December 14th – Cycling along the canal near Clayhanger Common, there’s a spot well-worn as a regular site for anglers. I often pass them here. It must be a good spot to fish from.
It’s clearly utter coincidence that the area around it is peppered with litter.
To whoever is leaving this shit here, I’d just like to ask one thing: you brought this crap with you, can you please have the class and common decency to take it back? Thanks.
December 13th – Further along the canal,I played again with night photography. Interesting that the lack of moonlight tonight made for such grainy images, but I like them, all the same. I hated it at first, but I’m quite getting to like the ghost-flats in Brownhills. The colour comes alive at night.
October 19th – Photography fail. I spun around Brownhills at sunset to get some night images in; fully equipped with tripod, I caught some good shots, or so I thought. It had just rained, and the air and landscape were clear, wet and hard. It was lovely.
Sadly, after taking this picture at Clayhanger, I knocked the camera into program mode and all my other shots were fuzzy rubbish. Must take more care next time.
Still, the sunset was lovely, and the canal as still as a millpond…
October 14th – I hopped on to the canal on my way back, and as the sky cleared, dusk fell. It was beautiful, in a quite understated way. I love the canal overflow at Clayhanger Bridge. I adore watching the flow of the water; powerful, noisy, yet soothing. Flowing strongly after a weekend of rain, I listened to it for ages. When you’ve been feeling under it for a while, simple things like listening to the rush whilst watching a decent sunset form can really pick you up.
I cycled homewards lifted.
October 13th – After the rain had passed. It’s been a grim weekend, really; the weather has been atrocious, and I’ve not got any miles in to speak of, but I also felt flat. I’ve been pretty low now for a few days, and I guess it’s the comedown after a good summer. I’m not feeling the cold, but I’m feeling the loss of light desperately. I’d made plans for a ride or two this weekend, and not even entertained the possibility that the weather might prevent it. I suppose I got out of the habit. That’s what a good summer does.
Today, I spent the day getting things done I’ve been meaning to for a while, writing and reading. The rain more or less cleared by 6pm, so I went for a silent spin around Clayhanger, the old railway line and the canal, before doubling back through Brownhills. Other than the odd passing vehicle I didn’t see a soul, and it was warm and peaceful. Everywhere was drenched, and the world felt oddly silenced, like it was tired, or just fed up of the rain and now glad it stopped.
I know how it feels. Autumn is always really, really tough for me, but this one is really getting me down. It’s like sand in my gears, I feel it eroding me.
October 1st – Talking of hedgerows, there’s a feature of them – and similar thickets – that not many notice. This hole is a sign of regular use as a thoroughfare, yet it’s too small for anything human or most things canine. It’s a fox path.
Foxes have a territory which they walk most nights – it encompasses their food sources, possible mates, sources of territorial conflict and so on. They are surprisingly regular in the routes they walk, and paths through undergrowth and scrub are well worn and used. Like desire paths created by humans, they often join two places by the shortest means, but also provide a quick route of escape, or shelter for hunting forays. Fox paths appear to be passed down from parent to cub, so that many are decades – if not centuries – old. As they’re established, other animals use them, like badgers.
This one leads off the canal towpath at Clayhanger above the Big House, down an almost vertical bank for 20 feet or so, and to into their garden. It’s been here for 20 years, to my knowledge.
Wonder if Reynard will be on the beat tonight?
September 22nd – I cycled down the spot path in near darkness, and total solitude. As the path opened out near the bend, I realised how eerie this was, and decided to take a picture. I then found I wasn’t alone at all. Just as this long exposure ended, a large male fox wandered out of the scrub on the left, turned to look at me for the briefest of moments, then walked off over the meadow to the canal.
Clearly, even in the quiet dusk of a Clayhanger Common Sunday night, there is important fox business to be done, if only the humans would mind their own bloody business…
September 22nd – It’s not been a great weekend, really. I seem to have contracted a cold, which left me feeling hungover on Saturday and just plain horrid today. It was with a sinus-generated migraine that I finally got it together and headed out at dusk. I found the dark soothing, and it made the visual disturbance less apparent. It was very still, and the sunset was gorgeous. Any other weekend I’d have been over the hills and far away, but today, my energy was sapped just doing a small loop on the canal around Clayhanger.
Hopefully, tomorrow will be better.
September 16th – I headed back to Brownhills down the canal, and crossed Clayhanger Common for a change. I noticed at the old access driveway, near where the ranger’s hut used to stand a row of sweet chestnuts, with a glorious crop of nuts. I’ve never clocked these before, but they’re in rude health and look beautiful. Considering the history of the land upon which they’re growing, I’d not eat the fruit, but it’s a great thing to see, for sure.
September 15th – I headed out late morning hoping to get back before the weather closed in. I misjudged, and as I was pottering over The Swag the rain started. The marsh was great, and deserted, but almost everything was horrid shades of headache grey, the only colour being a curious orange flower growing in the brook. I headed back to Clayhanger and round the new pool, which still looks remarkably verdant for the time of year.
It felt wintry, and I felt down. There’s months of this to come and I don’t feel ready for it at all.
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