Chrissie in Kaua'i

As the mercury dips down to zero, nothing beats a holiday in the tropics. My family tradition of meeting me outside Australia this year led us to Kaua'i, the garden island of the Hawaiian archipelago.

Being the active family we are, I thought that this would be a great chance to tackle the Kalalau Trail, which I had read about in an Outside magazine list of dangerous hikes. To my way of thinking, as long as it's called a hike, it really can't be that dangerous. Right?

Thanks to the wonders of flying across time zones, my family (my parents and one brother, the other having been offered elective surgery he'd been waiting for four years, a week before the trip - crappy timing!) arrived a couple of hours before they left. I arrived a day after them, so they were responsible for getting food and camp stove fuel for the hike while I was in transit. My Dad had been through scouts and, well, I guess I just assumed a few things... The food consisted of cans of baked beans, tinned tomatoes, a bunch of carrots, a head of lettuce! Not your standard dehydrated set of ingredients. I can laugh about it now.

The plan was to hike 11 miles of hilly terrain in one day, spend two nights at the idyllic Kalalau Beach, and 11 miles back on the third and final day. However we spent the first morning assembling more appropriate food, and buying fuel and a pot. By 12:30pm, we had finished lunch and were setting off.

Despite my hope that we would be able to hike twice as fast as we'd estimated, we ended up hiking exactly the speed we estimated, and arrived at the half-way point shortly before dusk. No worries - there was a nice campsite there, just before a gurgling creek that we could use as a water source.

That night, the island reminded us it is one of the wettest places on earth with a torrential downpour. Fortunately, it was over by morning. However our creek was now a raging torrent. We didn't have all day to wait for it to subside, and besides, what else could we do other than poke and prod the caged lion? My brother and I investigated the possible ways to cross, and with the help of another camper in the same dilemma, we found a 30-foot long log and hauled it along the trail to the creek-cum-river. I took the middle, holding the trunk over my shoulder in one hand, and a branch in the other. The trail was not easy to negotiate while carrying a 200 pound log, and the person at the front stumbled, causing the log to roll. This shifted all the weight of the log into my hand holding the branch, and brought my hand down below my chin. The branch suddenly snapped,  resulting in me punching myself in the face!

The log then dropped onto, and broke over, my shoulder - which resulted in just the right length log for the river - nice! Oh, and blood everywhere. Nevertheless, my family wasn't worried that I should perhaps find a hospital. Mum gave me some antiseptic to apply and words to the effect of "she'll be 'right", and my Dad offered to wipe the blood away with a muddy towel he'd found in the campsite.

The rest of the photos that I'm in include a nice facial wound. I have since grown a beard.

The crossing was still pretty hairy, but without further incident. Once across the other side we realized we could have camped over there instead - anyone planning to do the hike, take note! Others, free free to shake your head or laugh.

There is also a small detour to Hanakoa Falls, which was absolutely amazing. The source of our recently crossed river fell at least 300 feet and exploded with such fury into a pool at the bottom that the water was lashed by the wind, and we were quickly drenched by the spray. Over the centuries this has created a cone-shaped crater, the sides being covered in vegetation permanently bent down from the force of the wind.

The rest of the hike was a picturesque jaunt along the Napali Coast. The tranquility of the quiet jungle was regularly punctuated by the booming surf crashing against the cliffs below. One section winds through the middle of the cliff band, providing a two-foot wide path on a near vertical cliff that drops down into the sea. Easy in our dry conditions, but navigating that in heavy rain would likely be
treacherous. We made it to the beautiful Kalalau Beach, set up camp and cooked a well-deserved meal. Of the few things I brought from Canada, one was a dehydrated lentil mix I'd found in my camping gear, and when it tasted particularly bad even for dehydrated food, we checked the 'best before' date - 2009! Probably still beneficial though.

Despite being warned that the area has a large resident nudist hippie population, we encountered few naked locals. We did chat with a big (clothed) Hawaiian guy who eventually let on that he'd been there for 12 years. He told us about his subsistence hunter-gatherer lifestyle, shared his cache of lilikoi, but more importantly, let us know that lilikoi, the yellow fruit we'd seen along the trail, was a delicious, edible type of passionfruit. He also hovered near the life saver ring on the beach when Tim and I followed through on our plan to swim in the surf. Despite being strong swimmers and having fins on, we were tossed about by the will of the waves and current and spent little time in the water.

