Image by Darren Kirby, used via CC license.

We’re nearing the end of the annual Perseid meteor shower, which peaked this past weekend. I caught a few glimpses of it on Saturday night, soaking in my friends’ hot tub after an all-day trail run – but the viewing this year wasn’t as good as usual, on account of the nearly full moon brightening the sky.

Meteor showers are really meaningful to me. It is really easy in our day-to-day life, driving around or sitting in front of our computers, to forget that we are miraculously stuck onto a whirling piece of rock that spins around a giant star in an expanding galaxy, all within a universe that we cannot even begin to understand. Meteor showers are a visible reminder of that connection.

Imagine that you are out in space, somewhere very very far away – so far away that you can view the Earth and the Sun, and all of the inner planets: Mercury and Venus, and on the outside of our planet’s orbit, Mars. Now look at the Earth spinning. You know that the Sun rises in the east and sets in the west – so, in your mental picture, you can visualize which direction the Earth must spin*.

Remember that one complete revolution of the Earth is less than 24 hours (it is actually 23 hours, 56 minutes). This is because the Earth is revolving around the Sun. By the time the Earth has completed one rotation, it has also moved partway along its orbit. Stop and visualize it for a moment: even if the Earth did not rotate on its axis at all, by the time it had revolved around the Sun once (one real year) one “day” (defined as one sunrise and one sunset) still would have occurred. So, the fact that the Earth must spin an extra four minutes to make up what looks to us down here as a full day, means that the direction that the Earth revolves around the Sun must be the same as the direction that it rotates on its axis**.

It takes a bit of effort to wrap your head around this. But I think it’s pretty cool, once you can do that: shift your point of view, look down at yourself and your home planet from outer space, and get a picture of what’s really going on.

And this is what I love about meteor showers. Now that you can think of that connection, of where we are, standing on the surface of this rocky planet that is both spinning on its axis and revolving around the Sun… you can start to see where the meteors, which are simply little pieces of debris from a comet that are drifting in a region of our planet’s orbit, come from. They zoom in from the northeast – just like other celestial bodies, the Sun and the Moon and the stars, which all appear from the east because of how our planet spins.

Meteors are more prevalent in the pre-dawn hours; also because our planet happens to rotate and revolve in the same direction (counter-clockwise). The side of the planet that is turning towards the sun (morning) encounters more meteors than the side that is moving away from the sun (evening). You really need to get that outer-space view going in your head to see that!

I had an experience once that I will never forget – a moment where I literally could feel the planet rotating under me. It was back in the days when I was still working as a geologist. I had been working alone in the Australian outback, doing geological mapping, for several days. I knocked off work for the day and set up camp (which, in the Outback, means parking the Landcruiser at some notable point such as a dried up shrub in the middle of the red dirt). After the sun set, I lay down on the ground under the dead branches of my mulga shrub, my little landmark in the midst of such a huge and flat landscape. The ground was still hot on my back, and somehow that made me feel very connected to the earth, to Planet Earth. The sky was bright over in the west, where the Sun had just set, and as I watched the light fade, I noticed one bright star above me tracking past the mulga branches. And over in the east, a white glow in the sky heralded the rising Moon.

And suddenly I could feel the planet spinning under me, part of me, or me a part of it. I could feel the movement, not of the sky passing above me, but of me and the planet, flying through the sky, through space, me and the planet spinning away from the Sun and towards the Moon. I could almost feel the drag of the atmosphere, almost hear the roar of a planetary wind above me as I spun through space, no longer any separation between Earth and sky, just me and the heat on my back, stuck to this rock and a part of it as we hurtled through space.

So go and enjoy the meteors. Look up to our night sky, and to the Sun and the Moon and the stars and, yes, the meteors. Try to feel how the Earth moves.

___________

*Since the Sun rises in the East, the Earth must spin counter-clockwise (viewed from “above” i.e. the North Pole).
**So the Earth rotates about the Sun in a counter-clockwise direction.

And so many people seem impressed by how “brave” I am. And that is so not true! I fear for my life a lot of the time. Just not when I am out there, in the wilderness. Honestly, out there is where I feel safest.

But this common reaction makes me reflect on what fear is. Or, more accurately, what leads to a perception of danger. Many of my girlfriends here in Port Alberni won’t go running on trails alone because they are afraid of “something” happening: a fall, a bear encounter. Yet they will go on long road-bike rides, 40 or 80 or even 100 km (my sporty girlfriends here are pretty impressive, I must say!)

I do rides like that too. But it’s doing road rides like that, with cars hurtling past – sometimes only inches away from my body – that makes me experience legitimate fear. Not being alone in the wilderness.

It seems to me that many people’s fear is not proportional to the actual level of danger. It is more about a comfort zone, and what they are used to. Honestly – in my 30 or so years of adventuring, in very wild places around the world, sometimes travelling with others and sometimes alone, I have come across only one serious accident: a hiker in Patagonia who had a very bad fall, and ultimately ended up having his lower leg amputated.

Then I go to some place like Toronto, and drive on those highways, the 401 and 400 and 407 etc. – I see thousands of people enclosed in metal and glass boxes zipping past one another at combined speeds of 200 km/h or more, apparently experiencing no fear! In spite of the fact that the radio is broadcasting a constant stream of info of serious traffic accidents, and that Ontario drivers simply get used to detouring past smashed-up cars every so often, some of which contain dead or injured bodies.

