Nova Scotia - Day 5: Whale Watching, Cabot Trail Bike, Cheticamp

We woke up a second morning in Dingwall - the only time we stayed in the same place twice during this trip. H, B, J, and I made hasty preparations to load up the car again and make the trip back to Pleasant Bay, where we had been the afternoon before. This morning we would be going on a whale watching trip!

We made Mr. J as comfortable as we could in the car, where he would hang out in the slight chill and overcast skies. There are several companies that operate out of the harbor. We ended up with Captain Mark's, which came well recommended. (Fun fact - one of the captains buses the local kids over the Cheticamp during the school year. Other fun fact - our guide on this particular day is a fishing boat builder during the off-season.)

In order to get close to the animals, they operate using of tricked out Zodiacs. Because they are small craft, low down on the water, one needs to wear exposure gear:

 
Although a variety of whale species migrate through this area (right, humpback, blue), the only ones that stick around for long are pilot whales, which look like very large dolphins with a blunted face. After cruising along the coast for 20-30 minutes, we spotted a pod not far off, and went in for a closer look.

 
These creatures work in groups to hunt, sometimes using bubbles to corral schools of small fish into a tight group, then one by one cut through the center to snatch a tasty treat. Unlike our dolphin watching in New Zealand, we didn't see much above-the-water antics. But like New Zealand, we saw young ones boppin' around. I had the GoPro with me, and so we do have some video. But like usual, I haven't edited it down for public consumption yet. Too late, the captain suggested I dunk the camera under the water to get some shots. Oh well. After a while the pod relocated and we lost track of them. Around the same time the wind picked up and made things pretty choppy, so we headed in closer to shore and started on our way back. We saw groups of seals, some of then quite large. For the most part we could't get too close because they are quite shy. This young'un was curious though.

 
Then gone in the blink of an eye!

 
There are also bald eagles that nest along the shoreline. This particular nest was easy to pick out from the white streaks on the cliff below. (click to embiggen - see if you can pick out the eagle perched on top)

 
Back at shore we met up with Mark and Holly. Just a little ways south of Pleasant Bay along the Cabot Trail the road starts switchbacking steeply up. We wimped out a bit and drove up, about halfway, to an overlook. According to the signs behind the benches, at certain times of year you can spot migrating whales from here.

 

 
After a hasty picnic lunch, Hilary and I geared up and hopped on the bikes. Mark and Holly each took one car (and B, and J) and pushed on to Cheticamp - about 40 km farther on. The road continued upward:

 
And leveled out a bit as we pass a trailhead that leads down to Fishing Cove:

 
The road continued gently upwards for many miles across the wooded, boggy plateau of French Mountain. This is national parkland. At this time of the year, we more or less had the whole place to ourselves. The colors and vegetation were reminiscent of what one might find in parts of the White Mountains, but we could spend ten or twenty minutes without encountering so much as a passing car. The only thing that made it a bit unpleasant was an unrelenting headwind.

We took a brief break at pulloff to use the bathroom. This spot had a boardwalk trail through a prototypical alpine bog. (says the helpful sign that reads "Bog")

 
I was curious to see it, but didn't want to spent a lot of time on it (we had many km to go, and it was chilly being stationary). So while Hilary was using the facilities, I checked it out on two wheels:

 
Navigating the boardwalk at modest speed while also taking a selfie is only slightly stupid.

 
A bit further up the way we topped out - the highest spot on the road. Not much to speak of, except for this ICBM...water heater...voodoo idol...weather influencer...phallic symbol thing.

 
Not long after cresting the top and enjoying a well-earned gentle downhill, we suddenly spotted a moose across the road!

 

 

 
He was, I suppose, mildly curious, but paid us no mind

 
The road eventually gave us a pretty sweet downhill. We next to no cars around, I felt like I was bombing some descent in a alpine stage of Le Tour.

 
The road rejoined the coast at this overlook. Ahead you can see the road leading to Cheticamp. Hilary and I posted this picture to the Capital Multisport facebook page (our monthly team meeting was that evening), and tried not to look too boastful.

