfoundland "Beaches" 

Rocky Harbour Lighthouse. Notice the dramatic sky?? Huh ? Pretty dramatic wouldn't you agree?

Marc has LOTS of relatives in Rocky Harbour. Among them are Bonnie and Jason and their kids Emma and Benjamin. Not only did they feed us and ply us with alcohol several times, but Bonnie and Jason and both kids came for an overnight hike in to Green Gardens. The trail leaves the parking lot, heads up over a hill and down the far side to the ocean. Benjamin, all of 6 years old, carried his little backpack and drove us onwards like a little slave driver. He would allow occasional stops, but after about 36 seconds would follow it with "Can we go NOW?". 1.5 hrs each way, and he never slowed up or allowed us to! 

 There is a 50 foot wide swath of meadow on top of the cliffs, and a staircase so you can get down and play on the beach. 

Meadowy bits

with Stairs

Rocky bits

Emma and Benjamin playing

Campsite

 The next morning Benjamin kept exclaiming how amazingly well he'd slept for his first night in a tent. Jason and Benjamin had set up the tent on the actual tenting platform, which is made of 2*4 wood, and I can't recall how many times Benjamin mentioned the "incredibly soft wood" which had made for such a great sleep. Jason may not have completely agreed with him, but it was really very funny.

We made the hike out in good time and headed back in for our last night on the Rock. Unfortunately all good things have to come to an end, and we flew back to real life in Vancouver. It was a wonderful time and I can't imagine a single thing that would have made it better.

Life has been crazy busy in the few weeks since, and I'll have to catch up a bit more. I also know there's been a lot of holidaying out there, and I'm anxious to hear about some of that too!

My Summer Holiday

Today was the official first day of my summer holiday. I will have to post about my mom's visit sometime too, because she was here for 2 weeks, and I thought we had an amazing time. We kept her to 2 activities a day, which seemed appropriate. After all - what's the point in travelling to BC if you're not going to see as much as you can? My awesome mother went hiking, orienteering (twice), to a dressage show, to Fort Langley, the Vancouver Aquarium, Science World, Stanley Park, to the Bloedel Conservatory, horseback riding on Icelandic ponies, cheered me through a mountain bike race and was disappointed that Marc (at my request) didn't take her to see the sketchy downhill carnage part, went bouldering (okay, she may not have actually bouldered, but it was close). She also baked a giant cake, met our friends and many other things.

But that's a story for another blog, because it'll take me a bit longer. Who knows if it will ever be written?

Marc left for Newfoundland last week, which was the unofficial start of my holiday. Somehow I thought that with Marc gone there would not be any dirty dishes, and dinner would miraculously appear and there would be leftovers for days. Shockingly I discovered that I can also create a pile of dishes, and still dislike washing them just as much. And I drank the beer. Which I knew I would, but I hoped it would happen slower and there would be one for now.

I also thought it would be interesting to find out what I would do if I was on my own and didn't have someone planting ideas in my head or dragging me off constantly to run/ride/climb/paddle....  To my great dismay it turns out what I'd really like to do is sleep. Since the house temperature is mimicking the great outdoor heat wave this week, what I would love to do in between nightshifts is sleep in a house where the temperature is approximately 1 million degrees and wake up crabby. And turn on a propane torch and a kiln to make glass melt - which as it turns out is not a lot of fun when it's this hot. Surprise, I know. So there's no glass to show for a week of "time". I can also eat whatever I want. As long as it doesn't involve turning on the stove and making more heat in the house. So I eat whatever type of cold salad I want.

Yesterday before work I rode my big bike Burke, and had a blast. Lovely trails, even repeated my little baby jump from the last group ride, and added a few more baby jumps to the repertoire. I forgot that little jumps are actually really easy, and surprisingly I know how to do them. While jumping is easy, deciding that it's a wise idea to jump off things in the middle of the woods riding by yourself is a bit more difficult. But it was super fun and a good time was had by all! (Matilda, Pippa and my bike)

Yesterday was my last work shift until July 17th, so today is my first true holi-day. I fly to Newfoundland Friday morning, so I have 3 days to discover what I would like to do when left to my own devices.
Today I decided to go to Squamish to go bouldering. This involved getting up early to get there when it was cool. And then remembering that I can't take the HOV lane through Vancouver even if Mattie was in the passenger seat, so I drank coffee and did some "stuff" until around 10. Clear sailing all the way to Squamish. IT'S GOING TO BE AWESOME!!!!