Honestly, in all of my wilderness trips, I have never detoured past a dead body. City drivers just get used to this. And then think I should experience fear in the wilderness.

I recall, back in 2000, when a drunk camper was bitten by a wolf on an island off of Tofino. The incident was headline news around the country. It happened that I had been photographing the wolves involved a few weeks earlier. So, next thing I knew I was fielding all of these media calls.

I talked to one editor in her high-rise in Toronto. She was horrified by the idea of these wild animals appearing from the bush and attacking. I tried put to it into perspective for her. Something like 3000 people are killed in motor vehicle accidents in Canada each year. Hundreds of thousands of Canadians are bitten by dogs every year. On average, one person is killed by a wild animal across all of North America per year (a fraction of the number actually killed by domestic dogs).

But Canadians are used to dogs – just as they are used to cars (and car accidents). They have lost their fear of the situations that present true danger, and instead fear what they don’t know: wilderness or wolves or bears.

So what should we be afraid of? In my ideal world, we would all make the effort to become properly informed, and to define what truly are the dangers in our lives.

Ironically, the wolves that were involved in that attack provide an example. Those wolves had become habituated to humans. They had been around people so much that they had lost their natural fear of us. That is why I was able to photograph them, it is why they ended up close enough to a drunk camper to end up biting him, and it is why they were shot.

And that same habituation or desensitization is happening to us now. The things that are most dangerous to us are so intermingled with our daily lives that we do not fear them: fast food and lack of exercise; far too much sugar in the North American diet; cars and car accidents; our industrialized way of life and what that means for global warming and coming food shortages. These things are already killing thousands of people every year, and they will kill many, many thousands more.

These are all very scary to me. Much more so than cougars and wolves and bears.

There’s this land-sharing cooperative that I’m a member of, up the coast. A few times, an email has circulated around the group because a recent clearcut* is visible from our lots. That bothers some property owners.

Whereas for me, that one clearcut does not bother me any more than the many other recent clearcuts in Clayoquot Sound (UNESCO World Biosphere Reserve – and please note, there is no “P” on reserve). To me, cutting ancient forest down is not an issue of aesthetics; it is an issue about processes. Whether or not I ever lay eyes on any one specific clearcut, I understand what each clearcut means:

• in terms of lost habitat for wildlife,
• in terms of affects on the ocean via anadromous species (those that live in both fresh and salt water such as salmon) and debris runoff,
• in terms of effects upon our atmosphere and global ecosystem.

I’ve been thinking about this issue a lot this week, because of Canada’s decision to block the listing of chrysotile asbestos as a hazardous material on Annex III of the UN’s Rotterdam Convention. Since the listing of hazardous substances can only be changed by consensus, it only takes one country to stop it.

And why would Canada do that? Because our government has some new, cutting-edge unpublished study that demonstrates that chrysotile asbestos does not actually cause cancer? Or because our Conservative government has already approved expansion of an asbestos mine in southern Québec, in a riding that they hope to wrestle away from the Bloc Québecois?

Yup.

But it’s not only on the federal level that this kind of decision-making is taking place. It seems to be the only way of thinking in the resource extraction industry: people employed in [fishing/logging/mining] don’t want to see their industry shut down because of what it would mean for their own personal jobs. (Intersting that they somehow avoid considering what kind of world their own personal children will grow up into).

But I see it here among the supposed environmentalists too. There has been a strong local movement on the west coast of Vancouver Island to block the proposed Catface open pit copper mine which, if it goes ahead, would be developed in the heart of Clayoquot Sound. I find it hard to rationalize the actions of people who use metals in their every-day life to block the development of a mine. Are we against mining? Or are we just against a mine in our own back yard?

I think these are important things to think about: every time we make a decision; every time we choose to take action, or not to take action.

And it’s not just about big industrial projects like logging and mining. There are decisions and actions that we make every day.

For example, plastic grocery bags: How could anyone who considers the issue, and not just their personal challenge of remembering to bring a bag (we remember our wallet and keys, how hard can it be?), not support the banning of unnecessary single-use items that harm the environment? (And don’t give me the “but I recycle” argument: Recycling is evil).

Personally, I don’t hold much hope for the future of humanity on this planet. And sadly, we’re going to take down a lot of other species with us (we already are).

But if we are to have any hope at all, we need to look at the big picture. We need to examine our each and every action, and make our decisions based on examination of the whole and looking out for the long-term – not on just how something will affect us, personally, right here and right now.

Where do you stand? Do you have any stories to share about your “big picture”?

*I understand the word “clearcut” has been redefined because supposedly BC no longer undertakes clearcut logging. As I understand it, these patches where the forest has been cut and cleared are now supposed to be labelled “openings”, so in this post I use the word “clearcut” informally.

<–[my spinach]

The sun is beaming in my office window here and, when I finish writing this post, I am going to head outside and plunge my hands into the earth. I have eggplants that I want to plant today. And I expect that the beans that I sowed last week will just be curling up from under the earth. I need to go out to protect them from the blue jays, who love to pull them up just as they emerge.

