Lucky Jim.

Like slipping on your favourite pair of comfortable slippers after a hard day on your feet. I've only had Fatso a few weeks, but already that is how climbing aboard felt yesterday after taking the Jamis out for my last ride. The comfort, the riding position and the stable, reassuring feel of the bike make me feel right at home as soon as bum hits saddle.

I felt the same with some of the motorcycles I've owned in the past too – some I sat on and rode, and they were very good too. But a couple of others just felt so right to me in any situation, me and the bike were totally tuned in together, we were as one if you like. That sounds like a load of pretentious tosh, but I don't know how else to describe that feeling of bike and rider fitting together so perfectly.

Fatso I think is ideally suited to my slow, peering over the hedges, bimbling style of riding, being so stable at low speed, and easy to handle. Fat bikes aren't just for snow and sand, they are also for old giffers who potter about the wrecked back lanes and bridleways at single figure speeds smelling the smells and admiring the view!

Anyway, I cast off yesterday morning into the teeth of a chilly and stiff north westerly, with the village of Probus and some surrounding bridleways in mind. After climbing over the first, and rather exposed, hill, all calmed down again as trees lined the lanes to provide shelter from the wind, and a 'freshy' 'whooshy' soundtrack as I ambled onwards.

One of the themes for the day - hills. A chilly day to start with, and with a lot of fresh air rushing about too, but these high banked, tree lined lanes provide welcome shelter.

The upper reaches of the Tresillian River near Truck Fork, Probus.

The main road into Probus was soon reached, and with more exposure to the wind (now from the side) came that weird feeling of someone trying to push the front wheel sideways from under you that any motorcyclist will be aware of, but the fat bike seems more prone to than any other bicycle I own. Somehow though, it never feels threatening or alarming, and I wasn't in danger of being blown into passing traffic.

 The approach to the centre of Probus. This was once a busy main road, thick with trucks, coaches and in summer, caravanners. Thankfully a by-pass has removed all that, and like other similar villages, the place has been rejuvenated. You no longer take your life in your hands crossing the road, and the houses are no longer coated in road filth thrown up in wet weather.

Fatso in the square, Probus. Bus shelter is a recent addition, and not a popular one either as I understand it. 

From the square I headed for Wagg Lane, a favourite for a bit of quiet pottering when in these parts. The top half of the lane is as you'd expect, lined with housing, but on reaching the edge of the village, it loses its status as a navigable road and has become classified as 'other public access'. The lane drops into a valley and then climbs steeply up the other side and through farmland towards St Michael Penkevil. The first section down to the small river is no bother to a small motor vehicle, but the other side, narrow steep and muddy as it becomes, would prove a tad 'technical'.

One of my favourite road signs...

At the start of the descent I was setting up a photo when a chap approached walking his dog, curious as to why I was apparently photographing a road sign, and with a tripod set up too. Having explained what I was up too, and received the obligatory 'this bloke is clearly nuts' look in response, talk turned to his old looking Collie Cross. It turns out the chap had only had the dog about six months, but a strong bond had already clearly formed between them. The dog was a rescue animal, picked up as a stray, filthy dirty and all bones. In the short time the chap had owned the dog, he'd had to fork out for various vet bills, not least an operation to remove part of the dog's lower jaw thanks to cancer, but it was clear money was not the important factor here, it was the dog's well being. As with my much missed dog, also a rescue that had been abused, this dog soon became a different, happier and loving character, and the chap has a companion he is clearly very fond of. I didn't get his name, but the dog was Jim, and it was great meeting the pair of them.

The stream crossing in the valley bottom of Wagg Lane. The point at which the going changes from 'well this is ok' to 'oh sh*t!'

Back in the saddle after having to push up the steepest and muddiest part of the hill out of the valley bottom.

The rest of the ride passed with me not really paying much attention to things, just ambling along alone with my thoughts, so there wasn't really much to speak of, other than it was a very enjoyable ride around once again. 

Back in Probus again and about to head for home. Shed/outside loo roof needs a bit of TLC there...

But that's the way it goes, some rides are all about seeing and smelling, and lapping up the surroundings, others are more an opportunity to get a few things straightened out and enjoying the 'head time.' I used to do all my thinking outside with a cigarette, but since giving up smoking, I do all my thinking these days on a bike – much healthier!

The full size map can be found Here