Tag: bad weather

January 22nd – I couldn’t think where to go, so I just took turn after turn following my nose. I ended up doing two laps of the backlanes around Stonnall and Shenstone which was nice enough, and seeing the feeble light die and the house lights come on was strangely comforting.

I love these lanes. They have been my companion, my constant, unwavering friend, confidante and riding partner for 35 years or more. I know them so well, and sometimes, when the atmosphere or weather isn’t great, just riding loops of these familiar byways is enough. 

Sometimes, you stick to the reassuringly familiar.

January 19th – Another late return, another dearth of decent photographic inspiration. January is always hard, but without daylight it’s a nightmare.

I rolled back into Brownhills at gone 10pm, and stopped near Knaves Court for a photo looking back up the hill. It didn’t work out like I planned. But I was tired and needed food, drink and a hug. This will have to do.

Some days, you wake up, leave the house, crawl across the open landscape under fire, then return, utterly spent. This was one of those.

Christmas seems like an age away now.

January 19th – Spotted near thee canal in Darlaston on yet another wet morning, this fascinating ball of moss. I can’t actually get close to it, so can’t tell if it’s some kind of parasite on the host bush, or as I suspect, it’s the remnants of a birds nest whose lining of moss took root.

On a grey, grim morning, the brightness of the green was beautiful in the gloom.

Sometimes you have to take the beauty where you can find it…

January 17th – Coming back into Brownhills on a very wet, stodgy towpath in the evening, I noted it was gone 5pm and not yet fully dark. The lights of the Watermead Estate, reflected in the still canal, were beautiful and atmospheric.

It has stopped raining. It’s been so bad in the past few days, the blessed absence of rain is something to be cheerful about.

January gets you like that, sometimes.

January 16th – As I neared the crest of Shire Oak hill, it was murky and drizzly and the kind of night you really don’t want to be out in.

There wasn’t much traffic, either, which seemed strange – but I did note the model ‘works buses’ – not these days going to Crabtree or the BRD, but shuttling workers back and forth between the Birmingham and Black Country conurbation and Amazon at Rugeley.

These services run seemingly throughout the day and night and I’d love to know more about them.

January 16th – A terrible, awful, wet commuting day. I got wet on may way to work, wet mid day when visiting a customer, and wet on my way back. The bike is so damp, when it catches the light it has it’s own rainbow.

I came back unusually to Blake Street, as the train I was on didn’t serve Shenstone, and it was just to horrid to come from Four Oaks up that hill. I stood at the top of the steps – the ramp is a long way up the platform, and the steps are quicker – and in that moment it struck me how odd they are. Open with no roof, they descend into a passageway under the railway. Painted cream and well lit, it’s like they once had a roof, and it was removed.

I wonder…?

January 15th – One of those horrible, headache-grey wet winter days when it never really seems to get light and never stops raining. I plodded out to Chasewater, after checking the waxwings were still at Silver Court. Their numbers had increased, but the light was way too poor to get pictures.

Chasewater was empty save for a few brave souls, and the cafes had closed early. I mooched for a bit, looking for interesting wildlife, but found none, not even the large white geese which seem to have been missing now for weeks. I hope they’re OK but I guess by now they’re very old and I think they may have passed away.

I noticed with some amusement that new signs have been erected about not feeding the birds near the fort (due to pollution in the gravel there) – and something looked odd about the spacing of the ‘s’ on ‘birds’ – and then I realised someone had hastily removed an apostrophe. On all of them. Oops.

Also, is that comic sans?

The canal route I took back to Brownhills on the other hand was quite interesting. In atrocious light I saw the goosanders again, and I wonder if I’d ever be able to get a decent photo of these odd birds. The two remaining Abbey Road ducks were out and about too, as was Mrs. Muscovy, but her photos were so poor as to be unusable.

An awful day to ride, but I did see some interesting stuff which at least made braving the elements worthwhile.

January 13th – To my further disappointment, when I left work, there was no snow left to speak of, and it was almost warm, but very wet, although not raining. I don’t mind admitting I really love cycling in dramatically cold conditions, and I felt a tiny bit cheated.

But as I rode back down Green Lane and over the Black Cock Bridge, they sky was clearing and a full, mist-shrouded moon hung there. It was impossible not to feel cheered by it.

January 13th – I was hoping for more snow. I was mentally prepared for a very cold, icy commute. I awoke to little more than an icing-sugar dusting, and all the main roads clear.

I was interested to note though that other cyclists weren’t deterred. I had the snow tyres on and loved it, but the cycleways and towpaths were lined by tyre tracks, so maybe I’m getting risk-averse in my old age.

A nice journey in cold weather, but it’d be nice to have the real thing before winter ends. A bit of 2013 wouldn’t hurt, would it?

January 12th – Passing throughGreat Bridge in the last of the light, the weather was grim and the traffic horrid – the promised snow had also passed through and the only trace of it was overlooking the Black Country from Turner’s Hill.

For a moment, snow on the hill – no more than an icing-sugar dusting – was beautiful.

I hope we get some more.