Tag: 365daysofbiking

#365daysofbiking In denial

Saturday, October 17th 2020 – A great ride really that didn’t turn out as planned. I was heading for the Churnet Valley again, and rather than take the boring road up over Willslock and through Uttoxeter to Denstone, I decided to wind may way through villages to the west of there.

I was beset by mechanical problems in the first 20 miles. And it rained that horrid, fine rain that slowly but surely dissolves your determination, by getting into your clothes and just by being no fun at all. But against my better judgment, I pressed on.

And as I neared Alton, the sun started shining weakly, and the rain abated. I found beautiful views and a lovely ford near Hollington, and in the dying hours of daylight the Churnet Valley was as gorgeous as I’d hoped.

I had planned to do a loop up Ousal Dale and Dimmings Dale but it was such tough going up Ousal Dale that I decided to leave the valley via Oldfurnace and Greendale, which were gorgeous in their sunset, with the smoke-wreathed cottaged particularly enchanting.

I headed home to complete the 70 miler though a gorgeous sunset at Crakemarsh and up Buttermilk Hill in the dark, Marchington Woodlands and Hoar Cross, accompanied by a soundtrack of owls.

The windmill at Longdon and Black Swan at Smeltingmill were lovely treats, too.

A ride that started badly but finished rather well.

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#365daysofbiking Brutality

Friday, October 16th 2020 – I’ve long been an advocate of Brownhills, my hometown, and the fact that it has some beautiful parts. Way more than many outsiders would ever expect.

But it’s also a fact that some bits are a bit grim, like with any town, particularly post-industrial ones in desperate need of regeneration.

Silver Court is not terribly unpleasant. It’s nothing like say, Windmill Lane in Smethwick West used to be, or some of the forlorn, decaying 1960s parades of shops in big city suburbs like Longbridge or Castle Vale. But it’s very much 60s, brutalist and in its final stages.

Ingeniously built clinging to a pronounced slope with a very split level design, it’s an odd, partially prefabricated row of shops with maisonette houses above, each with a small yard above the back of the shop premises accessed by a rear thoroughfare on top of the lowest level, the garages.

The shops are now about 50% occupied. The homes have problems with leaks and poor construction. There are issues with flytipping, and the parade frontage is grubby and dark.

But I’ve always love the view along it at night, deserted, with just the light of the ATM halfway up.

One day this edifice will go, and I’ll be glad I recorded this otherworldly place by night.

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#365daysofbiking Ring of no confidence

Thursday, October 15th 2020 – An interesting one here for the Bob Big Book of Mechanical Failures.

A bike I look after has an 11 speed rear sprocket cassette – Shimano CS M7000 XTR. Like all hyperglide Shimano cassettes 11 speed and below, it fits on the free hub splined body by sliding on to an asymmetrical groove pattern to ensure all components are correctly aligned synchronously for smooth gear changes. The whole lot is held on by a fine threaded, normally tightening lockring, driven with a special tool.

Unlike lower range cassettes, which are generally 2 or 3 piece, this arrangement turns out to be discrete sprockets for all but the largest three, and appropriate spacers which you stack on the free hub before applying the lockring. The lockring should actually tighten by precession and has grooves and a crinkle washer to stop it coming loose.

So why did this factory assembled cassette locking undo itself, allowing the ring and smallest few sprockets to tumble off the free hub and grind against the inside of the frame? I think personally because it wasn’t tightened enough in the factory.

The ring looked bad at first, until I realised that the silver ribbon was not swarf but the remnants of a foil table on the ring.

Cleaned and popped back together, all worked well. But in all my years, I’ve never seen that happen before.

Check your bikes folks. This could have been nasty.

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#365daysofbiking Light on the surface

Wednesday, October 14th 2020 – The darkness, as I’ve pointed out, allows me a different selection of subjects, often ones which aren’t particularly interesting in the daylight, yet come to life at night or in twilight.

One of those is my old muse of Clayhanger Bridge and the canal overflow nearby.

I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about the way the streetlight on the bridge, the reflections on the water and the sky and skyline combine. And the whole thing seems to vary hugely depending on the weather and time of evening.

I’ll never tire of it, even if readers do…

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#365daysofbiking Slipping away

Tuesday, October 13th 2020 – Another darkness commute, and less than two weeks until the clocks go back. I hate this time of year, I really do.

The one downside of having a GPS on the bike is that it allows you to morosely monitor the closing in of the days, but also the opening out, which is why I keep the data field active.

