Buzz, Buzz

Picture of the day from yesterdays training paddle of me getting buzzed by a helicopter near Burrewarra Point. We had company with two friends along who are prepping for their own Bass Strait crossing and it was nice to have someone else to chat with. Conditions were easy, no real wind and only the usual lumpy current effects at Burrewarra Point. Effective training really is just doing what you don’t much feel like doing. I miss my solo trail runs and rock climbing, both of which have largely displaced by paddle training, but there is a prize at the end of the training cycle, and, as I’ve often quoted before “the goal is to keep the goal the goal.”

Faustian Bargains

I’ve brought my newest rock shoes, Evolv Shaman’s, to the crag. These shoes cost me, well, let’s just say a lot. A bit less than they are now (the Aussie dollar has crashed) but they were still eye-wateringly expensive. The Shaman’s are an “edging shoe” designed for standing on small edges on steep walls, which is exactly what we are doing today. Of course, they are not quite as good as my old Rockette’s, which is, I often think, a metaphor for life in the developed world. Maybe not quite as good as it used to be.

PC: H. Mutch

The world will never see another Rockette, not unless there is a revolution. Because a shoe, or any other piece of clothing or equipment called “Rockette” would be considered a sexist slur and no-one would buy them. It would be like making pink skis or backpacks, a sexist statement that assumes an assigned gender and is definitely misogynistic. The Rockette’s however, were awesome shoes. I could climb a grade or two harder when I put them on as I could balance on tiny little edges on steep walls, edges the size of a five cent piece on edge! About the only time when climbing that Doug would say “I just don’t know how you get your feet to stick.” It wasn’t me, it was the shoes.

I’ve still got a pair because I bought a couple of pair when they were on sale due to being “old stock.” They’ve been resoled, and are soft as a slippers now, with great strips of rubber rand hanging off and the leather heel box ripping, but I wear them on some routes and immediately feel invincible. It’s the shoes, it’s always been the shoes.

I’m not quite sure why the Shaman’s are not as good as the Rockette’s. We assume all progress is upward and linear, but I don’t think that is necessarily the case. Compared to my youth - I grew up in Australia - our cities are so much more crowded and congested. The roads are grid-locked day and night, medical care is scarce, hospitals are full, a house costs so much money that my friends and relatives with adult children wonder if their off-spring will ever be able to afford a regular house within reasonable commuting distance of work. Is that better?

We have more stuff. Some people have an awful lot of stuff, so much stuff they need extra storage space to keep the stuff. I know I don’t get out much, but I’ve never met a single person who was really happier or more fulfilled because they had more stuff. Somehow, the stuff people always need just one more piece of stuff to reach nirvana.

We also cook less and buy prepared meals more. That should make people healthier and happier, but instead Australian’s are sicker, fatter and weaker than ever before. Fifty percent of Australian’s have a chronic illness and most of those illnesses are caused by lifestyle. “Caused by lifestyle” is a lot like “collateral damage” in a war. It’s a nice way of saying a hard thing, a euphimism. Caused by lifestyle means you ate yourself sick and unwell because eating high reward foods was more important than living a long and healthy life. Apparently we can afford this lifestyle, and somehow, we think we have the wherewithall to pay for the consequences when we cancer, diabetes or ASCVD (atherosclerotic cardiovascular disease) impacts us decades later. It’s like a long-term payment plan to the devil. We are happy in the moment but when Lucifer comes to take his due, suddenly the deal does not seem like such a great bargain.

Perhaps, life is a bit like visualising the moves on a rock climb before you leave the ground. Working out where the rests are, where you can place protection, the clipping stance, the crux, where you can shake out, all these things make the climb easier, smoother, and might even make the difference between your hardest send and falling and failing. We need to visualise how the decisions we make today will impact us tomorrow. Our individual lives can be better than they were last year, but that will require some hard moves and sacrifices. It’s either that or a Faustian bargain.

Do What You Can

Conventionally, there are two main levers of training which can be adjusted: intensity and volume. Typically, if one increases, the other decreases. For a short period of time, even the weakest individual can survive high volume/high intensity training but catastrophic collapse looms the longer the athlete inhabits the pain cave. Conversely, low volume/low intensity without change can’t really be described as training as there is no progressive overload to drive adaptation.

But what if there were a third option for those that are not in a position to increase volume or intensity due to – for example, a pesky virus that is derailing your training plan? Enter “variability.” This is another “not new” concept that gets forgotten, and has to be rediscovered every decade or so.