Bare foot Tim

Tim and I chatting with the locals gave Mum and Dad a head start. We started out walking through the muddy trail in bare feet, which metaphorically and literally allowed us to become one with nature. However it meant a more cautious gait, and when we found a note at the 6 mile mark indicating the parents had gained an hour on us, we opted for shoes. At that time we realized I'd failed to secured Tim's only pair of shoes to his pack. He ended up wearing my sandals for the rest of the hike, and holiday, and on the plane home because we decided going to the airport barefoot would not expedite his boarding.

***

The rest of the holiday was spent in a comparatively decadent condo Mum had organized in Poipu, on the south side of the island. Hundreds of metres from surfing and snorkelling, and more importantly, running water, a stove and hot shower! I got to feel like a pro surfer for an evening when Dad used my telephoto lens from the beach. How he had the patience to wait for me to catch any waves at all, in underwhelming surf conditions, I'll never know.

Having gotten scuba licenses in Thailand, we were equipped to do a dive by ourselves. We rented the requisite gear and aimed for Sheraton Caverns. Unfortunately Dad's tank was leaking and so he stayed behind to snorkel near shore. In hindsight, it was overly ambitious to try to swim the 800 metres at the surface in the windy, choppy conditions, and we ended up diving at a random place along the reef. Upon our return, Dad asked if we'd seen all the turtles. No, we hadn't. Oh, there must have been a dozen where I was snorkeling, he exclaimed. We returned the next day with our snorkels and sure enough, turtles everywhere, close to shore. Such majestic creatures!

Plenty more activity filled the remaining days: more surfing and snorkeling, an excellent meal at the Beach House restaurant, and Mum and Dad took a helicopter tour of the island. But the most memorable for me was my brother and I doing the Blue Hole Hike to Mount Wai'ale'ale. We parked before the dirt road recommended for 4WD vehicles only and started jogging, only to hitch a ride with a family in a minivan. The hike generally followed a creek/river bed, and by followed I mean half the time we were in the river. When we weren't doing parkour over slick rocks and boulders, or wading through the river itself, we snaked through the dense jungle, up and down sheer muddy inclines, over logs and through bogs. So incredibly fun! Despite warnings it is usually a 9 hour hike, we managed to get within spitting distance of the inner sanctum in 2.5 hours - 1000 foot emerald-green cliffs nearly surrounded us, but
 the sunny weather also meant the dozens of waterfalls were dry. By this time it was only 1.5 hours from sundown, so we turned around and hauled arse out of there to get back before darkness fell, arriving at the weir at the trail head with minutes to spare. No sign of friendly families from Utah this time, so we had to jog the five kilometres to the car, stopping only to snap a photo at the gate used in the movie Jurassic Park.

The holiday basically finished when my family left, but I still had a couple of days to kill. I went to Waimea Canyon and checked out Kalalau Beach from the cliff tops, and went to the north shore of Kaua'i for awesome, overhead surf conditions, but without the family film crew, it's just not the same...

Ice climbing with the Agawa Canyon train

Soon after taking up the sport for people of questionable sanity that is ice climbing, I heard about Agawa Canyon. All I knew was that it is located in the untamed wilderness of northern Ontario, only accessible by train, and is home to a veritable treasure trove of stellar ice routes. It has been on my wish list ever since. This year, while looking for reports on ice conditions for my local crags, I learned of the discontinuation of the Agawa Canyon Train due to budget cutbacks - this winter may be its last!

Nothing like a rapidly closing window of opportunity to motivate. The afternoon of Friday, March 14, Jooeun and I drove the eight hours north to Sault Sainte Marie (known locally as the Soo), and the next morning, we lugged our massive duffels to the rail yard and onto a rail car. Winter camping gear, climbing equipment, enough food to feed this metaphorical army of two. Fortunately they allow 100 pounds of luggage per person - and we learned later even that sizable limit is not enforced.

The train runs the 300 miles between the Soo and Hearst, but we wouldn't be getting off at a station. Rather, we disembark at mile marker 112, and ask the train to pick us up at the same place at a later date, then just trust that it does!

