Wednesday 25 November 2015

The Things You Find...

Another ride around one of my local loops yesterday. I really should take a man up pill and ride a bit further afield in winter, but something has got into my head that demands I stay local during the crappy season. Some of the rides I enjoy in Summer are out of bounds at this time of year granted, I'd sink up to the bar ends in clawing gloop no doubt, and that's no fun at all. But I should set my sights a bit further afield at this time of year.

But anyway, a ride was on the cards but what bike to take? I gave the Voodoo a proper tickle last week and it is looking clean as a new pin. Get it all dirty again so quickly? Oh no no no... The Jamis then. Well that's clean as well, but the Carrera... a snotty bike for snotty roads. It's what it's for after all. So, armed with a big stick, I dragged it out from the corner of the shed where it was quietly festering, and then sallied forth on the wretched beast to see what was going on in the (local) world.

The joy of Snotternomics. Leave the pride and joy tucked up in the dry and warm, and enjoy the liberating feeling of piling through the sludge without a care in the world.

The lanes are a bit lacking in vibrance at this time of year it must be said, unless blustery winds count of course. The warming sunshine, bright colours and sweet smells have long gone, leaving everything a damp and dull green or brown. Bozzing along them though is still an enjoyable experience, especially when mounted on an old hack bike you don't fret over, and the decrepit wreck and I (so two decrepit wrecks then) were soon making good pace ploughing through all the sludge and muck. It's an old mongrel of a bike, but it still rides well enough, although the V-Brakes take a little getting used to again after the consistent bite of the discs on the other two. It also keeps aggressive dogs at bay as well - they spy me coming and imagine the fun they are about to have chasing another poor cyclist, then clock the malevolent collection of fetid parts the old bloke is riding and think better of it, keeping their distance and following my progress past their territory to make sure I don't stop and let my bike sully the place. Even the mankiest of farm dogs give me a wide berth when on the Carerra it seems.


So, concerned farm dog aside, what else was happening? Well the only things of note turned out to be crap dumped at the roadside – the first of which was a shopping basket. I had the rack on the bike, but no bungees, otherwise I'd have had that for all the bike furtling and cleaning guff in the shed. I might yet go back to get it.

I think I'll go back and retrieve this, that is if nobody else has blagged it in the meantime. 

The other 'find' was three old car tyres. No use to me, but farmers like them for weighing down tarps and stuff, so at least they too might get re-purposed as it were.

Plenty of life left in them... Mind you, the fatter one on the right wouldn't look out of place on Lewis Hamilton's Sunday afternoon biffabout.

So anyway, that got me thinking, and the result is a small collection of photos of the sort of treasures, oddities and trash I've found while tootling the back lanes.

Old wrecks.


This old ex RAF AEC Matador above has taken up residence beside the road near Grampound, and is apparently waiting to be restored. A superb old beast though, and it looks a proper animal to drive.


On the edge of Truro lurks this old Landie, slowly getting taken over by the hedge. But, it is apparently not alone, as after posting these to Flickr, I was told there is in fact a second Landie behind it, already well engulfed by the vegetation. So well engulfed in fact, that you have to really look hard into the hedge to see it. Next time I go past I'll have me a good prod about.

There seems to have been a purge on old roadside derelicts at some point, as when I was a kid they were a frequent sight round the lanes and in the woods. Obviously to many folk they are a blight on the landscape, but to me their loss is a shame, I love finding these old warriors parked up and slowly decaying.

 Strange goings on...


Now here's a wonderful thing, a Tigger in a tree, in the middle of nowhere. But he wasn't alone...


This rather drunk looking bear was also taking the sun alongside the lane, along with some other soft weirdness hanging from the tree. 


Riding through the village of Zelah I came across this chap. Could be part of some community scarecrow festival, or maybe just one of the locals having a breather on the way to the pub. Hard to tell really, they're a funny lot in Zelah...

Smallest libraries in the world?