[my first little broccoli of the year]–>

Gardening – producing my own food, is a way of connecting myself to this planet: by the direct connection of my hands in the soil, and also by the food that I eat. (It’s barely June – but in the last week I have harvested asparagus, spinach, arugula, lettuce, bok choy, and more… the earth in my yard literally becomes me!)

Gardening is also a connection to the seasons, this perpetual cycle of change that repeats as a result of our planet whirling about the sun. I’ve been growing veggies since I was a kid – I learned both from my mother and by trial and error. There is a time for each plant, and I need to be connected to it.

<–[promise of tomatoes to come]

When I moved into a ground-floor apartment in Perth, Australia, nearly twenty years ago now, I started a new veggie garden at my front doorway. It was March – autumn in Australia. Not ideal timing to seed veggies. But, I thought, Canadian summer is about the same temperature as Australian winter. I’ll plant them anyway. They’ll just think they are in Canada!

Ha, no fooling those plants. The seeds sprouted, but as soon as they emerged to see daylight, they noticed that the day-length was decreasing. They might not have known that they were in Australia – but they sure knew it wasn’t spring! They stayed on hold through the Australian winter, right through to the spring, when they finally started to grow.

Even when I was not connected to the seasons (or tried not to be), I was forced back. The plants knew.

[two generations of lettuce]–>

Gardening comes so easy to me – instinctive – but I think that is because I have been doing it so long that it becomes second nature. I know which month to seed my tomatoes or my kale; I know which plants to seed indoors (for the warmth) and which will become palid and lanky inside and need the cold (the cabbage family, such as kale and broccoli and bok choy).

<–[my kale is ready!]

It is funny, sometimes, seeing people who are new to gardening but who have no sense of this connection – no sense of the specific needs of each type of plant. They seem to think that the act of placing a seed in the soil is enough. They may sow everything at once, or when they have time rather when it is the right season, or everything indoors or everything outdoors. But it is sad to see that, too, because those people probably get disheartened about gardening, when their plants don’t produce for them. Gardening, and growing your own food, is such a joy.

Gardening is me – literally. I am made of the food that I grow.

Sure, I invest a fair bit of time into my vegetable garden. But I value that time, my hands plunged into the rich earth and the sunlight streaming on my shoulders in order to create my food – rather than hunched over my computer earning money that will pay for my food. I reinforce my connection to our planet, to my ancestors, and to how produce is meant to be: crisp lettuce, tender broccoli, sweet crunchy peas, and tomatoes with a flavour that, sadly, so many people no longer know.

Norm Hann was our instructor – giving us a chance to try out something new, as well as to find out about a new and different way of getting a core workout. (The core muscles are all of the big muscles in the centre of your body – stomach, back, glutes – that support and stabilize the rest of your body. A strong core helps prevent injury as well as makes you stronger all-round). This morning clinic was one part of the program of this weekend’s Tofino running camp, led by ultra-endurance athlete Jen Segger.

Norm has just come back from a major SUP trip through the Great Bear Rainforest – “standing up” (literally and figuratively) for the Great Bear Rainforest, in particular about the proposal to have oil tankers pass through this pristine region. The oil well spewing out tens of thousands of barrels of oil per day unfortunately illustrates Norm’s point perfectly – the devastating effects that accidents can happen. So, to raise awareness about the risks to the region, Norm travelled nearly 400 km on the SUP in 11 days.

The boards are broad and quite stable. I felt a little wobbly on it at first, but it is not what I would call “tippy”. Not one of us fell off – which says something about stability, considering we were a group of first-timers. I think for straight-out travelling, I’d prefer a sea kayak – both for the ability to hold more gear, and for the stability in rougher seas. But the view from up high was definitely quite nice. The view around is better, but what surprised me is how much you can look down into the water from the SUP, views that you mostly miss from a kayak. Who ever knew there are so many big crabs down there!

I think what the SUP is really great for, though, is for that core workout. You do really need to hold your body stable while paddling – can’t slack off and lean back and lily dip like you can in a kayak. But also, the stroke is very different, hoding both arms straight, and using mainly body rotation to pull the paddle through the water.

I’ve been wanting to try this out for a while, so I’m really greatful to both Norm and Jen for making this opportunity happen. Apparently, SUP is currently the fastest-growing watersport. And it’s not only for flat water. Norm had it out there on the waves every day, surfing some really good rides at Cox Bay, one of Tofino’s biggest and best surf spots.

What do you think about SUP? Have you tried it yet? (For any Vancouver Island visitors who want to try: they’re available to rent on Nitinat Lake, abotu a 45 minute drive from Port Alberni).

But last month, the West Vancouver Memorial Library contacted me and asked if I wanted to put together a show of my photos. What an opportunity – of course I said yes! So I’ve been frantically preparing images, getting them printed, and now I am framing. And what a good feeling it is, seeing these images printed large.

I remember when I first started to print and display my photos, a decade or so ago. I had been photographing “seriously” for twenty years by then – I’m not saying I was “good” that whole time, but I had been working hard at improving myself: learning the technical stuff, and being ultra-critical about my own work so I could continue improving. But all of that time, all of the photos that I had taken were slides stashed away in little boxes. Once I started doing slideshows, and printing and framing my works – once I started showing them to people – I realized that’s what it’s all about.

