Tag: 365daysofbiking

October 10th – I returned to Shenstone on a horribly overcrowded, delayed train feeling flustered and weary, but then discovered something else I’d lost in recent months; that view of Shenstone Church across the village rooftops.

Shenstone Church is almost unique in British architecture – it’s a church which is improved when you can only see the elegant, foursquare tower and not the hideous, dark gothic edifice attached to it. 

I used to pass through here a lot when working in Birmingham, Telford and Redditch, but these days with others now doing those jobs, I’m more based in Darlaston so don’t see the seasonal changes of this place as much as I used to, which is sad.

The treat of a gathering dusk over Lynn and Stonnall as I return home is still a wonderfully life affirming thing, though.

October 10th – I passed through Birmingham in a hurry on business in the late afternoon. Passing through Cathedral Square, I noticed something I hadn’t before – the wonderful, priapic Alpha Tower as viewed in low sun down Waterloo Street – past an example of nearly every period of architecture in Birminghams history of continual change.

I stopped for a moment, and caught my breath.

October 9th – Darkness is now frequently impinging on my commutes – both early in the morning and in the early evening. This marks a shift now to night photography and the return to some old muses. I’ve not used the TZ90 in night conditions much yet, and I’m hoping it’s better than the TZ80.

Passing Clayhanger Bridge on a dark evening, I gave it a try. Not too shabby I think.

I’m pleased with those. 

August 9th – Spotted on the way to work, quick mobile phone pictures of something I was ages about. On Sunday, I found a fresh puffball on the Chase, and posted a quick snap on social media. Someone asked what it was, and noted that they’d found one and when touched, it ‘deflated’.

This ripe puffball was just on the edge of a verge in Central Walsall, so I recorded it whole and squashed – I didn’t feel too bad about squashing it, as that’s how it works; the body case crumbled and the millions of spores – the grey-brown smear in the second image – escaped like a cloud of smoke to be dispersed by the wind.

Thus the puffball rises, and lies waiting to be spit by debris or passing animals. Or a large-footed cyclist, in this case.

Of all the plants and species of life, sometimes fungi seem the most opaque, yet fiendishly, simply clever…

October 8th – Up in the cinematic, wide open landscape of Brocton Field, there’s a historical, Great War curiosity that serves as a lovely memorial and good map explorer exercise for kids and newcomers to this fine place – Freda’s Grave.

The grave, off a minor footpath high above the Sherbrook Valley, is the resting place of the mascot of the New Zealand Rifles who were stationed here as the awful conflict came to a close. The harlequin Great Dane was very much loved, and her memorial has been periodically renewed and restored. 

It’s good to see so many people pay tribute, a testament to the UK (and New Zealand’s, of course) love affair with our best friends.

You can find out more about Freda here. 

I descended into the valley, and across a gradually darkened Chase lifted by the quality of the day, the ride and finally, fresh air and the joy of getting back to somewhere I love and hadn’t been for ages.

October 8th – A better day when the sun periodically graced us with it’s gentle, warming optimism, and since it’s autumn, where better to go than Cannock Chase? It’s one thing I miss in summer; the Chase is far too crowded to ride much in summer, making every ride a trial of concentration and nerves, but at the cooler, damper end of the year it’s virtually deserted in the best parts and people rarely venture there.

I hauled myself up over Pye Green and to Brocton Field before descending into the Sherbrook Valley and over Milford and Shugborough and back along the canal to Rugeley and then home through the night-time lanes of Longdon.

A great ride tat cheered me up totally – and I’d forgotten the improvised birded feeding point up in the car park off Chase Road for Freda’s Grave – I watched birds happily feeding for 20 minutes, captivated by their antics. It was also wonderful to see a nuthatch, which is a first for me – it reminded me of a land-based kingfisher. The colours are gorgeous.

We need more decent weather days. I need more of this in my life right now.

October 7th – Time for a seasonal warning, I guess. Along the canal from Anchor Bridge to around Wharf Lane Bridge, the hedge flail has been out and the towpath is covered in cut foliage debris and thorns from the hawthorn that constitutes the hedge here. This thorns are just lying, waiting to be picked up in soft tyres where they’ll quickly cause a period of deflation.

If your rubber is a bit thin, best avoid this route for a couple of weeks until the thorny problem has passed.

October 7th -The Saturday was just as grey, and seeking fresh air I went out in steady rain, dried off for a short while, then returned home again in penetrating drizzle.

My seasonal barometer, the horse chestnut at Home Farm, Sandhills is currently wearing autumn colours, and will soon be naked once more, it’s green majesty having pleased me throughout the summer. Now it’s the turn of the fungus, and on the bank near Wharf Lane on the canal, where I thought there were to be none this year, the fly agaric are having a riot amongst the ferns under the silver birches.

It looks like contrary to my previous assertions, the fairytale red fungus with white spots is having another excellent year.

October 6th – For reasons too complicated to go into here, my moaning about the daily routine and the greyness of life and the weather were heeded by fate and I found myself visiting Matlock and Matlock Bath in the afternoon on a work related trip. Having to leave a vehicle behind, I’d taken my bike and had a ride down the A6.

Matlock is a nice enough town, with some great architecture, but could do with a little more variety in the shops. But I have to say on the whole it’s a classic Derbyshire river-valley town; beautiful, unpretentious and charming.

Further south, at Matlock Bath, things were a shade more grim. Matlock Bath seems to have been in steady decline since I first visited the place in the 1980s. A tourist stop off and motorcyclist haunt, this odd little town clings to the Derwent gorge with an air of faded, seedy seaside glamour. There must be eight or more chip shops; several sweet shops selling exactly the same stuff, and more than a handful of jaded amusement arcades and pubs. 

The architecture and riverside are beautiful; but there are many closed shops and it’s hard to escape the feeling of something passed from life, if not exactly to death, then to some sort of ghost existence.

But then again, it’s possible that Matlock Bath has been like this ever since it’s heyday in the Victorian years. The place reminded me of one of those lost seaside resorts that were once locally popular but now are only half remembered, like Rhyl or Withernsea. 

Perhaps it was the season and the weather, but the sadness of this place was almost enjoyable. 

Perhaps on a sunny, summer day it acquaints itself better.

October 5th – A headache-grey, overcast and unpleasant day that was as grim and hard to face as the weather on the commute. Work is challenging at the moment and leaving me incredibly tired, day after day.

I’ve never known a summer end so abruptly and just dive headlong into a grim, grey, lifeless autumn like this – yes, the fungi is plentiful and the trees beautiful; but day after day the grey, sunshineless gloom is hard work.

I need a holiday. Returning home via a gloomy Catshill Junction, I was, for once fed up of the view.