Tag: 365daysofbiking

August 10th – I did a century, up to Cromford. Starting early, I cycled up the incline and onto the High Peak Trail, and on to Parsley Hay. Back down the Tissington, tea in the village, then off to Dovedale, climbing up to Throwley and on to Calton in the Weaver Hills. I love the Peak District, and as is often said, some of the best bits of Derbyshire are in Staffordshire; the Weavers are, and so is Ilam. It was a gorgeous, sunny, warm day. I had power in my legs, and the sun on my back. It doesn’t get much better than this.

Find out more on my main blog.

August 9th – Teasels are a relatively new addition to the flora of Brownhills, I never used to see them as a kid. I think when Clayhanger Common was seeded after landscaping, teasels – in this case common or Fuller’s – spread from there to the immediate commons. Here at the old cement works bridge, over the Wyrley & Essington canal at The Slough, they’re growing on the trail edges of the former railway line in abundance. They derive their name from their use – as a comb in fabric processing, used to tease or raise the nap or fluffiness of materials like felt and wool.

They’re a lovely, fascinating wildflower. It’s good to see them spread.

August 9th – Today, I had time to myself. I spent it servicing my bikes, as tomorrow, I’m heading off for a long ride. Going for a late afternoon test run, I found my way to the canal at Brownhills. Standing on the Pier Street Bridge, I noticed how the locals were out in the sun – strolling, boating, sitting by the water. This spot could be so much nicer if the marina was maintained properly, but just to stand here, sun on my back and gaze for a while, was fine enough. Hello summer, I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced…

August 8th – I snuck out of work early, and took the train back to Blake Street to enjoy the early evening countryside around Little Aston. Much as I salute the great success of British Cycling and the olympic team, the plastic Wigginses are out in force on their new bikes. I don’t mind them so much, just wish they’d return the greetings. That, and stop wearing yellow jerseys. They just make you look daft, frankly.

I got stuck in some distinctly rural traffic near Footherley. I noticed the farmer here cutting his hedges yesterday, near the top of Footherley Lane by the little bridge. Now he was doing Wood Lane and New Barns Lane. I found it a little concerning – hedge flailing isn’t usually done until Autumn, when birds aren’t nesting. However, watching the operation (I had no choice, I had a tractor behind me too) the driver had a very light touch, and was only trimming the excessive overgrowth caused by the wet summer.

I do wonder how the newcomers on their road bikes will fare on these now thorn-strewn lanes; my tyres are fairly hardy but those strips of liquorice the speedsters use are well vulnerable… hope you’ve all got repair kits in the back pockets of those champion jerseys…

August 8th – I note that the wonderful Linda Mason has today witnessed the itchy feet of the swallows and consequently mentioned the ‘A’ word – Autumn.

Not yet, you don’t, matey!

I prefer to think of this period as high summer and then late summer. Autumn to me doesn’t come until the leaves turn, around late September, but I mourn summer so much I’m probably just deluding myself. In the meantime, I’m enjoying the onset of the fruiting time – here beside the M54 at Telford, on one of the town’s numerous, largely unmapped and therefore lightly used cycleways, there is a fantastic crop of rowan berries. Sometimes called mountain ash, they make a very palatable jam or wine.

Today, they made a passing cyclist smile.

August 7th – Can’t find the proper name for this stuff – I’m sure one of you guys will know it. We call it sweethearts. Anyone who’s ever owned a cat or dog with longish hair will know these troublesome seeds. They stick like velcro to fabric and fur alike. I’ve spent hours removing them from animal’s coats. It’s a very neat seed dispersal method, and this year, the prolific weed that bears them seems to be doing really, really well. A fascinating pain in the arse.

August 7th – I noted today with some sadness that the horse chestnut trees in St. Johns Hill in Shenstone, and the ones forming the avenue and hedges along Hollyhill Lane towards Footherley were badly affected this year by the leaf miner moth. The tree survives this new pest, but starts to look sick around late summer, and drops it’s leaves early. It’s thought to affect the conker yeild, although there’s no conclusive proof of this yet. First observed in Wimbledon, London, in 2002, this pest has spread like wildfire, and as yet, there’s no sign of a solution. Very sad. 

August 6th – Back in Walsall Wood, near Jockey Meadows, the crop of beans I noticed a month or so ago have grown tall in the wet summer. There seems to be a decent crop of what appear to be broad beans, but the crop is sadly afflicted by blackfly and some kind of leaf blight.

I guess these will be for animal fodder, although they seemed tender and sweet in the unripe pod I cracked open.

August 6th – Over on my main blog, I’ve been giving much thought lately to the vexed question of Walsall, it’s disappearing architectural heritage, and the spate of arson attacks that are robbing our borough of it’s finest jewels. On my way back from Darlaston this afternoon, I stopped to ponder this great gem, the Walsall Union Workhouse Guardian’s Office, currently evens at William Hill for not making it past autumn. A lovely building allowed to rot, uncared for, and marooned in the middle of a new development, in this case the rebuild of the Manor Hospital. Surely, some use could have been found for this grand place? When Lichfield built their new hospital, the old buildings in front were retained and used for psychiatric services. Walsall doesn’t seem to possess the same vision.
Not half a mile further on, there stands the other end of the scale. Perhaps not architecturally significant, but socially, very much so. The Orange Tree pub – closed for some years now – has suffered at least two mysterious fires and is utterly wrecked internally. This once-thriving community meeting place is now silenced, and lost, like so many others. It can only be a matter of time until it too is razed to the ground. But how many folk, I wonder, have noticed its eclectic mix of chimneypots?

Please join the discussion.

August 4th – I spun up round the cycleway on the old railway, and at the old cement works bridge over the canal at The Slough, the heavens opened. I sheltered under the bridge for 20 minutes, then made a dash for home. The canal – like the town – was deserted save for the odd heron. As the sky above changed from a threatening black to a friendlier blue and sunset red, it lit Brownhills up in the most wonderful, cinematic fashion. 

Man, I love this place.