I grabbed the odds and ends I brought, and realized I didn't bring a bag to put them in (?Stupid or what?) and stuff my pockets. Dogs hop out and off we go, carrying a crash pad into the forest. I was here after the Test of Metal, and in the giant boulderfield that runs along the bottom of the Chief I expect to trip over the boulders we were on last time. I pass about 8 million boulders, some with happy people playing on them. THIS, I thought, is going to be SO much FUN!!!

I stop and pull out a guidebook. It lists all the pretty rocks and where to find them and what to climb on them. By name. Which is great, except I don't remember any names except the one called Cheesegrater. I run into other people - also consulting guidebook while walking around rocks. One of them is quite friendly, but the other two lads ignore me because after all, they're cool.... and I'm not.  Nonchalantly, I continue on, because I'm so cool - I even know where I'm going, can't ya tell! Cool incarnate, oh yeah, that's me, walkin' through the boulder field with my crashpad.

I finally find a big giant rock, about 25 feet high, and behind it is the Cheesegrater. Yay! I know where I am!!! Of course, I have no idea where we climbed, but it must be nearby....  Oh boy, I think. This is going to be so much FUN! I start heading for the Cheesegrater, since it's saved me from wandering aimlessly forever, but then I remember that the top out is a bit sketchy and I had 2 spotters to make sure I hit one of the two crashpads we had with us. And even then I knew if I slid down it I would never have fingerprints again. Despite this being potentially useful, I decide to steer clear of the Cheesy grater.

At some point I call Marc in Newfoundland. Yes, I used the lifeline - and called a friend. "Marc - I'm standing behind the Black Dyke Boulder, the Cheesegrater is to my left. What can I climb?" Marc walks me around the boulder (okay, actually all the way around once) and then helps me find some easy stuff. I climb around, and a real climber comes and joins me. He moves effortlessly, floating upwards without making a sound or a fast move. Poetry. I flail around a corner where no one can see me, and hop down on the mat with a boom. I wander to the easy climb up - and after about 15 feet get to a slightly tougher spot just above me. Hmmmm......  up - and potentially can't downclimb and hate myself? or down. and hate myself. Dilemma. Down. Then back up - easy peesy. But what's ahead - I ask the super-climber and he says it gets a bit blank. Do I want to know what he does there? No, I don't, because then I'll have to consider it. And if I can't find the way, I shouldn't be 20 feet off the deck thinking about it. Down. Damnit. Super-climber is joined by a gaggle of super-climbers, and I head back up the trail looking cool. Super cool in fact. Walkin' through the woods with my crash pad lookin' cool....

I did find some easy stuff, and had a lovely young woman show me her warm up boulder problems. She doesn't seem to have a muscle on her, but she floated up progressively tougher problems. As the problems get harder, I get choppier - grabbing at granite and swinging. At some point I am pulling and torquing as hard as I can - and it's looking really good as I reach up but that's because my ass is still on the crashpad rather than me actually hanging by my fingertips. A man joins us, and I am secretly thrilled that he can't get off the ground either. She asks me what kind of bouldering project I have, and I laugh. I ride my bike I say, to help her understand why I suck. She heads off to her project leaving me with the rocks and a climber determined to go from V5 to V5 problem, never actually getting more than 6 inches off the ground. But grunting a lot.

At this point I should have settled on the bouldering pad under a tree and had a nap. But I decided to find a few more easy boulders. Mattie insisted on hopping off a boulder and then limping, and since she does have a sore paw occasionally and is going to the sitters for 10 days of walks in the woods I decide that she needs to ice it.

We head off up the road to the Mamquam river, which is a lovely grey of glacial silt and fast moving currents this time of year. I find a trail, and we follow a lady and her dog down to the river. My best-behaved dogs who have been great all day are getting a talking to for barking when the lady crosses the little river and continues upstream. At the river's edge Matilda hops in, Pippa close behind. I step in cautiously, hoping this is where she went because I can't see anything as the river is completely opaque grey with silt. Several minutes later, I stand on the sandbar where I meant to go. I am now carrying cell phone and wallet in my hand because I'm soaked from the waist down. The water's lovely - if cold enough to rip off your feet in about 4 seconds. And it takes 6 to cross the little river. We stay and play for a bit, because it's really hot and I can't get wetter. Mattie doesn't want to get back in the car, but it's the only way home. I should have stayed for a nap here, but wasn't thinking very well.

