Actors in the New Security Theater

According to one rumor, former Idaho Senator Larry Craig originally recommended the recent changes in airport screening processes. Perhaps now he won't have to go to the airport men's room to satisfy his alleged needs.

Craig's self-reported "wide stance" may prove useful in the new full-body scanners. However, he might opt out in favor of the enhanced pat-down, maybe even requesting that it be performed in a private room.

I can't fully report in this family publication, but many refer online to the scanners based on their ability to determine the size of parts of the anatomy commonly shielded from view, and to the pat-downs using the name of a location on a baseball diamond.

The resistance to the new procedures is widespread among some travelers. No wonder: you stand with your legs spread wide, and someone runs his or her hand up your leg until "meeting resistance."

Many others are stoically accepting the changes.

But is there a third group, people who actually enjoy the sanctioned public exhibitionism and groping?


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The 30th Escape from Alcatraz Triathlon

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Race Prep

I've done this race once before, in 2002. It is an iconic event. The race is high in every poll of best and most popular triathlons. Plus, being held in San Francisco, I get bonus spouse points for making the trip into a mini-vacation.

It is also unique in that it does not heavily favor one leg over the other two. All three are hard, and all three are a significant part of the total racing time. The swim is 1.5 miles from Alcatraz Island to the marina, in tricky currents and cold water. The bike is 18 miles up and down the steep San Francisco hills. And the 8 mile run includes major climbs, a beach run, and the infamous sand ladder.

Swim prep included a new wetsuit. My old suit dated back to just prior to the previous time I'd done this race and it was showing its age, so it was time. Fortunately, Gail had a couple of nice suits left over from Adrenaline Tri-Sport, which closed early this year, and one was my size. Gordo loaned me a pair of swim socks, and I already had a neoprene cap. I bought new goggles a half diopter stronger than my old ones. (I wear prescription goggles.)

I brought all the gear to the pool for a test swim. Strangely, it seemed I was actually swimming slower. I noticed that the tops of the swim socks were fluttering around, and they even started falling off while I was swimming. This was going to be a problem.

Since they were size "large," I bought a pair of size "small" and brought them to the pool on another day. They filled with water and acted as anchors. When I took them off I sped up considerably.

No other similar products were for sale in the Boulder area, and I was out of options. I decided to bring all the socks to San Francisco and wing it.

Getting ready for the run was also a challenge. I'd been getting a bit of patellar tendinitis ramping up my training for the season. I backed off a bit, got a neoprene knee sleeve, and it seemed to help. It didn't quite go away, but it was definitely under control. Starting about three weeks out from race day, Gordo had me do some challenging workouts at Wonderland Lake, including some race pace climbs up the big hill at the northwest corner.

The bike was the biggest logistical problem. We considered driving out to avoid the hassle of flying with the bike. In the end, with cheap airfares I decided to try out TriBike Transport. I'd drop my bike off at the shop on Wednesday before the race, and they'd put it on a truck with hundreds of others and magically get it to the race site in one piece by race day.

I also scheduled my bike for its annual spring tune-up a few weeks out. But this was complicated by the shop not having the parts. They didn't have my chain rings, so I had to bring the bike back in a week. Then, while working on it they decided the hubs needed to be rebuilt, but they didn't have the bearings, so I had to come back again. And the bearings weren't in until two days before I had to drop my bike off for shipment, so I debated whether it would be worth the risk to do this repair without more time to test it out. (I did.)

The bike transport was also stressful. The Wednesday drop-off was changed to Tuesday. Then it was Monday. Then it was Saturday at noon, more than a week before the race. Although this method of transport is convenient, for those who stress about having their bikes for the most time before and after the race I wouldn't recommend it.

In prep for the hilly ride in San Francisco, Gordo had me doing repeats up the back of Olde Stage. This hill is steeper than any on the race, and I did my fastest ascent time ever in these workouts, so I felt as ready as I was going to be.

Starting as soon as long range forecasts were available, I began to stress about the weather. The predicted weather looked nice, in the 60s or 70s, but severe winds (50+ MPH gusts) were also forecast, depending on which day I looked and on which website.

Pre-Race

We flew to SF without incident, and found our hotel, about 2 miles from the race site at Marina Green. Of course, given we were in San Francisco, it was all steep hills, so there was more walking (and riding, once I was reunited with my bike) up and down these steep city climbs than was probably advisable in the days just before a race. (We didn't rent a car.)

I attended the pre-race advice meeting at Sports Basement. While I was there, I looked at their swim booties. They sold a different brand, Orca, and it was thicker (warmer), and had a Velcro closure, which I hoped would solve my problem with them filling with water and turning into anchors.

On the day before the race, my brother and cousin and their families came into the city to visit. It was stressful fitting that in while trying to work around packet pickup and workouts and trying to rest, but it was the only day that would work for them. So, as a condition of the trip I had them drive me to Aquatic Park for my test swim in the bay. (The kids loved the beach, and my brother loved the chance to take an embarrassing picture on his camera of me changing into my wetsuit.)

The gear was reasonably successful. My feet were warm, the new wetsuit was warm, and my ears were warm. Only my hands and face were cold, and I got in one 10 minute lap. The booties did fill with water and probably slowed me down a bit, but not too bad.

The clincher on the bootie decision was when I discovered that Gail had dropped out after the swim at Ironman St. George that very day because of hypothermia. Better to lose a little time on the swim than risk major problems from the cold.

Race Day

Alcatraz has one of the more complicated race days of any triathlon because of its point-to-point swim. I set the alarm for 3:00 AM but woke up early to start my routine. When I race at home I like to get on the treadmill at a very easy speed for as long as it takes to get my insides moving and make sure I poop before the race instead of having to go during. Here, a jog around the neighborhood would have to do. Then breakfast, the last bit of getting my gear together, bathroom again, and ready to go.

