Do You Really Believe That?

I want to believe. Fox Mulder, The X Files

Last night, my smart young niece – it makes me feel old to lay claim to a niece starting university today – was telling us a story about a friend of hers who had gone to Cambodia and, apparently, descended on multiple zip lines into a jungle valley, stayed overnight, then climbed out on a 300 metre Via Ferrata, that had the rungs too far apart for her to comfortably reach. An interesting tale, but, a tale none the less.

When I hear these apocryphal stories which, whilst perhaps containing a kernel of truth are clearly exaggerated beyond rational belief, I am astonished that intelligent people actually believe them.

Zip lines are expensive to build and maintain, and, the average tourist might happily descend one, or perhaps even two, but to descend multiple zip-lines over a long distance would not only consume more hours than exist in a day, but would be beyond the physical ability of all but the fittest tourists. Tourists in good enough physical condition for such an activity are not paying a tour guide to take them about but are off on their own adventure.

Climbing 300 metres on a Via Ferrata is similarly beyond the ability of the average tourist, unless the angle was closer to 20 degrees than 90 degrees – in which case one has to wonder why a Via Ferrata would be necessary. Sustained climbing up a Via Ferrata at any angle approaching vertical is actually a strenuous activity requiring far more upper body and core strength than the average person possesses. Even moderately well conditioned climbers used to climbing and stronger than average are routinely crushed when climbing the aid pitch on Smith Rock's Monkey Face.

The only explanation I can find for this incredible show of facile gullibility among erstwhile intelligent people is that they really have no comprehension of what the activity involves and so cannot assess the validity of whatever story is being promulgated. Anyone who has tried rock climbing or even attempted to grind out a few dead-hang pull-ups would be immediately sceptical of such claims. Even if one were to discount the fitness involved, moving even one or two people through challenging terrain such as described in this story would take a long, long time, moving half a dozen people, all of whom are fumbling with unfamiliar harnesses and sundry gear could be measured in geologic time.

From an entertainment perspective, there is nothing enjoying a tall tale, just don't view the story as a documentary.

Monkey Face in Smith Rocks

Where Are All The People?

During our recent, and reasonably extensive, nine weeks travelling around southern NSW and eastern Victoria, we spent almost all our time in National Parks, Coastal Reserves, Conservation Areas or similar. In other words, we were out and about in the areas of the country where you would be most likely to see other people hiking (or walking as it is called in the land of Oz), kayaking, canoeing, or just generally being physically active. Some of our trips, such as the Nadgee-Howe wilderness walk or the Light to Light walk are world class multi-day backpacks and the waters around Nooramunga/Corner Inlet are about as ideal as you can get for ocean kayaking – plentiful and exotic bird and marine life, clear and protected waters, literally dozens of beach front campsites - touring with an ocean kayak just doesn't get any better.

But where were all the people? If any of these trips had been in Canada, there would have been many other people hiking or kayaking. Some trips, in fact, would have been so popular that a lottery system would be used to allocate spots along the route. Yet, in Australia, we saw virtually no-one. Well, that's not quite true, we would always know when we were within 5 to 10 minutes of some road side access because we would see people. Other than that, the country/ocean side was virtually vacant (with the exception of power boaters).

From an outsiders perspective, and, despite being born in Australia and now returning to live here, I still consider myself an outsider, Australians appear, on the whole to be much less active than Canadians. Repeated studies have shown that participation in physical activity among Australians is declining every year and, while some 50 to 70% of Australians (depending on the survey) report engaging in physical activity, that same 50 to 70% consistently over-estimates their level of physical activity by as much as 50% compared to objectively measured levels. Canadians participate at about the same rate as Australians but participation in physical activity is actually increasing in Canada, not declining.

Australians do seem to like the outdoors, every weekend and school holiday sees them out in throngs packing the local campgrounds to a much greater extent than Canadians (perhaps the more benign climate encourages more camping), but, all the Aussies seem to do when they are camping is sit. Well, again, that's not quite true, sometimes they lie. What they don't do in significant numbers or to a significant extent is engage in physical activity.

There are hard-core Australians out there – I've even met some of them – climbers who've gone to the US to climb big wall routes, kayakers crossing Tasman Strait from Victoria to Tasmania, cyclists racking up 400 km rides in 24 hours, but the average Australian just doesn't seem to believe in doing anything much of anything.