Unbeknownst to me, there was an event today called "Everyone go drive on the highway between 4 and 5 pm", but eventually I got home.

Whatever will tomorrow bring?

Metallurgical Research

Sometime last fall I thought I should try to sign up for the Squamish Test of Metal - and put a reminder in my calendar. The calendar reminded me of this random thought late December, and on New Year's Day evening while driving home from a lovely Mt. Baker ski trip I tried to sign up. I was really tired and was actually hoping that the race would fill up before my entry went in, but mere minutes later I had a racer confirmation and that was that.

Since then I've been trying to fit a lot into my life - working, mountain biking, skiing, climbing, road riding (which is mostly my work commute), occasional runnng, making glass crap, being a wife and a mother to my furry children -  and all the other things that life has to offer. I somehow envisioned myself doing sprint training and such silliness prior to the race, but I really don't feel like sprinting to or from shift work, and time is time. I do have a trainer, but I couldn't find it under the dust that settles on it.

Two weeks ago Andrew, Paul, Marc, Alex and I pre-rode the course - but I couldn't get an idea of how much time it would take based on the pre-ride because there was the usual group-ride stop and go. I did ride as fast as I dared on the downhills, and hurt myself on the uphills, and tried to remember where the bits are I might want to be aware of. And had a great day of course.  I've been riding my big fat bike  all winter, and because it's much better suited to the North Shore and Burke Mtn. behind us I really hadn't been on my little race bike, and this was my first ride on the little bike since the fall. I contracted a mild case of road rash up my leg and arm to remind me of some little details. Lesson learned.

I had "taper 2 weeks" - which meant I rode my little bike a few times to remember how not to crash it, and we went climbing and by last weekend I was soooo tired. Perfect. Time to rest up. Tuesday my mom came to visit from Ontario, and she and Marc were going to spend Saturday (race day) checking out the course. Marc checked, cleaned, fixed and prepped my pretty little bicycle all shiny and fast for race day.

Pre-race week was rainy and race day was lovely sunshine. This suited me very well so I wouldn't feel too guilty with my mom and Marc potentially stuck in pouring rain, and the trails were sticky and not too dusty. The start chute has signs based on expected finishing times, and was full of up-side down bicycles while the riders waited in the shade. This seems like a very easy way of organizing by skill, but it turned out there were a lot of optimists in the group. Paul had told me it took him 4 hours, so I put my bike in the 4:15 - 4:30 area. Then the riders filed in, and something told me I hadn't done this quite right....
There were a LOT of people in this.... 766 to be exact.

The start

Once the race started I started passing people - all the way up the pavement, up the hills, down the slight double track to the single track, where we leisurely meandered down the sketchy gravel hills with 90 degree corners. I had really worried about this section, since that I thought we'd all be ripping along with a take-no-prisoners approach, but no such scenario developed. Unfortunately there was no safe way of passing, and just had to relax and settle into the pace. On the good side, this meant that I was never racing faster than I felt comfortable, and the bloody mess I could have become going down in the gravel was averted. Down one particularly steep hill the gravel turned to super-loose and as I was catching the riders ahead of me I heard the rider behind suddenly skidding... skidding... branches breaking and then off he went into the forest. Since I didn't hear him scream I continued on. More carnage ensued later, which is part of the fun of racing!

As I popped out at Alice Lake Marc and my mom were there cheering me on - and it was very cool to see them! 

This is the picture of me coming up the road.

We dipped into more fast trails (where it also wasn't wide enough to pass anyone) and leisurely climbed uphill. Anyone that's ridden with me knows I'm not an up-hiller - I'm a down-hiller, so if I'm passing people on an uphill YOU ARE VERY SLOW. But - up - and then steep steep up where I finally passed people who were walking off the side of the trail now - and into the Corners - zipped along in a long line and back to trail - and down lovely flowy shady singletrack until we hit the bottom of Nine Mile Hill. 

