BrownhillsBob's #365daysofbiking

On a bike, riding somewhere. Every day, rain or shine.

Posts tagged ‘return’

#365daysofbiking It doe matter

October 27th – It’s nice to note the rabbit population on the dam at Chasewater seems to be booming again. They were here and down in the basin for years, but myxomatosis swept through a couple of years ago and the warrens dwindled to nothing.

Now, the bunnies are back and I watched this apparently elderly doe feed for a while. He companions scarpered, but she was made of sterner stuff, keeping an eye on me but not being distracted from cropping the turf.

Can’t help wondering what they might be doing for the structure of Chasewater’s largely earth dam, though…

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#365daysofbiking Brake spring broke

February 5th – I have absolutely no idea at all what’s happened here at all.

It started at the weekend – a rubbing on the front disc brake on my current bike of choice. A light rub, no more that a tickle.

As the days progressed it got worse, and defied my attempts to adjust it away.

In exasperation, I removed the brake pads, which were OK at about 60% remaining.

The leaf spring that keeps them off the disc however, was broken. This was allowing on pad to rub.

An easy, 30 second replacement. But I’ve never had a spring fail like that that hasn’t been worn on the disc as the pad ran down.

This is most peculiar. I shall keep my eye on things in case it’s something significant.

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November 15th – And back, so it was, to Shenstone, an altogether different type of late-night feeling. This is a beautiful building, in a lovely location, and a great place to leave, but even better to return to.

I love it at night, the way it’s lit, the overhead wires, the sense of an island in the darkness. A beacon, calling me toward home, just a few miles to go.

A haunting, gorgeous station. 

June 15th – Here’s something that’s got me wondering: the Pleck swan family are back to their nest. These are the group I saw, who after hatching their eggs in the disused canal arm found themselves being intimidated by the heron. Next day, they’d gone. I never saw them again, but heard they’d scooted off to Moxley, a few miles up the canal.

Well, this morning, they were back: I was alerted by the dad patrolling the open water outside the arm, while mum was nest rebuilding with at least two little ones. When I last saw them, I counted four cygnets; if they’ve lost two, that’s sad, but no so bad.

I have no idea what they’re doing back at the nest and invite comments. Good to see them getting on, though.