Tag: 365daysofbiking

January 7th – Signs of life, and death. In Victoria Park, Darlaston, growing on an old tree stump, fresh golden pholiota. Glistening and dense, these slimy caps will dry out as they age into darker, flatter fungi.

A very unexpected splash of bright colour on an otherwise dull commute.

January 6th – I’d not noticed this before. On the canal near Darlaston, a high factory wall, and by some twist of nature, soot and the wind, a pair of buddleia plants, slowly and tenaciously taking the brickwork part by the action of gentle and sustained hydraulic pressure alone.

Although it’s destructive, I love to see this; nature reclaiming the constructed. It’s nice to see nature winning occasionally.

January 6th – An early, grey commute was brightened by something I’d never seen before, a heron in Jockey Meadows. A fair way from the canal or Ryders Mere, it must either have been resting or hunting in the water meadows here.

The photos are awful, and very long distance, but I’ve never seen a heron here before.

It set me up for the day.

January 5th – A fiddly maintenance job this evening. Studded ice tyres currently fitted to my bike have small, very hard carbide studs in them to grip black ice. They sit in pockets in the tyre tread, and on the back in particular, if you skid on tarmac or brake very hard, they rip out.

Once I’ve lost ten or so, I delve into the spares box and whip out a small bag containing replacement studs, supplied by Schwalbe, the tyre manufacturer. 

By deflating the tyre and pinching the cavity, with pliers one can pop fresh studs in, using a drop of washing up liquid as a lubricant. Fiddly at first, once you’ve got the hang, it’s easy to do.

It may sound overzealous, but for the want of a couple of studs, you could slide. A stitch in time, and all that…

January 5th – In the New Year Quiz on my main blog this year, I asked about the bulkhead pipes visible sticking from the mounds of a couple of local landfill sites; the answer was that they were gas collection points, to feed a gas turbine that generated electricity from the otherwise wasted methane evolved when the buried refuse decomposes.

This plant – humming away continuously in the way only a gas turbine can – is just off Brickyard road in Aldridge and has been running for at least 3 years fuelled by as from the Vigo Utopia landfill, generating electricity which is fed back into the national grid.

Refuse operators will paint this as ‘green energy’ – it’s no such thing; it’s not renewable, is finite and is no cleaner than any other methane power plant. It is, however, making use of gas that formerly would have been wasted, so it’s a good thing.

There is a similar setup at Highfields South, not more than a mile away.

January 4th – I’ll be perfectly honest here – I felt lower than a snake’s knees; the black dog was truly upon me and I’d been trying to ignore it for days. I’ve no idea why, other than stuff just wasn’t going well generally, but I did what I always do when life gets the better of me: I got out my cyclic antidepressant and rode it hard.

I rode over to Farewell on a journey that started sunny, but ended dank and misty, but it was enjoyable. Although cold, there were signs of life and colour in Farewell churchyard that pleased and encouraged me; and the winding icy lanes were a challenge. 

The old holloway of Cross o’ th’ Hand Lane was as dramatic as ever.

Coming back through Wall, the church and Roman remains were excellent stopping points as ever. My mood wasn’t completely lifted, but I felt a lot better.

January 4th – After being worryingly low in late summer, the water level at Chasewater has recovered quickly. With the rain and meltwater over the Christmas period, the balancing culverts are now submerged, and I think we’re about 16 inches (400mm) off full. If water isn’t drawn down, I’d expect water to be overflowing into the spillway by mid February if we have moderate rains.

I still can’t get over how quickly Chasewater refills.

January 3rd – My dislocation was compounded by the darkness. Despite the moonlight, the town seemed very dark and deserted, from the alley at the rear of the church to the footpath over the spot, which I rode over to Clayhanger to visit a pal.

Sometimes I hate the darkness. Sometimes it’s my best friend. Right now, I just wish it would hang back a bit.

Roll on spring.

January 3rd – Ah, that prickly, uncomfortable time between New Year and starting work again. Once you get back to the grind, Christmas seems a long way off and life gets back to normal quickly, but in the interregnum between festivity and workaday occupation, things feel otherworldly and disconnected. I hate it.

The nights are opening out though, which is good; the weather hasn’t been great, particularly that morning, and I can’t seem to get anything done, which is a pain, but everything must pass.

I spun into town for a few items and some fresh air, and swung past St James, the parish church of Brownhills. I’ve always found it stark and austere, and the extension added in the early 90s (in the foreground) is, to me, hideous. But the church is the heart of Brownhills, or at least Ogley Hay, even if most of the surrounding community seemed to be Methodist.

The sky was a deep, azure blue and the moon was nearing full. It was quiet. Not a bad night to be out, but my heart was elsewhere.

I’ll feel better when I’m back at work.