 
For the next several miles, the road undulates up and down, sometimes with only the guide rail between you and the Atlantic. This stretch is the one that gets into all the tourist materials. The overcast skies lessened the effect slightly, but it was still amazing. Here's the same stretch, but looking back north from the other end.

 
After a few more miles, the road makes a large bight around an inlet, then you pop out of the National Park and are on the outskirts of Cheticamp. We felt welcomed:

 
We met up with the rest of the family at our lodging for the night - the Cheticamp Outfitters Inn. We had adjoining halves of a small cottage. The place has some shore frontage, although it's a collection of boulders and not a beach per se.

 
After some stretching, but before getting too cold or showering, I decided that I ought to go for a brief swim. Why? Well, mostly to say that I've swum in Nova Scotia in October:

 
Yes, it was cold, but not horribly so. I did a very quick circle - maybe 40 feet all told - then picked my back onto the rocks and into the shower!

 
That evening we went out to dinner at the All Aboard Restaurant, where we had a very pleasant time. Among our many culinary delights, we had a bucket of mussels delivered from the boat just a few hours before. Tough to beat that!

Nova Scotia - Day 4: Dingwall, Cabot Trail Biking, Pleasant Bay

We awoke in Dingwall to a beautiful day by the shore!

 
After a nice breakfast up at the main building of The Markland, we went back down to the beach for practice - why not?

 
Although B gripes about practice as much as any six-year old might, she playing is coming along nicely.

 
Mark and Holly enjoyed B's performance, and the ocean's, from these chairs that just happened to be at the beach. Jasper romped in the sand and surf like a crazed animal!

 
Since we would be staying here a second night, we did not have the usual scramble to get packed up and on the road. We even took advantage of the Markland's washing machines to do a bit of laundry. This left us with some time to kill. Hilary sat in the sun for some reading (not realizing the need for sunscreen until much later!) Brynna convinced me to teach her how to play chess. There are many skills that I, humbly, claim to possess, but chess isn't one of them. She did respectably for a first timer, but did ultimately lose. She was keen to explain things to Hilary.

 
In the afternoon the plan was for Hilary and I to take our bikes and do a stretch of the Cabot Trail from Dingwall, up and over a climb, and down to Pleasant Bay.

 
It was a bight sunshiny day, but cool.

 
The first part of the climb gently heads up a loooong glacial valley, which this afternoon was in full autumn splendor.

 
Then it gets steeper and starts switchbacking.

 
And steeper still! Near the top there are several extended sections of 10-13%.

 
Eventually it flattens out onto a broad plateau with tall grass and short trees to either side. It was a prime spot for moose-watching. Brynna, Mark, and Holly apparently did see a moose on the side of the road when they buzzed past before us.

 
Then for the reward: several km of steep downhill! Neither H nor I are particularly fearless or accomplished descenders, so there was much squeezing of the brakes the whole way down. Even so, there were some open stretches that allowed me to open it up to about 40 mph! The descent was cold, though!

 
We met up with Mark, Holly, and B in Pleasant Bay, at the Rusty Anchor restaurant. What a find! The food was excellent, the veggie options original and tasty, and the beer selection quite satisfying. One would not have expected such a place, here way out at the end of the island. I asked the hostess if it'd be getting quiet in these parts come winter. She chuckled and said they'd be boarded up in another twelve days.
 
The Rusty Anchor also has an impressive view of the Bay. At various times, one can spot whales just off shore. More on that in Day 5.

 
After this fine picture at sunset just outside the restaurant, we loaded ourselves back into the car, with the bikes hanging off the back, and backtracked our route to The Markland, where we had another pleasant night.

Rev3 Quassy June 1: Alex's Race Report

Hilary hit many of the high points about the race, but I'll throw my two cents in.