The quixotic thing about Australia is that there are gyms everywhere – even small towns will have a gym, and around the Sutherland area, there must be a dozen gyms within walking distance (if, of course, anyone actually walked) of each other. There are almost as many gyms as there are pubs and pie shops, and that's a large number! Yet, despite all these opportunities to exercise, very little seems to actually get done. At some point, each individual and the country as a whole, is going to suffer serious consequences of this population wide sloth.

Deserted beach on the Light to Light walk

Nine Weeks of Wonder

Exactly nine weeks ago we left the Cave to spend the summer in southern NSW and eastern Victoria. We took two single sea kayaks (Prijon Marlins), some hiking gear and a few clothes. Out of 63 days, we spent only two nights sleeping indoors, swam, at least once each day, on 60 of those days and tallied up about 30 days in the kayaks. A full chronicle of our adventures would take too long too write, too long to read, and would reduce glowing sunsets, clear aquamarine waters, a profusion of wildlife, and too many magical moments to count to a tedious list, and yet, I feel compelled to describe some of the highlights of those nine weeks.

Near Kangaroo Valley in NSW's southern highlands we paddled up the Kangaroo River to Lake Yarrunga and the Shoalhaven River which pierces the wild Morton National Park along calm waters dwarfed by giant sandstone cliffs rising 500 metres above us. We swam in the Shoalhaven River, fought off habituated wallabies and watched the moon rise over the surrounding cliffs. A day later, we descended Bungonia Gorge, scrambling among the house sized blocks between the narrow gorge walls of limestone to pass aquamarine pools along the river to reach the confluence with the Shoalhaven River, where we camped on a sandy river shore and swam in the warm water. 

Morning Mist Kangaroo River

In western NSW, we visited the iconic Dog on the Tucker Box, before launching our kayaks into the fast flowing waters of the Murrimbidgee River and followed it downstream on its twisting, turning journey to Wagga Wagga. We camped each night by the river banks, dipped into the cold waters and listened to the screech of Sulfur Crested Cockatoos morning and night.

From Thredbo in Australia's Snowy Mountains we hiked from the valley floor to the top of Mount Koscuiszko through open alp-lands with wide open views over the surrounding mountains and enjoyed peaceful camps by the clear waters of the Snowy River. The Main Range track took us past small alpine tarns, over numerous peaks and by clear running streams. In hot weather, we kayaked the fresh waters of Jindabyne Lake, camping on a sandy beach, swimming in the warm clear water and watching a spectacular sunset. 

Murrumbidgee Sunset

On the beautiful Sapphire Coast of southern NSW, we walked the Light to Light Walk through Ben Boyd National Park from Boyds Tower to Green Cape along the stunning red rock coast-line where we slept by the beach and listened to the deafening cry of cicadas in the night.

The tiny town of Wonboyne, 200 residents, lies at the edge of the Nadgee Nature Reserve and, after a Wonboyne Whopper at the only store in town, we walked to the Merrica Ranger Station, camped for the night, then spent three days on the spectacular Nadgee-Howe Wilderness Walk. We hiked through tunnels of melaleuca forest, across coastal heathland, and along deserted white sand beaches with the surf crashing on to the shoreline. A truly wild and wondrous coastline. Emerging three days later at Mallacoota in Croajingalong National Park with azure waters, prolific marine and bird-life, and the calm waters of the inlet offset by the Tasman Sea pounding onto the endless sand beaches, we spent two more days paddling our kayaks around Mallacoota through calm mornings with boundless fish splashing and on into windy and wild afternoons.

Dramatic Sky on the Nadgee-Howe

Victoria's coastline abounds with inlets, estuaries and bays, and from Mallacoota, we travelled west and paddled in Tamboon Inlet, camping by a small saltwater lagoon separated from the pounding surf on 90 Mile Beach by a narrow strip of land. Pelicans floated in the lagoon as sun set.

In Victoria's Alpine National Park we spent two days walking along the high country among snow gums. From Mount Feathertop we hiked through the alpine along The Razorback, then descended a steep trail to the Owens River and a welcome swimming hole. At nearby Mount Buffalo National Park we wandered through giant granite boulders and past deep granite gorges, before detouring back up to Alpine National Park to hike to the top of Mount Bogong, Victoria's highest mountain. 