We had chosen this weekend because the annual Agawa Canyon Ice Fest was being held at this time. The majority of the group took the Thursday train in, so we were breaking our own trail. The ride in was very comfortable in that luxurious train kind of way, and with only four other passengers, we got to stretch out. We leaned out the side for some photos, but with the bracing wind whipping at us we kept the photo shoot brief.

Upon arrival, we jumped into the snow after our baggage, and joked about having made a terrible mistake as the sight and sounds of the train faded into the distance.

With minimal fuss, we found the group's tents and set up our own. Soon after, Sean arrived back from his morning's mission, and led us down the canyon to a moderate climb to whet our appetites.

Even though the climb was relatively easy from a technical perspective, there were many challenges. A month earlier, Jooeun had never swung an ice axe, or climbed outdoors. This would also be her first multi-pitch climb and first time rappelling. Not to mention we were climbing in an unfamiliar, remote location, where a dozen other climbers were the only thing between us and walk of many hours to the nearest, likely deserted, road. In the face of all those obstacles, Jooeun showed some real toughness. She even placed two ice screws after leading up the second pitch snow slope! What a trooper. We topped out and rappelled back down before dusk, and walked back along the train line to the campsite.

That evening, we looked more thoroughly at our fellow campers' setups. Sean had wooden fortifications from years of trips in and stretching the aforementioned luggage weight limit. The trio from Michigan erected a light-weight tent one might see at an ultimate field; they had a gas heater running full-blast that evening, and combined with a half-dozen bodies and numerous layers of clothing, provided a fairly hospitable environment compared with the frigid temperature outside. There is often great camaraderie to be found in when facing hardship together, and this night was no exception. We cooked on someone's full-sized barbeque, shared dinners, swapped stories, joked, and drank together until late, before retiring to our respective voluminous sleeping bags. It got down to around -35 degrees that night, and boy did it feel every bit that cold when I needed to pee!

The next day we had a late start. Okay, I rose late while Jooeun killed time hanging out with the others. We hastily packed and hurried to a climb with intentions of making it back by 1pm - the time the train was scheduled to return. It was obviously important we didn't miss it, since the next southbound passenger train would pass by two days later, but we had also heard that it was often late - it seems the schedule is entirely optimistic (delusional?) in that it is based on having to make no stops. Sunday is a common day for people to leave their lodges and cabins, so we heard we may have an hour, or more, grace.

Since this was our last climb for the trip, I dared to try a climb almost as hard as I'd ever done, a two-pitch WI-IV (water ice grade four). The route was a real gem. It is set in a small canyon off the main one, and the midday sun caught trickling water coming off the rocks beside the ice column. However, there was no time for admiring the scenery. The ice was brittle from the cold snap, but I made it up reasonably smoothly. Upon arriving at the top of the first pitch, Jooeun said it was past 1pm. Time to go! I started preparing an anchor. In my haste I broke my v-thread hook nearly in half! but managed to make the anchor with it anyway, and rappelled down to the ground. Then Jooeun and I ran like our lives depending on it, back to the tracks.

At the end of the trail, both of us managed to slip onto our butts and slide down the embankment to the tracks in full view of the others, but once we found  the errant axe, it was good for a laugh.

Of course, the train arrived much later, giving us time to cook marshmallows and hot dogs in the fire pit, before the bass note of the train horn announced its arrival. Back on board, we again took lots of photos as we passed over the trestle bridge, ate, slept, and chatted with our new buddies.

That was the easy part of our journey home. We were questioning whether to even try driving eight hours to get home, after a big day of climbing in the back country, starting at 8:30pm. Even that turned into 9pm by the time we realized the GPS was trying to direct us via the US without asking if we had our passports! So we holed up in Sudbury for the night and drove the rest of the way the next morning.

Landed in Hong Kong

Holmes boys were scheduled for rendezvous in Hong Kong today. Got an email from Tim saying he'd missed his flight. I caught mine though, and Brendan was already in Hong Kong, so I'd say two out of three ain't bad (or unusual for a Holmes gathering). Not casting aspersions though - in order to make my flight, I only had enough time to pack a spare t-shirt & jumper, rock climbing shoes and toiletries. Travelling light and fast!