Preparation
As Hilary mentioned, given the close proximity of the race course to her parents' place, we had easy access to do some reconnaissance. About a month prior, I had (with Hilary) practiced the run course on a Saturday morning. The following morning we practiced the bike course, then bricked into the run. That prep was definitely to my advantage, because although I like hills, the hilliness of this particular course would have thrown me off base if I didn't know what was coming. This was especially true for the run course, which has a killer hill starting at the 3-mile mark. During the second dry run, after doing the bike, I was rather pleased with myself to doing the run at around a 7:30/mile pace. This all boded well for race day.

Race Day
Swim: 1500 meters, 23:48
I do moderately well in my own age group overall. In the swim is where I really excel. Oftentimes if I end up in the top third for a race overall, I'll end up in the top 10% for the swim. So, you would think that by now I would have the confidence to really toe the line and put myself in the front line for the swim start. But no, I'm either too polite or don't like the notion of getting run over. So, instead, I started off towards the back of my wave, which sucked. For the first few hundred meters I would have to pull up short every 10 strokes, lest I end up with someone's feet in my face. At one point a nearby swimming managed to dislodge my goggles. So by the time I hit the first turn about 500 meters in, I was very glad that things had thinned out in my vicinity and I could just cruise. In spite of the frustrating start, I ended up with a pretty sweet time for myself - my fastest at the Olympic distance by nearly one minute.

Having now done almost twenty triathlons, I also do very well in transition. I can whip that wetsuit off and get on the bike pretty quick. (I could probably go faster if I didn't stop to put socks on.) Rev3's race results show that I actually moved up a few positions, from 8th to 5th in my division of about 70, due my fast T1.

Bike: 25.68 mi, 1:21:39, 18.9 mph avg
Having done recon some weeks before, it was handy to know where the long descents on the bike were, so that I could really open it up (I topped out around 42 mph at one point), but also know where to pull up in preparation for turns, and to not get frustrated during the many ascents.

Because of the hilly nature of the course, I knew that my average pace wouldn't be so hot. Still, I'd call ~19 pretty good. It is tough for me to gauge what my best sustained pace could be, because there aren't any long rides or races near home that would qualify as "flat". Maybe I should go do a race in Florida or Iowa just to find out.

I don't know what I was concentrating on so hard in this picture, but it must have been pretty important.

Run: 6.2 mi, 52:14, 8:24/mi avg
I've been having some good run training lately. We've got hills around here, and I like to push on them. I knew what the course looked like, and I felt good coming off the bike. My split for the first gradual-downhill mile of the course was 7:40 (based on a $25 Timex). I thought that I could sustain that effort, maybe make some moves on the uphills, and move up a few places in my age group. Alas, it didn't quite go as planned. The first two miles were good. I made solid passes of two people in my age group during the first sustained rise between miles 2 and 3. Although there were many walkers during the awful hill just past mile 3, I was not one of them. It wasn't a fast climb, but you could call it running.

But upon reaching the top, my quads started to cramp up. The run along the ridge for the next half mile quieted them down a bit, but the pounding descent to the 4-mi marker made things worse. I backed off the pace a bit (to about 8:15), then a bit more (to 8:45), hoping for some relief. Cursing quite audibly, I slowed to a walk at the aid station at mile 5, guzzled, splashed, then started up again. The climb in the last half mile did not go well. Halfway up I realized that my shuffling was no faster than the guy walking next to me, so I walked for a few paces before self-recrimination got me going again. My split for that final mile was about 10:00. Thankfully I did not stumble while coming down the finish chute, and even managed to strike a pose that, at the time, seemed pretty cool.

Jesse Thomas does it better:

Overall, I ended up 20th in my age group, in the top third or so. I had been eyeballing the 2:30:00 mark, something I've come very close two in my other two Olympic distance races. But this was a hilly course, and it got to be pretty hot (this was a month ago, remember, back when it was blazing hot every day, instead of raining every day), so I abandoned that goal time long before going down to the start.

