A maple movie!

Rob and Chloe's Maple Syrup - Since 2009

This weekend, as I dipped my finger into delicious homemade maple syrup, still warm and subtly smokey from the fire on which it was boiled, I had a sweet revelation:

If you're always waiting for the 'perfect time' or 'perfect situation' to do something, you might just miss out on something sweet.

Let me explain. A few years ago, Rob and I decided that at some point in our lives we would make maple syrup. This idea didn't just come out of thin air. A few generations ago, Rob's great grandparents bought a piece of land on a lake in the Muskokas and started to build. Like his grandparents and parents, he grew up spending large parts of each year at this second home; the cottage. Family ties and cottage friendships that were forged generations ago remain strong and many traditions developed early are still recognized and enjoyed today.
For Rob, maple syrup from the sugar bush just down the road was synonymous with "the cottage". The big orange can with the drawing of the horse and log cabin with smoke billowing from the chimney and the man in the plaid coat that is impossible to pour without spilling...well, there was just nothing better, no taste that better defined what 'cottage' meant - sweet, simple and even better than you remembered it.
Which is why it was so sad when the owner and family friend, passed away....so sad when the sugar bush just sat idle that first year...and so sad when the realization that a piece of history, a piece of tradition had been laid to rest.

I didn't take long however before Rob started pondering the possibility of running that sugar bush himself...and that's when the dreaming began - one day, we would run that sugar bush. We would ask for permission to borrow the land and small cabin. We would live at the cottage and chop wood and collect sap and boil down and sugar off - we would live the perfect life for a few short weeks, maybe a month if we were lucky. One day we would run the sugar bush, one day we would make our own syrup . . .

But then years passed, seasons went by and still, not a drop of sap was harvested. I would still think about it, even talk about it regularly with Rob as we drove by the bush on the way to the cottage.....one day, I thought....we would run that sugar bush....when the time was right.

So when I retrned home from dog sledding and Rob said "I'm making maple syrup". I was totally confused. How? What? When did he ask for the land? We didn't have time to live up there for weeks right now? We didn't even know HOW to make mayple syrup.

But Rob was one step ahead - he had already borrowed, collected and scavenged everything we needed to run our very own backyard sugarin' operation - including the trees! He had already read 'Backyard Sugarin'' and had plans and materials for the construction of an evaporator to boil down the sap. He had even been given all the mason jars a guy could dream of from his mom and grandma to store the maple goodness!

In fact, he was already tapping trees around the place that he was working!

Sap was already flowing!


By the time I got my butt up north, there was already 1 cup of first sweet dark syrup in a mason jar in the fridge and 180L of sap waiting to be boiled down. Although that might not sound like much, it was quite the accomplishment for a solo backyard, first-time sugarer. Rob was on top of things in his make-shift sugar bush. Anything he didn't know, he would refer to the 'Backyard Sugarin'' book for. Just like that - a dream had become reality. I had made it just in time!


As we sat waiting for our last batch of the day to do it's finally rapid bubbly boil (after 12 hours I might add!) and as the sweet aroma of maple syrup began wafting from the pan, I couldn't help but be a little reflective.

It wasn't the way I had pictured it all coming together. Conditions weren't perfect - there was no picturesque cabin in the woods, no professional set up for the boiling off and no fancy means of collecting the sap. It wasn't in 'our' sugar bush - the one we had always pictured ourselves in and we didn't have weeks on end to spend in the forest.

I have to admit, if it was up to me, I would have still been waiting for the perfect time. I had put that future experience into a tidy little box, with such strict guidelines and regulations for success that it really would have been a miracle if we ever got a drop of sap, let alone syrup.

But there we were, the two of us, sitting in the warm sun on a beautiful spring day, the smell of wood smoke heavy in the air and just moments away from having our first real batch of our own maple syrup!

What I realized in that moment, was what a shame it would have been for us to keep waiting for that 'perfect spring' to embark on our maple syruping - the perfect time to bring the tradition back to life. Who knows when and if, it ever would have come. Instead, Rob thought outside of the box....or bush...just went for it....and the results were sweet!