There are a few old phone boxes being put to use around the county (and probably beyond too, but I don't go up country... full of funny folk it is up there) as local book exchanges. Bring a book - take a book is the principle, and I think it's a brilliant idea. It only works in 'quiet' places mind you. We have an old phone box in the village here, but we also have a lot of bored youths who would delight in trashing something like this, unfortunately.

Examples of old crafts and rural skills.






There are loads of such things of course, but I've only got photos of one example of old crafts in use - hedge laying. Good to see practices like this still surviving when it would be easier no doubt to just bung in some modern fence or other. This hedge lines both sides of the road for about three quarters of a mile, and would've taken a lot of time and effort, but is far, far better than wire fencing, not just visually but for wildlife too.

Cyclists!


Yes, who would've thought you'd find cyclists on the country lanes, but if this sign is anything to go by, it might come as a surprise to some folk. Or maybe it was asking drivers and pedestrians to caution cyclists, to warn or punish them, after all, there is no punctuation there to suggest a different meaning. Caution them about what though isn't clear.

Useful stuff.


I've no idea what this lever fell off, or what I might use it for, but it is now in my tool box waiting for the day when I need such a device, even if it's only to stir paint with...


Oh ok... this isn't very useful in fact - there's no valve cap look... Someone has been having some puncture related nightmares though - what a mess.


Ah ha! Now that is useful - the forces of win were strong with this find. Some roadside treasures need a bit of spotting, but your eyes soon tune in to look for even the smallest foreign objects lurking on the tarmac or in the hedge.

Memorials


Plenty of memorials to be found on the roads these days unfortunately, and many, like this one, are well tended. 

Rubbish.

Uh oh... incoming rant ahead! 

Unfortunately, there is an increasing amount of rubbish appearing on the lanes recently. The local council don't help when they announce they are going to charge for loads of items at the local tip. A trip to the tip with a car full of crap used to be great fun. You roll up, enjoy lobbing all your crap onto the tip, for FREE, then come home with a car full of someone else's crap you salvaged because you thought you could put it to good use. Now though, there are bins for everything and woe betide you if you launch the wrong thing into the wrong bin - the Tip Police will pounce in a flash and make you feel like the worst form of criminal because the old office chair went in the metal bin but had some plastic on it or some such act of evil. But things got even worse when charges were announced for all sorts of items. You now need a calculator and a supply of ready cash before heading to the dump, and things can get very expensive, very quickly. Yet the council wonder why fly tipping is on the increase... None of the above is an excuse mind you for littering the countryside, the people who turf this junk out on the roadside are beneath contempt.


The junk in the above photo is the telly, not the bike...



Well at least the local cats get somewhere comfy to rest up after a hard day at work sitting under cars and staring into hedges.


If I had my old van I would've had this away, cleaned it and mounted it on the swivel base of my office chair.



A couple of dead bike frames waiting to clang the blades of the council hedge cutter. Whoever dumped them didn't want anyone else having them as both had been cut through before being lobbed into the undergrowth on the verge.

There are loads of other things to be found on the roads of course, especially if you like those red industrial gloves, there's always plenty of them lurking, they've taken over from the miles of unwound cassette tape I think as the most commonly found roadside litter. 

Well that's about that for roadside finds, and wasn't it just thrilling... I have a bucket list of things I'd like to find and actively search the roadsides for - large sums of cash for example, a pair of shoes that actually fit me (why is there always only one shoe?) a new wife even, but so far my best finds amount to a couple of tools. But if anyone finds the end cap from the Voodoo's left pedal, you can keep it, the bearings are knackered already so I'm going to replace them. The lens cap off my Canon 18-55 kit lens though I'd quite like back... lost it somewhere near Tresillian I did.


Saturday 21 November 2015

A Question of Fashion or Function.

I'm not normally bothered about fashion – I wear my bum bag with pride, and usually prefer function before form in any situation. But a new stem for the Bantu is giving me a severe case of the ditherings.

