Tag: frost

#365daysofbiking Rime and reason

January 22nd – This winter has been so mild that I’ve not got used the cold yet, and neither have I yet regained my confidence in my winter tyres.

A morning journey to Telford was chilly and felt precarious, with lots of black ice. I stayed upright, though, and honed my skills for another season – but I must say, I felt sorry for the blackbird on the cycleway at Telford looking for scraps of food. He clearly didn’t want to move!

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#365daysofbiking Downhill carefully

January 16th – I was tired, it was late and cresting the Black Cock Bridge wearily I suddenly realised there was a hazard about: Hitting the higher ground towards Brownhills coupled with the semi rural nature of Green Lane, I could see in places the familiar sheen of frost.

The road was gritted well. But towards the kerbs and in places the grit hadn’t yet reached, ice lurked.

A warm winter has made me complacent. Time to be careful.

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#365daysofbiking Cold enough to…

 

December 14th – Gosh, that was a shock.

I was heading for home early, but it was cold, so very cold and sharp. I looked at the GPS for the temperature – -2.7C at 6:45pm. It felt enough to freeze the bollocks from off a fox.

It looks like winter has arrived, my friends…

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#365daysofbiking Kissed by the cold:

November 22nd – Pleased to note there’s still some fungi about at the moment.  The earthstars seem to have given up for this year, but these ice-coated glistening ink caps were glistening with frost when I found them in Victoria Park, Darlaston this morning.

Such delicate, beautiful things, I suppose the frost must harm them but it does look lovely.

I doubt there will be much more fungi this year now. it’s been a much better season than expected, to be fair.

#365daysofbiking Rime and season:

November 22nd – First really cold morning of the year I think, with lurking black ice and hedgerows and verges adorned with a hoar frost. It was the kind of penetrating cold that hurts your throat and forehead, and even though I was wrapped up, on the morning trail, towpaths and cycleways the -2.5 degree temperatures were still a little raw for me.

Every year it takes time to re-adjust.

I was certainly glad of the ice tyres this morning.

March 17th – Coming back to Brownhills down The Parade, the snow started. As it turned out, it was in for the night and we ended up with and unexpectedly heavy fall. 

It was bitterly cold, and as nice as the common looked, I wanted to be at home in the warm. I don’t know if it was the particularly biting wind or just my hunger but this cold seemed far more harsh than the -8 degrees we’d had a couple of weeks ago. Since it was nowhere near that cold now, I have no idea why that was.

Come on Winter, you’ve said your piece. Sod off and give spring a chance.

February 7th – A bitterly cold morning with temperatures recorded by the GPS as low as minus five degrees centigrade and a very harsh ride to the station. 

There was a fair bit of black ice and concentration was intense.

My longed for spring would seem to be on hold a little, but hopefully the daffodils – now forming buds on the verge outside my destination in Telford- won’t be deterred.

January 8th – Off to work on a miserable, grey and cold morning. I hit the canal in Walsall to avoid the morning crush hour and was accosted in Pleck by a very cross character demanding food. Sadly, my supply of corn was in another jacket, and the swan who was so aggressively begging showed it’s displeasure by repeatedly pecking my feet.

Of course, the swan was not starving, but urban swans are very lazy and accustomed to the high life, and when loafing in ice-free swim holes near bridges on cold days, they have little better to do that harass passers by for tidbits. I suspect the policy works best on passing mothers and fathers with children, whose guilt twanged, will come back with food.

The ice itself wasn’t severe. Moorhens and coots skittered about on it, but I doubt it would have supported the portly resplendent girth of your average drake mallard. 

On the wonderful Dru Marland Canal Ice scale, I guess it was somewhere between IC2 and IC3. Check Dru out here: she’s wonderful.

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December 28th – A ride out in ice, after overnight light snow. I was still nursing a shoulder strain which made the ride slow and plodding, but it was very enjoyable in the clear light and snow-dusted countryside.

I went to Chasewater to practice ice skills in safety, and even had a go at the boardwalk on the north heath, which was enjoyable once I got over the fear.

Staffordshire looked wonderful and the run out via Shenstone, Wall, Canwell, Hints and Weeford was a joy.

Just hope this shoulder improves soon.

December 27th – Crossing Catshill Junction Bridge, the ice was treacherous and I was glad to be on studded tyres. Whilst taking the photograph of Humphries House, I could hear a nearby radio, and was confused where it might be coming from. Coming down the bridge towards Brownhills, I noticed a tent in the darkness; there was a fisherman there on the far side, with all the kit for night fishing.

That’s hardy on a night like this – respect.