Tag: canal

October 27th – Ah, Mr. Calico… we meet again. This male cat (he is male, and unneutered by the looks) was hunting mallard on the canal in Pleck as I spun through on my way to work. I’ve seen him a few times, always in exactly the same spot. He talks to me and curses me for disturbing his sport (although the ducks were honking at him and causing a drama long before I got close).

He always moves high up on the embankment from where he can look down on me in safety, then meows long wailing cries, always seeming like curses.

Somebody loves that lad. He’s in fine fettle. And good voice.

October 23 – A little further on up the canal, the vegetation is changing colour, but is still remarkably green. The canal here is peaceful, and a little urban oasis where herons fish and ducks potter in the rushes. The roving bridge here was to allow access to the Anson Branch – a lost, truncated waterway whose last job was mainly to supply water to Reedswood power station, itself long demolished.

The fate of the Anson Branch was sealed by the M6, which cut it short, but the bridge is still in use to access the road from the other side.

October 21st – I was lamenting a couple of days ago that the fungus had been poor this year – it hasn’t up on the canal bank near Wharf Lane; I never noticed before, but in a short space, tucked in with the heather and gorse are lots of toadstools.

Mostly, fly agaric, I passed these spotty red wonders a couple of days ago and never noticed.

I’d love to know what the shiny brown one is…

October 21st – A dreadful wind and threatening rain menaced me on the way to work, but fortuitously, it also blew me back. I left after the rain had stopped, and found conditions challenging. As I rode, I noted a developing sunset I couldn’t ignore, so I hopped on the canal to Chasewater, hoping to catch it. 

Sadly, by the time I got there, the gathering dark had swallowed it up – but it was an interesting ride. 

October 19th- a busy, fraught and not terribly productive day, I spun out past teatime into a dark, deserted and somnambulant town. I had the little tripod, and I welcomed the darkness back into my life.

I spun up the High Street, over Anchor Bridge, and back down the canal, and didn’t see a soul; there was life on the narrowboats, as the chimneys were gently smoking, yet there were no other signs of life at all. 

I love the new LED floodlights on Silver Court – and Anchor Bridge will always be a muse.

Time to embrace the blackness again…

October 18th – Certainly seeing that family with five cygnets about a lot. They were tooling around the canal, grazing and generally patrolling. I saw them several times during the day, but by mid afternoon, they were loafing and preening in one of the canalside back gardens near Humphries House.

I don’t know why, but these gorgeous, grumpy and truculent birds have me captivated.

October 16th – I’ve come to the conclusion there’s another swan family moved down here, probably from Aldridge. Nipping back into Walsall Wood on an errand, I spotted five cygnets and mum; they don’t seem as advanced in development as the Catshill brood, which are really quite white now, and these seem cheekier, and more unruly. 

Looking for food along the embankment at the back of Barrow Close, they were watched by a distinctly unamused bystander, a large, grumpy-looking marmalade cat.

There’s a story there, I’m sure.

October 16th – The patch of grass near Anchor Bridge in Brownhills is not something I ever pay much attention to, if I’m honest; it just exists, and it never occurred to me until recently how odd it is that it has never been built upon. 

It remains unspoiled, mowed regularly by the council, and separates the canal from the Lindon Road. There are a good few deciduous trees here and in Autumn, they’re beautiful.

An odd little patch of beauty in an otherwise unremarkable urban landscape.

October 15th – I returned to Brownhills late in the afternoon when it was again pouring with rain. This wasn’t everyday, lacklustre drizzle; this was dense, heavy rain that squeezed in through any not-quite-close zip or gap, and rendered me soaked. 

Once again, I found myself taking a breather on a bridge, just listening to the music – a rattling percussion, accompanied be geese honking happily.

Brownhills, you ain’t no looker; but that’s OK neither am I. But I do love you. Even on the horrid days like these.

October 13th – It rained heavily all the way home, and with a driving headwind it really wasn’t a pleasant journey at all. I hopped on the canal in Walsall Wood to escape the mad traffic, and stopped at Catshill Junction to have a breather as I often do. It was quiet, except for the music of rain falling on water. There was not a soul around, and even the houses in Chandlers Keep looked deserted. 

I was wet, cold and tired, but you couldn’t hate it like this. This was a moment of unexpected peace in a very grim day.

I got back on my bike, and rode home.