Sunday, with a thick stuffed up head, there was no way I was going to increase either the intensity or volume of my training while still ill so instead, I added some variability by putting five kilograms (a trivial weight) in to my backpack for my morning walk. Same walk, same distance, same pace (zone 1 to 2) but, if you try it, you’ll feel a difference. Later that day, Doug and I went for an easy paddle out from our home bay and over to Cullendulla Creek where we paddled up this quiet and peaceful waterway.

It was otherwise a quiet and subdued training week. The final statistics: 39 kilometres on foot with 770 metres elevation gain, two core sessions, two strength sessions, 10 kilometres paddling (for shame!) and one kayak rolling session (short). Do what you can is not a bad adage.

The Inverted Pyramid

Most nutrition science is junk. See the recent headline scoring Harvard T. H. Chan School of Public Health study that according to the ideologically captured researchers supported the assertion that red meat consumption was linked to diabetes mellitus. There are so many problems with these spin-off studies that come from large data sources; the study in question comes from data collected during the Nurses Health Study wherein the dietary components were collected via survey every two to four years. In plain language that means that once in a blue moon, the participants were sent an enormously long questionnaire that asked them to recall how often they had eaten a particular item over the previous time period. If you think that sounds like a pretty shonky method of collecting data, you’d be right. The public can actually access all the questionnaires used during the Nurses Health Study here where it becomes clear to even the village idiot that any data produced from a survey that asks people to estimate “how often on average you have used the specified amount during the past year” produces data that is fit for the toilet only. I can barely remember what I ate yesterday let alone estimate an entire years worth of nutrition well after the fact.

It’s instructive to download one of the questionnaires and scroll down to Question 23 where the meat – pardon the pun – of the “meat causes diabetes” hypothesis comes from and note the categories that are included. Cod/halibut/haddock is in the same category as stew, casserole, lasagna or frozen dinner. Even ideologues can probably admit that a piece of grilled cod has nothing in common with a processed dinner bought from a supermarket freezer.

I haven’t even touched on the fallacy of over-analysing data like the Nurses Health Study where statistical significance is routinely defined as a p value of 0.05. Even though every basic statistics student understands that a p value of 0.05 means that 5 times out of a hundred the result achieved which confirms your hypothesis is actually false. The data from Nurses Health Study has featured in literally hundreds if not thousands of studies which means that many of the studies claiming significant support for the tested hypothesis are simply wrong. This sort of corruption of the intent of statistics should be outlawed but has unfortunately become more and more common.

Do you have a budgie, gerbil or guinea pig? If so, take all publications resulting from the Nurses Health Study or any other long questionnaire study and use the pages to line the bottom of the cage and move on.

This study, however, is really interesting. Now, the usual caveats apply, small study (only 10 participants), all women, etc. but, unlike the “meat causes diabetes” study, the hypothesis behind this study is methodogically and biologically sound. You should read the study, although it could be a challenging read for those without a medical background (remember challenge is good!), but the basic argument is that nutritional ketosis (defined in the study) is associated with anti-aging, anti-disease factors. In the study, a 21 day reversal of nutritional ketosis led to an increase in body weight, fat mass, insulin secretion and various pro-inflammatory blood measures. A return to nutritional ketosis over 21 days reversed these changes.

This has implications not only for the development of cardiovascular disease and Alzheimers Disease (probably a manifestation of metabolic dysfunction) but also the development of various forms of cancer. Given that progress in treating these major health disorders (CVD, AD, cancer) has advanced remarkably little in the last several decades, prevention is absolutely much more important than treatment (there is no cure). I won’t say that maintaining nutritional ketosis is easy in the modern world, and it’s certainly made more difficult by the fact that well-meaning but ultimately misguided health experts continuously talk about eating more grains and fruits and less nutrient dense animal flesh, but if you simply turn Nutrition Australia’s Healthy Eating Pyramid upside down, you’ll be on the right track.

I Don't Have Time For Fun

“I don’t have time for fun” I replied grumpily. And it was true. Andy Kirkpatrick. Cold Wars.

I often think this is me, the person, who is retired and retired young with no family and no responsibilites, but somehow does not have time for fun. At the end of each day, I ask the question - a subtle rework of Dan John’s “Did you get better today?” - “Did I get closer to my goals today?” The answer does not require any PR’s or PB’s (or whatever the latest lexicon is) but I try, at a minimum to do at least one thing each day that gets me closer to my goals. Often times, that rules out things done solely for fun, because even retired people with minimal responsibilites have other things that need doing.