Met Brendan and co, had a beer in what could have been Kensington Market if Chinatown expanded (i.e. nice, bustling, pedestrian-friendly), time to crash.

Setting the bar low for photos.

Canoe-tripping with Terri

After a decade in Canada, I feel qualified to say that the most Canadian (hmm, Ontarian?) summer activity is canoeing. That means that when I got an out of town, province, country and hemisphere, visitor, Terri, canoeing was at the top of my list of duties as tour guide and organiser. What follows is of course the recounting of perfectly planned and executed canoe trip.

The week prior was spent arranging to borrow gear - little things like a canoe and stove (thanks, Geoff & Lin!), tent and compass (thanks, Noah!) and car (thanks, Wallis family!). Without time to leave Friday night, and nowhere to store a canoe overnight, we opted to pick up a canoe from Geoff's on Saturday morning, on the way out of town. Then we decided we should get a map of...err, where are we going?...and some fuel for the stove. So we drove back downtown, along with several thousand Blue Jays fans, through inevitable construction sites and lane closures. Once Terri bought maps of all the possible parks we might be going to, and fuel, and whatever other essential details I'd forgotten (while I drove around with a 16-foot water craft on my roof, looking impatient and out of place), we headed north.

Terri called for camping permit availability on the way there, after we decided Algonquin was the place to go. Somewhere near access point 3... I was momentarily distracted by an errant foam block coming off the car roof & canoe and bouncing into traffic, which required taking the slightly less than ideal Hwy 427-Finch-Hwy 400, route and the creative use of a towel, but other than that, smooth sailing all the way to Kearny.

Kearny has a backcountry camping permit office (for the spontaneous canoe tripper) and is nicely situated a few minutes outside the park itself. The lady who took our reservation cautioned us that since the paddle to the far campsite of the closest lake (Rain Lake) may be 3 hours, and it was now (ahem) 5pm, we shouldn't dilly dally, we took off with a renewed sense of haste. 30 minutes later we were unloading the canoe at the put-in, and another 15 minutes or so had us on the water. We were happy to see the first campsite after just a few minutes, and that it was not occupied, but we decided to keep going. Half an hour

Starry sky

later, we'd paddled half the length of the lake, found a ideal campsite on a point, with a tiny beach and one of those perfect rocks for walking into the water or perching on the edge of while collecting water, watching the stars, and/or feeding mosquitoes. Good thing it was a quick paddle...after a quick swim and the initial stages of dinner prep, we were back in the boat to retrieve the matches "somebody" left in the car. :) But really quite an amazing evening: almost-hot weather, a slight breeze to keep the bugs away, deliciously cool water, and after a great sunset, clear skies for star gazing and watching the fire flies.

The next morning was just a touch misty, but cleared to more blue skies and warm weather. After the requisite bacon and eggs, we scoped out a loop on the map, counted the hours back from the desired time to return to Toronto, and made the schedule fit accordingly. I figured Terri needed to try a portage or two, to get the real canoe-tripping experience, so I found a route with six portages totalling 3-4 kilometres...more portaging means an even real-er experience, right? We set off.

The portages were generally easy to find. The first involved stairs up a brutally-steep hillside, but as Canadian ambassador to the Australian tourist, I wasn't about to indicate a diet of double-doubles and donuts makes even a half-Canadian soft, and I threw the canoe on my back and charged up. About 500 metres of balancing a few dozen kilos on my C-6 vertebrae, I requested a change in back-packs, but otherwise we knocked of the first 780 metres of portaging with a minimum of fuss. We stopped for a break on another rock outcrop, and enjoyed some terrific paddling.

The bugs seemed to call ahead to each portage, and the swarms of horse/deer flies buzzing about us as we lugged our boat and gear were somewhat reminiscent of a circling biker gang, striking
unwatched/unreachable locations (of which there are many while carrying 4 bags or a canoe) with impressive skill. We also had a slight diversion in a portage easily seen from the water, but once we lodged ourselves in a marsh full of carnivorous plants (cool!) and shoe-theiving weeds, became hidden. But all part of the fun.

Terri knocks off a canoe-toting portage

Pitcher plants!