The day was getting warm, and I filled my camelpack. Lots of racers had bottles - but given the number of bottles littering the trail after they bounced out of the bike cages I assume a lot of people may have been a bit thirsty. Nine Mile Hill on the pre-ride was not bad - long, with short downs, always more ups, then the bridge at the top and another granny-ring uphill - and it was shady, nice and cool....  Nine Mile Hill race day was a windless sunny oven of pain. And this is where my race actually started, since it was the first time I had space in front. I passed people all the way up, but was really busy trying to evaluate how hard I was pushing and whether I was going to get heat stroke or not. Near the top I was wondering if they make heart rate monitors with Body Temp gauges to warm you that this is stupid...  A lot of people just flamed out on the hill, walking in a long line up the steep parts. At the top a man hosed us down with a tanker truck of water, and I rode down a short hill and suddenly started shaking with cold. Luckily - there was a gentle uphill where I think everything kind of reset itself and I wasn't melting or freezing, and it was time to go downhill again.

The best downhill is the Powerhouse Plunge part - and I pulled out of the line and dropped my bike seat - and got passed by the 10 people directly behind me. Damn I thought, you better not all ride slowly....  But it turned out not to be an issue, as I rode down the sketchy drops through groups of fit - looking men stopped at the top of the steep bits peering over the edges. There were people riding, but suddenly there were giant gaps between people as the walkers separated out and we went through. I even got a few "you go girl!"'s  on the way from the line of spectators - and I had a blast. Steep, sticky trail, even the rocks weren't slippery this time. 1 dab, and 2 small skid-outs for the whole downhill had me pretty happy. 

I was grinning pretty hard at the bottom, and we headed along more single track to the feed station again. I was out of water and food - and gorged myself as fast as I could. One rider ahead of me abruptly fell off his bicycle as his leg cramped solid, and I drank so much water I felt like I was sloshing every time I hit a bump. More single track and more climbing. In the pre-ride I remember a forever long switchback climb, and although we did a few switchbacks up the hill I was saving myself for it. And saving myself, and then..... still waiting, riding along (always behind someone but now the riders were significantly faster) and waiting.....   and then we were out onto the road and the last rip to the finish.

The finish was in a bright sunny hot park with announcers, people, bicycles, food - and it's possible I may not have been feeling very well as I did ride hard the last hour and a half. I met up with my cheering squad (YAY!) and we got out of there as fast as possible. I would have loved to check results, or get the food they had for racers - but it was just too loud and overwhelming in the park. We went for Gelato (wonderful) and I ate the sandwiches we'd packed as we headed to the Squamish Chief campground. A short walk through the woods - over roots and rocks and uphill which my mom did as though every lady her age wanders over giant rocks all the time, and we met Laura, Luisa and Jason for a spot of bouldering. 

My Mommy!!! With Pippa and Cashew Catton

Marc focusing....

Unfortunately I hadn't thought to bring climbing shoes, being focused on sport #1. Fortunately Luisa leant me hers - and I got to play a bit as well.

My heel hooking the chalky edge. Luisa's shoes match my shirt - that's why I wore them. 

Laura on the "Cheesegrater" with demon eyes (not actually her fault, I don't believe the rumours that she really is a demon) 

Luisa Rockin' the overhang

Me Cheese-gratering

Jason showing off his amazing wingspan

We finally made it home around 9:30 pm. I sat there zombie-like while Marc made dinner, and was in bed by 10:30. Asleep by 10:31.

Now I have to quit typing because I have to google the other Squamish races, and see if any of them might meet my schedule. Don't tell Marc.

And then there was MUD

The most amazing and awesome.....

8th ANNUAL MUD RIDE!!!

I think we agreed it started in 2005 - but I don't quite know how to check that. I remember counting one year, and I think it was the 7th annual, and I think that was last year.......  but time is getting away on me and I'm not entirely sure. However, I think Matilda was about one year old when we had the first mud ride - and she turned 8 this year, so that would all correspond? Matilda's birthday is Nov 15th, and I think it's very appropriate that we have mud, friends, cake and bikes for her birthday party. After all, no one loves wet and mud and friends and cakes more than Mattie!!!

The first mud-ride didn't even know it was one, but after pouring rain, getting lost (only a bit, due to our really very new mountain bike status and a big group of avid riders) mud, cold, new and old friends and chocolate, we had a good idea going. 

