Galleries

August 29th – Another day, another reservoir, this time Staunton Harold, a wee bit further east than Foremark, but in hillier country.

My trip this time took me though Whittington, Edingale, Lullington and Linton, then over to Calke, and touched Melbourne. After visiting southern and northern tips of the lake, back home through Ticknall, Milton, Repton and along the Trent home through Burton, Drakelow, Croxall and Huddlesford.

I note canalside cat was still on duty at Brownhills, and again the quirky little things stood out; the free cooking apples at Harlaston, the cyclamen at Lullington, the wooden bike planter at Linton. 

All in all, 79 miles and a return in another great sunset. It doesn’t get much better than this.

August 27th – As I travelled home along the canal, I listened to the rain singing on the water, and enjoyed the peace and quiet. Near the western side of the Watermead Estate, I came upon the swan family, still at a huge nine, still growing.

They were clearly feeling a bit chippy as momma swan took exception to my footwear and pecked at my feet continually, and the offspring seemed to be quite tetchy as well. 

These gorgeous, truculent birds remain beautiful, and their antics made the afternoon, really, as did the canalside life and noting that the Canal and River Trust cleanup crew – usually mostly volunteer staffed – had been out doing their thing.

Thanks, people.

August 27th – The rain held off while I visited the Festival of Water at Pelsall, photos of which are on my main blog here, but I caught the warm rain on the way home, and didn’t really mind.

I explored the North Common which I hadn’t done for years, and for an ex-industrial wasteland, it’s a beautiful place with great biodiversity. Rabbits, mustelids and birds are flourishing here, wild sweetpea still in flower, while willow herb and butter and eggs added additional colour. A huge crop of crab apples hangs from branches, although due to the nature of the ground, I wouldn’t prepare anything edible from them.

A rare treat and well worth exploring, even on a wet day.

August 26th – it’s been 7 years since I last rode this way. A fast run through Whittington, Harlaston, Clifton and Overseal, over to Moira where, looking for a cafe, I found Moira Furnace, which looks worthy of a more extended visit. Up through the ex-mining villages, through Blackfordby to Foremark Reservoir, as peaceful as ever it was. Back via Repton, Willington, Burton and Lichfield, a 72 mile ride at a fast pace, finishing under a gorgeous sunset.

It’s the little things you notice, the owl on a gatepost, the view up the Trent of the disused towers that will soon be gone, and the lovingly cared for Ford Escort that seems to look better now than it did when it was a current design.

A great ride.

August 25th – Passing through Pleck, I noted the ‘legal name fraud’ posters are appearing again.

To me, it’s inconceivable that someone could have the wealth to pay for these, yet the stupidity and lack of insight to believe the moronic, pseudo-legal claptrap they espouse.

If you’re puzzled, read this article, and note that it’s all related to the Freemen of the Land muppets… 

Beware: googling any of this opens a whole world of rambling rubbish.

August 22nd – I note a fair crop of acorns this year, and like last, I was caught by false memory with the knopper galls.

I tend to think these parasite-created growths happen earlier in the year than they actually do, and always assume we’re not going to see any when they’ve not appeared by late July. Since they’re caused by a wasp larva hatching in the acorn bud, they can’t occur earlier than the fruit, can they?

The tiny wasp that drills it’s egg in to the fruit bud earlier in the year – coated in a secretion that will corrupt the bud’s growth plan into these curious galls – is pretty unremarkable. But the distorted, knobbly knopper galls are glossy, leathery and fascinating.

Nature can be very weird sometimes.

August 22nd – I had to pop to Telford mid day, and leaving the station for the cycleway I looked back and noticed something in the sea of built environment – the tip of a yellow drilling rig near the westbound railway platform.

I noticed a few weeks ago there was an application to build a replacement bridge here – the current one is decaying, and not compliant with disability legislation (the slopes would be very unpleasant in a hand-propelled wheelchair, it’s clear to see). The proposal is in, and it looks like the engineers are doing ground investigations in readiness of anticipated approval.

I never noticed the rig as I rolled past, and it’s position was very secluded – but looking over, it’s quite large. 

Hiding in plain sight.

August 21st – Having had sugar, I felt much better and headed out for Sunday cake. Dropping onto the canal behind Middleton Hall via the old quarry site, I was held at bay by this bombastic cockerel and his friend who clucked, squawked and generally made me feel very unwelcome indeed.

I swear if you could ever cross a chicken and a goose you’d bring about a creature so mindlessly, relentlessly and fearlessly violent that it would result in the end of the world.

They don’t mess about, chooks, when angry.

August 20th – Something else I was pleased to note on my long, slow return was the portly, waddling form of Mrs. Muscovy, or the Newtown One, the duck that escaped from the flock at the smallholding by the canal between the Lichfield Road and Chase Road bridges. 

Defying all attempts to return her to the comfort and security of a kept flock, this steadfastly singular duck likes a spot just by the aqueduct at Newtown, from which to watch the world go by.

I had thought the local fox had made lunch of her, but she appears to be fit and well. Which is good news, really.

August 20th – A very tired day in which I felt groggy, tired and insubstantial, like I was a ghost or something. I didn’t realise at the time, but I think I was experiencing low sugar levels.

I set out late to the supermarket in Burntwood on a punishingly windy day, and got caught in a rain squall on the way back that made my forehead so cold it hurt. But there was a rainbow, too, which didn’t photograph well, but made me feel better.

Passing through Chasewater, I note the valves are still open and the water level is steadily dropping, now about 12 inches from maximum. 

I love the tide marks on the spillway weir.