Tag: smethwick

#365daysofbiking Making the best of things

September 22nd – Dejected and wistful, we pottered up the old line into Birmingham, through Oldbury. The rain held off. The flowers and berries that were out welcomed us and glistened in there coating of raindrops. The towpaths were wet, but made for good riding. There were few people around, and the verdant, still mostly green canals were a real tonic.

Past the old engine house, Tollhouse Loop, M5 Viaduct and engine arm, and into central Birmingham. The mood improved.

An interesting graffiti writer had been at work, leaving neat-script, cryptic phrases at intervals from the Soho Loop to the ICC. That was engaging and something to spot and ponder over.

At the city centre, food, drink, then up the A34 cycleway to the canal at Perry Barr, and home via Ray Hall and Rushall Junction.

A bad day had been pulled around. The rain held off. Deep down, it didn’t feel so bad. But I’m getting far too old to work weekends – I was exhausted.

But there was one inescapable thought – if those folk at Tipton had held on, they’d have had a decent afternoon.

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#365daysofbiking Exorcising ghosts

July 7th – The sunset was the culmination of a glorious golden hour.

Birmingham and Aston shone and shimmered in the gathering dusk.

A train caught the sky and was golden: Britannia fought a pitched battle on the former hotel roof with the TV antennas. The skylines and canal spoke of quiet dignity, worship and daily life.

I spent many hours as a young man in these streets, on the canals and at this station. The ghosts that haunt me here are not scary, or hostile, but warm and comfortable like enveloping sheets of memory.

My place, my past, present and future.

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#365daysofbiking What lies beneath

July 7th – It was indeed a better day. The sun was out, the wind had subsided as had the discomfort in my stomach.

I headed out on the canal to Wolverhampton, taking a slow but enjoyable potter down the mainline canal to Birmingham. From there to Aston, where I left the canal and got on a train back to Shenstone.

I noted the Dudley Tourist Board had been working hard to improve it’s customer service at Coseley Tunnel, where I doubt I’ll ever negotiate the southern portal steps with a bike again, although it was certainly an adventure.

Calling at the heavily secured, ghostly Rattlechain Pool, the lagoon concealing many thousands of tonnes of the worst toxic waste was a strange experience: It looks so serene and peaceful, yet the pool – itself just a cap to the material beneath, separated by a thick impermeable skin – is securely fenced and covered by many cameras.

It’s a ghostly and controversial place.

Under the M5 viaduct and Telford’s magnificent Engine Arm aqueduct, the canal is a peaceful, gentle and serene refuge from the mad urbanity above, and the street art is, as ever, fascinating.

Passing on the canal down the Snow Hill flight, I see the view is a matter of opinion. But why? What’s that all about?

A great restorative ride.

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#365daysofbiking Repellent magnetism:

September 22nd – There’s a current fad happening on local canals at the moment that’s really bloody irritating.

Magnet fishing.

Well, perhaps not the activity itself, but the end result. Chancers get hold of very strong magnets on the likes of eBay and then tie them to a line and dredge them along the canals to see what metal they pull out.

I guess they’re looking for interesting stuff, but nobody’s going to pull out gold coins, only ferrous stuff, obviously although I’m not sure the anglers have twigged that yet.

The problem comes when they pull out worthless junk: They just leave it on the towpath for some other poor sod to deal with, where it blocks access and really makes the canals look messy.

To my mind, these people are, at the very least, littering and should be prosecuted if caught.

Thankfully, selfless and dedicated volunteers in collection boats – here seen passing through Tipton – are working to clear up the mess left by these irresponsible, greedy scavengers.

June 8th – A lovely evening after a grey, dull day so I fell out of work and hit the canals into Birmingham, then over Sandwell Valley Park to Smethwick, then back through the City Centre, a curry in Aston and home.

The summer really is excellent this year, I must say, and in the unexpectedly golden evening, the canals, city and park glowed beautifully and were beautiful and vibrant. 

I don’t think I’d rather live anywhere else as long as all this is just a short ride away.

September 17th – I left at lunchtime and headed to Wolverhampton, hopping on to the canal at Wednesfield, then heading to Tipton at Horseley Junction. I was going to Tipton Canal Festival, a do I’d heard great things about but never been to. 

Despite the periodic rain, there was bright sunshine too and it was indeed a great event – more on my main blog later in the week. From Tipton, I meandered on the old line into Birmingham via the Toll House Loop, past the M5 viaduct with it’s maze of fascinating scaffolding and derelict dignity of Chance Glassworks.

The cats stayed out until the rain came, and the weather worsened as I approached Birmingham. The peculiarly black, wet heron summed up the feeling of the waterfront at Gas Street perfectly. Is it common for herons to be so black?

By the time I reached Aston the light was failing, the pavers on the towpath were treacherously slippery and the rain was penetrating, so I hopped on a train to Shenstone.

A great ride, despite the weather, that reminded me of why I love Birmingham and the Black Country.

September 9th – A ride into Birmingham mid-afternoon along the canal was enjoyable, but the wind a little harsh. Despite the dullness of the day there was plenty to see, but as usual in darkest industrial Birmingham, the wildlife stole the show: this time, herons.

I clearly caught the one in Smethwick napping; perching on one foot with everything tucked in, he watched me grumpily as I took his picture, whilst the one in Ladywood was far more active, but just as suspicious of the human on the bike.

I love to see the herons, almost unthinkable a few short years ago that they’d be in such urban environments.

June 10th – Anyone interested in the canals of the Black Country knows about Smethwick Galton Bridge – the beautiful cast iron structure; the multiple railways, roads and two canals intersecting at different heights.

However, there’s something not half a mile away that’s as wonderful; where the M5 crosses a railway, which is running alongside two canals, and crossing a third.

This is a fantastic thing – right next to the sadly derelict Chance Glassworks, Victorian Aqueduct jars with 60s brutalism, which pays no heed to the water. A fine, fine thing that makes one wonder at the progress of engineering, the wildlife that perches in such situations, and the smallness the scale makes you feel.

You may not agree, but it’s beautiful in it’s harshness and ingenuity.

June 10th – I slipped out of work for the day near lunchtime, and pottered through the Black Country down the canals into Brum, then back home on the waterways to Aldridge. Unlike Brownhills, I had a mostly dry, temperate afternoon, and life is everywhere, from the lounging cat to the aggressive geese. Flowers and greenery are everywhere, and as ever, the landscape was the star.

It wasn’t a long ride at 35 miles, but the stop at a favourite Jamaican cafe for curried mutton, rice and peas and a good mooch around the architecture was good for my soul.

A lovely afternoon.

April 15th – I love the Soho Road and that part of Birmingham in general, on the Smethwick/West Brom border. I took a ride up there after developing the craving for some decent dhokla – a savoury, fragrant yellow sponge made from gram flour, rice and chickpea, with chilli and coriander. This Gujarati snack is hard to get in Walsall, which is a shame as it’s gorgeous.

My fascination with the Soho Road is enduring – I’ve been coming here for three decades, and watched it change. Back then, the predominant accents here were Pakistani and Irish, now they’re more likely to be Eastern European, African or Afro Caribbean. Similarly, there are changes in the shops; a large Polish supermarket, various delis and lots of Caribbean fast food and baked goods.

Some things never change, though; the frenetic activity, the chatter, the mad traffic, the rush to be somewhere. The colourful fruit and veg and material emporia, the lurid platters of burfi in the windows.I watched a chap frying fresh jelabi on an outdoor stand, sweet centres were in full production for the weekend wedding feasts and looming over it all, the fading, resplendent (and in the case of the Red Lion, frankly hideous) architecture.

I love this place. I adore Birmingham. Even on this grey day.