I can't remember what year we had over 20 people in our little house in Comox - and amazing dry sunny weather. That sticks in my mind as the year Krista rode the giant structures at the bottom of Forbidden, still legendary in my mind since I haven't seen anyone repeat them. 

The next year was pure mud and rain. I'm convinced there was chocolate.....  

This was 2009....  in case anyone reading this thinks the mud ride is for gentle tootling around on bicycles, that may not be the case. This was a very memorable skid and slide through the snow down Forbidden Plateau trails. It was amazing!!! If a touch damp. 

2009 was also the year that Pippa arrived 2 hours before everyone from the mainland. This is Pippa that morning saying goodbye to her obviously larger siblings.....

Matilda looking fairly disgusted upon meeting the little squib

Mattie spent the rest of the weekend studiously ignoring Pippa, and Paul took a lot of amazing pictures that I still have to get sometime :o)

But by Monday night they were coming to an understanding of sorts.

2010 was a bit late due to the Comox emergency doctors trying to turn me into a uniped, and a December mudride was difficult to schedule with Mother Nature. We pushed up Cumberland in snow as high as we could and rode down, and Sunday was a Mt Washington ski day. Mixing sports seemed to be a good idea, although we haven't repeated it. 

2011 - the last Cumberland Mud Ride! The weather cooperated brilliantly, and many awesome trails and... chocolate ... followed. 

The Mud Ride tradition had no reason not to endure, for although we moved, there did seem to be some mud-making potential in them there hills behind our house. Unfortunately I neglected my picture taking, and I'm very happy Andrew took these and shared them! 

The Mud Ride started Friday night, in Comox tradition minus the ferry ride for Vancouver folks. Saturday morning was kind enough to pretend to have decent, or at least dry weather, just long enough for people to decide to come and ride - and then it began to pour rain. As we headed up Burke there were 11 riders, one runner, and one random rider that we picked up on the trail. Lucky 13!

We headed up to Sandanista, a trail that meanders around the hillside and through an amazing tree. 

This is Pippa showing off. 

The hydro line through Mission, Burke and SFU trails is being doubled, and there's been a bit of roadwork. I checked this area Tuesday to be sure we could get through, and it involved a bit of horizontal-tree walking and a skinny log over a soggy ditch. Kindly enough, BC Hydro has cleared the bike trail in the meantime, but apparently excavators are a little hard on water logged soil. The skinny log was gone, and down into the mudhole we went. 

We continued down Lower Triple Crown, which is a bit steep, then onto Slayer and progressively easier trails to the hairpin, then down the river-like Flywheel. As we headed down the PoCo trail to our house we had to stop and admire the little Bear that stood on the trail, then slowly headed into the creek to look at the offering of stinky salmon, and we headed to the house for bike washing, showers and food. 

Joan and Otis came over from the Island, and we gained another 6 or so people for dinner. An amazing potluck followed, and I think I was full before "dinner" actually started.  I had taken the opportunity of having many people to help eat to make a lethal chocolate concoction, which I have to say turned out rather well. Since every Mud Ride has had a significant amount of chocolate, it seemed necessary. The cookbook recommended being careful that I don't accidentally ignite the boiling sugar/bourbon concoction, and since it didn't burst into flames I figure I was successful. As usual there was more food than we could possibly eat, and there may have been a few bottles of beer consumed.  Matilda shared her birthday cake with good friends. 

Sunday came a bit early, but there was more biking to be had. Nine riders and three dogs headed out to Mission to ride the Woodlot, and after the usual uphill decided to lose elevation in rather quick style down Cabin to Snakes and Ladders, which is MUCH less sketchy dry than soaking wet. We did another quick trip up to Giant Killer and down the hillside to Shotgun and back to the parking lot. Michael was a bit upset that he missed doing one of the gap jumps, but some of us were pretty happy to be alive after all those slippery bridges and dodgy rock rides. 

Some more eating followed and then it was time for everyone to head back to reality. Unfortunately the reality of ferries was a bit horrendous as the powers that be decided not to run Joan and Michael's ferry until midnight due to wind and weather, which was decidedly less than kind. I slept really well that night, and didn't ride my bike again until Tuesday. 