 Burnt Snow Gums Near Feathertop

Back on the coast, we wandered long beaches near Cape Liptrap with the morning fog hanging over the sea, kayaked through twisting mangrove channels on Anderson Inlet among hundreds of swans, pelicans, ibis, oyster-catchers, herons and other birds. In nearby Western Port, we paddled to French Island and breakfasted on a sand spit surrounded by sea birds, camped by the ocean and wandered old ruins by the sea-shore. On Phillip Island we hiked around Cape Woolamai past scavenging echidnas and explored the rugged and rocky coastline of The Nobbies where seals bask on the offshore islands.

Using Victoria's excellent public transit system we took the V-line bus into cavernous and bustling Flinders Street Station in downtown Melbourne. For a couple of country bumpkins, Flinders Street Station was nothing short of amazing with 80 or so bus bays below ground and literally a dozen rail-lines above ground with trains travelling all over Melbourne, out to the suburbs, into the country and interstate. Melbourne also has a fabulous tram system which is free around the downtown core and worth riding just to see all the gorgeous old granite buildings around the city. 

Morning on the southern tip of the mainland

At the southern tip of Victoria, we hiked for three days through Wilson's Promontory National Park visiting the most southerly point of the Australian mainland, camping by white sand beaches with azure waters and riding our boogie boards in the gentle surf.

The massive and wild Nooramunga Marine and Coastal Park is an amazing protected waterway containing over 40 sand islands and separated from the pounding surf of the Tasman Sea by narrow strips of sand. We camped for five nights on different islands and spent the days paddling through the clear waters as rays glided under our kayaks, hundreds of sea birds took flight with a thundering of wings, and soldier crabs seemed to number more than grains of sand on the beach. 

Soldier Crabs

At Gippsland Lakes, we caught tail winds east through the islands and battled head winds up Bunga Arm to camp with 90 Mile Beach and the surf of the Tasman Sea on one side, and the sheltered waters of Lake Victoria on the other. North of Bairnsdale, we followed the twisting Mitchell River from Angusvale south to the Den of Nargun, ending a long days hike by swimming in deep pools of fresh water.

In Cape Conran National Park, we walked deserted 90 Mile Beach from East Cape to Point Pearl and swam in the cold clear waters of the Tasman before launching the kayaks at Bemm River and paddling across Sydenham Inlet to follow a narrow twisting channel through drowned melaleuca harbouring plentiful sea birds to Swan Lake.

From the fishing village of Eden, we paddled rolling swells on Twofold Bay and explored narrow nooks and crannies among rock reefs watching fish swimming through the kelp forests in the clear green water. In Bournda National Park, we camped by Wallagoot Lake and went paddling at dawn, accompanied only by dozens of black swans, then walked the Kangarutha Track from tiny Kianninny Bay to Hobart Beach where we swam in the ocean after our days hike.

Morning Mist on the Sapphire Coast

North of Tathra, we paddled up the Bega River as the water changed from clear green to river brown and into Blackfellow Lagoon where fish jumped constantly from the water, and then returned swimming off a sandy beach in the clear salt water.

In the Eurobodalla we walked the coast-line from Tuross Beach to Congo, along the Bingie Dreaming Track, an aboriginal dreaming track, past sea weed strewn beaches with a three metre swell crashing onto the beach and sea mist hanging in the air. Rock platforms at Wasp Head revealed starfish, anemones and small fish in the rock pools and strange geologic formations – ironstone box and gorgeous sandstone cliffs arrayed with colours and sculpted by wind and wave into gracious curves.

At Batemans Bay, we rode a tidal rip into the river and surfed our kayaks in a small swell. And, finally, on a morning kayak in Jervis Bay off a deserted white sand beach we paddled among pods of dolphins listening to their whooshing breath and watching their graceful sleek curves as they cut the clear green waters. A captivating end to 63 days of wonder. 

Dolphin in Jervis Bay

Eat Real Food

I remember, with horror, my days as a Carbo Crashing Junkie (CCJ) when I ate the standard “healthy” diet prescribed by practitioners throughout the western (entire?) world, full of “healthy whole grains.” A diet, I now recognize in retrospect was loaded with calorie dense, highly glycemic and highly palatable (read, you eat more and more and more) food guaranteed to, among other ills, cause metabolic syndrome. There is no doubt that, like trickle down economics, the standard western diet has failed miserably at achieving a healthy population. Rates of obesity, metabolic syndrome, diabetes, heart disease and more, are now endemic in the western world, affecting at least two thirds of the population base.