He's started a new tradition, our tradition, and who knows where we'll be sugaring off next year!

mushing in the Yukon

When I was invited to go dog sledding last fall, my answer was a resounding YES! Besides one afternoon of sledding north of Toronto, I was a complete mushing rookie, but that didn’t cross my mind at all as I nodded my head and agreed to a month of dog sledding adventure in Canada’s far North, The Yukon.

It wasn’t until I was explaining the trip to someone else that the thought crossed my mind: I had never been dog sledding before. Details! Details! Besides, how hard could it be standing on the sled and yelling ‘MUSH’ ‘GEE’ ‘HAW’ (that’s ‘go’ ‘right’ and ‘left’ in dog sledding lingo!)?

The same people were concerned for my diabetic well-being at sub-zero temperatures. Would the pump freeze? Would the insulin freeze? Would my glucometer freeze? Would I freeze. My response was . . . “maybe! But I hope not!” Having never been to the far north in winter, I honestly had no idea what to expect. Okay, that’s a lie. I expected it to be dang cold. But didn’t really know what it would feel like, or exactly how all of my diabetes technology would stand up.

Undoubtedly, the upcoming adventure would be a challenge in many respects. But what’s an ‘adventure’ if there is no ‘challenge’? Besides, there was no turning back now, the ticket was booked - I was going dog sledding in the Yukon!

So I quickly got to work preparing myself the best way I know how – I GOOGLED IT! -“dog sledding diabetes”. And to my surprise, found a Type 1 diabetic Iditarod Musher by the name of Bruce Linton. I contacted him and sent a few emails back and forth with regards to what I should be thinking about before heading out on the winter trail. I had been put in touch with another diabetic musher from Golden, BC and got in touch with him too. When it came to cold weather and diabetes, I thought mountaineer Sebastien Sasseville might know a thing or two, so I fired an email off to him for good measure. This, combined with personal experience winter camping in Ontario and simple common sense, brought me to the following conclusions:

• Insulin will freeze at -40 – keep it warm, but not too warm.
  
• Infusion set tubing will freeze at -40. And the pump reservoir too.!
  
• Glucometers won’t work at sub-zero temps when the batteries get too cold. And if they do, don’t trust them.
  
• Keep hydrated. You’re less likely to drink in cold weather. Dehydration results in lower blood volume and therefore a higher concentration of blood sugar.
  
• Cold fingers are hard to milk for blood


• Just being in the cold burns more energy and therefore glucose – watch for lows.

Armed with this knowledge, I headed north! Before I knew it, I had my own team of dogs and was flying through the forest, the subtle ‘swish’ of the sled runners and muffled padding of dog paws on snow the only sounds. Each day brought new sights and adventures, mountains and valleys, forests and lakes. The beauty of the Yukon in winter- dramatic landscapes, big skies and the vastness of it all were breathtaking.

I was exposed to a whole new sport, way of travel, culture and of course the dogs!

Travelling and camping on the trail with 30 plus dogs was an experience in itself. When I am normally on the trail, human needs are first on the agenda – water, food and shelter. But when dog sledding, the dogs are feed, watered and bedded down before human care or consideration comes into play. And boy do they deserve it!

I was constantly amazed at the dog’s energy, drive and stamina as they pulled the sled (and me) over mountain passes, down deep valleys and across icy lakes. The dogs really do just live to run – ears up, tongues flapping, feet flying and glimmers of excitement in their eyes. They LOVE IT. However, contrary to my pre-mushing belief, it is not a free ride for the human team member. You are PART of the team and are often off the sled pushing up hills, holding back the weight of the sled down hills, throwing your weight around tight corners and jumping from runner to runner to maintain balance and keep the sled upright...or at least that’s the goal.

As the musher you are also in charge of keeping all your dogs happy, in their harnesses and attached to the main line. It sounds relatively easy. But I quickly got to know each dog’s personality, character and idiosyncrasies. Gravy always had to run on the right, Springer wore 4 booties and had a tendency to chew his neck line, Hawk got ticked off when Saucy ran too close to his side and Sugar liked to be the last one harnessed and put on the line. If these demands weren’t met ....well, all hell would break loose, harnesses would get chewed and fights would break out amongst furry friends. Best to keep the team happy!

And yep! It was cold alright. The icy bite of the air on some days turned my cheeks more pink with every passing mile, even under two face warmers and ski goggles!

