Quadding 101

It is day two of rain here at the field station.  We are socked in.  Which is good for the Earth, but not so good for fieldwork.   But that is ok as we have been going hard since our arrival and we have a GC being installed today so we can measure more gasses.  That said, we got out earlier with some quads and bombed around the grounds to blow off some steam and learn a few things.

If you’ve never been quadding, you are missing a whole big hill of fun.  That sounds obnoxious and pretentious even to me, but I really think it is true.  And so I must define the word quadding, because is that even a real word?   By ‘quadding’  I mean ATV-ing four-wheel style.  It is exhilarating – a blast – a damn great time.   My good friend Brandon gave our crew some helmets and a few good tips and opened up some opportunity to learn on a rugged course at Meanook.  Seriously….  every last one of us had a great time. 

Some tips: 

Don’t be afraid to go fast into curves and lean into them (you can overcome the quad angling off good solid earth by shifting even ever so slightly to the opposite side).

Quad in pairs so when you try to wrangle your way over a log the size of your wheel, someone is there to angle you in the right direction when you find yourself anchored.  Puddles are sometimes a burden, also, if you navigate poorly.

Know the terrain so you can go wildly fast on the straight-away and slow down for the bucking bronco trenches. See also, point number two above.  

If you need to go under a fallen tree it is ok to put all your weight on one side of the quad to make room.

Big rubber boots that are awesome for wetland walking are not the best clutch workers.

I’m edified and still gaining courage and insight, and THAT seems a good metaphor for life.  Whatever the perspective, it was a great way to spend an early afternoon.

Meanook in Song

In the chill of the evening, the passerines are active with the sun still several hands high.  Tennessee Warblers dressed in yellowish green have invaded en masse and flit from tree to tree.  They are mistaking windows for pass-throughs much to the dismay of everyone here at Meanook.  One such warbler, recovering on a pine branch, finally flew off, but only after Kitten made leaps for it, pulling the bough low as if he was the one hanging on for dear life.  Hooray for the bird.  No doubt Kitten will find a snack elsewhere this evening but the warbler flies free.  White Throated Sparrows are chatting with the Chickadees and the rowdy Ruby Crowned Kinglets, the Blue Jays yell and swoop from low branch to low branch, and the Sapsuckers play percussive wood.  It is a symphony in the bush. 

Spring is arriving here with birds and blooms.  The cherries aren’t quite flowering yet, but they are knocking on that door.  It seems spring is a little early up here as it is also on the east coast.  Last year almost to the day, it snowed 5 inches.  Two days ago I was hot and sweaty looking at a collapsing permafrost mound. 

Our research puts us in what is called the discontinuous permafrost zone.  North of us, the earth is frozen year ‘round.  South of us, the soil thaws completely every summer.  Here, there are pockets of frozen mixed in with the thawed.  This zone is shifting northward and that thaw brings changes to the landscape and changes to the ecosystems.  Fire hastens this advancement, warming the earth as it scorches it with no chance of the peat recovering the cold of the next winter.  Last year was a doozy on the fire-front, and this year, seems like we are in for another.  Right now, 23 fires burn in Alberta with 345 fires since the burning season started this spring.  We drive through smoke on the way to our sites.  That acrid burn in the nose is not unfamiliar to us and puts me on edge.

Tomorrow we head north to the Mariana Lakes region of Alberta where we will spend the day in both bog and fen and hopefully not run into any bears or fire.  The travel allows for some fast truck window viewing, and since arriving, we’ve seen much:  a Bald Eagle, an Osprey, countless waterfowl and shore birds, Sandhill Cranes, Buteos, Falcons, Shrikes, Passerines of all shapes and sizes.  Our feathered friends are here and are welcoming us to Alberta and to spring.  The morning will bring the dawn of a new day and as we walk among the mosses the birds will sing.

Note:  The above was written 2 days ago… the total fires is now up to 390 as of 10 AM yesterday…   much potential for ignition.   We have only experienced a bit of smoke and smoldering.  So far so good.  More soon.

Liebert's Virtuosity

Nestled between Otis Redding and Outkast on my iPod, one can find Ottmar Liebert.  I have a wide variety of musical interests, but frankly, before last evening, Mr. Liebert didn’t get much play;  and when he did, there were candles lit and I had other things on my mind.   After seeing him with his guitar in the quartet of outstanding musicians last night at the Colonial Theatre, Ottmar will find himself in more than just the late-night rotation.

It was a damn fine day.  I left work early, had a gin and tonic with lunch, enjoyed a deep tissue massage, and had an as-always-awesome meal at Marly’s.  I could get used to days like that.  Mr. Liebert topped the day off and played with perfection.  He made the guitar sing and dance and speak in a way that gave me an entirely new understanding of the flamenco style. It was as if he were dancing himself.

As he tapped his bare feet to the beat, his hands flew-- merging baselines, and countertempos, and gracenotes, and 32^nd notes, and percussional harmonies into a confluency of auditory and visual art.  Golpe, Picado, Rasqueado, Alzapua, Tremolo.  Even the language of Flamenco is beautiful.  It was virtuosity.  It was fluidity.  It was joy.