Despite being the biggest frame size Voodoo offer for this model, the Bantu has always felt a little cramped, and the bars a little low. I don't like to change things immediately unless they are obviously way out of whack, so I carried on riding with it to see how I got on over time. Well, just recently, I've been getting a sore neck on the Voodoo, so that was definitely it, no more ruminating just get it dealt with. So I had me some Wiggle time (my current fave retailer) and spotted a 110mm stem – 10mm longer than the stock Bantu item, and with a positively pornographic 35 degree rise. So a couple of days later, it duly arrived, along with a bottle of Wiggle's own brand wet chain lube and the usual, and much welcomed, little bags of Haribo.

Having fitted the new stem, I stood back to admire my work and...erm... yes. It looks very dorky, to put it mildly. Current fashion dictates bars as wide as a rake handle is long and a stem so short that it barely warrants the name. I don't know why they don't just mount a bar clamp right on top of the steerer tube and be done with it. I do like the short stem wide bars look it must be said, but function should come before form... or so I keep telling myself these last few days.

Yesterday provided the first opportunity to try out the new layout up the road, as there was a welcome, if short, gap in the wet and very windy weather.

Trevella Stream running fast, and noisily, after the recent heavy rain. There is something really relaxing and enjoyable about being surrounded by the noises of nature, even fast moving water roaring like a fighter jet on after burners.

The lanes were awash with running and static water, and deep leaf mulch and mud, so things were getting messy very quickly. There was however, a great sense of calm in the air after the howling and battering of the previous few days. Everywhere seemed still and quiet, running water apart that is, and with the temperature being unusually warm for November, it all made for some very enjoyable riding.


This stream is just a tiny trickle most of the year, but with a bit of rain it soon overwhelms the culvert carrying it beneath the road to make a temporary 'pop up ford' as it races across the tarmac.

There is saying that getting old is compulsory, but growing up is optional, and if you ever want evidence of the truth in that, just come and find me on the lanes after some hefty rain. I still get childish joy from bombing through standing water and getting the bike a bit squirrelly through the mud and gribble on the roads, so it wasn't long at all before I was splattered in water and grolly and my leaky boots had allowed my feet to become soaked. But it just felt great to be out in the fresh air, dicking about with bikes, puddles, and the cameras. 

This was a slowish pass for the camera through a proper ford.

Best go back and have another go then.

There we go!

Some cyclists appear to be very wary of Fords, preferring to use the usually available foot crossing instead. Maybe it's their choice of bike (not much rubber on the road with a road bike for instance) or maybe I'm going to run out of luck someday soon and come a right cropper, but I go bozzing through fords with an immature glee and enjoy every silly moment of it. I don't shout 'wheee....' as I go though, that would be a bit silly, but my advice to every cyclist when confronted with a ford or a big puddle is not to mince about fretting and avoiding it, but to shed their inhibitions and belt through with a big smile on their face instead. Put some fun back into the riding for heaven's sakes!


Country lane bimbling can be a real pleasure even when the roads are claggy.

So, all in all, I had a very enjoyable ride, and on returning home, I gave the bike a thorough wash and lube, and it is now sat behind me in the living room, looking peachy, and filling the house with the pleasant aroma of GT 85.

Flipping litter louts boil the blood though.


So that was all good, but back to that stem. The good news is it has transformed the feel and comfort of the bike. I don't ride hard on or off road, so weighting up the front wheel isn't important to me at all, comfort is though, and this new set up is a vast improvement, as I sit 'in' the bike more rather than 'on' it. I'm still leaning forward enough to take the weight off my back too, so I'm not swapping neck ache for back trouble. So it's a win all round then? Well... there are the looks... I keep telling myself function before form, but my word it does look flipping gawky. After much peering and staring, and turning away only to look back suddenly to see how first impressions erm... impress, I have decided (I think...) that the stem, goofy though it is, will have to stay, as pain free riding trumps looks every time, and I don't mind being seen on the chaotic old clutterbus Carrera, so why should I mind being seen with a naff looking stem? Yes, function before form, comfort before looks. Now if I keep telling myself that, I might just start to believe it... 

Woo that's a shocker... The Voodoo sporting its new, gormless, look.

Or I could just wear a Balaclava everywhere.


