Tag: ice

December 28th – A ride out on a frosty, hard and crisp day to Hints and Hopwas, returning via Whittington, Lichfield and Burntwood. The views were wonderful, the air clear and the golden hour seemed to last all day.

The roads were very icy, however, and even with the studded tyres, I felt wary. It was cold and my feet were numb, but this is the kind of icy ride I missed last year. Hopefully the cold weather will continue for a few days yet.

I climbed Crows Castle near Hints, and the views were stunning. The rolling countryside west of Tamworth has never lost its beauty.

December 27th – Another foul day. Overcast, misty and cold, it came on to rain in the afternoon, with the lying, dirty snow still stubbornly refusing to shift.

I went out – togged up for it this time – to Chasewater to see just how good the ice tyres were. A blast down the bog boardwalk proved them grippy, as did the surefooted handling on wet mud, slush and ice.

Rolling resistance is high though, and they’re very, very noisy.

A decent ride though, in very poor conditions.

December 3rd – It was very late when I came home through Brownhills. There was a frost, and the roads, despite having gritted, were glistening in that menacing way winter cyclists know and are wary of.

I’m still rocking he new Schwalbe Marathon Plus tyres I fitted a few weeks ago; these revised rubbers are vastly superior so far to there older incarnation, and they’ve been excellent on wet, greasy roads. I wondered what they would be like on ice, so took them for a run up the canal towpath.

They seemed to hold the track well. Only time will tell, but so far I’m very impressed.

Watch out for the black ice folks, it’s a killer.

February 13th – An unlucky day for a number of reasons, but at least it was dry and relatively pleasant. The wind had dropped, and on the way to Telford, looking up from the platform at New Street Station, a beautiful blue sky.

Riding from the station at Telford, I was fortunate enough to spot the black ice – frozen surface water like glass, the width of the cycle path uphill from the station, dusted with what looked like the residue of a brief snow shower.  

Had I not noticed, I could have gone a purler there – one of my nine lives, i think.

November 25th – Ladies and gentlemen, I can make an announcement. This coming winter will be warm, without much snow or ice. 

I have guaranteed this by purchasing new snow tyres for this season. Therefore, fate dictates that I won’t need them. Which will probably be a shame, as they look like they mean serious business.

This has been a public service announcement to 365daysofbiking readers.

March 31st – A day of contrasts. I needed to get to a bike shop, and with Chasewater Cycles gone, I could only think of Swinnertons, up on the Chase. I set off mid-afternoon, and crossed Chasewater, expecting it to be heavy going; but most of the paths and tracks were clear, but wet, and it was full of people taking the air. Intermittently, the sun shone through, but it was still bitterly cold. On the west shore, the wind lapped ice pieces ashore like a jingling, glass tide, but overhead, a kestrel hovered, wheeled and hunted with the joy that only the wild in spring can express. I’ve seen kestrels hunting before from the foot-pegs on that pylon. Must be a regular vantage point for them.

Meanwhile, on the north heath, the heathland management team of nine employees were hard at work, managing the heath in their own, inimitable style. The cows don’t seem to mind the snow, and carried on chewing, munching and defecating to their heart’s content.

January 26 – I’d prayed to Thor, the god of meltwalter, but not much happened. We had heavy rain, then it refroze; but skipping out mid day for a sandwich and a brew, there was a sharp ramp-up in temperature, and the thaw set in with some urgency. It actually felt tropical.

I had to admire the British stoicism of the picnickers with flask and camera. They didn’t even have a dog.

Even the sailing club got their boats out.

The riding was terribly poor; the ice on the paths around Chasewater was unridable as it was too mobile; it was like riding on pea gravel.

The bird life is booming at Chasewater; we recently had the largest gull roost in many years, with upwards of 10,000 birds, and the waterfowl on the boating lake are as persistent as ever. I love the domestic white geese and the way they hector me for food.

The water level continues it’s inexorable rise; on January 11th, the water was at 75com from the top of the scale, it’s now 64cm, a rise of 11cm or just over 4 inches. With the huge increase in lake surface area, that’s a immense amount of water.

The 9-foot pool has now joined the main lake through the new bridge, and it won’t be long until the water overtops the weir into the spillway – that is, if it’s allowed to.

It’ll be interesting to see the effects of the thaw.

January 23rd – The little camera seems to really struggle with light on snowy nights. I’m not enough of a photographer to make it work quite the way I want. But these two shots show something. When I was banging on about gritting a couple of days ago, I was unaware of what a wide and generally welcome reception the piece would get. A good demonstration of my point – that road salt isn’t the magic solution folk think it is – is illustrated in the upper photo, taken at Shelfield lights. I’d been passed by gritters here several times the previous week. With the lack of rain, the brine strength on the road surface must be very high, yet the triangle of slush in the foreground remains. The reason is because the salt isn’t ground in that part by passing traffic, so although it’s been coated in salt numerous times, because there’s no meltwater, the ice remains. There’s a similar band of virgin snow on the centre of the Chester Road that’s been there since last Friday. it must get coated in grit nearly every day.

Returning via Green Lane, I was interested in how the snow lit up the normally dark, wooded road. This road was very clear, and as I came through, a grittier came past in a shower of sharp crystals. In some respects, this road was clearer that the Lichfield Road, and I struggled to understand why. Then I realised – this is a low point. What meltwater does exist, gathers in this lowland. That lane must be like a brine bath.

Must remember to regrease the wheel bearings when the weather warms up… the bike will need to be washed well, too. All this salt will be eating the metalwork…

January 21st – I was expecting traffic chaos, so I left it until late to leave for work. As it was, I needn’t have bothered, as the schools were closed, and the traffic was light. The trains weren’t too bad, either, and the only bad aspect of the commute was the atrocious state of Mill Lane at Mill Green. It’s only a backlane, but I thought it would be OK; however, the snow had compacted, then started to break up and it was like riding on slippery shingle, even with the studded tyres.

Stonnall, Grove Hill and Castlehill looked beautiful in the snow. It’ll be interesting to see how we cope as the cold snap, predicted to last at least a week, begins to bite. After all, it’s not got too cold yet…