Training on a train

Most folks have trouble understanding this. Even Doug, whose been with me as a soul mate, best friend, climbing partner and sea kayak fellow adventurer for 35 years finds this intensity hard to bear at times.

Training on stairs

Right now I have a cold, or virus, whatever you want to call it. I’ve had it for almost a week, and, up until today it was full speed ahead; although, admittedly, I was feeling pretty fatigued and in bed by 8:00 pm every night. According to those silly plastic tests the government spent a fortune on, it’s not the ‘rona, so I am still a proud novid (my time is limited I reckon) which is a minor source of unwarranted pride. Being a novid, as much as I’d like to think it is due to my mostly meat diet, is likely more luck than anything else.

Training at the local playground

This is the first time I’ve been ill since September 2012 when we flew into Australia from Canada. I caught, as many of us do on aeroplanes, some kind of virus on the flight and was sick for a week or so. When I realised last Thursday I’d got a cold/virus, my first thought was “Damn, another two years and I would have gone 15 years without having a single illness. Wouldn’t that have been something.”

Summit four or five in the Adamant Range

When I mentioned this to Doug, he laughed. What I wanted him to say was something along the lines of “Don’t ever change.” But what he actually said was “That is so like you. When we would climb seven mountains in a day you’d always say ‘We should have climbed eight.” I’ve never actually done seven mountains in a day but I have had a few good days when we climbed four or five and one fantastic week in the Adamant Range in British Columbia where, over 5 days we climbed 11 peaks including four in one day. We really should have done five.

All photo credits: DB

On A Collision Course With A Lighthouse

Most people have heard or read the urban legend where a US naval ship is pitted against Canadian authorities off the coast of Newfoundland. It’s an old story, more parable than epic tale with multiple variations, that has been floating around for over 100 years in one version or another. The most commonly cited version, for folks living in an actual cave, runs thus:

Actual transcript of a US naval ship with Canadian authorities off the coast of Newfoundland in October, 1995. This radio conversation was released by the Chief of Naval Operations on 10-10-95.

Americans: "Please divert your course 15 degrees to the North to avoid a collision."

Canadians: "Recommend you divert YOUR course 15 degrees to the South to avoid a collision."

Americans: "This is the captain of a US Navy ship. I say again, divert YOUR course."

Canadians: "No, I say again, you divert YOUR course."

Americans: "THIS IS THE AIRCRAFT CARRIER USS ABRAHAM LINCOLN, THE SECOND LARGEST SHIP IN THE UNITED STATES' ATLANTIC FLEET. WE ARE ACCOMPANIED BY THREE DESTROYERS, THREE CRUISERS AND NUMEROUS SUPPORT VESSELS. I DEMAND THAT YOU CHANGE YOUR COURSE 15 DEGREES NORTH. THAT'S ONE-FIVE DEGREES NORTH, OR COUNTER MEASURES WILL BE UNDERTAKEN TO ENSURE THE SAFETY OF THIS SHIP."

Canadians: "This is a lighthouse. Your call."

My readers are astute enough to recognise that the story is a metaphor for the dangers of an inflexible attitude, self-importance and hubris. Some commentators also use the story to illustrate the importance of situational awareness.

For me, the story has always been about changing course. If the data you are collecting – and you should be collecting data – does not indicate that you are moving towards your goals, a course correction is required. The only ship that steers directly into a lighthouse is one captained by an pillock.

I try not to comment on politics, religion or gender issues, which is why my blog often appears to have been written by a self-obsessed half-wit. I don’t comment because these issues have become so fraught in the modern world where a significant chunk of the population has lost the ability to separate the individual from the opinion. A world where people are way too quick to jump to conclusions about the motives and intent of other people of whom they have no true knowledge and where facts are too often confused with opinion. Most of the ideas – including all of medical science - that we accept as facts are really just opinions as there is very little – apart from mathematics and possibly some of physics – which we can actually prove. We certainly cannot prove racism, sexism, ageism, ableism or any other ism including man-splaining. Although I do feel as if I have suffered woman-splaining in the past.

