Tag: bad weather

April 4th – Well, I wasn’t expecting snow. Up early, I looked out of the window just as the white stuff started falling. I’d been expecting a foul commute, but in reality, it wasn’t too bad. It was cold, and damp, but a lot less so than if it had been raining. The biggest hazard was the slipperiness of the roads – not due to ice, but due to weeks of tyre rubber, spilled diesel and silt building up on the road surface without rain to wash it away. In the meltwater, it became a black, slippery goop, just aching to take the wheels from under the unwary cyclist.
The snow was certainly a shock, though, and amongst the spring blooms and blossom of Telford’s roadside verges, the patches of snow made for an unusual, slightly sombre sight. 

March 17th – Unusually, I came home through Hammerwich. I don’t usually do that, but had to pop into Brownhills West on the way back. The weather was vey grim, and I only just missed getting soaked. Hammerwich, however, was as beautiful as ever, and the overcast weather made for moody, cinematic photos. On the corner of the bizarrely-named Lions Den and Station Road, I noticed Hall Cottage, which I’d not really studied previously. A beautiful little house.

March 17th – A recovery ride. I had to do some bits and pieces in Lichfield, which was a good opportunity to spin the aching legs. Surprisingly,  they were quite fluid once I got moving. The weather was rather grim and Lichfield as quiet as I’d come to expect it lately. It really is starting to give the feeling of a place half asleep. It was in Breadmarket street that I noticed this; it must have been a really, really unlucky shot, speared neatly on a pigeon spike. That’s gotta hurt… I bet the prize striker got a ribbing for it.

February 22nd – After a thoroughly awful day at work, I disembarked from the train at Walsall to find myself travelling home through a soft, pervasive drizzle. The town was looking particularly down-at-heel in the dusk, although, it has to be said, twilight at 5:45 is a wonderful thing right now. Walsall has never been blessed with architectural complexity, and on days like this, it really, really shows. I love this place with all my heart, but by jove, it’s very hard to on days like this…

February 12th – Another headache grey day. The chill had lifted, but the canal was still frozen as I spun out at 4pm. It had been a grey, grim, dank and misty day. It felt warm, though, and as I rode up from Brownhills and over Catshill Junction toward The Anchor it felt oddly pleasant. I noted that the fishermen had broken the ice here so that they could fish – that seemed a bit hardcore. I pottered on, darkness descended like a muffler, bringing with is thicker mist. Not the best day for photography, and I didn’t see a soul. An oddly lonely, desolate ride.

February 10th – The predicted snow didn’t arrive in Brownhills – all we had was an icing-sugar dusting. I had to go to Redditch, and set out early on a filthy, drizzly morning to hop on the Cross City line. Arriving at the station just in time to watch the tail-lights of my train slide into the distance, I felt thoroughly fed up. 
An hour later, zipping through the snow covered landscape of south Birmingham, I cheered up. The snow had been more pronounced here, and when I got to Redditch, the town looked lovely. Church Green was gorgeous, and the cottages near Ipsley in the Arrow Valley were equally beautiful, which restored my good mood. It’s not often you can say that about Redditch. 

On the way back, I spotted two snowmen at Little Aston forge. I suspect they were from last weekend – they look like they were good efforts. Sorry I didn’t catch them in their prime… my apologies to the motorist behind whom I held up while taking the picture.

February 6th – it was a tough journey to work. After the chill of the previous week it felt almost humid, yet it was quite chilly with a constant, searching drizzle. The snow of Saturday was still melting, and there were huge pools of standing water on the roads. Dropping onto the canal at Bridgeman Street in Walsall looking for a break from the relentless traffic, the towpath turned out to present its own challenge. Not treacherous with the studded tyres, but hard work to plough through. Horrid.

January 29th – I went to bed last night wholly expecting to wake up to a frosty, crisp, bright day. I was to head to Cannock Chase, maybe over Shugborough. Sadly, I hadn’t bothered to check the weather. What I woke up to was a miserable, dank, dark and dismal day. I busied myself with other things and headed out for a spin late afternoon, just before the light began to die. I went up around the new pond at Clayhanger, then back into Brownhills and up the old Railway Line to Ryders Mere. Not a soul about, only the old fox I normally see here at sundown, looking bedraggled and fed up. We both stood stock still for a few seconds, and then he turned tail and trotted off. That fox always fascinates me – I think that to him, humans are just unpredictable, odd looking foxes, tolerable company if we keep still and mind our own business.

He looked grey today. The landscape was grey. Everything looked the same. I hate days like this.

January 27th – It was my turn to leave early. Relishing the chance to get a commute home in the light, I left work at 4:15pm, not realising it was raining. Again stupidly finding myself without waterproof trousers, I made my sodden way home. The roads were mad, as they usually are when it rains, so I dived onto the canal in Pleck and flipped over to National Cycle Route 5 in Goscote. The rain cleared up by the time I got to Reedswood, but I was wet and chilly. Ah, the best laid plans…

January 26th – Awful commute. Chilly, headwind. Then the rain started – the kind of rain that’s so cold onto your forehead that it physically causes pain. Luckily, I was close to the canal in Walsall, and took refuge under the Bridgeman STreet canal bridge until it passed. As I got to work, the sun came out, just to take the mickey. Great.