Still, my performance on the run was personally disappointing. I've put in a lot of miles since last season, and can sustain faster paces for longer than ever before. To have the run fall apart like that, even allowing for the heat, makes me wonder what I still need to do. (The fact that I lost my sunglasses in the middle portion of the run didn't improve my outlook.) With a month to go until my next race, I resolved to just keep working at it, get used to the heat, experiment with nutrition (esp. electrolytes), and have another go. On the whole, I did have a good time. Rev3 put on a fine event. I had a good performance in 2 out of 3 disciplines. I now have my sights on returning next year to see if I can do better.

Training Camp

The sign is no joke: it is located just past a turnoff that is part of the running course for Ironman Lake Placid. It is also about 1/4 mile from where Hilary and I spent last weekend, at a training camp. Hilary and I are not, not, racing IMLP this year, and have no particular desire to do it any other year. But we know people who are, and Hilary's coach was organizing a training weekend for them and invited us along. This is what counts as a fun weekend away for us these days: leave B with the grandparents, then go kick our butts for a few days of hard exercise.

But there are fun things about training camp, too, other than putting in some serious time. Eating, for one: when you are burning 500-1000 cal/hr for a couple hours straight, you have license to eat and snack basically whatever you want. Behold the kitchen table of the rental house:

The other nice thing about training camp: hanging out with a bunch of like-minded athletes who actually do enjoy getting out there and working hard. Especially on the group rides, when you are cycling together, it's nice to chat (when you can) while watching the awesome scenery glide by. Then, when you all regroup at the end of the day for a big meal, you can commiserate and trade war stories of this and that race.

Thursday
Not technically part of the training camp, it was a part of the whole experience. We ran in the annual Rock-n-Race 5K, which starts and ends at the statehouse, and circles close to our neighborhood. We've run this race before, and keep aiming to outdo ourselves. I was aiming to break 20:00 this year. I didn't quite hit that mark, but I did shave about 30 seconds off last year's time. It was about a second off my PR. Hilary, likewise, made a good improvement over last year's time, but didn't quite hit her goal. Ah well, although we've been doing lots of training, we haven't exactly been training for a race like this - not enough speed work, too much other stuff (ya know, like swimming and biking).

After what seemed like an awfully long time to get cleaned up, finish packing, and say goodbye to B, Hilary and I hit the road around 8:30. It's about 4-1/2 hours to Lake Placid, so it made for quite a late drive. We had some run-ins with the locals in Vermont. Along the way, we almost ran into: one deer crossing the road, two cows sleeping in a ditch alongside a dirt road we got lost on, and one moose ambling up the same pass in the Green Mountains we happened to be on. There was also much confusion trying to get through Middlebury and onto the correct road to take us to the crazy sigmoid bridge that crosses Lake Champlain. I've got enough familiarity with the Lake Placid area that we were able to find the rental house easily enough once we arrived, and promptly crashed into the bunks around 1:30 am

Friday
Hilary and I had every intention of sleeping in, then going for a long bike ride on our own. But the rest of the group roused us from bed around 7:30 with their own preparations, so we got our act together and headed out with them. The Ironman course does two, 56-mile loops from the middle of town, past the ski jumps, bomb down a long descent into Keene, head north towards Jay and Upper Jay, west towards Whiteface Mountain, and then south through a gorge and back into town.

Got it? Let's ride!

Aside from one technical mishap (our fastest rider had a chain break in the first mile. he drove into town, got it replaced, and caught up to us by mile 40), the ride was a great. Hilary and I hadn't ever done more than 40 miles before this. It was a nice confidence boost to know that we could bike the full half-iron distance in a reasonable time with a strong group. We didn't bike the whole thing flat out: although our moving time was a touch over three hours, we were gone for nearly four, stopping at major intersections to refuel and regroup. There were plenty of stretches where I felt really good keeping a 20+ mph pace. Drafting behind some of the other riders certainly helped (something not allowed in races), but I took the lead in places, too.

And all that before lunch! Hilary and I took the afternoon off, while many of the others - those training for an actual Ironman - went off for a second loop. I made guacamole late in the afternoon, followed by black bean enchiladas with salsa verde as our contribution to dinner. There were no leftovers.