MOMAR-ing

September..... Momar time.  Even though we haven't really run in a few months, and I've ridden my little bike once in the last few months, September and the Momar came to pass with no consideration for our pressed-for-time schedule. 

Marc and Joan first raced the Momar about 5 years ago, and there's something kind of addictive about this sufferfest! We've raced it several times since, as a team of four and two, and Burnaby in the spring was going to be our last Momar. 

What's really neat about the Momar is that there are an infinite number of ways you can make mistakes. The navigation legs add a dimension that forces the navigator to make a whole lot of decisions, and allows the rest of the team to practice shutting their mouth and running. I have no sense of direction, but since shutting my mouth is also not my forte, there's always a challenge.  Burnaby, thanks to a very tight orienteering course through SFU campus, and a poorly timed (well-timed? since we had to do Cumby as a result?) thunderstorm threatening to dissolve our map, we may have spent a few extra minutes (or an hour) running around in the rain. MOMAR Cumberland was the rematch! 

The really amazing thing about racing is running into so many familiar people - some people I see only at races but quite consistently, and there are also lots of old friends and riding buddies there, and race organizers that put such an astronomical amount of time and effort into these races and I'm slowly getting to know. The volunteers and extremely encouraging fellow racers add a great energy and positive spin on the effort the race takes, and every year I know more people and come away with all kinds of positive energy! 

Taper week - started with climbing, working overnight without being able to sleep, Marc working with Andrew on his kitchen until the last possible moment, the firm decision to have everything packed at least 2 days in advance....  On Thursday night we packed until around 10 pm, then I slept for an hour and went to work. Off work at 10, slept from 11am until 1 - then Marc was home from Andrew's and it was time to pack the car and get the super-awesome double surfski beast from Deep Cove Kayaks - and hit the ferry. Third last car to get on. PHEW doesn't describe it. Semi-coma in car, sign into Cumberland and head to Joan and Kevin's who they graciously offered to let us riff-raff hang out for the weekend. 

The morning of the race we got up nice and early, drank coffee with Joan and Kevin and then off to the start line. More frantic packing - hadn't we finished this part????? And down to get the map. Joan brought our dogs, Chris showed up to cheer, and we ran into quite a few other racers we know. Lynn even wore her super cool Big Dog jersey! And Pippa was recognized by a racer as the logo! 

Big Dog Biking Jerseys - aren't they AWESOME?  Looking rested, eager, and yes - I do need a haircut. And I have 15 minutes to post this before I have to get downtown and get one, so here goes! 

My tri shorts - look very stupid, but I've tried wearing running shorts over top but they get stuck on the bike seat. And what else can I wear that I can sit in a wet boat for an hour, ride a mountain bike 15 km, run 10 km and never notice them? They're awesome, so stop laughing. 

Start line - all the pretty boats

The double surfski was a gamble that the water would be calm and we would stay upright and be faster than a normal kayak. Not sure how that worked out - because we had to work ridiculously hard to stay upright....

The front seat is sort of a bucket seat sunk nice and deep. That's where the rudder controls are, and Marc can just reach the foot pedals. I have the back seat - which oddly enough is perched a lot higher and more precariously on the hull. I can just reach the pedals, and although the water looks nice and calm, the boat with the race director and photographers came past us about 6 times to get more pictures of racers - and the wake just about killed us. I actually completely swamped once, screamed twice, got rammed by the smart guys drafting us 4 times, and we couldn't catch the surfski just ahead to draft them for an easier ride. We definitely need to learn more about the boat. And I have tendonitis - again - which I knew halfway through the paddle but there was nothing to do other than PADDLE!!!!

We did make it out as the last surfski but before the kayaks, so a nice quick start and avoided the crush of boats when they all come in at once. Don't we look cool here?!

There's no pictures of the next 5 hours because we're running through the woods like little rabbits, then riding bikes.

After the kayak we hopped on our bikes and rode to the trails, and because we couldn't eat or drink in our stupid tippy boat I was feeling a little worse for wear. We chugged a lot of water and some 'tasty' sugary snacks on the way, and decided to ride up the road rather than the trails just to let our bodies replenish some energy. I think riding up the trail may have been faster, but at the time the road was the better decision. Up the double hill to the top of Baker's Dozen - oddly enough the double hill that I used to stop in the middle of for "recovery" was not actually all that hard.... must be the race adrenaline.