On one particularly long mush across Lake Laberge, my hands became so cold that they turned into clutched claws around the handlebar of my sled. Upon our arrival to the cabins that night, it was all I could do to release them. I was totally unable to tie my dogs or do ANYTHING that required dexterity – luckily, I had people to take my dogs and was able to get to the wood stove inside quickly. There, the real pain began as my hands started the process of thawing. I realized the seriousness of my situation as I writhed in discomfort from the burning, throbbing and tingling. Keeping your hands warm is SO CRITICAL. Without them, you are completely unable to care for yourself or your dog team . . . there was no way I would have been able to test my blood sugars with frozen hands. Luckily, I was wearing a CGMS sensor, but even still....I didn’t have the dexterity to even extract my pump from all my layers, let alone press the buttons. Once in the cabin, I used a burning throbbing finger to press the buttons on my pump....2.6mmol/L!!! Maybe that was part of my problem?

Aside from getting ‘claw hands’, being wacked in the head by a few snowy low hanging branches, dragging on my stomach behind my sled and team through a few snow banks, letting one dog loose (he came back), ripping my pants (but not my leg) on a chainsaw and going up to my knees in slushy water overflow on a lake crossing – I made it through the whole month relatively unscathed and with NO diabetes-related emergencies!

I ended up carrying my glucometers in a pouch around my waist, under all of my layers. They still needed battery re-warming on most days, but functioned nonetheless. At the lodge or homestead, my insulin was kept either in a propane fridge or root cellar. While on the trail I kept it in a cooler with a hot water bottle – a divider between the insulin and the bottle to ensure it didn’t get too hot. At night, I would take it into the trapper’s cabin or wall tent (heated with a wood stove). I kept myself hydrated – the only downfall being, I was up 2-3 times every night baring my bottom to -30 and -40 chills. There was no indoor plumbing, running water or showers of course!

My research and investigative pre-trip prep work paid off. I had not only survived a month of dog sledding and winter camping in Canada’s far north, but had an incredibly good time doing so, as well as relatively good blood sugar control throughout. Now, I am not saying it was easy, but it was completely possible and more than ‘doable’. In fact, I would do it again in a second and plan to!

To me, knowledge is freedom! The more we can learn about any adventure we are about to embark on, the better prepared we are to deal with challenges as they arise. The better prepared we are, the more freedom we have – especially when it comes to adventuring with diabetes.

To me, ‘Freedom’ is feeling confident that I will be able to manage, make changes and devise my OWN solutions to diabetes-related problems no matter where I am or what I am doing.
Of course gaining this confidence takes time. But the more research I do, people I talk to, problem situations I am in, and most importantly, experiences I have, the more empowered I feel to take on bigger and more remote challenges in the future. Personally, I know that I learn best through doing, so when it comes to seeking knowledge for freedom, I know what I have to do – get out there and talk to the people who have done it before and ultimately just go out there and DO IT!

MUSH!

On February 3rd, I am packing up my parka, mukluks, balaclava, ski goggles, wooliest long-johns, warmest mitts, thickest socks, crunchiest toque, cosiest sleeping bag and flying to the Yukon.

I am about to embark on my first dog sledding adventure.

They say there are stange things done in the midnight sun. . . and they might be right.

I have a feeling I am going to have to do a few 'strange things' to keep all of my insulin and diabetes supplies from freezing into a solid block while we're out on the trail.

But there is only one way to find out. MUSH!

Robert Service had this to say of the Arctic cold:

"Talk of your cold! Through the parka’s fold it stabbed like a driven nail. If our eyes we’d close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn’t see; It wasn’t much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee"

And maybe Chloe....we'll see!

Winter Slipstream 2009

There is one week left until Connected in Motion's very first event - Winter Slipstream 2009!

Around 25 young adults with Type 1 diabetes will be heading north to Haliburton for a weekend of cross-country skiing, snowshoeing, skating, high ropes and more. There will sessions and workshops which will allow people an opportunity to network, tell stories and celebrate accomplishments. Rounding it all out will be good hearty meals, good company and blazing fires!

It's not too late to sign up....
Head to http://www.connectedinmotion.ca/index.php?view=details&id=1%3Awinter-slipstream-2009&option=com_eventlist&Itemid=64

And fill out the registration forms!

See you in the Slipstream!