Cycling in the freezer

Every time I descend into my unheated basement to do laundry, I note the presence of my shiny hybrid bike over in the corner. Partly on the basis of a tumble early in the season, I have generally been of the opinion that winter cycling in Ottawa is simply too treacherous. Even on bright sunny days, cycling through Centretown is a big pain, likely to involve dangerous confrontations with drivers largely unaware of cyclists near them. In the winter, when bike paths go unplowed and unused, such interactions would necessarily be more frequent, as well as more perilous.

That said, there are some who brave the elements and endure as cycle commuters throughout the bitter winter. While I doubt I will ever acquire their level of commitment, I would consider getting studded tyres and other winter gear if it seemed highly likely that I was going to spend more than a few winters in these conditions.

The Omnivore’s Dilemma

Shops in Vancouver

Michael Pollan‘s superb book tells the stories of four meals and the processes through which they came to exist. At one extreme is a meal of McDonald’s cheeseburgers, eaten in a moving car; at the other, a cooked wild boar he hunted, accompanied by things grown or gathered. Pollan also considers two types of pastoral food systems: one on a mass scale intended to serve the consumer market for organic foods and a truly pastoral farm centred around grass feeding, healthy animal interactions, and sustainability. His descriptions of the four, and comparisons between them, provide lots of interesting new information, and fodder for political and ethical consideration.

Among these, the industrial food chain and the grass-fed pastoral are the most interesting. Each is a demonstration of human ingenuity, with the former representing the sheer efficiency that can be achieved through aggressive specialization and disregard for animal welfare and environmental effects and the latter demonstrating how people, animals, and plants can interact in a much more ethical and sustainable way, albeit only on a relatively small scale. The account of Polyface Farm – the small-scale pastoral operation run by Joel Salatin – is genuinely touching at times, as well as startling in contrast to the industrial cattle feeding and killing operations Pollan describes. While the book heaps praise on the operation, it also recognizes the limitations inherent: we cannot live in cities like New York and get our food from such establishments, nor can the big stores most people shop at manage to deal with thousands of such small suppliers. Unless you are willing to go back to a pre-urban phase for humanity, the industrial organic chain may be the best that is possible.

Pollan’s book is packed with fascinating information on everything from the chemistry of producing processed foods from corn to some unusual theories he learned from mushroom gatherers. Regardless of your present position on food, reading it will make you better informed and leave you with a lot to contemplate.

Arguably, the book is at its weakest when it comes to ethics. Pollan rightly heaps criticism on factory farms, but seems to pre-judge the overall rightness of eating meat. Some of his arguments against vegetarianism and veganism – such as that more animals are killed in fields growing vegetables than in slaughterhouses – are simply silly. No sensible system of ethics considers it equivalent to kill a grasshopper and to kill a pig. I also think that he places too much emphasis on the relevance of whether an animal anticipates death or not. I don’t see how the inability of animals to “see is coming” makes their deaths qualitatively different from those of human beings.

That said, his arguments are generally coherent and certainly bear consideration. He never explicitly spells out the wrongness of eating industrial meat, though it is clear that his implicit argument is based around the conditions under which the animals live, rather than the fact of killing them. This is a sensible position and he is right to contrast Polyface farm with industrial farms on the basis of how they allow or do not allow animals to express their “characteristic forms of life.” Rather than press his argument to a conclusion, he abandons his consideration in a bout of fantasy: talking about how much better the treatment and slaughter of animals would be if farms and slaughterhouses had glass walls.

I highly recommend this book to almost everyone. Modern life is very effective at concealing the nature and origin of what we are eating. This book helps to pull back the veil to some extent. It is also a reflection of the ever-increasing politicization of food. What you choose to eat is an important signal of your ethical and political views, to be judged accordingly by others. Whatever position you end up taking, it will be better informed and illustrated if you take the time to consider Pollan’s thoughts and experiences.

