December 12th – the first local snow of the winter came today, in the form of a fine, icing sugar dusting over Tyseley. It stopped as quickly as it started, but left everything precious and beautiful. I love this weather, I love the way it creates new impressions of familiar things.
December 11th – These are the days. I’ve waited for fair weather for ages. Such a change from the grey and drizzle, it lasted long enough for me to enjoy a lovely cold, crisp commute to work. Had it not been for the fact that I was already running late, I’d have cycled all the way into Brum. Grove Hill, at Stonnall looked wonderful, and the only cloud in an azure sky was the plume of steam from Rugeley Power Station. At Mill Green, the hoar frost was beautiful, and made magic everything it graced. I love rides like this.
We’ve maybe got another couple of days of this. Wrap up warm and go out – cycle, walk, whatever. I never love my world more than when it’s embraced by a fine winter frost.
December 2nd – I was still knackered from the past few days, and couldn’t raise the wherewithal to get out until after dark. When I did, by jove, was it parky. There was a thickening ground frost, but it was still and the bike went quickly. I spun out to the common and headed down the old railway line in the darkness. On the way, I startled a group of red deer does who were stomping and snorting together for warmth on the shelter of the cycle track; my light picked our the vapour of their breath as they fled down the embankment. On the old cement works bridge, it was silent, and over the factory yards and forgotten corners of Apex Road and the industrial estates nearby it was also eerily quiet. Looping back through Clayhanger, the night was dark, but the lights where on at the chapel and it looked great over the fields. After what seems like the longest autumn ever, it’s now cold, clear, crystal winter. This is more like it…
November 5th – On a cold morning in Tyseley, the euphemistically named ‘Energy Recovery Facility’ – or in plain English, refuse incinerator – can be seen operating at full tilt. People think that’s smoke emanating from the flue, but it’s not, the plume is steam condensing in the cold air. This facility has twin furnaces, and generates enough electricity to power the local area. Burning refuse is a 24 hour operation, and feeding the voracious appetite of the incinerators are a constant flow of lorries, which give the whole district a characteristic smell. Unsavoury, but necessary.
October 28th – Looping back up the canal, I headed for Chasewater. On my way, I passed The Anchor. It was very autumnal – almost wintry in the twilight. I’d better get used to this. I think we’re in for a wet and windy season. Time, I think, to strip the bike down and clean and grease everything ready for winter.
October 26th – I was out and about early, and off to Tyseley. It was the first really cold, wintry mining of the season, and the east wind was a bitter as only it could be. The air, however, was clear and clean, and the sunrise gorgeous. I stopped at Mill Green to take pictures, then quickly remembered the winter faff of having to remove gloves to handle the camera. These cold mornings are going to take some getting used to…
September 22nd – Since we’re around the autumnal equinox, the sunsets get quite reasonable, just as they do at the spring one. Returning home through dark lanes, lights on full and feeling cold, this was my first taste of cold-season cycling. I find riding in the dark fun, challenging and mentally exhausting, and this ride more so, as I hadn’t done it for so long. But the sky was my companion, and it was beautiful. You’re never alone with a good sunset.
May 11th – Sunset was beautiful today. As I cycled my usual route to Chasewater along the canal – essential to check on progress of the swans, I stopped in awe to check out the sunset on the water. After so many grim days lately, it was a pleasure to explience a beautiful, light sunny evening. But it was bitterly cold. At Chasewater itself, I noted that the secondary culvert was now totally submerged, and the water levels were still rising well. I watched the sun set for a while over the western shore, but was so cold, I headed home earlier than I had intended. It’s summer, Jim, but not as we know it.
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 4th – Somebody switched off spring. It had rained all morning, and as I slunk out of the house for a spin before tea, it was cold, windy and an eternity away from the sunny afternoon of the day before. I cycled towards Chasewater, but wasn’t dressed for the cold conditions I was experiencing, and headed back to Brownhills. I ended up looping through Clayhanger and took in yet another sunset – this time from Clayhanger Bridge. Hope the spring returns soon…
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