I don’t photograph for myself. I photograph because I want to share what I see and what I feel when I am out there; I want to put a frame around a little part of it, and take it back home to share with others. Not many people get to see wild animals in the wilderness these days, and that’s something that’s really important for me. To show wild animals living where they belong: in their natural setting – not captive, not on the “wild game farms”, where so many “wild” animals are photographed these days – but to show the extensive habitat they need to survive. (We need those wild areas to be intact, in order for us to survive, too).

So I’ve had some good fun these last few weeks, going through images and readying them for exhibition. I still haven’t made the final selection of what will and won’t be shown – there will be between 30 and 40 prints on display all together – but I’m offering you a sneak preview of some of them here.

And if you are in or around Vancouver, I invite you to come down and see them all! They will be on display for all of June and July, at the West Vancouver Memorial Library (1950 Marine Drive), open daily (and free entry, of course!). And please, leave a comment here and let me know what you think…

I’ve known Benja and his family for six years, and I’ve just been down visiting them in Punta Arenas, Chile, for a couple of weeks. Benja had already done his Strait swim before I arrived. He trained for this crossing for a year, both in the pool and in the river in Valdivia, where he is studying marine biology. The narrowest part of the strait is in the far north, starting from Punta Delgada on the mainland, about 5 km across to Bahía Azul, on the island of Tierra del Fuego.

Currents are strong throughout the Strait, but especially here at the narrows, so the timing of his crossing was very important: aiming to swim at slack current. But the Patagonia weather is wild! You can predict the tides weeks or even years in advance, but you never know what the weather is going to hand you. Fortunately, his chosen day of January 8th was relatively calm…  so he, accompanied by his trainer and family, set out. And his crossing went perfectly. As Benja explains it, before he knew it Tierra del Fuego was right in front of him. His crossing time was just over an hour (1:01:35, to be exact), a new Chilean record.

I arrived a month later, and met Benja’s friend Bárbara, who did her own crossing of the Strait while Benja and I were out at San Isidro Lighthouse (further south along the Strait) for a week. While we were there, Benja and his friend Jonas plunged into the Strait for a training swim without wetsuits, Benja staggering out of the water clutching his frozen head as soon as they were done, while Jonas lolled around in the shallows like a seal. Then Benja’s friend Carolina came out for a visit, and the two of them went out for a swim. With only one pair of goggles and one swim cap between them, Carolina had to wear a diving mask and Benja did his best to avoid the brain-freeze this time with a plastic bag and piece of cloth wrapped around his head.

Bárbara completed her swim while we were away – second Chilean woman ever to have swum the Strait. Benja and I returned to Punta Arenas to congratulate her. (Bárbara, who is a South American open-water swimming champion, had also just swum across from the mainland to the outer coastal island of Chiloé the week before). She did her Strait swim on February 13th, in a time of 1:24 (the strong current meant she actually swam an extra two km) – second Chilean woman ever to swim Magellan Strait, and the new Chilean female record holder.

Bárbara and and I had several days of overlap in Punta Arenas, staying with Benja and his family, and I sure enjoyed getting to know her. Here is a little video I shot of the two of them on one of their training swims (runs 1 minute 15s):

Later, the three of us went to the local pool together (yes, I will go swimming if the water temperature is acceptable…) They attempted to teach me flip-turns (which I did not master) and how to swim front crawl backwards (which I did master!) among other useful things (such as how to sink and crawl like a crab on the floor of the pool, and how to blow bubble rings from the bottom, two of Benja’s specialties). And, upon leaving Punta Arenas, Bárbara gave me a Chile swimming camp, which I now wear with pride, and which will always make me think of these two: inspiring swimmers and wonderful friends.

I am such a wuss in the cold water. But these cold-water addicts have really motivated me. I have a decent wetsuit, and I live just a 10-minute bike ride from Tonquin Beach. The nearest public swimming pool to do laps in is 125 km away… Of course I should train in the waters at my front door. I don’t really have any excuse, do I?

I am not saying I am going to do it. But I am seriously thinking about it.

OK, yes, it is the peak of summer, but this is Patagonia. Unfortunately, you can’t tell in the picture how windy it is! Not only is it high-latitude (53-54 degrees where I was, in and south of Punta Arenas – roughly equivalent to the latitude of Haida Gwaii/Queen Charlotte Islands). But in addition, the plate tectonic accident that has placed Antarctica symmetrically over the south pole (for now, anyway) means that, unlike in the northern hemisphere, the winds that swirl around the globe in the latitudes 50s, 60s and 70s are unimpeded by any continental mass here in the south.

The south tip of South America is the first point of land that juts down and intercepts these winds (check it out on a globe – South America’s southern tip is something like 1000 km further south than either Australia or South Africa. Sorry I don’t have a globe on hand to verify my figures, but something like that). That’s why southern Patagonia is so windy, and why the ocean currents are so treacherous.

So, I have been offline for a while. Over the next two weeks I’ll catch y’all up on the interesting places I have been to. I am officially down here to report on an adventure race, Xtremo6000, which is part of the Adventure Racing World Series and which will take place later this week in northern Argentina.

