Galleries

January 11th – Another rare daylight commute, so again I took the canal into Darlaston. On my way I became aware of a series of yellow marker paint spots on the towpath, and it took me a little while to work them out.

The canal towpath here is to be resurfaced soon, and disturbed soil in places pointed up the fact that someone had been surveying. Markers near the bridges indicate a gas main runs alongside the canal here, and the spots indicate the position of the pipes. At the old arm crossover near Haniel, the pipes emerge and cross the disused inlet, and one can observe the spots follow it’s course.

This part of the towpath would benefit a little from resurfacing, but it’s nowhere near as bad as the stretches through Aldridge and Pelsall. The resurfacing policy is absolutely baffling.

January 9th – Later in the day, back in the Black Country, I had to be in Walsall for an appointment, and rode up the canal from Darlaston. It had been raining, and everything was quiet, but near Bentley Bridge by the old Anson Branch, I couldn’t resist crossing the canal bridge to give this cheeky beggar some of my pocket corn stash. One of the 2016 cygnets, he (or she, I can’t tell) is maturing well and in fine fettle.

I note the aggressive begging technique is coming along well too…

January 9th – Waiting at New Street early in the day it seemed people were not yet about – I saw very few as I loafed idly, waiting for my train. Despite continual work here, little has changed in the last 12 months – the grim 80s exit bridge has had one end tarted up but it remains ugly and badly conceived; likewise the shiny tinfoil covering to the upper floors, covering only the bits that can be seen from outside the station. 

Despite the continual aesthetic tweaks – panelling here, lights there, the odd new bench or seating area – little really changes in this urban, brutalist bunker. It’s a fleeting place, transitory for most. But stand here for any length of time and you’ll realise how little;e has been done to actually improve it.

New Street Station is not new. It’s just now got a retail opportunity on top. The station itself remains as dysfunctional as ever.

January 8th – A miserable day, to be quite honest. I’d had plans, but I awoke late, and by the time I’d got the day’s jobs finished, the weather had turned drizzly, wet and unpleasant, and my plans for an afternoon riding over to north Warwickshire were lost.

I slipped out as dusk fell on a test ride, instead: I had stuff to do in Walsall Wood and Aldridge, and after a weekend monkeying with a bike with suspension, getting the damping control and lockout sorted, it needed testing, which was a good excuse for some restorative exertion.

On my way back, I passed Aldridge Marina, which looked rather wonderful in the thinniest, most insubstantial of mists. The combination of that, sodium light and woodsmoke made the scene magical.

Not a lost day, by any means, but not one I enjoyed much.

January 7th – I love inversions, when mist rolls off water low into the air. I don’t see many these days, and certainly none as dramatic as those from my childhood, but the character of the area has changed so much in 40 years that I shouldn’t be surprised, really.

I was out after dark and noticed fleeting, transitory clouds of mist forming over the canal at Silver Street, intensifying, then disappearing. It was stunning.

I tried to photograph them as best I could, but this is really something you have to see first hand…

January 7th – Out and about today on various errands, I spotted a rather muddy rugby match going on at the club in Chasetown, just on the edge of Chasewater. I’ve never been much of a sport spectator, and know little about rugby, but looking at the assembled crowd, the mud, the barked instructions and the seriousness, I could tell this was important.

I have no idea who was playing, or who was winning: but to be out there in that mud, chasing a ball and getting pulled around bodily by strangers, I developed an instant admiration for these guys.

There seemed to be a spirit here one doesn’t see much in football; a willingness to get stuck in at whatever cost. It’s quite impressive.

I watched for five minutes, but had to be home. I must return though, as like village cricket on a sunny summer afternoon, there was a magic to it I’d love to explore further.

January 6th – A damp morning errand took me across the Black Country to Great Bridge, and in the small border of a household garden near the town centre, these gorgeous flowers, spotted with rain.

It’s quite hard to find natural, optimistic colour at this time of year, but I’m so glad I did. I’ve been missing the simple joy of flowers for too long.

A real tonic.

January 5th – First trip to Telford of the new year and on a very cold morning indeed – but at least I was prepared for it unlike the night before. I was on a bike with decent tyres for the conditions, but thankfully the black ice was minimal anyway.

I stopped on the old footbridge by the station to record the sunlight thing down the track below – it was dawn-like and harsh, but had a beautiful quality that sunrises alone have, a sort of sharpness, unlike the mellow glow of a sunset. 

I must make an effort to record this bridge more – now planning is going ahead, it won’t be long until this curious, red steel structure is replaced by something more practical. Whilst it’s awfully dystopian – particularly at night, it does have a lovely photogenic quality about it.

January 4th – it has been a temperate commute in the morning, spoiled only by ten minutes of rain, but it felt reasonable for first day back, but in the evening my return was a shock. Not dressed for sub-zero temperatures, and on a bike without ice tyres, I gingerly picked my way through lanes and backstreets chilly and nervous.

That’s the trouble with having time off; you need to sharpen your commuting game on your return, because you get out of the habit.

January 2nd – Well, this is it – the fifth anniversary of my continual cycling. Every day for the past five years – that’s 1827 consecutive days (2 leap years, don’t forget) – I’ve got on my bike and rode it. Maybe to work, maybe to the shops, or on a long ride. Often, when commuting, I ride more than once.

Of course, this isn’t the anniversary of the journal – I actually started in April 2011 as my contribution to 30daysofbiking, egged on by the lovely Rene Van Barr; but a dodgy pie laid me low with campylobacter at new year 2012 and I missed two days. So I started the clock again.

I believe I’ve shown it’s possible to ride a bike in all conditions, to all manner of places, and still find interesting stuff both local and distant.

I’ve got to the point where doing this is part of my daily routine, and I enjoy it – so I intend to continue. If you think it’s stale, old, or uninteresting, please tell me so, and I’ll consider your views.

I do enjoy sharing the ride, and love that people seem interested. I love being able to show you the things I find – like tonight, we passed through Fazeley Junction in the dark, and the Weighmaster’s house, old mill and beautiful moon – photographed by balancing the camera at full zoom on the bridge coping stones and leaving it on timer – made for wonderful, seasonal photos.

Thanks for having this odd little journal in your life. For everything I do online, this is probably the most heartfelt.