Here's the aftermath of the day's adventures:

Clothes drying

More clothes drying, plus the view off the back porch: north towards Whiteface.

Oh look, $10,000 worth of bicycles

And what is this? Another $10,000 worth of bicycles.

Saturday
We were up again around 7:30, but at least this time we'd gotten something like nine hours' sleep. Many folks today were going out for long trail runs/hikes. For some reason this hadn't occurred to me: although Hilary and I love hiking, and I'm familiar with the Adirondacks, somehow I didn't think to bring appropriate equipment for that kind of outing. It was just as well - the two groups were looking at 15 or 20 miles, with many thousands of feet of elevation involved. Instead, Hilary and I took a long run along River Road, which forms part of the Ironman run course (which is also a two-loop affair). Hilary had one pace in mind, which I gamely followed for a few miles, then thought it would be great to step it up a bit. I figured I would run a little ways past the turnaround, then double back and catch up to Hilary. Great idea, except I made a simple math error. If I wanted to give Hilary a 2-minute head start (which, at a 1:00/mi faster pace, I could make up in two miles), I should run on for about one minute before turning around, not two. Actually, feeling bold and brash, I did 2:30. I did eventually catch her, but only in the final mile of the run. I had some help, too: Hilary got waylaid by a golden retriever that had run off and needed escorting back to its house.

A 9-mile run seems like a solid way to start the day. What could be better after such an excursion than a nice refreshing swim? Although there is an actual Lake Placid just north of town, the body of water within the town itself is Mirror Lake. That is where they do the swim portion of the Ironman. They even have the course buoys set up for those crazies that want to train. Hilary and I are such crazies - sort of. Given that it's only mid-May, and we're in northern NY, we knew this would be a cold swim. The water temperature was 55-60, about as cold as I can tolerate with my wetsuit. It's not so bad after the first five minutes - once your feet stop aching. Yes, there's also that difficult time when the water is tricking into the suit down your back. Eventually you have to put your face in, and that's kinda tough, too.

Alright, I'll admit: it was freakin' cold!

At the outset, Hilary and I figured we'd swim down to the end of the course and back - 1.2 miles, 35-40 minutes. But plan and execution are different things. We'd strike out, swim maybe 50-100 yards, then pull up for 30 seconds to make sure the other was still doing OK, then go on a bit further. There was an element of chicken involved: however far out you go, you have to swim just as far to get back. In the end, I don't think we even made it halfway before packing it in. Our first race of the season is in two weeks, though hopefully not so cold. We'll need some more open water practice before then.

After cleaning up and having lunch, we came back into town to... go to the movies. This is supposed to be a vacation, right? We saw the new Star Trek and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. By the way: the small Palace Theater on main street (and other north country community movie theaters) is trying desperately to raise enough money to buy a digital projector. In the next few months, the major studios are going to stop making actual 35-mm prints of new films, and instead go all-digital. If you feel like helping them out, go here.

We chipped in to the dinner effort again that night: roasted sweet potato salad with black beans and avocado. There were no leftovers.

Sunday
Up again bright and early. Hilary and I had carefully planned backwards from our 1:00 pm check-out time, and set out for a bike-run workout close to the Olympic distance we've been training for. From a parking area near Upper Jay we headed towards Wilmington along a hilly Springfield Road. We then continued heading north from Wilmington on Haselton road, which used to be a major out-and-back portion of the Ironman bike course. They chopped all but a mile of it a couple of years ago. Too bad: it is a lovely stretch. I could feel the last few days in my legs: I had decent speed on the flats, but no power to climb the hills.

We then turned around and headed back to the car - about 27 miles all told. At the car we made a quick transition to a 4-mile run along rt 9N. We would have done 6 miles (a 10k run is part of the Olympic distance), but just didn't have time. Back at the house we did a quick shower, change, and pack. Others trickled in from their own workouts and did the same. We left a bit after 1:00, heading south towards Brattleboro, where we'd meet Hilary's parents for dinner and a Brynna exchange.

