Tag: Rugeley

June 22nd – Riding (unusually for me, it’s a long story) up the A460 through Rugeley, I spotted this bit of arsehattery masquerading as cycling infrastructure. This is a ‘mandatory’ cycle lane, as indicated by the solid white line. Mandatory in this context means it doesn’t have to be used by the cyclist, but that traffic shouldn’t occupy it or park in it. 

So far so good.

So they run it close to an oblique parking bay, on the left. What could possibly go wrong? 

What’s wrong with this picture, kids? 

June 16th – A ride out to Cannock Chase in the afternoon. The weather was way better than forecast, with little wind and plenty of sun, although there was very light rain at one point. I tore around the Chase, loving having the forest apparently to myself, then hit the canal at Little Haywood and headed to Rugeley. From canal side gardens to boater cats lazing in the sun, it was truly beautiful. A peaceful, green, gorgeous sanctuary from traffic and speed. Lovely.

April 28th – I’ve not really studied this old, derelict mill on the canal at Rugeley before, but it’s quite fascinating, actually. Built in 1863, it’s older than I expected, and I’m interested in its history. Most intriguing are the metal canopies installed awkwardly below the upper row of windows. Wonder what their purpose was?

April 28th – The weather seems to be in regression again. Horrid winds and overcast skies accompanied me as I cycled out via Chasewater to Cannock Chase. My ribs were still painful, but there’s no sense in avoiding it; have to keep moving to get better. Despite the weather, nature is getting on with things. I noticed the inseparable pair of Grebes near the south shore of Chasewater, and a first for the year, a huge group of very, very young ducklings on the canal at Rugeley (for some reason, all my pictures of them were awful, but there were at least 14 in the group).

Let’s hope the sun shines for them soon.

March 31st – The contrasts continued as I got out on the Chase. Even the popular trails were too snowed up to ride, so I hit Birches Valley on the roads, which were clear and easy going. The afternoon warmed a little, and the sun stayed longer, and it was in one such moment of clarity that I took in the view of the Weaver Hills from Lady Hill. Good Friday two years ago, I was cycling over there in shorts and a tee shirt.

Dropping down to Rugeley, the snow was clear from the canals, and only lay in the lee of hedges and walls, but climbing out of the Trent Valley at Breretonhill, there were still large amounts of lying snow.

I think this is the coldest spring I’ve ever known.

March 28th – Crikey, it was a long journey home. Engineering works commencing at the frankly bizarre time of 2pm today resulted in there being no through trains from Wolverhampton to Birmingham. Since my bike can’t go on a replacement bus service, I was faced with cycling to Walsall from Wolverhampton (I wanted to visit the night market), or find some other route. 

I was tired. It was very cold. The route from Wolverhamton to Walsall is horrid. And the wind was against me.

A quick hack with the National Rail app showed I could take a train from Wolverhampton to Stafford, a second service from Stafford to Rugeley Trent Valley, and another from Rugeley to Walsall. The whole lot from Telford took about 3 hours, end to end. An adventure, of sorts.

I hadn’t actually been to Stafford Station in over 20 years; it’s still bloody odd. One of several local stations built in the 60s, it has dated badly, and shares the same faults as it’s sister stations, Coventry, Wolverhampton and Telford. It’s a peculiar place.

Even more unsettling is Rugeley Trent Valley. It’s bleak, desolate and deserted. This station is unstaffed, and occupies a withering, wind-blasted location in the industrial north of town. 2 of the 3 platforms are an Island accessed from a high, steep footbridge, and trains thunder through here at very high speed. It’s clearly a place people choose to take their own lives, as I’ve never seen so many signs advising the number for the Samaritans. With every train that blasted through, the cold wind lashing me in it’s wake, I thought of poor, lost souls. 

Grim.

On the train to Walsall, I was comforted by Cannock Chase in the snow, and not far from the Goosemoor Green crossing, a small herd of fallow deer loafed by the line. They made me feel human again. 

Never underestimate the cheering power of snow, trees and wild animals.

January 19th – Fearing getting stuck and feeling a bit cold (not enough layers!), I took a train back from Rugeley Trent Valley Station to Walsall. The service was running well, and was fast, warm and comfortable. I wasn’t, however, overly enamoured with the station.

With four platforms and totally unmanned, the station could do with some attention.  The footbridge and platforms were lethal as they hadn’t been de-iced. Must say, it’s quite lonely up there at night, too. Sill, the passenger information was good, and I didn’t have to wait long.

January 1st – If you’re thinking of traversing Bellamour Lane, between Colwich and Colton, near Rugeley, I’d leave it a couple of days. Under the railway bridge, the road is flooded to some depth. I tried it, but gave up when the water rose up to my crossbar. The road could certainly do with a with some ‘Road Closed’ signs, I certainly didn’t appreciate the u-turn and long journey round. 

January 1st – Happy new year! A great ride was first of the year, up onto the Chase. A clear, chilly day, but not terribly cold. Chasewater was rammed, as were most public spaces I passed through. There was winter sun, and everything was drying out; folk walked, spotted birds, or accompanied children on new Christmas bicycles. I watched families feeding the gulls from the balcony boardwalk on the south shore with water lapping underneath. That was a sight to see after so long being land-locked.

Further on, the Chase was similarly packed, but in the remoter spaces at sunset, the beauty of solitude remained. An unsuccessful badger spotting foray meant cycling home at dusk, and returning via Rugeley.

This was the Christmas break I wanted, not getting wet all the nine. Oh well, never mind…