For my part, the book has convinced me that I should strictly limit or abandon the consumption of eggs. His description of egg operations is especially chilling and supports his assertion that: “What you see when you look is the cruelty – and the blindness to cruelty – required to produce eggs that can be sold for seventy-nine cents a dozen.” Other resolutions stemming from reading this book include to try eating more types of mushrooms, improve my cooking generally, and remember that under no circumstances should one accept an invitation to collect abalone in California.

Up Grouse again

Today marked the second time in three days when I have made the snowy trek up Grouse Mountain with my father. Today’s venture benefitted from three excellent additions: the presence of my friend Jonathan and post-hike beer and nachos. Vancouverites are lucky to have the option of spending an hour rapidly gaining altitude by hand and foot, only to walk into a nice restaurant and begin feasting on a considerable heap of cheese-chip-vegetable synergy.

Residents of Vancouver should consider making the climb during the next few days. You need to walk past the signs advertising that the trail is closed and then eastward around the fence. I wouldn’t recommend doing it alone or after dark, but it is quite safe and very beautiful in the snow.

Rainy ascent

Today, I did two things that are impossible in Ottawa in December: climbed a 1200m mountain and got rained on quite a bit. These activities are to be followed up by Chinese food and a Commercial Drive party. When one gets immersed in Vancouver, one must try to become thoroughly marinated before departing.

Newly insulated

Milan Ilnyckyj looking scary

Through a trek to the Ottawa Mountain Equipment Co-Op and the application of three days’ pay, my respectable collection of wet weather gear has had quite a few degrees of cold capability added into it.

I got some good insulated Gore-Tex gloves (they make me feel less like a mutant than mitts do); I also got a merino wool base layer, a windproof toque to supplement the more attractive one Sarah made me, a fleece neck warmer thing that makes me look like a goon when worn with the toque, a little thermometer, and a couple of miscellaneous knick-knacks, shoe de-stinking agent, and a travel towel (for future trips to nearby cities).

Naturally, the only response to getting new gear is to go experiment with it. One’s first inclination with new gear is to discover its capacities and limits. In its way, the new stuff is like the bicycle was: an enabler of motion, and a gateway to increased capability within the city as it stands.

P.S. I hate plural possessives.

Ottawa is a frozen wasteland

As much as I enjoyed Ashley’s party tonight, the walk home afterwards has left me convinced that humans should not live in this place. After about forty minutes out there, well insulated, my whole body is in pain. My breath is frozen to my face in painful sheets of ice, and I have had an agonizing cold-induced headache since getting halfway home.

I want to live somewhere saner.

Winter begins

Six days ago, I got a light dusting.

Yesterday, I walked to work through sludge and tore my best trousers on a fence while trying to avoid a massive slush puddle that cars were using to drench me.

Today, there is proper snowfall outside – at a level where West Coast schoolchildren could be forgiven for expecting school to be cancelled. The prospect of month after month of weather like this makes me nervous. It also makes it increasingly clear that I am going to need to make another capital outlay for winter gear. I thought I was done spending money on the very expensive move from Oxford to Ottawa once I managed to get furniture and curtains for my flat. Not so.

Just 29 days until I escape (briefly) to the relative paradise of Vancouver.

Shipping and invasive species

Spiral staircase, Place de Portage, Gatineau

Globalization has been profoundly associated with massive sea freight shipments. Primary commodities flow from states with rich resource endowments to others with processing facilities. Labour intensive goods are shipped from where labour is cheap to where the goods are demanded. In the process of all this activity, a lot of oceanic species have been able to move into waters they would never otherwise have reached. This unintentional human-induced migration has occurred for two major reasons: the construction of canals and the transport of ballast water. This brief discussion will focus on the latter.

