Not Since Moses- Run on the Ocean Floor
Race Location: Five Islands, Nova Scotia, Canada
Race Date: July , 2007
Not Since Moses- Ocean Floor Trail Run Lower Five Islands, Nova Scotia, Canada. July 7th, 2007- www.notsincemoses.com
Standing there in line with my buddies Robb, Kevin, Andy, and Joachim at 6:30 on a foggy July 7th morning, I thought to myself, "This is a first. I'm getting a bib number…and a lifejacket?!"
I was in a line on a rocky beach in Lower Five Islands, Nova Scotia, Canada, for the inaugural "Not Since Moses" 5km and 10km Trail Run. The word "trail" however is very misleading as this race takes place on the ocean floor.
This particular region of Nova Scotia is known world wide for its' tides. The largest tidal changes in the world- as much as 15 meters- take place here. At high tide, jagged clay and rock cliffs shoot up toward the skies almost endlessly from the water. At low tide, these cliffs are the view points of kilometers of muddy, rocky, water soaked expanses of exposed ocean floor that are constantly draining or filing with water from the Atlantic.
Today, this region will fill with runners from all over waiting for a chance for mother nature to let us on the bottom of the sea and to carry out what is promising to be a run in a lifetime.
The brainchild of this event is Dick Lemon (owner of one of the Five Islands for which the area holds its' name). With huge support from the local townspeople and Trail Shop owner, Joachim Stroink, (www.trailshop.com) this usually quiet rocky spit of land is pulsating with excitement.
Local volunteers have lent themselves and their boats to the cause. They have a short window of time, and a slowly disappearing body of water, in which to get all 185 runners over to their respective starting islands.
Yup, you read right. Starting Islands. The 5k runners exit boats on Moose Island where racers have access to a porta-pottie, sponsors tent, and a huge bonfire. The 10k runners, well, we had it a little better. We start from Long Island. This is the Island where Mr. Lemon has built a heavenly cottage retreat for anyone to rent if they wish (www.fiveislandsretreat.com/). There are various small cottages spread out on top of the small ocean sland and from all of them, the views are indescribable and I won't ruin them by trying. From the landing wharf, a staircase- almost as steep as a ladder- leads to the top of over 40 meter cliffs. Once on top, the island appears just as any forest would except this forest is surrounded by a huge fall, and tons of water. Chilly air, drizzle, and the 5 hour wait for the tide to go out forced some runners into the open cottages for comfort and refuge. But others went exploring and as the tide receded, we climbed down the cliff side staircase and found a nice rock to set up camp on. From our pre-race perch, we waited for the ocean to give us hints of the course that we were to run.
The 5 hours wait flew by. We took pictures, laughed, ate, slept, built Inukshuks on the growing beach, and took quiet moments to soak in what the disappearing water and fog was placing before us- a 10km run like no other, this course had been millions of years in the making.
At noon, the runners started to gather at the beach near the base of the staircase. We were poised for a 12:07 start, Dick had concluded that this would be the prime ocean floor running departure time. He said a few words, told us to enjoy the view, the terrain, the experience, and, oh yeah, the potential waist high water in some sections. He made a starting line out of rocks and we counted down from 15. Then we were off, running on the ocean floor- not since Moses.
The next hour or so would be an adventure not experienced by many and I made sure to soak it in as I knew hours after the finish my footsteps would be erased forever as the sea came back to close up the course.
The first few rocky 200 meters or so passed and we rounded a corner of the island. Here we were treated to an amazing view. An arch, cut out of the cliffs by the very tides that now allowed us to run on bottom of the sea. Through the arch, we were sent along a narrow sand bar that was as rippled as a wash board. Squishy on the high sections, filled with water in the low sections, runners trying to keep their shoes dry gave up pretty quick. This sand bar lead to the last of the five island chain and the going was rocky and wet. We rounded the furthest islands; Pinnacle and Egg Islands, and did a loop eight back to the arch. Hundred of seagulls and barnacle covered flat rock signaled the turn around point. We were now racing in the same direction that the tide had turned. We had waited so long for it to go out and it had. But now the balance of life dictated that it would head back in, but it was okay, we were headed in too and we had a nice head start.
The bulk of the field had long given up looking at their watches and focused more on looking through their camera lenses. I have never been in a race where picture taking had been more common place than pace checking. This was a race I never wanted to end. After our second run under the arch we ran past the starting rocks and proceeded to head to the next Island. To get there we ran through over a 150 meters of knee to waist high water and loved every minute of it. As the pull of the tide tried to grab at our feet we slugged along with smiles as wide as the ocean itself.
We were then graced with a few kilometers of easier going, regular wet sandy beach running. A chance to rest the legs and we had no idea how much we would need it. The last 3.5kms or so would be in the famous "mud flats" that these beaches and waters are known for. The best way to describe it is a 6-12 inch layer (and in some cases much higher) of jelly-like mud that sticks to the treads on your shoes and sends your foot down and sideways in random directions. As if that wasn't enough, the wind for which this area is also well known, picked up as we turned directly into it and lent its natural splendor to the mix. Equally challenging as it was beautiful, let my description not fool you into thinking this was not a tough race. Runners were taking pictures sure, but in these final few kilometers, the heads were down, legs aching, and the cameras took a back seat to making sure you just crossed the finish line. After all, you had to get back to shore somehow- there was a strict cut-off time for this race.
Along the course, the route was marked with wooden stakes, in the last kilometers however, there were volunteers waving flags directing us. The first person I saw yelled out above the wind, "You're best to run right up the water, right in the center!" These muds flats always have small snaky rivers filled with water that doesn't make it all the way out. This was our course for the rest of the run. We looked close to shore, but the curved route of these watery passages added on the distance. I tried running on the side of the water thinking that directly in the knee high water couldn't be the best way. Turns out, you should always trust the locals. I took four or five steps on the slippery mud and decided to heed the wise advice. Muddy water running it would be then.
This section was tough, the wind and water made you feel like you were actually heading back out to sea, but the dark brown liquid trail lead right up to familiar terrain. The crunch of rocks under my sneakers replaced the squish and splash of the past kilometers. We were on the rocky beach that about 6 hours ago had been the starting point of this adventure. It was barely recognizable though, the water, fog, and darkness of the early morning had long passed.
As the headwind almost blew me over, I looked to my left and the view almost blew my mind. The last time I was here I was looking out on a wavy dark grey ocean with Islands covered in fog off in the distance. Now the sun shine exposed a barren sparkling landscape of brown mud and sand with rippling patches of water. I had just ran in from an ocean island along the sea floor. What a morning!
Orange cones lead us into the finish area where we were greeted by volunteers, music, friends, and family. You were directed to a finishers table where they marked you off, not for your finishing time, but so they would know you came in and they would not have to send rescue boats out later to find you grasping to a cliff somewhere.
We sat and drank water and ate bananas and tried to find the words to use to talk to each other about the experience we had just had. It was a short conversation, not because we didn't have anything to say, just that none of us could find the words to use to say it. Muddy, soaked, and tired we stared out at the ocean and we all agreed- that was one tough run, and maybe the best one each of us had ever done.
The race fee went to raise money for the local fire department and in turn they volunteered, played live music, used their boats, and even had an amazing dinner the night before to kick off the festivities.
If I could only ever do one race a year for the rest of my life, this would be it. Period. Easy answer. "Not Since Moses" is more than just a run, and it is not for me to tell you what more it is. That is for you to come out and run and experience for yourself. Sure there were winners for each of the 5km and 10km distances, and yes, they got prizes. But this is surely a race where just being there was a prize for all.
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