Now that the Voice vote is over, surely a relief to both sides of the political spectrum, the inevitable dissection of the vote has commenced. This has ranged from outright calls of rampant racism and a voter body with the IQ equivalent to their shoe size, to more nuanced opinions trying to unravel the complexity of the issue. In keeping with my self-obsessed half-wit status, I’m not even going to attempt to explain why the yes vote, which started with a majority crashed to an unwinnable position over the course of a year and a bit. What was frustrating to watch was the absolute inability of the yes campaign to change course despite the obvious and repeated evidence that the ship was heading for a lighthouse.

Blowing The Whistle And Other Lessons Learnt

“Too many trip leaders use the whistle like a referee,” said Rob as we were paddling east out of Port Hacking towards Port Hacking Point and Jibbon Bombora. I almost laughed out loud. I have been on the occasional trip with leaders whose desire to control every fart in the group means that the whistle blows every few minutes whether required or not. In such circumstances, a paddler is either driven to confiscate the offending whistle to render it off-limits or just to ignore the bloody thing in the hopes that it will stop. One on trip, I can remember a friend saying “I’d like to take that whistle and …” well, you get the picture. Around about the 10^th whistle blow of the day, I certainly concurred.

I’m still working towards Sea Guide certification which means “gaining experience.” Gaining experience, as everyone knows, is actually making lots of mistakes and hopefully learning from your mistakes. It’s an essential part of any outdoor adventurers education and generally has to be done by trial and error. “Why didn’t they listen to me?” is the oft-repeated refrain of the more experienced but many of us – perhaps most? - simply have to make mistakes ourselves to learn from them.

Years ago, when we lived in Calgary and were weekend warriors in the Rocky Mountains, I organised a trip to climb four peaks in a day. We would all park at the terminus of Highway 66 in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains and Doug and I would ride mountain bikes up Big Elbow River Valley and stash our bikes near the base of Banded Peak. We would climb Banded Peak, traverse ridges to Outlaw Peak, continue along to Mount Cornwall and finally Mount Glasgow. Our two friends would ride their mountain bikes up Little Elbow Creek and stash their bikes at the base of Mount Glasgow and they would traverse the route in reverse. By my calculations we would meet up somewhere between Outlaw and Cornwall to swap instructions on how to find the respective bikes.

All went well except, our friends never showed up. Doug and I climbed Banded Peak, Outlaw Peak (twice, once on the way back) and Cornwall Peak and waited and waited yet no climbers came along the ridge. Our friends had very poor route finding ability and, despite us having spent the last three or four years trying to get them to learn how to read a map and navigate terrain, they preferred to simply follow us around. They were lost. Very lost. So lost that it took them 12 hours to eventually reach the summit of Mount Glasgow by which time they had completely circumnavigated the mountain and had finally climbed the mountain via a sketchy route on the east side of the mountain instead of the west side. One of our friends, despite our advice “Why didn’t they listen?” had brought his dog and the sharp talus had cut the pads on the dogs paws to shreds so that the dog was reduced to a hobble.

Doug and I, after retracing our entire route, got back to the car park at 5:00 pm (we’d left around 7 am) to find two lone cars (ours and theirs) in the parking lot. We had no food left over and had been on the move for 9 of the last 10 hours, but nevertheless, I got on my bicycle and rode up Little Elbow Creek to try and find my friends. Doug alerted the rangers. I found no bikes, no sign of anyone, despite getting off my bike frequently to search the woods beside the trail, so returned to the car park. At 10 pm, the ranger who had a key to the locked gate on the forest trail, drove back into the parking lot with two very tired, very sheepish climbers, and a dog with bleeding paws. Later, talking to my friends, we asked if they had any spare clothing, or a compass – I know they had a map because I had given them the map – or any gear in the event of a night out. Between them they had one cotton sweatshirt, one jacket, and, of course, one dog – which might be useful for cuddling for warmth on sub-zero Rocky Mountain night at altitude in late September. It was a lesson they had to learn for themselves.

And, over the two days I led trips (under supervision) at our club’s AGM, I learnt some lessons too. My trip planning was very slack, which is weird really because I have been known to be an obsessive trip planner with bearings and back bearings, checkpoints and boundary lines, food, water, regroup locations, all sorted ahead of time. Additionally, I was not perfectly clear in my instructions (I dislike telling adults what to do), possibly because I was not exactly clear in my own mind. At the end of the day, however, nobody capsized or needed towing or wandered off – a real plus compared to previous trips, and everyone, including myself had a pretty good time. Bonus points for not blowing the whistle once!