In which I join my partner as he goes from the couch to…5K.
Today was the first of the planned 27 outings and all went well at my old familiar haunt of China Creek Park. There were no bees in the fountain, no dogs getting under my feet and tripping me, no meteors suddenly crashing down from the sky. It was, in fact, sunny and mild (around 10ºC), if a bit breezy. We both lost something during the run. At the very start Jeff’s iPhone spontaneously detached itself and went tumbling to the ground. Fortunately he has it inside a plastic case designed to withstand the impact of a nuclear bomb, so it came out unscathed. The aforementioned wind whisked the cap off my head, forcing me to retreat to pick it up. Luckily it didn’t turn into one of those tragicomic episodes where the cap keeps getting rolled along the ground by the wind until it eventually ends up in traffic and smooshed by a series of 18 wheelers passing over it.
No official times/distances to report yet. This week’s workouts consist of alternating 90 seconds of jogging with 60 seconds of walking for 20 minutes. Here’s hoping I manage to avoid yet another injury while getting back up to speed.
The best part of hiking the 2.5 hours we did on a segment of the Baden Powell trail today on the North Shore was probably the weather. It was the first time it’s been warm enough to go sans jackets. In fact, I could have worn shorts and been just as comfy.
The first half of the hike or so was fine, despite our primary destination being a place called Mosquito Creek. After 20 minutes or so I dubbed the path we were on The Snake as it was very undulating, winding left and right and also moving up and down regularly through gulleys, with relatively dense forest that afforded no real views (we did get to one near someone’s private residence that gave a decent view across to Vancouver). After crossing a large footbridge the trail shifted as it began to ascend along a narrow and rock-strewn path. In fact it was so narrow and rock-strewn that the constant looking down and carefully placement of my feet began to give me mild vertigo. As I have a sense of balance that would best be described as ‘not all there’ I felt fortunate not to plunge to my doom or at the very least stub a toe. We kept on for some time at a slow pace, picking our way among the roots and rocks. By the time we forded another stream by crossing a fallen log I was about ready to turn back. Fortunately I had to be home to feed the dog so I had a convenient excuse at the ready!
Here is the only picture taken on the hike — by Jeff, as I took none. The detail isn’t sufficient to really see the ‘Are we there yet?’ look on my face and looking at this, it occurs to me that a bright red shirt is probably the wrong color to be wearing as bears start coming out of hibernation.
All in all this was not a hike I’m eager to repeat, as too much of it felt more like climbing rather than hiking and I want to hike, darn it.
I keep my digital camera in my pack/man purse so it’s always handy if I want to grab a picture of something while I’m out and aboot. While at work, the man purse sits under my desk, tucked beside the plastic box that holds my phone headset and a few notebooks. Last night as per usual I went for my half hour break, doing so one floor up in the 9th floor lunchroom. It is the only time during the shift that the man purse is left unsupervised, apart from a few quick jaunts to the washroom.
Today before work I pull out assorted clutter from the pack so it will be nice and tidy. I notice that the zippered pocket containing the camera seems to be camera-less. I check again and it is indeed gone. I know it was in there as I distinctly recall putting it back in after uploading the hiking photos a few days ago. The camera, it seems, was gently removed from my possession by someone at my workplace — either a co-worker or one of the cleaning staff, likely while I was on my lunch break. They would have had no idea the camera was in there, they just saw the pack and rooted through it, unquestioned by anyone else nearby, apparently. I have no illusions of ever seeing that camera again. I am equally disappointed and angry with my fellow humans.
Since I discovered this theft about a half hour before work, I was not in the best of moods for my shift. As it turned out, I would witness someone later in the evening in a much worse mood.
Tale #2:
The bus ride home from work was interesting — though nothing was stolen this time. Instead of the usual route out of downtown there was a detour down Hastings Street, with police cars a-plenty and several large swaths of street/sidewalk behind police tape but no sign of why the tape was there. I am guessing a stabbing with the perp still on the loose (update: turns out I was correct, though the suspect was caught). Once we passed this puzzling possible crime scene we picked up additional passengers: a set of about a half dozen or so early 20-somethings with some kind of light (lite?) faux punk thing happening, and a pair of heavyset men (more fat than muscle from what I could see).
