Tag: 30daysofbiking

April 22nd – I ducked out of it all day. Today was one of the very few days, where if I hadn’t been doing 365daysofbiking, I wouldn’t have left home. I felt ropey, the weather was crap. I had lots of other… stuff to do. But my commitment is real, and I left after tea.It was drizzling steadily. But again, the bike felt good under me. I had waterproofs on. This could just work. I headed onto the canal in Brownhills, and cycled up over Catshill Junction towards Chasewater. It was OK. I stopped to take pictures at Lane’s Farm – and then I saw them… swallows. Hunting insects in the dusk and rain. Swallows, damn it! They’d come all the way from Africa to here, to hunt insects and breed. You can’t bottle that. I continued up the canal in the dusk, enjoying every minute. 

Cycling, an antidepressant. Ride one, twice a day.

April 21st – I didn’t get out until dusk. A problematic day, filled with frustration, irritations and hassle. I escaped late, and poured myself liquid along the canal to the old railway line trail near the Pelsall Road. Not having tried the new camera in the dark, I thought I’d give it a shot. I’m very impressed. t does well in low light conditions and generates far less noisy images than the TZ20, always that camera’s Achilles Heel. Only meaning to pop out for a short time, I messed around for an hour or more, just enjoying the absence of company. Apart, of course, from my old comrade the fox. He sat on the bridge at Clayhanger, as he often does, then retreated to the scrub to watch the mad human for a while.

April 20th – Mashing up Shire Oak hill at Sandhills, my gaze was snagged by this interesting sight just through the copse at the side of Lane’s Farm fields: a fair quantity of beehives. I’ve never noticed these before. I do hope they’ll see some use this year. There aren’t nearly enough bees kept in this country, and with the twin perils of Veroa and Colony Collapse Disorder ravaging the bee population, they need all the help they can get. Without the bees, we’re stuffed. And I love honey…

April 20th – Again managing to miss the rain, a morning spent in Leicester meant calling in for some shopping on the way home. Heading off the Walsall Road at Leomansley through the new estate on the southern fringe of Lichfield, I was struck, as I always am, by how close and claustrophobic this development is. Consisting of surprisingly large houses interspersed with flats and starter homes, the buildings are drab, square boxes with tiny gardens. Crammed shoulder to shoulder, the sunlight comes through here only in patches, and the sky is a long way up. Odd then, that in the middle, a brook that always flowed here was expanded into a kind of green lung, a ribbon of grass, small trees and water, meandering through the fake Georgian architectural hubris like an unwanted puddle of oil in an otherwise clinically clean factory floor. This place is soulless.

April 20th – Britain is obsessed with it’s refuse. I say obsessed, but only to a certain extent. We become very energised about having it taken away – debates rage about recycling, bi-weekly collections and fines. Oddly enough, we never seem too bothered about where our rubbish goes after it’s collected, so long as the landfill or incinerator isn’t near us or something we love. Walsall Council gets a fair amount of stick for it’s waste service, but I feel it’s generally unfair. We have wheelie bins, and decent schedules. Here in Leicester, rubbish is left out in different coloured bags the night before, where foxes and cats rip it open and spread it around. Bags frequently split on handling and their contents litter the road. The residents of Leicester, like those of Birmingham, would love a service as clean and reliable as that in Walsall.

April 19th – Returning from Lichfield, I was still managing to avoid the showers. Everywhere seemed damp, verdant and growing. Birds scuttled in an out of the hedgerows, rabbits darted into ditches and roadside warrens. Crossing the M6 toll at Summerhill, near Sandhills, the weak sunlight captured a field of oilseed rape near Stonnall, lit the whole thing up and made it precious. Some moments catch the light like diamonds.

April 19th – I’m fascinated by the machinery of the railways. I’m no train spotter, and wouldn’t cross the road to watch a train go by. However, as a train traveller of a certain geeky nature, things like signalling, communications and the weird and wonderful machines that one sees whilst negotiating the morass that is the British railway system hold a certain fascination. At a wind-blown and damp Nuneaton, there sat an incredibly complex ballast regulating machine. This Austrian made train levels, adjusts and cleans the ballast, the bed of shale under the track, and keeps the track in perfect condition. Usually run with a tamper (the yellow machine parked behind), a train that measures and corrects the sleeper and track positions, this is a very complex machine indeed. While I was admiring it, a General Motors class 66 locomotive trundled through the station; at a little over walking pace, it clanked its couplings, pulling upwards of thirty containers behind. The raw, yet controlled power of that – the noise, vibration and sheer presence – is awe inspiring.

You’d have to be dead not to be impressed by that…

April 19th – A week of threatening dark skies continued. I had, however, been oddly lucky; I had to go to Leicester for a few days, and only caught a light shower on the way. As I arrived at South Wigston early morning, the gloom gathered, and it rained throughout the day, but held off just as the I awaited my return train that afternoon. I know we need the rain, but psychologically, I need some summer. A real quandary…

April 18th – A river ran down the A461 Lichfield Road at Sandhills after a moderate shower. Out of all the storm gullies on the Walsall bound side of the hill, only 2 were flowing freely, all the others were blocked with silt. It seems that Tarmac – the contractors looking after the roads for Walsall Council – don’t like to bother cleaning drains. I’m 100% sure that the jobs are passed on, but in four years, I’ve never got a gully cleaned out. I give up, to be honest. Most of the storm drains on Shire Oak’s main roads are blocked.

April 18th – Baby weather – wet and windy, but warm. I worked from home before heading off mid-morning for a meeting in Redditch. It was drizzly and wet, but the riding through Stonnall and Little Aston was great. I saw lots of birds – great tits, blue tits, long-tailed tits, greenfinches, bullfinches, goldfinches, buzzards, a kestrel, a jay. I saw a countless rabbits, and a fox. Summer is coming. I can feel it. The rain is getting warmer….