Each year, ships carry 3 – 5 billion tonnes of ballast water internationally. The water is taken on in port, once a ship has been loaded. This is necessary to make the ship balanced and stable at sea. The water taken on can easily include hundreds of marine species of which many of which are capable of surviving the journey. If they get expelled in a suitable environment, these creatures can alter ecosystems and crowd out local species. Sea urchins that have arrived in this way have been extinguishing kelp beds off the west coast of North America, destroying sea otter habitat in the process. Zebra mussels are another infamous example of a problematic invasive species.

Efforts to prevent the transmission of species through ballast water take a number of forms:

  1. Ejecting the water taken on in port in the open ocean: most of the species expelled should die, and the new waters taken on should be relatively free of living things
  2. Poisoning the creatures in the ballast water: this can be done with degradable biocides like peracetic acid and hydrogen peroxide
  3. Transferring ballast water to a treatment facility at the arrival port
  4. De-oxygenating the water in ballast tanks: this kills most species, if the deoxygenated conditions are maintained for long enough

None of these approaches is completely effective. Each retains some possibility of unintentionally introducing invasive species. Several also have other environmentally relevant effects.

That said, simply making an active effort to prevent species transmission between ecosystems marks a big change in human thinking. Not long ago, species were often introduced willy-nilly into entirely new environments: for aesthetic, practical, or whimsical reasons. Infamous cases include those of Eugene Schieffelin – the man who introduced starlings to North America because he wanted to continent to contain all the birds mentioned in the works of Shakespeare – and Thomas Austin – the British landowner who introduced rabbits to Australia because he missed hunting them. Wikipedia has a comprehensive list of such introduced species.

Snow falling on Milan

Walking home from work today, I was immersed in a light Canadian snowfall for the first time in years. During the trek, I decided that the combination of office clothing, Ottawa weather, and twenty minute walks to and from work is not sustainable without the gradual addition of wardrobe items.

It is not as though I don’t have the necessary gear to deal with wind and temperatures significantly below zero Celsius: I was well served by my layers of MEC outerwear through underwear when I was in Tallinn and Helsinki in December 2005. The problem is that such things do not integrate well with office clothes, making me look like a mountaineer until I transform in my cubicle into a diligent office worker.

As a true West Coaster, my experience with long woolen coats, scarves, and such is primarily the result of films and comic strips. Given my lingering uncertainty about how long I will actually spend in this place, I will continue to play the part of the temperate forest dweller assuaged and perplexed by startling variations in temperature.

Lunchtime update: slightly pavement-battered

Last night, a car heading east on Rideau Street decided that it was a good idea to make a right turn at speed without signaling or checking if there were any cyclists behind them and to the right. On the positive side, I learned that the brakes on my bike are very effective. On the negative side, the forward momentum of my bike, body, and panniers was more than enough to throw me over my handlebars: feet still set in the cages on my pedals. Naturally, the car didn’t even slow down.

I actually managed to land pretty well, taking the bulk of the force with my right arm. Still, I managed to bruise my arm and ribs, as well as give my elbow joint a painful knock. My wrist and jaw are also somewhat sore, as a result of their contributions to the nullification of my forward and downward momentum. A group of drunken men dressed as Smurfs gave me a round of applause when I stood up (it was 8pm on Halloween).

I was impressed to see how durable my MEC Aegis jacket really is: despite my entire weight and that of the bike and despite scraping along for a few feet, it is not visibly worn. Irksomely, my bike no longer shifts properly into higher gear. Making it do so requires much more force than before, and sometimes requires shifting twice, waiting for the first shift to actually happen, and then preventing the second shift.

I will take it to the bike store over the weekend to see if they can return it to normal functionality. The uber-smooth gear shifting was one of my favourite aspects of the new bike.

[Update: 3 November 2007] I had my ribs checked out and the obvious was confirmed: they are not broken but may be fractured. If they still hurt in a month, the latter possibility will be confirmed. They could hurt for as long as six months.

The shifting on my bike seems to have largely been fixed simply on the basis of riding around. It isn’t perfectly smooth, but it is adequately reliable. Nonetheless, I will take the bike in for a tune-up soon.