Three Ride Catch Up.

Well here we are, all behind with the bloggery yet again. On the upside, I can take heart from the fact that if I ever decide to chuck myself under a bus, I'll probably miss it by five minutes, but still.

So, where are we? Ah yes, Wednesday... we'll start there.

Having had a good ride around various bike paths in Truro on Good Friday, I thought I'd go and check another couple of off road bits out on the edge of the city, conveniently on my side of town too. So I jumped aboard Fatso and set off, once again giving the main road a swerve in favour of a big old schlep around the lanes. Idless Woods provides a short cut when heading in this direction, but after overnight rain, and with a spick and span Fatso, I decided against battling the mud in the wood, and battled the mud on the lanes instead. Doh...

The top of the hill up out of Lanner Mill, which rhymes.

But still, taking what I refer to as the upper lane at Idless, where the road divides and two lanes both head into Truro, I soon arrived on the edge of the big City and was dodging the opening car doors and random jay walking pedestrians in the residential streets as I looked for one particular shared path that would lead me into the centre.

Swapping country lanes for back streets in Truro.

This path, once I'd found the start lurking between some truly ugly houses, was nice enough, and runs in along side the river as it travels beneath Moresk railway viaduct, but doesn't really give me any advantage for accessing the town. Nor did it offer the dips, rises and twisties of other paths that made them enjoyable to ride, but still, it's good to know it's there.

The town end of the short shared path from Rosedale Road. This viaduct, Moresk or Truro viaduct, is one of two just east of the station, the other being the longer Carvedras viaduct. This Moresk viaduct was, like many others in Cornwall, originally built with stone piers (20 in all, 14 of which still stand) supporting wooden trestles and deck, but an all stone replacement viaduct was built alongside and opened on the 14th February, 1904.

Having reached the end of that path, I turned left and immediately found the entrance to another which would lead me out of town again and back to Idless. This is actually a nature reserve called Daubuz Moors, and makes for a pleasant alternative to the road, which climbs a short but steep hill before dropping back down again. The path around the edge of the reserve stays flat, always a bonus that! The nature reserve itself is still pretty winter bare, and no doubt will look a lot different as spring advances into summer, but to begin with, sticks and soil sum it up until the path emerges into areas of open grass. So that is an exit from town route for the future sorted then.

Daubuz Moors Nature Reserve is looking a little barren at the moment, but no doubt explode with colour soon enough.

The lane leading back to Idless.

After that, it was back the way I'd come – a pleasant enough ride but I wasn't feeling especially invigorated as I gave Fatso a full blanket bath with Baby Wipes and a soft cloth, rather than a proper wash, to remove the light soiling and return him to his pristine best.

Despite the effort in cleaning the bike, I still had it in mind to go for another ride the following day (Thursday), if I could.

Come the morning in question, and not only was I indeed up for another ride, I wanted to go into Idless Woods and have me some muddy exploring. Odd how my moods work – dodging mud one day, seeking it out the next, but there we go.

There really has been some damage done this winter in the local woods, and not just on the edges either, some big old trees you'd expect to be well shielded from the wind, huddled deep into the thick wood as they are, have also been felled by the winds, and everywhere on the ground are sticks and branches, making for a bit of an obstacle course at times, with a poke in the eye or a stick up the trouser leg a real possibility.

The base of a second downed tree lies just to the left, while behind me lay a third. The gales this winter have taken their toll on trees all over the county and beyond.

Heading for the uppermost path in the sunny Idless Woods.

Taking the path topmost of the three main routes through the wood saw plenty of mud plugging and the fording of many deep and stagnant puddles as Fatso and I made slow, but safe progress along the narrow path. This bike really is huge fun, even for my (very) limited abilities and low speeds. I know pilot error plays a large part, but on other bikes like the Voodoo, I'd get off and push around the edge of these soggy, boggy, lagoons, as I'd be bound to flounder half way in resulting in a big wet dab of the foot to save anembarrassing fall into the quagmire. No such worries with a fat bike though, as it just powered through without any dramas at all, as long as I stayed seated to provide maximum traction. At one point I did lift myself up out of the saddle going over some root or other, and when I sat back down the bite from the rear tyre was amazing, providing a real shove forwards again as the tyre bit into the mud.

Some of these puddles are deeper than they appear...

A small dash of colour courtesy of some Primroses.