As the daylight slips away and I get used to the return of the night, it’s hard to find good images and can be difficult to be positive: But in truth, you can’t have the great, long days of high summer without paying for them with cold, rain-sodden commute in winter.

So onward, into the dark…

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#365daysofbiking Sucked down

Monday, October 12th 2020 – Back to the rain and grey. Such is the season.

I’ve been ignoring as much as possible the nights closing in, for my hatred of the darkening in Autumn causes me to get down if I think about it too much, but this evening, leaving work only a little later than usual, I hit The Suck.

The Suck is the season of commutes from when they start occurring in darkness until about Christmas, until motorists are used to the dark and bad weather again. All through this period, riding a bike home especially, is more arduous mentally and more hazardous. Unused to the gathering murk, drivers seem less attentive, more aggressive and riding safely in traffic requires absolute attentiveness in a way it doesn’t in daylight.

At around Christmas the hazard wanes as the traffic is more used to the lack of light, and the pressure and aggression gradually eases.

This evening, at Rushall feeling mentally flat, I realised how hard I’d been concentrating and that for another year, the traffic was sucking me down.

Be careful out there folks. Every other person on the road is someone’s child. Let’s look after each other.

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#365daysofbiking The long valley road

Sunday, October 11th 2020 – My wish was granted: It was a great day when the sun shone and the countryside steamed in the warm October sun. Sadly I didn’t get out until late afternoon, but still managed 70 miles.

I’d been wanting to do the Churnet Valley in autumn for years: The cycleway from Denstone on the old rail line, and Red road from Alton to Oakamoor were made for the season. I came back down the valley via Farley and Wootton Deer Park to Ellastone which was an absolutely magical golden hour ride on lanes I’d never ridden before: Thoroughly gorgeous and captivating. I must return.

The Churnet Valley – best known for the execrable Alton Towers theme park – is actually one of Staffordshire’s most wonderful places and is so much more than the gimcrack fairground attraction and is almost – with that imperious castle overlooking – a mini Loire Valley.

I came back via Ellastone, Marston and Sudbury, then blasted with the wind behind me down the A515. I just wish there had been more time.

What a difference a day made.

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#365daysofbiking Rising damp

Saturday, October 10th 2020 – A dreadful, wet autumn day of the kind that makes you want to hibernate for the whole winter. Everything was wet: Doing jobs about the house meant walking muddy water in and it was best just staying put and plan for better days and decent rides out.

Hopefully Sunday would be an improvement.

I escaped late in a lull in the deluge and did a short loop of Brownhills, yup to Anchor Bridge and back through Clayhanger. At Anchor Bridge you’d be hard pressed to spot the effects of the rain – – but the towpaths were too sodden to ride and a telltale sheen on the tarmac belied the all-pervasive damp.

I picked up a curry and headed home: Even on this short ride I felt grubby and wet. Hopefully better days will come soon.

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#365daysofbiking The united colours of autumn

Friday, October 9th 2020 – Some rides start out pretty badly, but you plough on and realise how wise you were to do so: This was just such an instance.

I wanted to be out. I’d set my heart on it, but mechanical problems delayed me, and not more than a couple of miles from home, it rained heavily. It was cold and I was feeling grim.

But I persevered and the sun came out upon a sodden south Staffordshire and I headed to Hoar Cross over Armitage and Rowley.

I returned via Woodmill, Morrey, and up the A515.

Amethyst deceivers were found near Chasewater, their vivid purple colouring marking them as one of the UK’s most beautiful toadstools; there was a cracker of a rainbow over the Needwood Valley as I rested on the bench at Hoar Cross. And the day wrapped up with a gorgeous autumnal sunset.

I went out feeling distinctly blue, but nature showed me the whole spectrum and I returned much happier.

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#365daysofbiking The sisterhood

Thursday, October 8th 2020 – It’s coming up to the best time of year to view the twin sisters – the churches on top of the hill at the centre of Wednesbury.

Another of my favourite subjects here, these gorgeous but differing spires – of St Mary’s Catholic Church and St Batholomews Church of England – nestling above the leafy, urban slopes are a maker for me, and an illustration that the Black Country is not quite as outsiders might imagine.

Of course, like many urban churches, time has been kinder to these sisters than one would imagine: They once shook to the thump of drop hammers and buzzed with the huge amount of industry they overlooked, but now their parishes are quieter and, dare I say it, nicer places to live.

To see this lovely view from Kings Hill Park in Darlaston is a joy, and as autumn matures the view will only get better, reminding me that however far I might stray, this is my place, the Black Country, and where my heart and soul lie.

Hope they can sort the clock soon…

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