So far

The breakfast table sounds like a United Nations BBQ with a disproportionate number of English speakers. Eleven of the 14 of us currently at the lab are native English speakers with Swiss, Venezuelan and Quebecois volunteers making up the difference. The Venezuelan and Quebecois women converse comfortably in Spanish.

I have lived in shared housing throughout university and hosteled all over the world, but this is communal living at its extreme. We are literally in each other's bathing suits with up to four people sharing a single sex room, all 14 sharing two bathrooms and meal times resembling musical chairs with a violent twist as everyone clambers for an open seat at the table with too few chairs for the number of people in the mess hall. It's like summer camp with a purpose.

BBFS' Principal Investigator and doctoral student Kristine Stump is examining the effects of nursery habitat loss on juvenile lemon sharks around North and South Bimini Islands in the Bahamas.

A fine location, without question, but Stump's research is heavily tied to a foreign invader on North Bimini, Bimini Bay Resort. Scaled back since its inception, great tracts of mangrove-fringed habitat for the juvenile lemon sharks has still been bulldozed to make way for the resort's condos and estate homes.

All of Stump's research questions focus on changes the resort may have induced in areas such as abundance, first year mortality, prey assemblages, yearly growth, multi-year survivalship, habitat use and home range.

As her minions, the volunteers are responsible for various aspects of her field data collection. I’ve only had a limited sampling of what that might be, having just completed a week of classes and orientation.

Some of it was a refresher, like radio usage, GPS and map reading. The rest was completely new.

We learnt about long lining, a surveying method to gauge how the various shark populations in the area are doing; boat driving, which is extremely terrifying; knots, which included phrases like “the rabbit crosses the road” from Quebecois Valerie and “the tree hangs himself on the rabbit” from dyslexic Americans; and shark handling, which involved eight virgin shark handlers anxiously waiting for their turn with the juvenile lemon and nurse sharks.

Days off are once a week. So far I’ve mooched around the North Island, snuck into both resorts for swims and fresh water showers and popped into the cute, expensively stocked shops.

BBFS Project Talk

BBFS' Prinipal Investigator and doctoral student Kristine Stump is examining the effects of nursery habitat loss on juvenile lemon sharks around North and South Bimini Islands in the Bahamas.

Officially in a Marine Protected Area since 1999, this protection lacks clout. The boundaries have yet to be established and defined never mind enforced by a

Without question, a fine location, but Stump's research is heavily tied to a foreign invader on North Bimini, Bimini Bay Resort. Scaled back since its inception, great tracts of mangrove-fringed habitat for the juvenile lemon sharks has still been bulldozed to make way for the resort's condos and estate homes. All of Stump's research questions focus on changes the resort may have induced in areas such as abundance, first year mortality, prey assemblages, yearly growth, multi-year survivalship, habitat use and home range.

Stump is attempting to quantify these changes through PIT tags and telemetry. She is also using agent based modeling as a projection tool for shark survival.

Her work on nurseries is important because she has a unique opportunity for before and after comparisons from the impact of the resort. Her findings could also serve for the basis of protecting other threatened nursery areas both in Bimini and further afield. Concurrent research is also being conducted on comparative DNA analysis.

Faking a good day in the rain

I knew we had missed our bus stop when the Catholic church offering bingo on Thursdays four blocks north of our hostel appeared on the left. "Maybe we should ask the driver," my Swiss travel companion for the day suggested as I pulled the cord. "We just passed it," I replied. We ducked into the January rain and ran the six blocks home.

Lucy, a 60-year-old Quebecois woman I had met the day before, rounded up another Quebecois woman, Julie, Raphaela from Switzerland and myself for a midday stroll. In the rain.

Decked out like a walking advertisement for MEC's foul weather line, I trudged into the Fort Lauderdale rain with my new companions.

Las Olas Blvd. was our destination. Lucy and Julie never made it, turning back approximately one sixth of the 4.7 mile journey. What motivated Raphaela and I is still a great mystery. Two women travelling on their own was our only obvious common thread. Lack of anything else to do on an uncharistically cold and rainy Saturday in south Florida might have been another.

We valiantly faked a good day in the rain and lunched in a warm, cozy bakery, ducked into cute shops to look for a belt that was not packed and visited the cinema and watched "It's Complicated." In its simplest and soggiest form, we rejoiced in the thrill of travelling by enjoying a foreigner's company and exploring a new city.

Backpackers Beach Hostel

Backpackers Beach Hostel in Fort Lauderdale
2115 N. Ocean Blvd
Fort Lauderdale, Florida
Phone: 954-567-7275

The pleasant multi-national guests, beach location and many freebies make up for the cranky female manager who gives biased, preferrential treatment to her friends. Located on several bus routes next to a well trafficed road and a mere 200 meters from the beach, this hostel is sure to dissappoint.

The hostel is not near the shops and attractions and Fort Lauderdale's inconcistent public transit will have to be used to get anywhere useful. Older guests on long-term leases and snobby Quebecois seem to be their target audience.

The hostel was alledgedely renovated in 2007, but none of those improvements show. The kitchens are far from well-stocked, the showerheads have not seen a psi of pressure in their entire lives and the bunkbeds are rickety and unstable. Best avoided.

Things I'll Miss

Edmonton has been home for the last seven years. On an off, between summer jobs, international travels and post-secondary education. I doubt I will ever live here again full-time. In no particular order are things and more importantly people I will dearly miss.

Concerts with my girlfriends Chelsy, Jillian, Jen, Krystal

Getting fresh with Orion at Blues and Newcastle.

Aquasizing with Melinda

Winning the furnace war with Sarah

Jennie's paintings

Harassing Hank

Holy Trinity

Visits to Jillian and Kurtis' dominated by babies and beer

Wednesday Wings with friends old and new

O'Connors Sunday sesh

Pack strapped

When did only taking what you can carry become so heavy?

I've traveled Australia, New Zealand, Ireland, London, America and the Dominican all with the same 60 liter backpack with very similar items.

Packing for my latest trip however has been a tetris nightmare. Perhaps it's because I can no longer rely on my carry-on to hide an otherwise overweight pack. Maybe there is actually more stuff. It could be the extra reading and writing material.

Regardless, my mother is packing away whatever does not fit into my backpack tomorrow. Eekk, I still have to leave room for a wetsuit and a snorkel set.

Under this morning moon

Walking home on New Years morning in -21 C with a southeast wind gusting to 39 km/h has its perks. Perk, rather. Singular.

I paused several times on my 2.3 kilometer walk to look at the moon despite the -32 C windchill.

A young woman at the vivacious house party I attended last night remarked that what you do on NYE defines the upcoming year. Ten per cent of me wishes that to be true.

Walking under a full moon on a clear night followed by being surrounded by delicious food and boozy friends and strangers enjoying themselves has a certain appeal.

Waking up in a friend's bed pantless wearing his shirt while he was with his family on the other side of the country does not.

Top that off with the realization that the trio of water glasses I futilely set down beside my single occupant bed were now only a usable duo thanks to my aggressive water consumption.

Since I sleep poorly after a night of excessive adult beverages, I left early. Early enough to watch the moon set.

I am unusually mindful of the moon's celestial journey and on New Years morning as I plodded home mildly hungover and bundled in my snowpants and scarves, it served to remind me of what my year will be.

I will frequently pause and take time to enjoy Creation as I travel to Bimini Island, counsel conifers to free growing status in northern B.C. and journey through Canada with some girlfriends.