All these travailes prepared us (or had us dreading) the final 1810 metre portage from McCraney Lake back to Rain Lake. We doused ourselves in DEET and alternated walking and shuffle-jogging, while swatting vigourously and swearing, and even more so when the trail walked BESIDE the destination lake for far-too-bloody long, but reached the end alive, and made us all the more grateful for the cool escape as we dove in for a swim.

That was pretty much it. We retrieved our tent we'd left at the campsite, paddled back to the car, and made it to a river-side patio in Huntsville in the daylight, for Terri's first poutine, while sitting with well-to-do and decidedly less-scruffy-looking locals.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have a car to return. :)

Kayaking serendipity

After a half dozen sessions in this pool this winter, practicing rolls with Geoff, I've been fortunate enough to take advantage of great spring kayaking conditions. I kicked off the season with two fun runs down the Credit River in town, with Amanda one day and Ian the next. But that was just super mellow class II stuff - the real action began last weekend when Amanda and I ventured up to the Head River.

It didn't start off perfectly, when I discovered I'd misplaced the tie-downs. I thought I had a whole bag of webbing somewhere? Nope. A visit to Honest Eds for a replacement, another stop for food, and we were off, albeit two hours later than planned, thus missing the scheduled meet-up with others. Fortunately the Quaker Oaks general store near the put-in was able to tell us where the take-out was, and when we got there, the guys I'd arranged to meet had just finished. Adam wasn't sated and joined us for his second run of the day. That was awesome - yay, no scouting required! It also turned out he's a former river guide, so was a constant source a invaluable tips.

The main rapid of the river is called Triple Drop. Once again we would Adam lead the way, followed by Amanda, and I was bringing up the rear. On the previous rapid I had trouble seeing what line he was taking, so I figured this time I'd follow Amanda a little closer. Bad idea. Amanda got stuck in the backwash of the first falls, and I was too close to take a different line. I turned sideways as I ran into her, immediately got flipped, and pushed underneath her boat! She flipped as well, so when I rolled back up, she was swimming while holding her kayak and paddle. Adam had eddied out, so he was now last, and I was furthest downriver, trying to offer Amanda assistance, while floating backwards. Adam yelled for me to turn around for the next rapid - oh, yeah, right! I barely managed to turn downstream in time to go over the biggest of the three falls (maybe 2 or 3 feet). Yikes. Amanda floated/swam over it, Adam shunted her boat to the side, and I fetched the paddle. Fortunately she was fine, and even better, wanted another run at it.

While carrying our boats back and scouting the run, we saw a fish trying to jump upstream. Then another. And then we saw that the eddies at the falls were filled with dozens upon dozens of fish. I think we decided they were catfish. Super cool! I was able to put my hand in and pluck one out - big guys, probably almost 2 feet long and 2-3kg? We ran Triple Drop again, and finished the run without any further drama.

A week later we continued to have absolutely gorgeous weather. Cloudless skies, just a breath of wind and a hint of summer humidity. Ian's workmate Eoin is in town for a couple of months for a job. He left his four! kayaks back in Van...so yes, he's very good! We decided to head to the Upper Black, off Hwy 7 north of Belleville, because, like Head River, it's only runnable during the high water of spring runoff. Great to be both doing something new - an adventure!

After scouting the takeout, we drove to the put-in, launched, and were immediately greeted with fun rapids. I'd previously been given a heads up that some of the rapids are tough to scout by foot, but fortunately Eoin's experience allowed him to get a good sense of each from his boat, and eddy-in part-way through rapids to look around corners and such. This alone saved us hours of repeatedly exiting our boats and scouting by foot, but was almost essential for the really fun, but committing, canyon sections.

On one such section, I paddled into the eddy where Eoin was waiting, and he said to me "Did you see the dog?" I looked back over to the other side of the canyon, and sure enough, on a small ledge just higher than water level, a mangy, red dog was pacing and looking at us forlornly. Medium-sized; a Setter perhaps? She looked quite emaciated, and would howl and yip occasionally. Eoin said she looked like she might have jumped onto my boat as I passed. She'd clearly been stuck there for some time, days at least, perhaps when the water was high enough to wash her up there. We called out to her, and although she skittered about near the edge, couldn't be coaxed into the foaming water rushing by. Eoin decided rescue her. He ferried over, and leaning precariously from his boat, was able to have her come to his hand for a pat, and then he half-persuaded, half-yanked her onto his deck. Now he had a had a petrified dog crouched on top of his paddle, and he was floating backwards through boulder-strewn rapids! He bounced off a rock and nearly went over, and then was able to wrest his paddle from under the dog just as they were swept over a little drop. The dog fell into the water but was able to swim to the embankment, which was now the base of a hill rather than a vertical canyon wall. Eoin signaled that he was fine, and we started off again. The dog ran beside the river for a little ways, but eventually disappeared to who knows where.