It's not just bimbling through bogs where the Fatty shines though, as on a later section where the path has had some packing down and planing off, I let the brakes off as the path descends and let Fatso do his thing, gleefully flinging mud in all directions from the voluminous tyres as speed was quickly gained, while I hung on grinning like a lunatic as we rampaged down the hill, bouncing or rolling over the stones and roots without cause for concern, where again, on my other bikes, the steering would be snapping this way and that, and more care would be taken in picking lines and so on. Fat bikes are very good skills compensators!

Reaching the far end of the wood, I turned back along the lowest path which runs along side the river. Whilst still muddy and wet in parts, this path, despite being at the foot of a considerable hill, is a lot drier under foot, or knobbly tyre, thanks to work done by the Forestry workers in recent years, although a downed tree is still right across the path, requiring some Limbo skills or going bush to get around it (I Limboed).

I did go bush to check out the ruins of the old Gunpowder works though. A lot of trees have come down around them, so I wondered if any had inflicted any more damage on the remains of the buildings, but they appear to have escaped any further damage from falling timber.

Remains of the Gunpowder works in Idless Woods. There were several of these works dotted around the county serving the mining industry, and placing them in the woods meant they were away from population and the trees would absorb the explosion in the event of an accident.

This Violet was all on its own on top of a wall, not another one anywhere close by.

Back home again and Fatso needed a proper wash as thick mud was packed in everywhere, not good for a house bike, so it was out with the pressure washer. This scrub a dub dubbery didn't pass without incident though as suffering a senior moment, I finished the pre rinse with the pressure washer, and neglected to turn off the tap in the kitchen while I went round with the bike washing brush and sponges. The result was a rather flooded kitchen and me wishing I had my water wings on as I set about cleaning that particular mess up, baling out and wringing towels out in the sink.

So that was Thursday, which just leaves yesterday's (Friday) ride to catch up on.

Now, among my various health issues, I have some bowel related problems that can dictate a certain level of caution and preparation when going for a ride. Usually I don't eat a full dinner the night before a bike ride or any extended out of the house activity for comfort and peace of mind too. But I'd gone two nights without a big meal, and on Thursday night I'd succumbed and had a good old nosh up. But Friday morning came and having really enjoyed my woodland rambling the day before, I wanted to go for another ride.

But... even before leaving home I was feeling a bit bloaty and generally uncomfortable, and I really should have heeded these warnings, but he who dares wins and all that... Well there was no winner on Friday as I set out on the Voodoo along my favourite Tregassow Lane, intent on just having a mooch around my regular loop. I hadn't gone far when I felt a major stirring in my plumbing, and heard a growl from my bowel reminiscent of a super tanker running aground. Instantly I broke out in a cold sweat as my heart beat soared and the adrenalin rushed through my body. There is nothing like the fear of impending catastrophic trouser trauma to add a frisson of excitement to a ride in the country that's for sure.

Now, any cyclist who has been caught short while out and stopped for a pee in the bushes will know that it doesn't matter how remote the lane you are on, or how far away from population the trail, just as you release the flow as it were, a farmer, or walker, herd of cross country runners, or a car full of pointing and laughing kids will appear suddenly and catch you in the act. So imagine the horrific prospect of being caught while squatting, trousers down, hanging grimly on to a fence post or tree for stability while suffering from an explosive backside... it doesn't bear thinking about really, so with internal pressure building dangerously, I gamely headed home, trying to pedal while keeping my knees together, praying I didn't see anyone I knew who might expect a stop and a chat, and all the time trying to avoid bumps and any exertion that may result in an untimely and disastrous release of muscle tension and all the possbile consequences that would follow (“It all started with a noise like a ruptured Zeppelin passing overhead” a shocked eye witness told BBC News today...). Thankfully, somehow, I made it home and prised myself off the bike (the saddle now has a ridge up the middle from my clenched buttocks gripping it so hard...) and made it indoors in time to avert environmental disaster. Knowing how things go when my gut is being mischievous, I decided not to risk going back out again so that was that for the day, but at least I had got a photo taken before things went awry, thereby maintaining the photo every ride theme for a Flickr group I'm on.

Tregassow Lane on Friday, just before things gastric turned a bit drastic.

So an up and down few days really, but I'll think twice before taking an unplanned ride in the future, that's for sure.

Once again, some of these photos have uploaded all blurry for some reason... Grrrr....