Sunday 15 November 2015

Pride Comes Before a Fail.

Pedal up... pedal down. Pedal... up... pedal... down. Puh... Pedal... urggghhhh...up... pedal warrrrryafuggnbastad... down. Pedal... oh bollicks, bail out time.

Lay offs from the bike are a bugger. Fitness so hard earned, is easily lost at my age, (and I added a year to my count this week too... damn it...). Not like when I was a kid when fitness could be gained in what seemed like about twenty minutes. Well that's a bit of an exaggeration, call it half an hour. And once the body was bike tuned, it stayed that way with aches and pains and mid - hill bail outs only noticeable by their absence. Not so now though. Oh no.

It had only been about ten days off the bike as well, while the usual health crap held sway, but it was obviously enough to blunt my output, as I found out on the Col De Tregassow on Thursday. 
Now this hill is a bit of a beggar, by my standards anyway - it took me months of riding before I could get up it without walking when I first got back into biking. But this year I had been priding myself at the ease with which I reeled the summit in. Even the family of mountain goats that live half way up gave me unbelieving looks and shook their heads in jealous amazement... well...maybe.

It all started well, if a little wet, windy, and splattery bummed from all the gribble on the lanes.

So I as I hit the bottom of the hill I was more concerned about the mucky state of the bike, and my arse, from all the clag on the lanes at this time of year, than imminent geological traumas. But within yards of the ascent starting I knew I was going to struggle. Speed dropped... legs ached... it isn't normally like this! Ok then, grab a lower gear and start spinning... Ooof...quick... grab the granny gear before I start going backwards... Oh lordy this wasn't going well. Plans were made to lighten the load – I could lob the water bottles into the bushes, then the mini pump... the GoPro round my waist then my jacket... but it was too late and I finally expired a wheezingly dismal ten yards or so from the top. Bums. My smugness rating took a proper battering as I pushed, purple of face and aching of leg, to the junction at the summit and level ground – the hill had bitten back.

Another photo taken at the top of a descent. Downhills I like. I like them a lot.


The worst of it is I haven't been out again since either, when I should really have been getting out there to retain my (limited) fitness, but it hasn't happened. Oh well, maybe tomorrow.


Friday 6 November 2015

Grimaces, Goodies and Gateways.

The last few days have been less than great thanks to my crap back, the result of the more strenuous off road ride I did last Saturday. I count myself very lucky that I can ride a bike at all, but I can, thankfully, and for a good couple of hours too, because I plod about and my legs do all the work while I slump on the bars. But the ride around Cardinham Woods at the weekend, massively enjoyable though it was, involved a dose of body language that saw me stiffening up immediately after. Initially, for the first couple of days, things weren't too bad, but then for some reason, they got a lot worse and I was hobbling about, bent over like the old man I feel I am sometimes, and grimacing and grunting, effing and jeffing, and generally mincing around feeling like I've been stabbed right through my back and into my Sternum, and then had my upper spine set on fire. All of which is a tad less than desirable, but there we go. 

But it's not all doom and gloom at Bimble Towers, some goodies have arrived! Everybody likes goodies! 

First up, issue three of Cranked appeared, and with articles on getting lost in the Lake District and a trip from Alaska to Patagonia by Cass Gilbert among other readables, it all looks very interesting.


Excuse the crappy pictures, but I never claim to be any good at product photography. Just as well I don't too, looking at these...

Then issue 101 of Singletrack also arrived, and as someone who takes a lot of 'ride by selfies', I am jealously admiring that cover shot by Sam Needham (it goes over onto the rear cover too of course, as per all Singletrack cover shots). That just shows what can be achieved with an idea, a tripod and a remote shutter release.  There's an article about a nine year old riding the length of New Zealand, and there is also a Room 101 in the subscribers edition, which is a beggar as I've just started doing a Sin Bin on this blog, and people might think I copied the idea from them! Of course, I nicked the idea from George Orwell's Room 101 in his book 1984... oh and the telly series of the same name, but still.

