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January 20th – Between 4 and 5pm, the roads around Brownhills were understandably, quite chewy. I span around Brownhills carefully, for fear of what lurked beneath the slush and tyre tracks. It had been snowing by then for nearly 10 hours, and the result was a wet, cloying mass that wedged in the bike’s gaps and made it heavier and heavier. The old railway line, Clayhanger Common trails and canal towpaths were very hard to cycle. 

It looks to be cold all week, and this will be the first time for some years that we have have to deal with such conditions.

I’ll be interested to watch what happens. 

January 20th – People seem to have their own realities, and nothing has brought out the selfishness and plain nastiness in some people as profoundly as the bad weather.

Ever since the snow came, people have been complaining about, and to, Walsall Council on social media. Horrified that they’ve been delayed, or that driving conditions are bad, they attack the local authority for not gritting, for being unprepared, or lazy. Time and time again I have seen people berate council employees because things aren’t as they expect and that’s what they apparently pay council tax for.

Sadly, the truth is a little more difficult. As a cyclist, I travel slowly. I intersect with gritters on the roads with startling (and often painful) frequency, because they move about twice as fast as me. I have seen them around Brownhills and on all major routes I use frequently, since just before the cold snap started. They have spread whatever the conditions, and pretty much continuously over the weekend. That’s good folk, working hard, in very difficult road conditions, to try and ameliorate the problems caused by the snow.

There is clearly a fundamental misunderstanding about how roadsalt works. It can take hours or even days to take effect, and relies on moisture and the passage of traffic to disperse it. Temperature severely affects it’s efficacy. It cannot deal with fast settling snow. A gritted road may take 24 hours to clear properly, even with continuous application. Road salt is not fairy dust. It doesn’t magically remove ice and snow. It’s a deicer, a slow one, and it’s an aid, not a total solution.

Walsall’s gritting operation costs each household about £2.50 per year.

The thing about using the roads in bad weather is to develop, and hone the skills required. It’s our responsibility to ensure we’re as safe as possible. We can’t abrogate that responsibility totally to a third party just because it snows. The man I watched slide round a corner into a kerb in Little Aston on Friday Morning probably now understands this. A £60,000 Range Rover is only as good as the driver’s skills.

Walsall Council does many things badly. Some things, a few, it does really well. They’ve always been among the best at gritting, and have worked hard to communicate their activities on social media. When met with abuse, petulance or idiocy, the public facing employees have been stoical, polite and workmanlike, often in unpaid, out of hours time.

When I see people being stupid, unpleasant or misguided on this, I will always step in to defend the council and it’s employees wherever I can. So far this weekend I’ve had hate mail, nearly had my Facebook account pulled in an infantile spite attack and been roundly abused by a noted local journalist. None of these people have shown a shred of humility towards those who are actually charged with the job they are expecting to be done.

There’s a widely held belief that gritters are not being sent out; that roads have gone untreated. That the powers that be cannot grit every inch of every road has been met with incredulity. It seems beyond many that the weather currently has control, and whilst we can mitigate it’s effects, nobody can actually make it go away.

This afternoon, at 4pm, on Anchor Bridge, I was passed by the grittier that, on social media 3 hours later, Walsall were being attacked for not sending to treat Brownhills High Street. Further down the road, at Silver Court, a team of council workmen had cleared the snow by hand from the frontage and steps, and then gritted it. At the other end of Brownhills, lorries were returning to the depot for refilling, before leaving again in series. 

Meanwhile, people are fretting on Facebook already as to weather their bins will be emptied tomorrow. As far as I’m aware, nobody has died in Walsall yet for the want of an empty dustbin. 

It’s bad weather, folks. We used to get it a lot. It’s not the end of days. The mark of humanity should be be grace under pressure, from all of us. Not just those there to serve us. 

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 19th – Out on Cannock Chase, with plenty of pictures on the main blog – but something in the current patch of cold weather is really making me smile: the art of snowman making is returning. Never used to see good ones when I was a kid. Nowadays, folks are getting creative. The little fella was sat at the side of the track down Abraham’s Valley in the middle of nowhere on the Chase. He was perfect. I loved him.

Meanwhile, at Seven Springs, another was taking a breather on a picnic table. Shame about the leg. Let’s hope the government disability assessors don’t spot him loafing with that missing leg, or they’ll have him working for free in Tesco within the week…

Seriously, loving the wit of it. 

January 18th – Cycling in the snow presents its own unique pitfalls, hazards and skills, and over the years, I’ve learned the best tricks I can. For cyclists out there considering cycling in the snow, there’s some stuff to watch out for. Beware speed humps, potholes and the edges of roads, which hide beneath the snow and take you by surprise. Watch out for the large lumps of compacted snow and ice that litter the busier roads; they drop off vehicles, and look soft and slushy, yet are usually rock hard. Try and ride in the centre of lanes where possible, and note that virgin snow is often easier to cycle through than mobile compacted ice in vehicle tracks. Beware of large chunks of solid ice that sweep from HGVs and vans – vehicles with tarpaulins are a particular hazard for that. Keep changing gear frequently, to prevent your cable from seizing, and use brakes as little as possible. Relax, and go where the bike takes you.

Since urine contains urea, a natural deicer, peeing on a gear mechanism or brake can free it and get you home.

Take it easy. Ice doesn’t forgive speed.

Riding in this weather is fun, but take care, and it’ll be really enjoyable.

January 18th – Hey, some real snow. The heaviest snows I can recall since the 1980s came today. It didn’t really start snowing heavily until I left the house for work. A long slog into the wind, and a battle to get to Tyseley, but it was fun, nonetheless. When I got to my destination, two hours later, I found they were closing in less than an hour. Never mind, I picked up some stuff, and cycled back into Birmingham, weaving through the gridlocked traffic of Sparkbrook, Camp Hill and Digbeth. Catching a train back to Blake Street, I wrapped up warm and went for a ride around the backlanes to Footherley, Shenstone and Chesterfield. A great ride, in the most dramatic, stunning weather. You can’t beat riding in freshly fallen snow. Coupled with the sensory overload of sight, sound and touch, there’s nothing like it.

January 17th – If you’re bored of the winter pictures, it could be a rather long week ahead, sorry. I love them, and intend to bore you with loads.

It was dry and cold when I left home this morning, and the humidity had dropped, so the mist was lighter, but ice still crusted the surface of my gloves and eyebrows as I rolled into the station. Diving off the Chester Road at Wood Lane, I decided to chance my arm at Little Aston Forge, where the sheet ice had been. The sheet ice was still there, but I just glided down the powder-dusted lanes. I adore this weather – possibly not as much as a sunny day in high summer, but I relish the stark drama, and the knowledge that in 80 days of so this will be greening again once more. That’s what’s great about England: extremes.

January 16th – When I got to Tyseley, it was snowing, lightly. It had been a very cold commute – the bike computer said -4, but there was a freezing mist that condensed in my eyebrows and froze solid. There was a heavy hoar frost that painted everything in shades of the ethereal – trees, the railway, the urban sprawl – and I think it looked amazing.

I love how the cold weather makes even the mundane and ugly fascinating and beautiful.

January 16th – Other people’s bicycles. As I came out of New Street Station this morning, stamping and puffing in the cold whilst waiting for the lights, my gaze turned to the crush railings on the junction. I don’t normally see bikes chained here for some reason, but today, there were two – both nice steeds. A minimalist, no nonsense, Carlton-based homebrew fixie, with beautiful Brooks saddle, and also a veritable behemoth of a tourer. The tourer put me in mind of a Dutch roadster, but had derailleur gears, cantilever brakes and the frame wasn’t right – although the dutch lock and improvised loop to the similar Brooks bum-comforter did make me wonder if the two owners were connected. I found the butterfly handlebars – the cycling equivalent of ape hangers – made for a monster cockpit. Both bikes were clearly well loved and ridden. When I returned 8 hours later, the Carlton had gone, so I guess the owners weren’t together, after all. Interesting steeds.

January 15th – It felt like the coldest morning of the winter so far, although I doubt that was the actually the case. Overnight, the drizzle had gone and the skies cleared, and I awoke to a bright, ice-hard morning. The main roads were fine, and the countryside looked beautiful in the traitor cold sunshine. The backlands, however, were untreated and impressively icy. Even with the spiked tyres, these were a challenge for first ice-ride of the year. I loved the commute this morning, it was fantastic. After all that rain, such a joy for the brightness of the january sun, the burning cold in my throat, the steam of my breath and the concentration of riding carefully.
It’s nice to feel alive again.