We'd also read that there was at least one, and possibly three, required portages and big grade IV rapids. We got out of our boats to check out the first big one, and I was pretty shocked that Eoin was tempted to run what looked to me like a 10 foot high meat tenderizer (to support my thinking, there were multiple "Portage, Please!" signs on the bank). So when we saw the next one, and it was slightly less ridiculous, I suspected he would want to run it. He felt confident, scoped it out from land, and ran it like a boss. He was signalling what looked much like he thought I could give it a go, but I definitely wanted to clarify...I walked to the base of the falls and from there, couldn't see over the top - it was a solid seven feet high, and maybe thirty degrees of foaming, boulder-strewn carnage. But he was so confident, I was able to summon the courage to give it a go. I tried to take the same line as he did, and was just a foot off, but that meant I bounced like a pinball off all the features we had said to avoid... Still, I made it to the bottom, upright and intact. Woooooooo!!

The rest of the run was great fun. We even saw a porcupine float through a rapid and saunter off, just a few feet from our curious gaze. After 4 hours we were happy to be done. We took the kayaks out in someone's grassy backyard beside the Queensborough weir, and started jogging up the road when someone started calling out to us. The person living there wanted to give us a ride back to our car (actually, she was volunteering her husband). Skip the 14km walk/run to the put-in? Yes, please! And so we were on the road headed back to Toronto before dark. Also, two out of two trips finished without needing a headlamp? Win.

Cervelo P3C for sale *SOLD*

*SOLD*

I'm holding off for another year to break into the triathlon circuit. So I'm selling for flagship steed, my P3C.

2010 Cervelo P3C 56cm with Dura Ace gruppo

Excellent condition, almost solely used for races, never crashed

Rear 2011 Zipp 808 and front 2005 Zipp 404 carbon tubular wheelset (i.e. race wheels)

Front and rear 2010 Shimano R500 wheelset (i.e. training wheels)

Giro Advantage 2 time trial helmet

$3200

Beware the killer drone

There are clubs in Toronto to cater to every possible interest, sport and hobby. Some are mostly for day-dreaming (Alpine Club of Canada) or weird fringe sports (underwater hockey). I joined a bunch of programming-related groups last year, but hadn't gotten around to going - they've either not been presenting something that interests me, or the travel time just seemed overly onerous.

However, a couple of weeks ago, I got an email saying that the Toronto Javascript group was holding a presentation centered around quadcopters. Cool! And, it was in the MaRS Commons offices, in the same floor of my building! Perfect!

Funny coincidence - the two gents giving the talk, Taz and Josh, were actually guys I met when I hot-desked at the Uniiverse offices. They gave a really entertaining talk about how they were discussing how to take over the world, came up with a few options, but settled on using flying machines that they could potentially attach lasers to. hehe Cue the Terminator2 powerpoint slide. :)

Their first attempt was to buy an assemble-yourself Arduino-controlled metal beast, but decided the soldering, programming their own network protocol, and writing code to sync the four rotor blades all sounded just a weeee bit overly complex! so they replaced it with a consumer version that came equipped with wifi out of the box. People in the audience checked their laptops - sure enough, there was a network called quadcopter123 or something - neat. That left them with the job of connecting to quadcopter via firmware API, and writing a client. They chose to create a Chrome app in Javascript, used AngularJS framework for it's MVC functionality, and came up with a pretty neat solution in a matter of weeks. By making it available on github, I was able to fork the repo and load it on my own machine without leaving my seat. Voila! Once they disconnected and I connected, I had control of a killer drone in the atrium of MaRS!

The star of the show posing for the paparazzi

Creators and presenters, Taz and Josh

Drawing a crowd

I have the power!! Muahahah!