Monday
REST.

Kickstarting Power

I like to cruise through Kickstarter and find neat projects that people are working on. Occasionally I'll pledge money to a project. Perhaps it is aspirational: I may have a project of my own some day, and would appreciate having backers.


This week, after dithering for a few weeks about whether I wanted to plunk money down on it, I have backed the Siva Cycle Atom bike generator. This little widget mounts to the rear hub and uses a fraction of your pedal power to generate electricity. That power gets dumped either into a lithium-ion battery or to a USB port on the device.

If Hilary and I ever make good on our hope to bike tour across Nova Scotia, this would be mighty handy. It would also be a useful backup for our phones it we lost power for a long while. Goodness knows Hilary and I crank out many watts on our bikes. In fact, maybe we'll use it to power the iPad next winter, where we'll spend many hours watching netflix while on the stationary trainer in our pain cave.

Or, who knows, perhaps it'll end up as a gift to a deserving two-wheeled friend.

Pain Cave

In Winter, days of cold darkness can be squandered in somnambulance, waiting for warmth and light to return. For the triathlete, winter is a fine time to put in some serious training time. If the cold and darkness has you holed up indoors, may as well spend a little effort warming yourself. If it's dark outside, then even the basement, poorly light by a buzzing fluorescent tube, can become a sanctuary. This is the Pain Cave.

That basement may the coldest place in the whole house, but it is still warmer than it is outside. The lowered temperature means you can work it that much harder without overdoing it. Standing there in just your bike shorts, facing off against yourself in a mental struggle just to mount that bike again, you might shiver just a bit. But five minutes after clipping your shoes into the pedals you will feel warm from head to toe. In ten minutes the first drop of sweat will collect on your face. Fifteen minutes in you'll see beads of sweat building up on your shoulders. By the half-hour mark you'll be glad of the towel draped over the handlebars, the contacts you put on instead of glasses. The whir of the trainer is loud; the speakers turned up louder to get above it. Inside your own head, though, you will still easily hear the quick beat of your own heart and the heavy whoosh of your breathing. A quick click and accompanying shunck announces you've shifted up another gear. The rest of the house will not hear any of it: you are in your Pain Cave.

*   *   *

OK. Perhaps it's not always that intense. But sometimes it is, which can in fact bring you back the next time. It is true that we'd much rather be outside swimming, biking, and running. Running we can usually still pull off unless it's down into the single digits. Biking is largely infeasible because of the scant daylight and the fact that a self-generated 18 mph wind makes things that much colder. Swimming outdoors it right out, even if you could find an open lead of water. So Hilary or I, sometimes both in the same night, make a visit to the basement, where among the piled storage boxes, washing machine, and cluttered workbenches is our bike trainer. Here's a shot from just the other night:

It's a good way to catch up on reading or the Netflix queue.

Tri pic

Sometimes the line between self-improvement and narcissism can blur a bit. I will admit that triathlon can be an exercise in vanity. My putting in all those miles, hours, laps, and races isn't curing disease, ending world hunger, or stopping global climate change. I'm doing it to stay fit, to stay sane: to challenge myself and see just what I'm capable of.

Purchasing overpriced professional pictures of yourself from race day just bolsters my point. But, hey, if you are going through all that pain and suffering in the name of challenging yourself, you may as well look good doing it:

Ready, Set, Balance!

We've been spending a lot of time chasing B around the block recently. Instead of a bike with training wheels, M and Deen—after admiring the small expertly-balancing Czech children on their trip earlier this year—gifted us with a pedal-less bike that Brynna pushes along with her feet. This is supposed to cultivate better balance than training wheels and thus an eventual easier transition to a regular bike.

Brynna's really getting the hang of it now, and can glide along, both feet off the ground, for five or ten seconds at a time—particularly if one of us provides a "rocket boost" to get her up to speed!

We've also managed to brainwash her appropriately about helmet use. If we see someone riding a bike without one, she yells, "that not safe!" Darn right, Little B.