But I decided to take advantage of being flown this close to Patagonia by grasping the opportunity and heading down to visit my dear friends in Chilean Patagonia. I met the Cáceres Murrie family back in 2004 – they run a wilderness lodge at Cabo San Isidro lighthouse, the southernmost inhabited point of the American continent, on the edge of Magellan Strait. The Patagonia Expedition Race finished there a few years back – I was reporting on that race and, while waiting for the teams to come in, we all became friends. In particular, Benjamín and I really hit it off (he was 14 at the time), with our common interests in learning about gathering wild foods and trying to figure out how to make serviceable objects from found items, e.g. making urchin-catching spears (erizeros in Spanish – we don’t have a word for them in English) and weaving baskets out of the native reed junquillo.

Benjamín is now 20, and going into his third year in marine biology. (He’s also an amazing swimmer… more about than in an upcoming post). My visit coincided with his summer break, so we headed out to the lighthouse (or faro) with plans to hike to Cabo Froward: the southermost point on the American continent. Benjamín had some guiding obligations first (tourists who had come to hike and kayak from the faro) so I hung out with him, enjoying the hiking and kayaking and doing some photography.

By the time he had finished up his guiding obligations, Benja had a friend arriving back home in Punta Arenas (another champion swimmer, more about her coming up too). So we did our 4-day hike to Froward in just two days (i.e. 60 km of rough terrain: irregular coastal rock shelves, wet and spongy peat bog, and steep slippery rainforest trails in less than 36 hours!… carrying 4 days of food with us). There were 4 river crossings along the way – and we hit 3 of the 4 at high tide, forcing me to swim (Benja is used to cold water; I am not!). Out backpacks were stuffed into big garbage bags – as heavy as they seem, they still float!. We lucked out with the two sunniest days of my whole visit for the trek, and by the next morning we were back in Punta Arenas. (More on that coming up too… especially the dolphins leaping joyously at the bow of the zodiac).

So I’ll be posting more about the whole trip over the coming weeks – photos and words both. But the summary is…. a few days in Buenos Aires, overcoming the jetlag while taking in the tango scene, then 2nd a half weeks in the far south of the continent, then this coming week at Xtremo6000 adventure race (daily “live” reports coming on SleepMonsters, if you are interested).

It was a sad goodbye to everyone this morning… I’ve shared so many laughs these last few weeks, both with Benja out at the faro, and with the whole family, Pato and Ángela and their sons and all of their many friends. It’s tough when you have such good friends who live so far away… and you just never know if or when you will ever see them again.

OK, please check back over the coming weeks… for more about the faro, about our hike, about some amazing swimmers, about Andean condors, about Buenos Aires tango, about adventure racing…. lots coming.

“Yup,” I smile. Damp is good. Damp means that the temperature is still above freezing.

The last week or two has been warm even for Tofino. My witch hazel bloomed a couple of weeks ago. Which is normal; it usually blooms the first week of January. But riding my bike around town yesterday, I noticed there are actually a lot of flowers in bloom right now.

So I got back on the bike today, camera in hand. These are no amazing photos – I only took my point-and-shoot out – but I was sure surprised, once I started looking. Remember, this is Canada, in the middle of January!

In a short little lap around town, I came across dozens of different types of flowers in bloom! I didn’t even photograph every single one, and there were four that I did not know the names of, either. But, of what I could recognize, I found: witch hazel; pink, blue, yellow and white primroses; pink and white heather; rhododendrons; azaleas; viburnum; geranium; three types of daisy; lavatera; pansies; violets; periwinkle; fuschia; California lilac; lobelia; calendula and hellebore – even one red rose and some mums trying hard. Oh yes, and strawberries (on my own back deck!).

Counting the four I didn’t know the name of, that is 26 different flowers in bloom here in Tofino right now.

Amazing what you see, once you start paying attention. Hope you enjoy the pix.

[One day later] Oh, I just couldn’t help myself, I had to go out and take more flower pictures again today. So here is instalment two of the Tofino Flowers in January photo essay. I found crocuses and even blackberries in bloom! Counting them, as well as Scotch broom (oh no, invasive but pretty), two more types that I don’t know the name of, and the snap dragon that I forgot to mention yesterday, that makes a total of 31 different types of flowers in bloom in Tofino right now! Enjoy…

Prepare your feet beforehand: Elite racers may not have to do much – they seem to have bombproof feet, and I don’t know if that is because they are genetically born that way and that’s why they become so good at distance, or because they have put so many miles on that they have toughened up their tootsies. I think it’s probably a combination of both. Well, the rest of us can’t change our genetics – all we can do is put as many miles on our feet as possible, both walking and running, to toughen them up. Some racers advocate other ways of toughening the skin, such as a daily 15 minute foot-soak in lemon juice for 3 weeks before the event. I have not tried this.

Prevent swelling: A lot of blistering happens on a multi-day race because of swelling that starts two or more days in. Your feet become bigger and shaped differently, and suddenly your favourite shoes don’t fit any more. Anything you can do to prevent swelling will help to prevent blisters. Getting your electrolytes out of balance will contribute to swelling, so take proper electrolyte supplements.

