Tag: bad weather

January 20th – I’ve been hoping for a decent fall of snow – not just to try my tyres out properly, but just for the novelty of it. Sadly, it seems I’m not in luck just yet.

As I left work, it was snowing quite well; the rate ebbed and flowed during the ride, and conditions got steadily harsher as I neared the high ground on my way back to Brownhills. 

On the canal, I realised the snow was settling well – not only on the path, but on the ice surface of the frozen water. 

Sadly, by the time I got in, the snow had eased off, and didn’t amount to anything much that evening.

Oh well, better luck next time.

January 15th – Walsall Wood’s winter lido is again filling up courtesy of the inclement weather.

Once a bowling green, and passed to Walsall Council after being created for the local miners to enjoy, the old Oak Park – beside the leisure centre – continues to decay, unloved.

This is little short of a crime. Every time I see it it makes me angry – very angry indeed.

January 14th – A cold day with a punishing headwind. Following brief snow the night before, there was an icy covering when I battled to work. I saw the Kingfisher on the canal again – but my ice tyres were so noisy that all I saw was the cobalt blue flash of the bird flying away.

The tyres did make short work of the conditions, though, and the twin spires of Wednesbury looked beautiful from James Bridge Aqueduct.

January 9th – A long day at work, and a blustery commute there and back – but at least it blew me home. Had to nip down to Stonnall on the way back, and noted that the Old Swan Pub seemed busy. A pub that’s changed hands a few times, I think in this day and age it must be hard work to make it pay. 

It looks well loved and cared for at the moment, and it looked to be humming inside.

It also looks brilliant at night.

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.

New Year’s Day – I was miserable. The weather was miserable. That’s all there was to it.

I wasn’t feeling good – not over-indulgence, but the semi-regular bad stomach and that post-Christmas feeling when the work that seemed so far away two days ago is suddenly noticed, bearing down.

I span out after dark, up Coppice Lane and the cycleway, and back along the canal. It was raining, and windy so quite tough going. But I felt better for it, and got home more cheerful than I left it.

I always find January 1st difficult if I’m hemmed in. Tomorrow will be a better day.

December 30th – I had loads of local stuff to do today, and very little time. Plus, I was having a bad day with everything failing, so I felt it probably wasn’t best to be out in difficult conditions. 

The feeling was compounded by a couple of intemperate drivers who hooted at my very existence.

The sunset was nice though, from Pelsall Road to Chasewater, it was gorgeous through all it’s phases; these are good winter sundowns right now. 

Sadly, the weather is to warm op over the next couple of days, so I think this is probably the last decent one until the weekend. But what a corker.

December 27th – The birdlife at Chasewater carries on with little regard to the weather. The robins, blackbirds and tits flitted around, hunting for food, and on the lake, the waterfowl – from coots and grebes to swans – loafed and preened as usual.

I must read more about swans and their social behaviour. I note adults and cygnets from last summer still hang around together, though in much looser, informal-seeming groups. A few days ago I saw all seven of the Catshill brood on the lake by the north end of the dam together with mum and dad; but often, I just see one adult and on cygnet, or groups of solo cygnets.

It’s almost like they’re still family, but go their own ways and meet up later. They really are most fascinating birds, and I really should learn more about their habits.

December 27th – Another foul day. Overcast, misty and cold, it came on to rain in the afternoon, with the lying, dirty snow still stubbornly refusing to shift.

I went out – togged up for it this time – to Chasewater to see just how good the ice tyres were. A blast down the bog boardwalk proved them grippy, as did the surefooted handling on wet mud, slush and ice.

Rolling resistance is high though, and they’re very, very noisy.

A decent ride though, in very poor conditions.

Boxing Day – Sometimes, you do something on impulse that seems a good idea, and it’s terrible. This was just such an occasion.

Snow was forecast. I enjoy snow; I love to be out in it, especially when it’s actually snowing; it saturates my senses and I feel connected to the world; I love the way it plays with the light, and the memory of place.

The snow came late afternoon, so I threw the studded snow tyres on the bike and went for it. The snow was very wet, but beautiful. The bike cam died due to not being charged. The mud on the canal was something else. Snow got on the camera lens and I had no dry cleaning materials to hand. 

Then the snow turned to heavy rain. I had no aquapac for my electronic stuff.

I got soaked. Really wet. The rain was searching, and entered every not-quite shut zip and pocket flap. I felt cold, wet and down.

It had bean beautiful I was glad to catch it. I spun over to Chasewater, and was planning to loop over around Hammerwich. But the rain was just too horrid.

On my way back, I took the line of the old railway along the bypass at Chasetown, to the rear of Anglesey Basin, and saw the deer footprints in the fresh snow. I forgot being wet and cold and followed them – the animals had come up off the bypass, and headed over the scrub to the copse at the back of the cottages, presumably laying low for shelter. Bless them.

That perked me up, but oh boy, this was a horrid ride.