On with the runners, get a new map and start running. Uphill of course. This is the first MOMAR where I've seen a mandatory bushwack checkpoint, and I was so glad Marc as the navigator. We hit the trail to the first checkpoint, and as other people ran down to the main road and around Marc just headed straight through the trees in the middle of nowhere, about 5 minutes later we were on Grub - to the end and up a trail - and then he walked us right onto the checkpoint. Same thing again - along a bluff in the trees rather than running around - and up a hill where several friendly cheering volunteers guarded the next checkpoint. We headed down the bluff to the "rough trail" - plan was to hit that, turn right and there would be the bushwack checkpoint - but somehow the rough trail was still too unremarkable because we ran right over it. At the steeper hillside we turned right and explored the top of Cumberland Forest for longer than was pleasant, turned back and did the same again.....  until we finally came out at the checkpoint. Damn. The rough trail by now had a lot more footprints on it, and couldn't be missed....

Running along logging road, down a technical trail... more running....  more running.... more roots that grab my feet... more rocks to catch my fall... We zipped around other runners quite handily, and I liked the guy that said "watch your ankles here" thinking he was talking to his race partner, and we ran down trusting gravity and reflexes. Although passing all those people I felt fast and reckless I could never quite keep up to Marc, but he slowed occasionally and I would put on a sprint in the less death defying bits. Finally the last checkpoint, then up Stub for 10 minutes of uphill pain and down the road to the bikes. Yay!!! I love my bicycle....

More cheerful volunteers handing out water and tasty sugary things, and we headed up the hill to the top of Bucket of Blood. We chose the hike-a-bike rather than the road, and again, I'm not sure what the best way would have been. Marc's legs decided that this race would be a good time to cramp into little knots, and he may have uttered some choice phrases not entirely complimentary to MOMAR adventures.  Finally we hit the lake at the top and headed down the road - and who would we see at the intersection but Al and Terry! I loved seeing all the people I miss during this race - we couldn't have organized as good a reunion! Up the gravel road to the Switchback checkpoint - and to enter the draw I "had to" drink some (extremely tasty) beer. That hardship over with Marc headed downhill - from Switchback into Potluck onto Thirsty Beaver to Teapot and That Dam trail - the longest coolest downhill I could imagine!!!  The bridges were amazing, including the big bermed bridge and the rollercoaster, riding through the burnt out tree and past the giant stump carving - amazing work! The trail was perfect - a bit sticky and a jumpable pumpable cornery delight for a very long downhill run. Marc's legs kept cramping and occasionally shooting straight out over jumps and not coming back under him, so if I went slightly faster than I was comfortable and just enough that the trail was actually just a big blur around me - I could just stay on his wheel. We caught the short course racers including our friend Liz, who also cheered us on - and ripped at ridiculous speed to Allen Lake.

The mystery event at the Lake meant I had to swim with a pool noodle to a checkpoint out in the water while Marc stood up to his waist to punish his cramping legs. Back on land we headed out to Crafty Butcher and downtown Cumberland, then out to Comox Lake for the last orienteering leg.

Definitely looking a little more ragged....  Hour 5.

The last orienteering was a technical collection of hornets, steep uphill trails, steep downhill trails and thick brush. I walked across an 8 inch log 15 feet in the air just to avoid more uphill, which was kind of neat as other competitors bushwacked the gully under my feet. We were a bit tired and stupid, which unfortunately made us wander around repeatedly missing the hollow with one CP, but eventually we had them all and ran back out and to the finish line.

So many things can happen in a MOMAR. I think that must be part of what makes it such a great race! For all the mistakes, there were a lot of things that went right. And because of the mistakes we have to do it again - just to see if we can get it right!


Sunday we rode with friends and dogs - up to Upper Switchback and all the way down, then had an amazing dinner and a well deserved sleep.

Pippa watched the packing on Monday with dismay, having to leave all of Otis's toys behind. Otis refused to come out for a picture because Kevin had left for work without him, and he was sulking.

More friends, more visiting, great food by Chris and Darcee and then a rush for the ferry. And a sailing wait, just because. But we did make it home, and between writing I'm doing dishes, laundry, called my mother, got a haircut and had lunch. 

Marc's drawprize and our second place medal

The End