I left on my bike for the race start. It was just before 5:00, right on schedule. But it was still dark, and I wished I'd brought my headlamp. A little later, I discovered it would also have been useful when setting up transition. There were three other competitors who had been staying at the same hotel waiting outside for a van to take them to the race, and that van was already 20 minutes late. I offered to show them the biking route to the race site, but they opted to wait and try to call the van company.

Rack spots in transition were pre-assigned, and I had a great one. It was at the very end of a row, close to swim in/run out but far from bike in/out. Not sure what the weather would be like when I got out of the water, I left arm warmers, gloves, and a light jacket next to my stuff. I left transition with two bags – one swim exit bag with the shoes I would wear from the swim exit back to transition, and the bag with the swim gear I would put on in the boat. A quick jog, another visit to the porta-potty, dropped my swim exit bag at the truck, and got on the bus to the pier.

At the pier, I got my timing chip, another short jog, another visit to the potty, then got on the boat. Finally underway, I ate my banana and Clif bar, and finally felt the desired movement inside. The restroom line was the longest of the day, but the boat ride was an hour so there was plenty of time to finish my necessary business.

I got on my wetsuit and other swim gear, and as the boat did a celebratory lap around the island I left my clothes bag behind and went to the window to get a good look at the shore and pick out the landmarks I'd be sighting on. When the horn went off, I watched the pros start, and they took off straight towards the swim finish at the St. Francis Yacht Club. The race director had repeatedly warned us age groupers not to do that because of the strong current, but the pros obviously knew what they were doing.

The pros and younger competitors had been organized on the lower level of the boat, and we older athletes were on the upper level. That meant that even before I could get downstairs many swimmers were already in the water. There were three doors at which people were entering the water, but the boat was oriented so that one door was closer to shore, and everyone wanted to go out that door. Knowing that official times were based on the timing mat at the door, I figured it was better to wait a bit longer on board and have a slightly shorter swim.

I finally got up to the front of the line, ready to go. A race volunteer suggested I go to the rear door. I looked down and saw I'd been standing on the timing mat, and had already lost a few seconds. I told the volunteer I was going in, looked to make sure the water was clear, and jumped in.

The Swim

I went a bit too deep, but quickly surfaced and started swimming. With the adrenaline I barely noticed the cold. I immediately found myself in a big group, which was swimming in the conservative direction rather than the direct line taken by the pros. I'd like to go a bit more aggressive, but I concentrated on passing other swimmers and trying to find clear water.

The water was perfectly smooth. Visibility was perfect. I was really enjoying my new, stronger goggles. All of this made sighting much better than I was used to. I kept up as good of a pace as I could, given that I kept running into groups of swimmers and having to manipulate past them. I was not confident enough to just go straight to the swim finish because of the current, but I tried to keep fairly aggressive and aimed just short of the finish.

The last part of the swim was as hectic as the rest of the course. I ran into more swimmers. Swimming close to me, someone grabbed my arm. I felt someone on my feet and thought they were going to pull one of my booties off. I kicked harder and swam away. Finally I got to shore. I stood up and looked at my watch. It said 29 minutes. Certainly the quickest I'd ever swum that distance. It must have been some amazing current.

Here's where I was really glad I had worn the booties. My feet running up to the swim exit area were warm, not numb. I didn't worry about the gravel and rocks I was running on. I found my bag, took off my wetsuit, cap and goggles. I had considered doing the run to the transition area, about half a mile, in the swim booties. But they were totally full of water, and I figured it would be quicker to slip on the pool deck shoes I had left in the bag. I crammed all my stuff in the bag (or thought I did) and started the short run.

It actually felt pretty good. I remember doing this same swim eight years earlier, and feeling that same euphoria at the end of the swim. The air temperature was pleasant, and I was passing more people on the run. Back in transition, I put on my shades and helmet, changed my shoes, and took my bike out. None of the cool weather gear would be needed today.

The Bike

If the swim course had been crowded, the bike course was even more so. The course is out and back, and starts out with about two miles flat, and is up and down the entire rest of the course, until the end. The entire bike leg was spent maneuvering around other riders. Because of the hills, drafting was not an issue as a rule violation, but blocking (people riding on the yellow line) and passing on the right were certainly problems.

From 8 years earlier, I remembered that the first climb happens suddenly when you go around a sharp corner, so I geared down early to avoid the embarrassment of coming to a dead stop. Then I worked on the hills and the crowds for the rest of the 18 mile ride.

On the climbs, I was able to take advantage of my Colorado training, and work my way past the other riders. But I never got into that groove – with the bad road conditions (budget problems in California) and the crowds, my descents were cautious, not what I needed to hammer that course.

We got through the worst of the hills going out, and rode along the coast. This stretch would have been truly dangerous if the wind had been high, but luckily there was only a light breeze. We rode out and back through Golden Gate Park, where they had promised new asphalt, but still there was lots of bad road.

Then we reversed and came back. The climbs are actually a bit harder in this direction, which was okay with me, as that was where I was able to pass people. I saw Klaus going out as I was riding back. On the final flat stretch I drank as much of my remaining Accelerade as I could. Back into transition, racked my bike, changed my shoes, ditched the helmet, and grabbed my race number belt. My time for the 18 miles was over an hour, a bit depressing, but hopefully that meant I had something left for the run.

The Run

The run course is also out and back. In fact, at one point, the run from the swim exit, the bike course in both directions, and the run course in both directions are all next to each other. It makes it easy to see your friends (or rivals), but makes racing trickier. I saw Klaus on his final stretch of the ride at about two miles into my run.

The run starts out with about two miles flat. I held a reasonable pace of about 7:30 or so. At about a mile I saw Hunter Kemper coming back in. He was close to his decisive victory over Bevan Docherty and Andy Potts, and would eventually best me by about fifty minutes.

At 2 miles, the course starts up hill. First it goes up some stairs then onto a trail. For most of the course, the runners are coming back on the same narrow trail, so it becomes a bit tricky, and passing is sometimes a matter of timing. This climb goes on and on. You get to the Golden Gate Bridge and think you are at the top, but you keep going. I passed Charles coming down on my way up, but he didn't see me as he was concentrating on the footing on the descent. In all, there is about 300 feet of gain over about a mile. It's quite scenic, but I was thinking more about my legs and when I was going to reach the top. That mile was probably closer to 10 minutes.

Finally I reached the top and started the descent toward Baker Beach. Fortunately, I recovered well from the climb and was able to use the downhill to pick up some speed. Part of the descent is on the road, and the runners coming back were on the trail next to the road, so conditions were good to let loose. Then I reached the stairs down to the beach, which slowed me down, and the beach itself.

The last bit of the run out is along Baker Beach. The trick is finding the line in the sand that was neither too wet (the tide was coming in) nor too dry to get good traction. When I saw the turnaround, I decided to cut through the dry sand a bit – a shorter line, but worse traction. I think I made up a couple seconds. Then the turnaround (about 33 minutes) and the beach run in reverse.

Back at the end of the beach is the infamous sand ladder – 400 steps of mostly sand and a bit of ladder. I hit it hard and used the cable banister as much as I could, passing a few on the way up. It was tough, but I think that the climb by the Golden Gate Bridge had been mentally tougher. And, after the sand ladder, the trail keeps going up, reaching the same elevation as the climb in the reverse direction. This was probably my slowest mile, definitely slower than 10 minutes.

Then came the final descent, which I worked, except for the final stairs. The guy who told me he grew up in Boulder as he had been running behind me passed me on these stairs and left me behind. I hit the flats and the 6 mile marker at 54 minutes, thinking it was going to be a 1:10 run split by the time I was finished. I passed Klaus going out as I was coming in, and I found a strong pace I thought I might be able to hold for two flat miles.

I hit mile 7 at less than an hour. I was flying toward the finish. My goal at this point was holding my pace and passing as many people as I could. I hit the finish line at about a 1:06 run split. My pace for those last two miles had been an incredible (for me) 6:00 or 6:30 per mile, faster than my normal 5K pace. I need to run at sea level more often! Even after that brutal run I somehow found that final kick.

Learnings

My final time was 2:48:15, 11 out of 91 in my age group. In 2002, my time had been 2:46:31, and I was 23 out of 110. Not bad for 8 years older.

My knee was a bit worse, but ice and Advil helped. My calves were sore for a few days.

And even though I was sure I had crammed all my gear into my bag at the end of the swim, I still ended up with someone else's neoprene cap instead of my own.

What did I learn?

• Add a headlamp to my race checklist
• Add some petty cash to the list as well – not having the $2 Muni fare, I had had to walk back to the hotel after the race
• Booties are probably a net gain for a cold water swim, even though my actual swim speed might be a bit slower (but swim socks would definitely have been a problem)
• New, stronger goggles before a race are very useful
• Testing the equipment out in the pool before the race and having enough time to make changes is a good idea
• Leaving enough time after the bike tune-up before the race for things like ordering parts is also a good idea
• TriBike Transport reduces the stress, but be prepared to be without the bike for longer than you originally think
• Using ground transport for the bike allows you ship a CO2 cartridge with it – not needed, but good insurance
• A hotel that is an easy bike from the race start is ideal, and lets you bike to/from packet pickup, race meetings, and the race itself
• At Alcatraz, do everything possible to get off the boat as quickly as possible, because each person off ahead of you is someone that may be in your way on that rather crowded course
• Don’t stress out too much about the long range weather forecasts, especially when they change drastically from day to day or from website to website
• Thank the weather gods when they are so much in your favor, especially when other major races the same weekend are way too hot or too cold
• Bike handling, descending, and confidence represent a major opportunity for improvement
• Think about a sea level running race to build confidence and maybe snag a PR
• Need to work on technical running descents
• Escape from Alcatraz is a fun race in a great location, but there are way too many athletes on the course

Immigration Woes (Gringo Ir a Casa)

Immigration reform has been in the news lately. On my recent Mexican vacation, I saw the seriousness of the problem from the other side of the border fence.

Tens of millions of folks from north of the border are crossing into Mexico every year. A million Americans are living there, more than half illegally.

Many Americans move to Mexico because of its high quality, inexpensive health care system. Drugs are widely available and inexpensive. Drug dealers, called "farmacias," are on every street corner, anxious to sell the addict anything she thinks she needs.

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Liberal Guilt

My wife and I are pretty darn serious about minimizing our impact on this planet.

We proudly put out one orange bag of whatever trash we can't recycle, reuse or compost about every six weeks. Our water usage is an order of magnitude smaller than our city-assigned budget.

We bike and bus and walk, and Caron rides her hot pink scooter so we don't drive much. Our old cars work fine, thank you; the energy to scrap and replace them with a shiny new hybrid would be more than we'd save in years of use.

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The Loneliness of the Long Distance Swimmer

I’m writing this from a tropical location. My favorite vacation is tropical, and my favorite activity while there is getting in the ocean and swimming for miles. Forget the pool. It’s kind of like trail running compared to running on a treadmill.

The first trick is finding a good starting point. Unless someone is willing to meet you somewhere at the end, this will also be your finish point. A beach is good for ease of getting into and out of the water. The beach should either be totally secluded, so that you can leave your stuff there, or have someone there to watch over it. Another trick is to leave everything in your car and hide your car key.

Don’t leave anything more valuable than your flip flops and a towel on the beach, and make sure you don’t leave your expensive shades. Always leave your stuff up higher than you think the water can ever get – you don’t know what the tide is going to do. I try to find some rocks above where the plants start growing.

I always wear a watch while swimming in the ocean. It is my only sense of how far/long I’ve been going, and it tells me when to turn around.

Water condition is important. Clear water is not only more interesting, it is also much safer to swim in. Swimming at dawn or dusk is not as good for the same reason.

If there’s any surf, getting in and out of the water is the trickiest part, especially if you’ve never been a surfer. Dive under the breakers, and swim easy breaststroke out past any surf. Practice getting in and out of the surf a few times, so you know where the rocks are, where the shallow or steep places are, where the biggest breakers are. Before you start swimming, make sure you are out past any breaking surf.

Here’s the most important part: Turn around and look at shore. Memorize what it looks like from the water. There is nothing worse than finishing a long swim and not being able to find your towel and shoes.

Stay still in the water for a moment. Feel if there is a current going parallel to the beach. If there is, remember that it will be slower swimming against the current. I prefer starting out parallel to the shore into the current, so that I know it will be easier and faster to get back. Remember that the direction of the waves is not necessarily the direction of the current.

Go parallel to shore, but far enough out to avoid the surf. If you want to pick a landmark like a big rock to swim towards, that’s great. Just remember that judging distances from the water is pretty much impossible. Sometimes it helps to know how far away something is on land so you know if it is a reasonable goal. I’ve been known to swim out to a rock or island that is a mile or so from the mainland, but the safest route is generally parallel to shore.

Be aware of any watercraft, whether boats, jet skis, wind surfers, or anything else. They are not your friend while you are swimming, and you should choose an area away from them if at all possible.

Of course, know how far you want to swim and what you are capable of. If you can, pick an area with mostly beaches along the shore, so you can quickly get to land if you have a problem.

I’ve always been told to never swim alone and to always tell someone where you’re going. I’m not very good about that, so I can’t preach on that topic.

When you are swimming, there are lots of sensations you don’t get in the pool. Get a feel for the swells, if there are any, and adjust your breathing so you don’t get a face full of water. It really helps if you can breathe to both sides and can sight in front of you. Memorize as much of the shoreline as you can when you are swimming, so that it is all familiar when you return.

The view from exactly sea level plus or minus one inch is very difficult for the brain to process. You may sometimes see things that aren’t there, fish, boats, people, whatever, that turn out to be nothing more than waves, your own hand, bubbles, features on land, clouds, or something else innocuous.

I often feel a little tap or other sensation on my toes, legs, or elsewhere. I may spin around to try to see what it was, but never see anything. Maybe it’s just the waves. In any case, you get used to it.

Depending on where you are swimming, there may be jellyfish. Sometimes I get a stinging sensation somewhere on my body even though I saw nothing. It subsides after a few minutes.

Don’t spend too much time worrying about sharks. If one is going to get you, there’s probably not much you can do. It can swim faster than you, so I imagine your only option would be to try to punch its face and eyes. Not worth obsessing about. This is one reason you swim in clear water -- sharks like to not be seen.

Get in a groove, just as if you were on a long bike ride or trail run. Go at a steady pace. Breaststroke is great for a break, or if the swells really pick up. With breaststroke, you can choose whether to go over or under a wave. Backstroke is fun if it’s calm. Stop and tread water any time you want, to rest or just to get your bearings.

Any problems, take the shortest route to the nearest beach. A beach is also a good place for a rest break if you need more then a few moments trading water. Watch out for breakers, because that can mean rocks. Rocks are not your friend.

When your shoulders are getting tired, hopefully you already turned around and are heading back. If not, do it soon. You can always build up to a longer distance on another day.

Follow the landmarks on shore that you memorized on your way out. If you are going with the current, it may be a bit faster going back, but your time estimations will only be approximate anyway. When you get back to your starting point, approach shore slowly. Use breaststroke. Watch the waves coming in behind you. Only ride a wave in if you are comfortable doing so. Otherwise, duck under and gradually make your way to the beach.

Last thing – pray that you landed on the right beach and that your towel, sandals, and sunglasses are still there.

Burning Carbon to Save Carbon

The City of Boulder has been invited to make a presentation at the Copenhagen global warming summit. Pretty cool, huh?

It seems that some of the innovative things we've done have gotten noticed, things like open space, bike trails, and our climate action plan. Other municipalities want to learn from what we are doing.

Some naysayers here are saying that we should not be putting the CO2 into the air from flying two of our staffers to Denmark and back. They are also complaining about the $2,500 the city is spending on this.

(That's actually quite cheap, as the staffers are flying coach, bringing sleeping bags so they can sleep in private homes, and bringing bikes so they don't have rent cars.)

The money is coming out of the climate action plan budget, so if it furthers the goals of that plan the cost is not an issue. No other programs are affected.

If even one other city takes what we've done and implements it because of what we present, then the carbon savings from that one community will more than offset what's being burned for two airline tickets.

This was also unanimously approved by city council, from the most liberal to the most conservative. So obviously once you look at the tradeoffs it becomes worth it.

I hope this proves fruitful, and maybe even they'll bring back some good ideas from elsewhere.

Ideas that will, no doubt, inflame that same group of naysayers.

Mid-Day Sea

Here is the long-awaited third video in my Galapagos series. Underwater video and music by Jaden!

Mid-Day Sea from Mike Ellis on Vimeo.

In case you missed them, here are the previous videos in the series.

Galapagos Free Bird from Mike Ellis on Vimeo.

Leon Dormido from Mike Ellis on Vimeo.

Bikes Everywhere

Things have been quiet here at Insomnia Log for a few weeks, as I have been on vacation in Italy. Part of that trip was a bike tour, but something I noticed throughout the trip was the number of bicycles everywhere. Of course that is with the exception of the city of Venice, in which land vehicles of all kinds are absent.

In the region of our bike tour, there were many sport cyclists, and they were more fanatical than just about any I know here in the states. But in all parts of the country you see a different type of cyclist - people of all ages and body types, riding inexpensive bikes for real transportation. They are far more abundant than I've seen anywhere in this country.

It's certainly not because of better cycling facilities. In fact, the roads there are much less friendly to bikes than the roads here in Boulder. They are narrow, with no rideable shoulders or bike lanes, and lots of cars.

But generally the drivers and cyclists seem to get along. Drivers slow down for bikes and wait until it is safe to pass. They don't honk or yell at them to get off the road. The difference? Bikes are so ubiquitous. Everybody bikes, so you just expect them.

Why does everybody bike? For one thing, it's often just easier. With the narrow roads and traffic, sometimes it is just simpler to get on a bike. Some cities, such as Florence, have restricted cars. Plus, the price of gasoline is almost three times what it is here.

It's not perfect there. I've never been hit by a car while on my bike before, and while riding a country road my arm was struck by the side mirror of a driver who obviously tried to pass when he shouldn't have. But he did stop to make sure I was ok. (I was -- thanks to break-away mirrors.)

One other difference that I think helps cyclists and drivers get along is a cultural difference. It's hard to put my finger on it exactly, but when the government tells people the way things are going to be, Italians seem more likely to accept it than Americans.

Is there a take away for us? Perhaps it's as simple as getting more bikes on the road in order to get drivers more accepting of cars on the road.

So go out and ride!

Leon Dormido

Leon Dormido from Mike Ellis on Vimeo.Video from our recent trip to the Galapagos Islands.

Galapagos Free Birds

A flight of fancy from our recent trip to the Galapagos Islands.


Galapagos Free Bird from Mike Ellis on Vimeo

Why can't we all just evolve?

Today is Charles Darwin's 200th birthday. My wife and I celebrated early by spending a week in the Galapagos Islands, Ecuador, in December. ... [more]

I'd Like to Be, Under the Sea

I promised some pictures from our trip to the Galapagos Islands. It's been a monumental task to sort through them, but here are a few of them. These are all in, on, and under the ocean.

One of a school of bottlenose dolphins that swam with our boat for a while in Canal Bolivar.
Hermit crabs on Floreana (Punta Cormorant).
Snorkeling at Punta Cormorant.
Snorkeling at Punta Cormorant.
Snorkeling at Punta Cormorant.
Swimming with the sea lions at Punta Cormorant.
Sea turtle at Punta Cormorant.
Sea turtles at Punta Cormorant.
Sea turtle at Punta Cormorant.
Stingray at Punta Cormorant.
Penguin swimming in Elizabeth Bay, Isabela.
Snorkeling at Isla Losos.
Sea turtle at Punta Moreno, Isabela.
Sea star in the lava at Punta Moreno in Isabela.
Stingray at Post Office Bay, Floreana.
Stingray at Post Office Bay, Floreana.
Sea turtle at Post Office Bay, Floreana.
Whale near Isabela, just south of the equator.

Smarter than Mother Nature?

While traveling from mainland Ecuador to the Galapagos Islands, I wrote about how a species, whether bird or human, can actually drive itself into extinction through the actions of a few rogues. We're back now, and I have a few more thoughts on the topic.

I still haven't organized the hundreds of pictures and videos I took in the Galapagos, and I'll post more when I can make some sense of them. But here is a picture of Lonesome George, the very last member of his species, the Pinta Island Tortoise. He is kept at the Charles Darwin Station on Santa Cruz Island in the hopes that eventually another of his kind (hopefully female) will show up in some private collection sometime in the next century (his expected lifetime), to keep this species alive. For companionship, he shares his space with a couple of females of a different species of Galapagos tortoise, but the hybrid eggs produced, even if they hatched and were fertile, would not be the same species.

George is so lonesome because, prior to the protection currently enjoyed by the native and endemic species of the archipelago, the giant land tortoises and other animals were hunted extensively. Four species (out of fifteen) of the tortoise are extinct and the fifth is down to just George.

During the down times on the boat during our cruise, I read about Easter Island, among other things. Easter Island is about 3000 kilometers southwest of the Galapagos. When the Polynesians first moved to Easter Island, they built an amazing culture. It is symbolized by the Moai, huge stone statues like the one shown here, up to 33 feet high and 82 tons.

But the Polynesians destroyed the ecosystem on their paradise island. They destroyed all tree species, which meant they could no longer build, transport, and erect the statues, nor could they make seaworthy vessels for fishing. They destroyed most of the food sources on the island as well, and descended into cannibalism by the time the Europeans stumbled onto them.

These examples make it clear that people can have a huge impact on their environment, and that they have the capability to literally make their home unlivable. In the middle of the South Pacific, the Easter Island natives had nowhere to retreat (and no more ability to build any vessel capable of getting them anywhere else). Similarly, the human race is stuck on this planet. If we mess it up and are forced to eat each other, don't say I didn't warn you.

Survival of the Fittest

I hope that's me -- "the fittest", that is. Reporting from Ecuador this week, I've been enjoying swimming in the Pacific ocean. Actually, I probably swam further in the past week than any other previous week. The folks on the beach were looking at me funny when I climbed water-logged from the ocean after my marathon adventures.

It was near here, in the Galapagos Islands, where the Theory of Evolution got its first seeds. Also, that's where so much research has been done on that subject. Recently, scientists have been measuring the sizes of the beaks of every single finch every single year and proving that evolution really is happening.

We're heading to the Galapagos next week, and it got me thinking (what else to do while putting in the big swimming miles) about the whole idea of the survival of the fittest. Seems like lately folks are talking more than usual about the free market and business Darwinism. And the free market may indeed "work", but there are a couple of problems.

First, survival of the fittest is messy. You may end up with the most fit species/business at the particular time. But there is guaranteed to be lots of blood along the way. In nature, lots of individuals die so that the best among them can live. And in business it's the same way -- lots of economic turmoil so that the best businesses can survive.

When reading about the finches, I came upon a second "problem" with evolution. It seems that on one island a few cactus finches (about a dozen) came up with a bit of a shortcut to sipping their nectar. To make their lives easier, they were actually, with a simple snip of the beak, killing the cactus flower just to take a sip.

Now, these individual birds will never pay evolutionarily. They got their dinner. When things get tight later in the year, these may be the same birds who will be strong enough to get what little nectar remains. A tiny subset of the population is actually destroying the food source for all, and the only solution evolution may offer is extinction.

The logical comparison is the businesses that snip humanity's cactus flower. They may, for example, dump tons and tons of CO2 into our atmosphere. There is no incentive for them to stop or slow down, because it would just hurt their bottom lines. The only solution that the free market has to offer is to allow them to destroy the global economy, with the only consolation being that these rogue businesses will go down with the rest of us.

We are smarter than finches. We can see what we are doing, that the actions of a subset are harming the livelihoods of all. So, it seems like it is up to us to come up with a solution. Perhaps we just need to trim the beaks on these metaphorical finches a few millimeters and the problem will take care of itself.

I'm Sick of Waiting for Socialized Health Care

I had the opportunity to spend a couple of days in Canada last week. While I was there I thought it would be a good chance to do a little informal research into how their health care system really works.

"Fixing" our health care system is clearly near the top of the list of things for our incoming President and Congress to work on. And everybody here seems to have an opinion. Obama wants to bring us "socialized" medicine, according to John McCain. But socialized medicine, he warns us, results in rationing of care and long waits.

Well, Canada truly does have socialized medicine. And nothing Obama has proposed comes anywhere near to what they have. But in any case, I asked three Canadians I had the chance to talk to what they thought of their system:

• The software engineer
• The business executive
• The retired factory worker

The first thing to get out of the way is wait times. Every person I talked to confirmed that there are long waits for certain things. If you want to schedule non-emergency surgery you may have to wait six months. I was told that the government is working on improving this, because of the number of complaints, but it seemed to be an accepted fact.

Can you get your hip surgery quicker if you are willing to pay? Well, I heard of one man who paid out of pocket to come to the U.S. and get his new hip. It cost him $40,000, but the money was burning a hole in his pocket and being in his 80s he really valued the time more than the money. I also heard that, depending on which province you live in, you may be able to pay for improved service locally, but that in some provinces that would be illegal.

The other thing you may have a long wait for is a first appointment with a doctor or specialist. (I guess this is similar to some popular providers in the states.) Again, that could be months. Now, once you have become a client of the doctor, I was told that immediate appointments were available. The executive and the retired factory worker told me they were getting appointments the next day when needed.

Interestingly, I also heard that employers may supplement the health care plans of their employees. For example, they may add prescription coverage, or may upgrade from a ward to a semi-private room.

The retired worker's biggest complaint? When he turned 65 and switched to the Canadian equivalent of Medicare, they switched one of his drugs. Instead of taking one pill per day he had to take two.

What about the cost? The executive told me she is in the highest tax bracket, with essentially no deductions, and that she pays 47% of her paycheck in taxes. For comparison, the highest tax rate in the U.S. is 35% federal, 7.65% payroll tax, and 4.6% state income tax (here in Colorado), for a total of 47.25%. Hmm. That doesn't count the insurance costs that are also deducted from your paycheck.

So what do they think? My software engineer doesn't like it. He doesn't like the rationing, and the inability to get the care he wants when he wants it. My business executive loves it, because people can't go bankrupt because of a catastrophic medical problem. And my retired worker feels lucky compared to his brother, who lives in the U.S. and has no health care after being forced into early retirement.

So what's the bottom line? First, it will be hard to sell government run health care in the U.S. It seems like it can be done at a reasonable cost. To do so, however, will require some rationing. And given that, people in this country will not tolerate being told they can't get the care they want.

To be successful here, socialized medicine must include the ability for employers to supplement the insurance, and it must include the ability for individuals to pay for unrationed care.

The Buzz Is: I'm Not Driving Enough

I try my best to avoid driving as much as possible. Riding my bike, walking, taking the bus, whatever. But this is ridiculous.

I went to fill my gas tank tonight, opened up the cover to the gas cap, and was confronted with a wasp nest. It has obviously been there a while, as there were dead insects strewn about inside.

Some people claim they've been stung by the high price of gasoline, but I think I have them beat.

Welcome to Pharma Springs

Hi, my name is Mike, your guide here at Pharma Springs, and I'd like to point out some of the highlights of our resort. I know that you came here because of what you heard about our healing waters. I'm pleased to tell you today that our waters match those from the finest urban water treatment plants.

First up, if you have any low-level pains, take a dip in the relieving waters of our Ibuprofen Inlet. If the thought of unknown levels of multitudinous drugs in your tap water gives you a big headache, you'll find that a dip here will cure more pains in the neck that even a big drink from the tap in the City of Brotherly Love.

Worried about that infectious-looking fella who jumped in just before you? No worries. A follow-up cleanse at Antibiotic Bay will cure what ails you even before you know it hit you. And, as a bonus, you get a free souvenir basket filled with mutant, resistant bacteria. I guarantee you, you won't get such a gift on your next trip to Tucson.

Too much stress on the old ticker? The old angina doesn't stand a chance once you jump into the Nitrate Natatorium. Plus, our drugs are premetabolized, to give your own body a break in having to deal with them in the "raw" form. You'll remember how good you felt on your last trip to Jersey.

In the mood to experiment with your gender identity? In a nod to our friends in San Francisco, we present Hormone Harbor. Pick your side -- Estrogen Estuary or Testosterone Tide Pool. If fish that swim downstream of our cities can change gender, so can you!

Or maybe you just want to get into the Baseball Hall of Fame (or perhaps testify at a Senate hearing). If you do, go no further than Steroid Stream. No trip to Nebraska to drink the water downstream from a feedlot will be necessary. We can't guarantee a trip to the Olympics, but (wink) our treatments don't require any injections into the buttocks!

Is all of this making you freak out a bit? Jump right into Level-Headed Lake, where the anti-anxiety drugs (better than Southern Cal) will even out the highs and lows caused by excessive dips in our other pools.

Pick the pool of your choice. We promise that you will come out healthier than when you went in, and that we will cure diseases you didn't even know you had (or that you didn't have before coming here).

We are pleased that you chose Pharma Springs for your healing visit. We know you have a choice of any major metropolitan water supply to meet your unintended pharmaceutical needs, and are proud that our water contains ALL of the waste drugs that you could possibly want.

Saba Pictures

I recently wrote about the Saba Hell's Gate Triathlon, which I competed in at the beginning of this month. I thought some of my readers might be interested in some photos from Saba. Click on any picture to see the full-size version.


This is the bike I did the race on. Note the fine natural rust color of the chain, and the ultra-fast, ultra-light race wheels.


We loaded the bikes up on the ferry and cruised over from St. Maarten to Saba. My bike's in the back. Notice that somebody else rented one of these wonder machines.


This is the view of Saba from the ferry. Just five square miles, and its head in the clouds. Not one flat spot. Well's Bay, the start of the triathlon, is just around the point on the right side.


Just to give you an idea of the number of people in the race, here is a shot of the registration and pasta dinner the night before the race.


This is a shot of the race start location from the ferry. If you zoom in, you can see the steepness of the Road as it rises from Well's Bay. Using my protractor, I make it out at about 40%.


Here you can see a rainstorm coming in, like the one that made the race so much fun.


This view from Saba shows the island of Statia in the foreground, with St. Kitts behind, and Nevis barely visible in the background. On a clear day you can see to Montserrat.


This panorama shows the seascape visible from the guest house we stayed at. In the distance you can make out the islands (left to right) of St. Maarten, St. Barths, and Statia.



These are a couple of views of Mt. Scenery. At 877 meters, this volcano is the only cloud forest in the Caribbean.


The patrons of this church in Windwardside (past which the bike course goes) must worship their own interesting version of the Holy Trinity. I visited the night before the race to see if any of it would rub off on me. I believe the names of the three cats are (left to right) Swim, Bike, and Run.

Through the Gates of Hell

I just got back from the Caribbean (hence the lack of posts for the past two weeks). We spent most of the time on St. Maarten/St. Martin, but we also popped over to the island of Saba so that I could participate in the Saba Hell's Gate Triathlon.

The Friendly Island Goes Halvsies

St. Maarten and St. Martin are two halves of one island. The former is part of the Netherlands Antilles and is very American (they use primarily dollars, speak English, etc.) The latter is part of France, and is very French (but American-friendly). They use Euros on the French side, which makes it currently very expensive for us Americans.

We'd been to the island of St. Maarten once before, about five years earlier, and it has changed quite a bit. For one, the traffic is horrendous. If you visit, I highly recommend finding a nice spot and remaining there as much as you can during your stay. The roads are in very bad shape, very badly signed, filled with rental cars (and this wasn't even the high season), trucks, buses, endless construction projects, and locals who think nothing of stopping anywhere in the road to say hi to someone. Plus, there are almost no stop signs or traffic lights, and even though there are numerous roundabouts many people don't really know how to drive through them.

The weather was perfect -- in the 80s every day, with maybe one or two 5-minute refreshing rainstorms during the day or early morning. The wind did pick up some times, which added some chop to the water, and made the swimming much more "interesting". I love to swim, and was out every day, and I can say that the water was much more busy this time than when we previously visited. Jet skis, wind surfers, etc., none of whom expect to see swimmers, all made swimming across a bay a bit more of an adventure.

I rented a bicycle from a shop called TriSport, which I highly recommend. The island is very hilly, which makes cycling either more fun or more of a pain, depending on your demeanor. However, what really changed since my last visit was the traffic.

It was generally true that I could ride significantly faster than the cars, but it requires riding very aggressively. I learned this technique by watching the scooters and motorcycles on the roads there. You cannot ride on the right side of the road, as you will get cut off by almost every driver, and the potholes are immense. You have to ride right down the center line. If a big truck is coming the other direction, you simply pop back into the line of cars.

One other thing that has really changed in the past few years is the amount of construction. I had a magazine from a local nature group that had hiking and biking trail maps. I spent a couple hours trying to find a particular hiking trail and a nearby biking trail shown on the map. I finally found some promising dirt roads, only to shortly thereafter get chased out by a guy on an ATV, telling me that it was a construction zone. It seems the trails are gone, and are being turned into a pink hotel, a boutique, and a streaming hotspot.

Spoiled by the Unspoiled Queen

Anyway, on the Friday after we arrived, we went down to the marina, put the rented bike in the back of the ferry, and took a ride over to Saba (also part of the Dutch Antilles). The boat takes a bit over an hour to get there. I knew nothing about Saba before we went, and nothing about the race, other than the fact that it was supposed to have a big hill climb on the bike, and that the run was mostly on trails.

However, from the ferry, I could see the bay where the swim takes place, and the start of The Road -- an incredibly steep incline at the base of an incredibly steep mountain. One of the ferry crew, on discovering I was planning on doing the race, started warning me about how hard it was. He described a 45 degree ascent on a road that was originally believed would be impossible to build.

Suitably scared, we landed. There was a truck waiting to take the bikes to the hotels at the top of the hill, and a taxi waiting for the race contestants. No, I didn't cycle up, even though it was only a few miles to our hotel. The island is only five square miles, and there is only one road (called, The Road), but it rises to something like 800 or 900 meters, and has a cloud forest at the top of its active volcano. The island is nicknamed "The Unspoiled Queen", and has only about 1500 inhabitants.

We had a great visit to Saba, as there is just about nothing to do. (There are no beaches to speak of, although scuba is very popular). Nothing but enjoy the view -- just about 360 degrees of seascape panorama. The village we were in is called Hell's Gate, and the guest house is The Gate House. That's right, a gourmet restaurant, with an award-winning wine list, extraordinary views, and as far as I know not a single door on the island even has a lock.

Isn't a Race Supposed to be Fast?

So much for the fun part. The race was on Sunday morning. No getting around it. As usual, it rained for a just few minutes, but pretty hard, right around sunrise. Made it cooler for the race, but it also meant that the roads would be wet. Yes, the course was mostly uphill, but there are some short, steep, windy descents, and wet roads would make them more treacherous.

I got a ride to Wells Bay, where the race starts, and my bike found a ride in a truck as well. There was just a tiny beach for the start. (We were lucky -- a few days earlier, there was no beach at all.) There was just a tiny field of competitors -- about 16 individuals (like me) planning on doing the entire race, and seven teams of three.

The swim portion of the race (about 800 meters) starts on the beach, goes out to a first buoy, turns left to a second buoy, and then returns to the beach. The swell and surf were significant, but certainly swimmable. However, the buoys were small and were hidden from view by the swell when swimming.

The race started. As the mainlander not used to entering the surf, I was one of the last to actually start swimming. But there was a boat to sight on at the first buoy, I got a good line and swam steady, and I soon passed several swimmers and found myself alone. Eventually, I made it to the buoy, and two swimmers appeared from nowhere.

I didn't know it at the time, but one of the two was the man who had won this race every year so far, and who was to go on to win for the fifth time that day. But at the moment, all I saw was two swimmers, one who turned this way, and the other who turned that way. Of course, I couldn't see the second buoy, so I just chose a course half way between the two.

Of course, that was a bad idea. I was guaranteed to be wrong. But after a couple minutes, I was able to correct my course, and turned a bit behind the swimmer who had gone this way. Then it was hard back to the beach, and I was gaining on him all the way. I was still behind, when, by some miracle, I caught the wave to the shore just right and he didn't. I actually beat out of the water by four seconds the man who was to go on to win the race, and at that point I was in third place (over two minutes behind the two swim leaders), at what was to be my best position all day.

Then it was up the beach, over the rocks, and through the parking lot, where the bikes had been left. I took my time putting my shoes on, because I had just come by car down that road and I knew how steep it was. I had my excuses ready -- I was on a cheap, heavy, rented mountain bike. The chain was rusted (but all the gears worked) and I rode the bike with platform pedals wearing my running shoes. But I was looking to see if I could get up that hill anyway.

Take the steepest climb you've done. Now, double the grade (or maybe triple it). Then, climb that super steep hill for the first kilometer or more of a race, and keep climbing hard for most of the rest of the race. A small number of the competitors in this race actually ride all the way. Most end up pushing their bikes. I rode for maybe two minutes, red-lining the whole time, then zigged when I should have zagged, and ended up unable to continue on the pedals.

But the funny thing is, pushing the bike was almost as fast as riding it, and I was using lots less energy, so maybe it wasn't a bad idea after all. After maybe 15 minutes of pushing, I got to the top of the first climb. I got back on the bike, but I could barely balance, I was so tired.

There were more ups and more downs. Perhaps it was lucky that the roads were wet, as it gave me an excuse to go more slowly on the descents and take the time to recover. Then came the last climb, which was almost (but not quite) as hard as the first. This one I made without walking.

The ride was only 8 kilometers, but it had taken me over 50 minutes to complete. And I was wobbling on my feet as I tried to find the trail to start the run. I was now in eleventh place overall. I just went easy for a bit, hoping to find all the turns in the trail, and hoping to get into a rhythm.

But, alas, a rhythm was not to be found. I recovered my legs soon enough, but the trail got more and more technical. After a bit, it turned into a very long, steep, treacherous descent. I was wearing my road running shoes, the trail was slippery, and, although I run trails all the time at home, this was slow going. I got passed by one, two, three "runners" who, I swear, had mountain goat genes.

The "run" section of this race is only officially 5.3 kilometers, but I didn't get to the 1/4 mark until about 17 minutes into the run. I should be almost done by now! Instead, I'm getting passed by people who train at sea level.

Finally, the trail goes back uphill. Again, incredibly steep. But at least I'm more at home. Trail running in Colorado has prepared me for this part of the race. I start catching up to the people who had passed me. I'm getting more confident. But then more downhill, and I'm getting passed again. And then a very long uphill. I try to use the uphill to get as much time as I can, and I make my way past the three people who'd gone by me a bit earlier.

But there were some more sprinkles. The trail was getting muddier and more treacherous. And this long climb would end with a very steep descent almost all the way to the finish.

On the tricky part, another runner was staying right behind me, letting me pick my way gingerly down the trail in my now-mud-caked and soaked shoes, down the moss-covered rocks, every step carefully chosen. And when we heard steps coming up from behind, my shadow passed me, and then the other runner, leaving me to wonder what special shoes they must be wearing to get through this at such speed. I was well behind both of them at the finish, in 17th place overall (out of 23).

Some of the lessons for anybody to take into this race: First, it's all about the bike. You need to get the lightest bike with the easiest gearing, then you need to spend time training on these hills, or hills very much like them (if you can find them). Second, trail running practice is crucial (although very little of the trail section was actually spent running -- most was "speed hiking"). But having good trail shoes and practicing treacherous, slippery trail descents is the key. You cannot brute force that course.

But here's the biggest take away. This is a teeny race, all local. I'm sure I was the competitor from the furthest away. (Just about all the others were from Saba or St. Maarten or St. Martin.) Not counting travel, the race entry fee is only $35, and that includes not only the t-shirt, the pasta dinner the night before, and the BBQ lunch after the race, but also the taxi rides and truck transportation for the bike all around the island all weekend. This type of small event is something that you will never find in Boulder anymore.

So, if you are interested in doing something completely different, and adding a unique challenge to a relaxing vacation, consider the Saba Hell's Gate Triathlon. Send an email to Susy at TriSport and she'll help you arrange it; she was helpful to me in many ways.

And, by going into the race knowing that I was using the wrong bike and the wrong shoes, I was forced to do the race "just for fun".

[Updated 12/18/07 with this link to my pictures from Saba.]