These groups sat or stood in the front half of the bus. I was in one of the seats in the back, sitting next to a co-worker who lives in the same neighborhood as I do. We are quietly conversing when a rather loud conversation begins in the front part of the bus. It seemed the two groups that got on were exchanging varying levels of vitriol. One of the heavyset guys kept taunting the ‘white boy’ with ‘Last stop! Last stop! Last stop!’ with the then carefully explained threat that that is where he would beat the crap out of him. White boy (who probably weighed about 200 pounds less) murmured things back that I could not hear. The girls in tow looked somewhat alarmed at the events unfolding.
After several minutes of increasingly loud taunts and threats, the bus pulled into the stop at 12th and Clark — a tantalizingly seven blocks from my stop. And there it sat. The driver got up, walked over to Large Threatening Guy and told him, ‘This is the last stop.’ He made it clear that some people would be walking if the tone of the conversation didn’t take a turn for the kinder and gentler.
This did not happen.
The bus rider returned to his seat. Large Threatening Guy went to DEFCON 1 and promised to murder Skinny White Boy at the last stop. At this point I really was content to walk those last seven blocks but the developing altercation was square in front of the rear exit. I am thin but not thin enough to squeeze out of a bus window. So I sat and watched where developments would go.
The friend of LTG got off the bus and gingerly tugged on his ill-tempered buddy, managing to coax him partly through the door. Large Threatening Guy suddenly snapped and shot back in and quickly delivered a punch to Skinny White Boy. The crowd on the bus ravished, like the audience at a gladiatorial fight. Those standing shifted position, some striking defensive poses, others girding for the coming battle.
Instead, the friend of LTG successfully pulled his friend off the bus and the rear doors closed, leaving them to taunt from the sidewalk as the rain pelted down on them. The faux punk group all tittered in the same way people who jaywalk and barely miss getting flattened by a semi do. The remaining seven blocks of the ride proved uneventful.
So to summarize my day:
I hate my job.
I hate camera thieves.
I hate public transit.
I hate people.
I think I hate the planet.
I still like a nice slice of toast with almond butter and a hot cup of chai tea which has almost made me forget the other things.
On a partly cloudy and mild (two digits!) day Jeff and I went out on the Two Canyon Loop, a hike in and around Lynn Creek and the Seymour River up in the North Shore mountains. This particular route provided some nice variety in the terrain, from comfortable straight stretches down alongside the Seymour Rive to steep ascents up stairs and rock to impressive views looking down into the Lynn Valley Canyon from several bridges, one of the suspension variety.
The Lynn Valley suspension bridge was host to a wedding party taking photos in the center of the span when we got there. The many people gathered on either side politely waited for them to finish, which didn’t take long, then proceeded to clog up the narrow span to the point where I got halfway across and gave up. That’s kind of like swimming halfway across a lake and deciding it’s too far, I know, but I hate crowds on narrow, bouncy spaces high above raging rivers. It’s just the way I am.
There was another bridge of the regular flat, non-swaying/bouncing variety earlier in the hike with a similar view. It was pretty much deserted.
A short way past the suspension bridge is a pool that is apparently a popular, if dangerous, diving spot. This sign was posted nearby:
I am not sure why someone carefully excised the letters from ‘caution’ so it would read ‘urged to use extreme ca on’. It doesn’t even sound naughty. I do like that it warns the area has claimed many lives, not just one or two. Many. I guess a lot of people don’t read or the sign is recent. Or both. The no alcohol/fires part may as well be addressed, ‘Dear local teenagers’. Yes, I’m stereotyping but come on, you can picture it. A warm summer night, a bunch of drunk giddy kids skinnydipping and taking photos with their iPhones and simultaneously tweeting and, uh, Facebooking, about it:
LOL Dave is totaly naked lol and the water is SOOOOOO cold!!!!
OMG Dave hit his head diving some1 shuld call that 911 number!!!!
I think I here a bear and — (tweet ends here)
The staircase in that picture goes up an impressive ways. There’s a photo taken about halfway up in the gallery, located here.