When not actually running – whether stopping on the trail, or in camp after each day’s stage, elevate your feet as much and as often as possible. For this to truly be effective, your feet must be higher than most of your body, so just stretching your legs out on an adjacent chair has only limited effect. Find the time to lie down on your back with your legs resting on a chair, or even straight up against a wall – especially for the first hour after you get in.

I’ve found compression socks to be incredibly useful. You can buy compression socks for runners – in fact, Injinji has a new toe sock out that is also a compression sock that I am dying to try. I have not yet raced in compression socks, but I think they are a good idea and would try them if I had them. I just use those granny socks, the ones for old ladies with varicose veins, that you buy at the drug store – and I put them on as soon as I get in (yes, before showering – because the swelling starts as soon as you stop running, and it is much easier to prevent it in the first place than to try to bring it back down later). I often sleep in my compression socks too.

I’ve enjoyed the nights on a race that I sleep in my Hennessy Hammock – the slightly curved nature of the hammock naturally elevates your feet above most of your body.

Deal with swelling: OK, after a few days you are probably swelling anyway. Keep up the elevating and compression socks. But you’ll probably need to do something about your shoes. Most of you will know to bring a pair of shoes that is one size larger for later in the race. What I have found that works really well, too, is changing my insoles. At last year’s 6-day 232 km Coastal Challenge, I raced in my size 9 Mizuna trail runners (which I love) with insoles.

I started with Sole Footbeds – the thick and cushy “Softec Ultra” model. After a few days, I moved to the thinner “Softec Regular”. On Day 6, I got rid of the Sole footbeds and put the regular Mizuna ones back in. Perfect fit, keeping my favourite shoes on for the whole race. (My shoes are a pretty loose fit anyway, partly because of my Injinji toe socks – you might want to bring a pair of larger shoes with you as well, just in case).

Prevent blisters: There are two schools of thought on how to prepare your feet for race day. Some people say keep them dry and tough, even calloused, to be resistent to blisters. Others say keep them soft and malleable, that it is the callouses themselves that cause the deep blisters, and they massage vaseline or baby’s diaper rash cream into their feet – both to keep the skin soft and to keep the moisture out.

So far, I am of the “keep them dry” school. I may try the “soft” approach at some point, but I fear that softening my skin will, on me, promote blisters. (The idea of dealing with socks lined with vaseline also grosses me out). Each person just needs to figure out for himself which approach will work best for him.

Don’t race in new shoes; make sure you break them in. (I know you know that – I just have to say it for completeness)

Each runner has parts of their feet that are more prone to blister: the little toe, the heel, the outside of the big toe. You know your feet. Tape up those spots before you even start – that prevention will save you so much time and hassle and pain down the road! Put the tape on the night before the race – that makes the tape stick better; it may even stay on the whole race (and since there is no wound or blister under that tape, you don’t need to worry about infection or changing “dressings”). Leukotape (or here for Canadians) is preferred by many racers I know. Applying that Tincture of Benzoine first ensures that your tape will stay on for days, and perhaps even for a week.

OK, here is what I love: my Injinji “Performance” toe socks. For people who are prone to getting blisters between their toes, these will change your life! They do spread your toes just the tiniest bit – I like that feeling, but some people don’t. Like anything, test them out before you head to the race. You may have to change your shoe size or even brand to use them, because they do take up a bit of extra room. But I love them – I was one of a handful of racers who never had to visit the foot doctor at The Coastal Challenge (either year!) and if I have to credit only one thing for that it would have to be my Injinji socks.

The other thing I do on the trail is put a lot of effort into keeping my feet dry. Anyone racing for a good finishing time won’t bother to do this, but if you are like me, just trying to finish the whole thing, this is something to consider. First, I carried one, and some times two, pairs of spare dry socks in a ziplock bag with me. If you are racing in a hot climate like Costa Rica, you can dry everything in minutes. (This is only worth the effort if you know the trail is going to be dry for the next while, e.g. after a river crossing). Just find a rock in the full sun, and remove your socks, shoes, and insoles, lay them and your feet out in the sun, and within five minutes everything would be bone dry, except perhaps the socks. Even if you don’t take the time to dry everything, just letting the shoes drain for a moment while you squeeze the water out of the insoles, and then putting the dry socks on, gets your feet mostly dry for the next section of trail. I figure if it prevents you from gettting slowed down by blisters later in the race, it is time well spent.

Deal with blisters on the trail: OK, you still might feel a blister coming on – no system is perfect. Again, this is when I think 5 minutes spent on the trail, now, can save you more time than that down the road. If you feel a “hot spot”, pay attention to it. Remove your sock; perhaps you can adjust something, or just need to remove a stick or a pebble before it causes damage. If there is a blister coming, pop it right away.

Get your alcohol wipe, wipe the needle as well as the skin where you are going to pop it. Press the side of the blister, to raise it, and go in sideways at the very edge, on the opposite side. You want the needle to go in parallel to your skin, so there is no possibility of pricking in too deep. Then squeeze the blister from the side to get all the fluid out. Sometimes the fluid is in between several different skin layers, and you may have to go in with the needle again; go in through the same hole, angling the needle differently to get the different layers. (I know some people say “never pop blisters” – that is fine advice for people who recover on the couch, but not for people wearing shoes and continuing on. You just have to keep it clean and dry afterwards). Cover it with a bandaid – if you have punctured it with only one needle hole and covered it well, it is unlikely to rip open.

