#365daysofbiking Inverted again

Friday December 11th 2020 – We’re seeing a lot of inversions at the moment, where the air temperature relationship with the ground is the opposite to normal, resulting in a low level mist that can be really stunningly dramatic.

I was working from home and sensed an inversion happening, so shot out to Chasewater with a pal. We were not disappointed. The heath, being naturally wetland, readily throws up a mist into the cold air clamped to the ground, and it caught the dying sunlight beautifully.

It was also evident on the lake surface, but very patchily.

A beautiful evening to be out, and I’m glad I caught it.

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#365daysofbiking Inverted

Wednesday November 25th 2020 – I took to the canal towpath on the way home which was a bit of a mistake as it had rained a fair bit in the morning, and the way was lined with muddy puddles that made for damp legs.

But there was a treat waiting.

As I travelled, my headlight started picking up swirls of mist over the water, and by the time I was near the new pond and Clayhanger Bridge, there were appreciable clouds of vapour rising and tumbling above the water, but only in short stretches, whereas others were clear.

This phenomena is a meteorological inversion and is absolutely captivating to watch.

The bike headlight did a great job of lighting the scene up. It really was gorgeous. Best I’ve seen for a few years.

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#365daysofbiking – Back to earth

April 28th – The welcome warm, dry spell ended with a crash with a very cold-feeling day and seemingly endless rain. But it is still only April.

On a sodden evening exercise ride, I rolled and splashed up the towpath – mercifully quiet – and noted the very beginnings of a surface-air inversion, with barely perceptible rolls of mist sweeping along the canal. Sadly the wind was a little to strong for it to persist.

I suppose the water was probably warmer than the air by a tad.

It is lovely though to see the green return though, even on such a grey, wet day.

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#365daysofbiking Deer in the mist

 

November 3rd – Sunday meant an afternoon trip over to Burntwood to help a relative with a job, which on such a dull, overcast and periodically rainy afternoon was a welcome diversion.

Returning as night fell, my attention was snagged by a very localised, patchy inversion, leading to a trapped cloud on mist on the secondary pitches at Chasetown Rugby Club.

And who was luring by the goal in the murk? Possibly Englands new front line, corvine-style…

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#365daysofbiking – Inverted

October 19th – At least when the clocks go back it gives a second run up at the dawns. This one, a full inversion, was gorgeous. Mist clung low over the fields and I caught it at Barracks Lane and Shenstone when I was heading for the train.

Mornings like this make you glad to be alive.

March 4th – The thing about an inversion is it’s transient. This one came and went in about 15 minutes, and it’s ever changing. As it drifted away, it left clear skies, a very noisy gull roost and beautiful colour.

Even the coos looked impressive with their clouds of steam

That’s how you fix a bad mood, and that is exactly why I ride a bike.

March 4th – I was going stir crazy. A bad day – the internet was getting me down, the thaw had set in and the world outside had the slimy, grey, filthy wet feel you only get with melting, heavy snow.

I slipped out on an errand at sunset and something magical happened. I caught a surface-air temperature inversion. I saw it start on The Parade in Brownhills, as it was gathering over the common. I raced to Chasewater. It was stunning.

An inversion occurs when the ground is colder than the air above and mist forms is very low, isolated pockets. I’ve not seen on this strong since I was a kid. Mist drifted around and almost deserted Chasewater, and I was in the middle of it, like a kid in a sweet shop.

January 7th – I love inversions, when mist rolls off water low into the air. I don’t see many these days, and certainly none as dramatic as those from my childhood, but the character of the area has changed so much in 40 years that I shouldn’t be surprised, really.

I was out after dark and noticed fleeting, transitory clouds of mist forming over the canal at Silver Street, intensifying, then disappearing. It was stunning.

I tried to photograph them as best I could, but this is really something you have to see first hand…

July 13th – Running an errand at dusk, a beautiful sunset, and just after a heavy rain shower, very nearly a surface air inversion with small patches of mist drifting off the canal, but just a little too breezy for it to develop into anything.

The weather has been atrocious lately, but evenings like this – cool, clear and peaceful – make you remember what summer’s about.

July 2nd – I cycled home in steady, warm rain – but the temperature had dropped like a stone. Coming out of work where the temperature indoors was still 35 degrees, stepping into the cold, fresh air was like entering a plunge pool.

The air smelled fresh though, and although the traffic was mad the ride was fast and fun. Hopping on to the canal at the Black Cock and over to Ogley Junction, a light mist was rising off the canal surface, indicating a surface-air inversion was on. Just as I got to Catshill, the rain ceased, and the sun started to come out.

Although it was dull, the greens – now entering the mature, darker stage – looked magnificent. But the panorama from Catshill Bridge: they seem to be taking forever to complete those flats.