The start of the hike took us along the Seymour River and through some areas that were used for mining back in the 1800s. There’s even a spooky old tunnel that was carved into a hillside for a pipeline. It’s kind of odd because the miners/loggers also built a two lane road (now the pedestrian trail) right next to it. Did curved piping not get invented until the 20th century or something? Maybe they had time to kill. At any rate, the tunnel was dark and spooky, as all old tunnels ought to be. We also came across an intriguing wooden archway that I imagined might lead to the lair of the Sasquatch or the site of strange forest rituals. It turned out to just be a short trail to the river.
The total time of the hike was about three hours and we took two breaks, the first under the powerlines, using the (modern) pipeline as a makeshift bench. To my consternation, there were mosquitoes about already. Then again, the place was also swarming with tourists, something else I hadn’t expected in late March. We dined on yummy dried apricots and trail mix all the same. When the sun came out it actually became too warm for three layers and we doffed our jackets. Near the end of the hike the sun hid away and it cooled enough for us to put the jackets back on. All hail the layering system!
We nearly took a wrong turn toward the end of the hike that would have added about 45 minutes to the trip but Jeff’s direction intuition kicked in and we asked a group about which way to head and they pointed us the right way. All hail those who know which way to go! Next time we’ll use the GPS.
This was a nice all-around trek, a perfect way to spend a few hours on a weekend afternoon.
I have a co-worker who bears a strangely strong resemblance to the character I played in Tabula Rasa. I guess that means Tabula Rasa was fairly good at creating realistic-looking humans. That’s what probably doomed it.
Reference pic is below. The resemblance creeps me out a little. Note: my co-worker does not wear power armor.
On the last day of winter — Saturday, March 19th — Jeff (seasons ticket holder) and I went to watch the inaugural game of the Vancouver Whitecaps in Major League Soccer (MLS). They were playing Toronto and while the sky was sunny it was somewhat icebox-like within the confines of Empire Field stadium. That didn’t stop a boisterous sellout crowd of 23,000 from cheering on the team to a convincing 4-2 victory. I wore gloves and wrapped the official seasons-ticket holders scarf around my neck and kept the blood flowing sufficiently to cheer each time the Vancouver Bells, er, Whitecaps, scored.
Speaking of Bell, I am wondering how much they paid for their sponsorship. I have included a simulation below of the Bell logos present in the stadium:
Here is the uniform:
The man looks so serious because he is concerned about traffic-shaping, usage-based billing and download caps.
The game itself was quite entertaining, though I am not a soccer/football fan per se. I couldn’t help but appreciate some of the footwork on display, and both teams pulled off a few amazing defensive plays to prevent passes or breakways. I also like that the clock keeps running no matter what happens.
And things did happen.
Specifically, I’m thinking the promoters will re-evaluate the wisdom of putting a rain poncho wrapped in a convenient hand-sized pouch onto every seat before the game. The idea was to create a ‘sea of white’. Instead, each time Vancouver scored, there was a rain of white as people hurled the pouches onto the field. The announcer asked that people not do this and was met with some lusty boos. The officials ended up extending each half by five and four minutes respectively due to the time needed to clean up the pouch-littered pitch.
A few rows behind me was a group of young and ‘enthusiastic’ fans who led several colorful chants involving Toronto sticking the CN Tower into a physically improbable location. Another involved liberal use of the f-bomb. One proclaimed sadness, however, as ‘they took away our weed’. The poor things. A guy dressed in a Toronto jersey taunted them from one of the exits and was pelted with pouches for his efforts. He took it in good cheer before disappearing as the security idly watched from nearby.
I considered buying a $4 hot dog simply to hold it between my legs for warmth.
The only real bummer of the afternoon were the seats. As Empire Field is a temporary facility, it has a few less-than-optimal design elements, mainly uncomfy, cushion-free seats and what turned out to be a large beam just slightly to my left in the row ahead of us:
There is actually a seat directly behind this beam. I feel sorry for the customer service rep who has to handle the inevitable phone call from the person who gets that one (and Jeff confirmed he was not told about the beam when he purchased his tickets. That seems a little skeevy to me).
Despite this, a good time was had by all and the bus/SkyTrain express connection to the stadium made getting there and back out pretty painless. Thumbs up to Translink for that. And also for not having their logo stamped all over everything in creation.