Also, it's N+1 time again. I hate that term really, but it does sum up the situation it seems most cyclists find themselves in a lot of the time - fancying another bike. The Bantu is not quite a year old yet, but I've found myself looking over my shoulders to see if anyone is looking, then pulling the curtains, and secretively and furtively surfing the new bikes on the web. I don't know why I do that, 'cos I live alone, but anyway, my head has been turned by the idea of a 27.5+ shod biffabout. A half - fat fat bike.  A diet Fat Bike kind of thing. The Marin Pine Mountain and Charge Cooker both get me drooling, and that wheel size would offer me something different to what I've already got. 



Current objects of my desires, the Marin Pine Mountain and Charge Cooker. Must resist... must resist...

But with three bikes already... well two and a right old clattermonger, I don't really need another bike, especially given my gentle riding pace. That's no fun though is it? But to add to the pondering I got online and ordered the 2016 Rose bikes catalogue, and also their magazine. 


Now appearing in more photos than Kim Kardashian's arse, my old black vinyl pouffe. 

Of the direct ordering companies that are around, Rose are the ones who's bikes continue to catch my eye and I really quite fancy the idea of going down that route for the next new bike. More bang for my bucks of course, and I've read nothing but good reports about the whole buying/delivery to the UK process, and of course, the bikes themselves. It doesn't look like they do any 27.5 plussers though... Oh bums...

So that's my bedtime reading well and truly sorted for the next few days at least. 

What else? Well the weather is properly 'orrible right now, really manky and depressing. So I thought I'd do a random post, again about the pleasures to be found in cruising the lanes, but this time featuring a few gateways.



Gateways can be great. They are somewhere to lean the bike when you fancy a rest, somewhere to sit if you can get on top of the gate itself, and offer somewhere to brew up or have a sandwich if you fancy some light refreshments. They are also windows in the claustrophobic corridors that the lanes become sometimes, offering glimpses of expansive views of stunning countryside, a distant village perhaps, or maybe just a cow's backside.





 Whatever, part of the pleasure of bimbling along the lanes is approaching a gate and wondering what it is going to offer up in the way of a diversion from the usual thick hedge or line of trees. 


This was Lump, my old Giant hybrid. Lump by name, and lump by nature. Sit on either of these two objects in the photo with your eyes shut, and you'd be hard pushed to tell which one you were sat on. They're even the same colour look... But this is about gates, and on this gorgeous Summer's day, this gate offered up a superb view of rolling rural countryside and... a car on fire on the distant A30...





Many is the time I've had smoke pouring off my brakes (oh let me dream of such things, please...) as I've whizzed past a gateway, caught a glimpse of some stunning vista and thrown out the anchor to do a u-turn and head back to check it out properly. Many is the time it has been a let down too, but never mind, there are plenty more that offer a great spot to pause and gawp.



You can potter along this lane for ages, blinkered by the Cornish hedges either side of the narrow road, but then up pops this gate (above) to offer a view of Ladock church tower and beyond.



It's a shame to see so many modern galvanised gates these days, as when they were made of wood, they varied in design depending on where in the country you were, making the gates themselves interesting. They also differed depending on what the field they guarded was likely to contain. Gates with thicker bars set closer together nearer the ground were found at fields containing sheep and lambs, while bigger gates with heavier build towards the top marked out cattle and horse grazing. Now they're all built the same with an extra bar at the bottom anyway.


 A bit crappy, this shot above...

 Above and below - Probus glimpsed through gateways on otherwise well shielded lanes.

The wooden gates look far better, but I doubt the farmer is worried about the aesthetics of rural gatery, he just wants something to keep we nosy folk out and his animals in.

 Another crappy shot, but after being hemmed in for some distance by dense hedgery, it made a welcome change to see this view.

Now if this gate above had been made of wood, it could've been modified especially for the job of keeping limbo dancing sheep where they're supposed to be. Instead, the farmer had to bodge it with a pole and some twine.

So that's a look at gateways and why I like them. Next time - What's that shit on my shoe? A  handy, step by smelly step, scratch and sniff guide to identifying the doings you've just stepped in.


Maybe.