Deal with blisters in camp: Back in camp, clean up your feet well and get all of your supplies ready alongside you before you start. Some races have medics there who will treat your feet if you wish. Even though they may provide some medical supplies there, they often ask that you bring your own. The better supplies you have, the better treatment you will get. So look carefully at your race info pack to work out how much you should bring.

Pop any blisters that are causing you pain. If you need to re-pop any that have been popped before, do your very best to go in through the old hole. Once you have multiple holes going, it is more likely that the whole blister will rip open when you are running. Open blisters are to be avoided at all cost – they are very painful, get infected easily, and can devastate your race.

Now tape up the blisters. Make sure you do this at night, because the tape will adhere much better if it stays on all night before you put your shoes back on. Remember that the skin on the blister is no longer attached to the skin below it. If you are going to have to remove the tape again, you will probably peel the whole blister off. So sometimes a band-aid works better than tape, because the middle of the band-aid is not sticky. Or you can put a band-aid on first and then cover it with tape – or find other creative solutions to keeping your blisters’ lids on. While you are at it, tape up any hot spots that threaten to become blisters tomorrow. Remember to use Tincture of Benzoine on any dressings or tape that you plan to leave on for mutiple days.

Keep your toenails on: Toenails that touch the front of your running shoes is one of the most common causes of losing toenails. So first of all, arrive at the race start with your toenails neatly trimmed. Swelling of your feet may also make your toes touch, so follow the advice above about preventing and dealing with swelling. Another cause, I recently found out first-hand, of toenails falling off is from your foot sliding forward in the shoe – even if your shoe if big enough that the toes don’t touch the front. That rolling-forward motion of the foot, with the bottom of the foot sweatily stuck to the insole but the top of the foot pushing forward, starts to unstick the toe from the underside of the toenail. Ewww, you say? Yup, it hurts. So make sure you learn to lace your shoes for the downhills (see photo), using that extra little loop there. When starting a big downhill, it’s a good idea to just completely redo your lacing before you start the descent. (The good news, I found out last year, is that losing a toenail is not as painful as it sounds).

Beware chafing and abrasion: You may find problems aside from your feet. On multi-day races, or in a new climate, you may suddenly start chafing in places you have never chafed before: from your backpack straps or waistbelt, under your arms, in your unmentionables and, for women, from your running bra or between your thighs (that’s why I recommend tights rather than shorts). Use lubricants – especially around your unmentionables.

When you feel a spot starting to heat up, deal with the chafing right away. Tape works if you catch it early (not on your unmentionables!). The absolutely best thing is Opsite wound dressing (Americans purchase here, Canadians here). This stuff looks like clear sticky plastic; it is waterproof and completely breathable; you put it on and it just feels like putting your skin back on. (A few years ago I scraped a wide swath of skin off the inside of my wrist the night before heading out to Peru; I plunked a piece of Opsite on and it stayed on for two entire weeks. I literally watched my skin heal under it). This stuff is expensive, so I wouldn’t waste it out on the race course, where you are sweaty and dirty and it probably won’t stick properly. But when you are back in camp, get yourself clean and dry and put a bit piece of Opsite over the areas that are chafing (or on any shallow scrapes or burns – as long as they are very clean). I suggest trimming any sharp corners of the Opsite patch so they are rounded, so they don’t catch on anything and start to peel off.

First Aid kit to carry: OK, take a look at how complete this kit is:

Let’s look at each item, going clockwise from top left:
Sterile wound dressings: A couple of sterile gauze dressings – good for covering a wound as well as for cleaning up blood around a would, as well as a non-adherent dressing won’t stick to oozing scrapes (this matters a lot when it is time to remove the dressing).
Steri-strips: For wounds that would require stitches (I use them at home rather than going to the hospital – in spite of our free health care! It’s faster, and you don’t scar as much). Far more reliable than butterfly closures. Carry two sizes.
Needle in a tube: For popping blisters.
Tweezers: For removing splinters, thorns, stingers. Any good tweezers will do, but I sure like my Uncle Bill’s Sliver Gripper, for its light weight and fine precise point. My old one came in a little bottle – I think now they come with a little guard for the tips.
Crepe bandage: This is not really essential. What a crepe bandage is good for is fixing a wound dressing to an arm or a leg quickly. But the athletic tape you are carrying does double-duty here – you are carrying it mainly to help get you home in the case of an ankle sprain but, if need be, you can use it to tape dressings on. (Note: this is not the same as a tensor bandage; see section on ankle sprains, below).
Friar’s Balsam or Tincture of Benzoine: You apply this anywhere you have to tape, and it makes that tape stick like anything. The main times where it is important that the tape does not slip or come off are: (1) closing a wound with Steri-strips, and (2) taping sprains. Considering you are probably sweaty and damp out there, you may find that you are not able to tape anything without this stuff.
Alcohol wipes: To clean up and disinfect a wound.
Selection of band-aids: Pick a variety of shapes and sizes, and a brand that stays on when wet.
Ibuprofen: Ideally in a sealed unit, as shown; otherwise scrunch two or three tablets up in foil, but inspect them from time to time in damp climates. You may have to replace them.
Athletic tape wrapped on lip balm: This is the most space and weight efficient way I have found to carry the athletic tape.I am 5’6.5”, and I need 26.5” of tape to tape an ankle sprain (see video, below). So adjust up and down according to your height (and perhaps add another 6” in case you need tape for anything else).
Antibiotic cream or ointment: I don’t actually carry antibiotic ointment with me. I figure that an alcohol wipe or two are good enough until I get back to camp – but some people might prefer to have it with them. If possible, save a mostly-used tube to carry with you in the field, so it is as light-weight as possible.

Sound like a lot? Now look how compact it is to carry. That is a lot of contingency for not much weight. Everything except the (optional) crepe bandage packs up into a very slim ziplock bag. (I keep the lip balm out because I use it frequently during the day).

Ankle sprains: First, some myth debunking: forget about the tensor bandage. A tensor bandage is stretchy, and stretchy things cannot support anything… because they stretch. (The purpose of the tensor is basically the same as a Superman bandaid for a kid with an owwie… purely psychological). Doctors will tape your ankle in a way that stabilizes it nearly completely, but that means that you pretty much cannot move it. They don’t realize that we’re a bit crazy – we want to keep going. So here is a way that you can tape your ankle, with a minimum of tape, keeping the mobility in the directions that you need to be able to walk, climb, and even leap. I have used it on myself, and was able to walk myself out from a remote backpacking trip, and I have also used it on a fellow racer in The Coastal Challenge who was most grateful.

So, the idea is that you use the length of tape on your lip balm to get you through the day. Once back at camp, remove the tape and clean up, do what you can at that point to bring the swelling down, and then before bed tape it up the same way, using Tincture of Benzoine and two layers of tape, so that the new tape wil be sturdy and remain on for the remainder of your race.

Snakebite/insect sting kit: If your route passes through remote areas where there are venomous snakes, I really recommend taking along a Sawyer Extractor (available at REI). Yes, chances are slim that you will get bitten – but the consequences are very grave. The extractor will not remove all the venom by any means; the idea is you get it on as quickly as possible, to remove some of the venom, thereby buying yourself just a little bit of time while help is on its way to you. The extractor comes with several sizes of suckers on it, so can even be used for insect bites – although it is probably not worth your while to stop while racing for an insect bite unless you are allergic. I do want to emphasize: this will not remove all of the venom. The idea is it just removes a portion, with the aim of reducing the severity of the reaction and buying you some time. If you are bitten by a snake, you still must seek urgent emergency first aid.

Take a look at these photos (see what I go through for you!). I pricked a tiny little hole in the top of my hand before applying the extractor, so small that it didn’t even bleed when I squeezed it (I wanted to go for blood, but I chickened out). I applied the Extractor for one minute (you are supposed to leave it on longer but I didn’t want to get too much of a hickey). Even so, you can see that it got a little drop of blood out. The Extractor comes with different sized heads – I used a larger one for the photo, but a smaller one would have applied even more suction. Like I said, it probably will not save you on its own, but it buys you time. The key is to get it on immediately, before the venom starts to spread away from the wound.

This is an item that you will probably never need… you just need to assess the risk vs. weight thing for yourself and decide whether or not you are going to carry it anyway. I do.

First Aid kit for camp: I have mentioned most of the things that you want in this kit above. Here is a brief summary:
- Rubbing alcohol (disinfects while drying), antibiotic ointment e.g. neosporin, antibiotic powder, Leukotape, athletic tape, scissors, Opsite dressings, variety of bandaids, sun block, antifungal cream e.g. Canesten
- Medications etc: Ibuprofen, Rolaids, alka-seltzer, anti-diarrhea meds (my favourite is carbon pills – I don’t know if you can buy them in North America, but they are easy to get in Central and South America, and they work quickly without getting into heavier antibiotics), water treatment tablets
- Also spare supplies to replenish your portable First Aid kit in case of use or water damage

Other useful things to have with you: Most multi-day races require racers to have plastic racing boxes that the organizers load and truck around for you. Some things that I have found useful to have with me, aside from a good range of clothing and shoes and camping gear, are:
- plastic boxes, to keep things in your racing box organized
- lots of spare ziplock bags, useful for carrying small quantities of food like pretzels or candies, race maps, cameras, and spare dry socks
- an inflatable pillow, even a small one, for your head or, more likely, to elevate your feet or knees at night
- constipation aids… sorry for bringing it up, but lots of gels and blue sports drink coupled with very early mornings is not a good recipe for lightening the load. You don’t want to run with all that on board. Bring prunes and things to much on, as well as some pills like Metamucil.
- a peg-free travel clothesline such as the Flexoline – get lightweight hooks or carabiners to put on the ends so you can hook it on whatever is available.
- spare items that are essential, but that could get lost or damaged: sunglasses, sunhat, lip balm, water bottle.

OK, there you go. I hope that helps. Please feel free to add anything in the comments, below. Happy racing!

And for more detailed info on foot care, check out John Vonhof’s excellent site Fixing Your Feet.