I watched Back to the Future today for the first time in many years, and it still holds up well. The cast, anchored by the amazingly weird Crispin Glover, is terrific, and the story puts all the pieces together surprisingly well for a time travel plot. It helps that it’s a comedy and the science fiction stuff can be hand-waved as needed (more so than normal).
The cutest part, of course, is how quaint the present-day setting of 1985 looks now. Michael J. Fox wears suspenders without irony. The women have hair that towers like skyscrapers. Music is played on cassettes!
Definitely worth catching again if it happens to be on TV.
Today’s hike started around mid-morning and though we didn’t keep accurate track of the time it took approximately three hours in total.
With the destination chosen just minutes before leaving, we headed out to Brothers Creek on the North Shore. Following a hiker’s directions printed off from trailpeak.com we made our way to the entrance, already a fair way up the mountain. With a million dollar home sitting just below where the truck was parked, we headed past a giant sign erected by British Pacific Properties Ltd that essentially said “If you go past this gate and something bad happens to you, you promise never to sue us. If it’s clearly our fault, it’s still your fault. No suing allowed!”
The million dollar home had a thin layer of snow across its luxuriously-appointed patio, so our plans to avoid all snow on hikes seemed less than promising. The weather, on the other hand, was spectacular, with clear skies and temperatures hovering just below freezing.
The trail starts out as an emergency access road and as it continues upward through a number of switchbacks it narrows and becomes more of a regular hiking trail. The walking stick was definitely seeing some use here. The snow was thin and in patches to start and in some spots it was easier to actually walk on it rather than navigate across the icier bits of the path. As we continued to ascend the ratio of snow to exposed ground grew until we were up to our knees and in a few spots even deeper.
It is telling that the first four people we met (all on the way back, as there was not a soul up ahead of us) had snowshoes.
When we reached Brothers Creek itself the snow was piled up on the bridge above the railings. We elected to not continue on the loop that may or may not have taken us back to where the truck was parked and instead chose to take the 1.67 km detour off to a lake up yonder. It was here that we noticed the only real tracks in the snow were from snowshoes. We pressed on, the trail completely covered under deep snow, with only occasional markers on the trees serving as reliable guides. We came to a bridge of sorts. It was difficult to tell what it might have looked like in warmer months but now it was a tall and very narrow snow-covered line, with a cone-shaped hole in the snow leading down to icy water on one side and, well, just plain old icy water on the other. I talked Jeff into going first.
A little farther on we came to a point where it looked like our snowshoeing adventurer had some trouble determining where the trail was. Rather than crossing at the actual bridge over the creek here he had chosen to make his way on a loop along the edge of the creek and then cross through some brambles at a point where the creek narrowed. We spotted the bridge a ways to the southeast. It was very low and nearly obliterated under what was at least two meters of snow. Like the previous snow bridge, this one was very narrow but with the added bonus of not reaching all the way across, necessitating a small jump. Again, I volunteered Jeff to go first. I followed after, opting to use an extended walking stick from him to help complete the last step.
After making our way across the creek we found the snowshoe tracks came to an end. The actual trail, probably 10 meters or so away, was buried under virgin snow. We looked at our snowshoe-less feet and decided to turn back.
On the way back I totally psyched myself on the jump by spending way too much time thinking about it. I eventually made it, as the detour around it was too long. Convenience conquers fear!
We stopped at Lost Lake to have a stand-up lunch (nowhere to sit in those huge drifts of snow). Lost Lake was truly lost — completely buried under a thick blanket of snow. I forgot to take a picture. Oh well.
The return trip had us pass by three couples — a young man and woman with snowshoes, a couple of older men also with snowshoes and a pair of Australians, one of whom was wearing a t-shirt and shorts. He asked if there would be any ‘bairs’. We assured him that they were all too smart to come out in all this silly snow like us humans. The final group we met back at the entrance, a young threesome. One woman excitedly asked us if there was much snow up higher. When we replied that there was indeed snow aplenty she seemed positively delighted. Could not have been a local.
While it was a bit disappointing that we couldn’t complete the loop or get to the lake up top, it was still a great hike, with nearly perfect weather, some majestic old growth forest and a beautiful blanket of snow covering it all.
For reference, here’s the bridge at Brother’s Creek as seen in the summer:
