Galleries

March 14th – My experiment with Specialized Armadillo tyres is now over.

I will not be buying another set.

On my favourite steed, I have tyre clearance issues with the mudguards, so wanting to return to the softer, more forgiving ride of a 28mm tyre over the usual 25s, last September when tyre replacement was needed, I got a pair of Specialised Armadillo tyres I’d heard were very good – apparently nearly as resilient as Martathon Plus which I normally use, at a lower profile. 

People ho liked them recommended them with an almost religious zeal.

My initial feeling was that the tyre were not as tough, but they bedded in and proved very puncture resistant, which surprised me. My issue was that for a tyre described as ‘all condition’ their grip was sketchy at best in even moderate rain and useless on even slight ice, as two offs and various skids in the winter had proven.

The compound seemed very hard and they tyres were noisy when rolling.

Leaving work this evening, I flatted on the rear. examination of the tyre revealed the surface had totally delaminated from the inner lining, and was shredding. Within five months.

I’ve popped Schwalbe Marathon Plus 28mm back on. The quiet and feel is heavenly. Stick with what you know, folks…

March 12th – Perhaps unwisely, I continued on a ride I’d done many times – Down through Stonnall, Shenstone Woodend, Canwell, then to Hints, Hopwas and Whittington via the canal; from there back over Common Barn and the heath to Weeford and back home via Shenstone. It’s a short ride. I know it like the back of my hand.

I struggled and fought. 

At Shenstone on the way home, it felt like I’d never reach home. When I did get there, I was in bed well before midnight.

All this was a shame, as spring was showing the way; lambs were in the fields, the weeping willows were coming into leaf and daffodils marked every verge, hedgerow and garden. It really was beautiful.

Shame I felt so rotten.

March 12th – I felt awful. Really bad, as if I had the mother and father of hangovers. I’d not had alcohol, and it could have been an MSG thing, but I was dehydrated and groggy. But I had to go out.

I called in at Shire Oak Park to check the frog pools to see if they’d mated there yet – if caught at the right time, that place is like toad soup but today, it was devoid of amphibia – but a heathy patch of spawn in each attested to the frog’s presence at some point.

I was interested in the difference in the frogspawn. I know that frogs produce globular ‘clumps’, and toads ribbons, but the frogspawn seemed to vary from the huge ones in my hand to tiny eggs the size of a small blackcurrant. I wonder why that is? Age and health of the female? Different types of frog?

Never noticed the variety in this stuff before.

March 11th – I wasn’t feeling well. An unpleasantly off-colour feeling had been descending over me for a few weeks. I ached. I felt dizzy. Something wasn’t right.

I grabbed a takeaway on the way home and shot from Clayhanger to Brownhills over the Spot Path and common – where, despite my fun, I found the migrating amphibians – out in huge numbers enjoying the drizzle – charming and fascinating. I love frogs and toads.

I took care where I was riding, and noted creatures of all sizes and hues. Very one of them obeying the same seasonal imperative.

Nature has a way of pulling you up short.

March 11th – Unusually for a Saturday, I was at work all day, and returned on a pleasant ride that started in daylight, and finished in darkness after a trip to the supermarket.

Hopping on the canal at Bentley Bridge in Darlaston Green, I noted the resurfacing of this section of towpath was well underway, and a nice job it is too – although more beneficial than the previous stretch, the towpath wasn’t that bad here and I don’t really see the point – but it is nice and I’ll use it more. 

The sweep over the derelict arm bridge near the Anson Branch rolls wonderfully and will be fun at speed.

At Pleck I was puzzled by the graffiti sprayed on the wall behind the wine warehouse – anyone any idea what this is about? I feel it’s genuinely historical rather than just being the work of some addled stoner but can’t put my finger on it.

March 10th – The light held over the lanes as I headed for home – not a great sunset, but a good one, nonetheless. The lanes were eerie and quiet, and contrary to my expectations, it seems Keepers Cottage at Footherly remains. I had expected it to be demolished, as had the derelict cottages further down the lane; however, time and the elements seem to be doing the job instead.

A lovely, spooky commute home.

March 9th – A gorgeous, sun soaked early spring commute, a little bit into the wind, but no less gorgeous for that. I rode fast through the backstreets of walsall, enjoying the sun on my face, and for some reason today at 7am, all I could smell in Darlaston was bacon cooking.

I spotted these gorgeous primroses, just dying to be noticed in Kings Hill Park. They almost glow in the sunshine.

March 8th – I wasn’t fast enough to catch the best bit of this, but these two cats were clearly feeling the sap rising as I passed them in HillaryStreet, Place today. 

There’s what appears to be a young male, and an even younger kitten. In the instant I spotted them, they were play fighting just by the front door – but as I stopped to grab my camera, I surprised them and they separated in a flash and began to look determinedly innocent.

That kitten looks a right little bugger, if I’m honest.

Cute and funny, and lovely to see.

March 7th – I noticed on the way to work that another spring achievement had been unlocked – the hawthorn hedges are sprouting beautiful, bright green leaves, that smell fresh and look gorgeous.

I always welcome the spring greening and any step towards it, and seeing these fresh leaves this morning was a welcome and happy surprise.

I know we’re not out of the winter yet – after all we had some of the heaviest snows for years in April 2013 – but it feels like the cold and dark is ending now. Whatever happens now will surely only be a transient to something much better.