The standard advice to exercise more and lose weight through a low fat calorie controlled diet is doomed to failure when the standard diet, focusing as it does on carbohydrate dense foods serves only to make people hungrier and hungrier as insulin spikes, then falls, then spikes again. The only answer is to reduce the amount of carbohydrate in the diet, particularly calorie dense carbohydrates that are promoted as a weight loss strategy by well intentioned but clueless practitioners.

Here in Australia, fatness is epic. I rarely see a slim Australian. What I do see are Australians whose entire diet is composed of various grains (in all their myriad forms, from breads to pastas to rice to noodles), calorie dense but nutrient poor starchy vegetables (the ubiquitous white potato), and an excess of treats. I am astonished at the amount of biscuits, cakes, pies, ice-creams, muffins, and other goodies that Australians eat. A treat is “an event that is out of the ordinary and gives great pleasure”, all those treats should be just that, treats, eaten sparingly, not at every snack and every meal. Even in my days as an unenlightened CCJ, I only ate treats sparingly, like one biscuit or a small serving of ice-cream per day.

Here in Oz, breakfast is some calorie dense, carbohydrate junk (frequently advertised under the “healthy whole grain” logo), followed by biscuits and cake for morning tea, capped a couple of hours later with some other calorie dense, carbohydrate crap (a thin slice of lettuce or tomato might accompany the “meal”). Then, as blood sugar inevitably crashes two hours later, some more biscuits, muffins, ice-creams, are consumed, followed in a brief two hours by dinner with, no doubt, white potato, rice, noodles, and possibly a very small amount of green vegetables.

It makes me crazy to watch. Some people seem to get away with it and are not too grossly obese, just mildly plump, others are big as buses. What they all share, plump and obese, is weight around the midsection, one of the cardinal signs of metabolic syndrome and the worst possible place to carry excess weight. The absolute disregard for their own health appals me. I worry about just sitting an excess amount of time on days when I can't be moving around all the time or missing my regular yoga session; these people are slowly (?rapidly) killing themselves and they don't care.

Some days I just want to scream at them all 'EAT REAL FOOD!'

Protein powered, tucking in to bacon and eggs before a ski day

at the Caribou Cabin

Muscle Up

Everyone has their own climbing style, Doug's is cautious and controlled with good technique, mine is way too slow and given to thrutching, and some people muscle up using brute strength. Women typically climb with better style and technique than men as their less muscular bodies don't allow them to haul their way brutishly up climbs. But, as always, there are exceptions to every rule. Yesterday, climbing with a new friend at Bangor, I saw, for the first time that I can remember in all my years of climbing, a female who muscles her way up climbs relying on big muscles to overcome technique.

It's interesting and often instructive watching other climbers. Sometimes you can learn new ways of doing things, sometimes you can recognize in others things you are doing wrong – such as climbing "like you poo and not like you screw" – and sometimes, it's just kinda interesting to see someone's style so clearly. Like my new female friend, who muscles up routes making use of big arm and shoulder muscles.

Doug showing good form on an overhanging climb at Bangor

Happy Holidays

Go here for our annual Christmas letter, a bit brief this year due to time constraints.  Best of the season to y'all. 

20 Grams, 10 Down, 2 Weeks

It's been two weeks since the 20 g netcarbohydrate experiment started, and I'm down 10 pounds with no significant hunger, fatigue or energy loss. Apart from the metallic taste in my mouth (sign of ketosis), I feel great, and have been continuing to do all my activities and work-outs. Apart from the tedium of measuring out cups of lettuce, the experiment has been remarkably easy. I think I screwed up the first week by eating too much protein and too little fat, but, since I cut down the protein and added in things like mayonnaise, avocados, cream, cream cheese, and flax seed, I've been pretty consistently in ketosis. My plan is to carry on for one more week and then start gradually increasing my carbohydrate intake until I reach my individual tolerance level.

Our weekend paddling Pittwater provided a stark contrast between the Fat Adapted Cruisers (FAC's) and the Carbohydrate Crashing Junkies (CCJ's). The CCJ's are overweight and overfat, need to eat every two hours (high carbohydrate foods, of course), and seem to have barely enough energy to get through the day, while the FAC's cruise along eating just three times a day and have plenty of energy to run laps (paddle laps) around the CCJ's. I probably ate a quarter of the calories of the CCJ's yet expended four times the energy and am about four times as lean. A good rule of fours. 

Fat Adapted Cruiser in the foreground