Monday 27 February 2017

More Woodland Wanderings.

I see that we are now being advised to eat ten portions of fruit and veg a day in order to live a longer, and healthier life, instead of five. I was in Tesco last week and picked up a bunch of Bananas that had a sticker proclaiming 'one of your five a day'. Who the hell eats five bunches of Bananas in a day, let alone ten? These people must think we're stupid...

Ahem...

And so to Sunday, yesterday as it happens, another blustersome day, and another portion of my own life enhancing medicine - a short ride around Ladock Woods.

This time the wind was a bit softer, gusting to a barely bouffant bothering 40 mph, but more overcast and with the threat of hefty showers. Being a rufty tufty mountain biker, I wasn't going to let the threat of being lashed by a bit of horizontal rain put me off, so I donned my over trousers and pointed Fatso in the general direction of Ladock.

 Pot holes in the lane from Five Turnings near Boswiddle.

They've just resurfaced the road either side of the ford at Boswiddle. Why they didn't wait until the water has retreated below the road again, and resurfaced the lot, is a mystery.

On Christmas Eve I rode past the entrance to Ladock Woods I normally use as an exit, and saw signs that suggested that the woods were now closed to the public. Thankfully that is not the case, it's just that one particular entrance that's out of bounds now. The main entrance remains open, so I was looking forward to a good old mooch about as I stood Fatso on his back wheel and and promptly got wedged in the kissing gate, again. I always get stuck in that one.


Heading off into the woods at Ladock. Even at the modest speeds I go biking at, it's still good fun, especially slithering and sliding about in some of the muddier sections.

Anyway, having extricated bike and body, I set off to boldly go where this Back Road Bimbler had never gone before, and check out some paths I'd not yet been down. This might not sound very adventurous, but these woods can be dense and the locals a bit strange. Or is it the other way round? Anyway, they're a funny lot round Ladock way, drink their own bath water n' stuff like that I suspect, so I didn't want to end up getting murdered by some wild haired, wide eyed, club carrying, man of the woods.

These woods are always wetter than those at Idless, thanks presumably to the not inconsiderable hill the latter reside on. So I splashed and slithered my way along familiar tracks until a junction where in the past I've stuck to the main drag and gone left. On this occasion, I checked around for watching eyes in the undergrowth, girded my loins, and pedaled off along the more overgrown path to the right, and deeper into the woods. 





Most of Ladock Woods consists of Pine trees, but this area boasted a motley collection of varying flavours of tree, and also a lot more in the way of brambles and general undergrowth. 

It had yet to rain at all, and in fact it didn't throughout the whole ride, but I don't mind that, as the over trousers do a good job of keeping my normal riding strides clean as Fatso flings and splashes mud and water as I ride along. Fatbikes do find good traction in mud, if you're travelling slowly to begin with and keep pedaling. The wheels might not always be going in the same direction, at the same time, but it's all controllable and good fun. I know from bitter, muddy footed experience, that the Voodoo just grinds to a wheel spinning halt in such slop. Hit the wet mud at speed however and things can get very unruly very quickly, as the tyres float instead of biting, and well... face planting the mire is a distinct possibility if you can't control the bars and keep them pointing more or less ahead.

So far, so good. I hadn't fallen into any nets or man traps, or encountered any strange people, although there were a few of those stick shelters about, but they get everywhere these days. Crack on then.
At one point though I did stop and investigate off the path, as I could hear water running. It turns out I'd found the stream that runs down the Eastern edge of the wood, before eventually running into the Tresillian River. As streams go it is quite a substantial one too, but frustratingly, appears from my maps at least, to be un-named. 
It was while I was poking about the bank of the stream that my worst fears came true and I had... an encounter. 
There was an urgent rustling in the undergrowth and the bushes twitched and fidgeted as something was making its way straight towards me... I could hear heavy breathing as the unseen beast got nearer, and my bum was twitching like a jittery Rabbit's nose as a large black, drooling, muscular, four legged beast burst out of the bushes a few feet away and made straight for me. 'Yikes' I thought. 'Parp' went my bum. "Don't worry, he doesn't bite" came a disembodied voice, as the slobbering, smiling, Black Labrador came blundering over to say hello, and frisk me with his probing nose for concealed Hob Nobs or Bacon Sandwiches. A few seconds later a walking type chap appeared and bade a hearty hello. Strewth... I'd nearly had another reason to be thankful I had my over trousers on.

 Hello, another fuzzy looking photo upload... Grrr...

Beside the stream, and where I nearly found what adrenaline smells like.

Not wanting to be surprised again I got back aboard Fatso and from then on, kept moving, back onto more familiar paths once again before finally finding myself back at the entrance, and stuck in that darned kissing gate again. One day I'll learn to take my rucksack off first...


 Right, that's it, time to get a move on...

From there it was just a casual ride back through the lanes, again cosily sheltered from the wind, and home for a quick blast off for Fatso courtesy of the pressure washer, and a shower for me followed by Chicken Noodle soup.  As I was sat with my steaming lunch, it battered it down outside as rain lashed the windows. That's the second time recently I've made it home just ahead of heavy rain, and long may my luck continue.

Last photo of the day, the obligatory bike by the log pile shot. Looks like it could be more Blogger induced fuzz. Right clicking on the photo and opening in a new tab sorts these wonky uploads out.

It's always a good feeling, relaxing, post shower, and after a good ride on a windy day, as you think back to the ride and what had gone just before. A thoroughly enjoyable ride, although it might be a while before I venture deeper into Ladock Woods again I must admit...

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Doris Day.

Ah ha! The Blogger editing gubbins is working again. I've been trying to access my reading list, and also blog myself, for a few days now, but have been frustratingly been presented with blank pages. This morning however, it's all back. Where it all went I know not, nor do I care - but I was looking into migrating to another bloggy hosting site, so we'll see how things go. Any more trouble though and I'm off in search of reliability and also something less knobbly to use.

But anyway, enough of all that, I've had a couple of rural mooches in the last week, as thankfully all is back to normal again in the spine department.

Thursday was a big day for everyone around most of the country, as it was Doris Day. Storm Doris (can they really not come up with something a bit more suitable than the daft names they've been giving our storms to date?) was due to reach land and cause havoc. Thankfully, down here in the South West, we were on the edge of the considerable swirl of venomous isobars, and as it turned out, Doris produced a fairly normal, windy, blustery day for us. Nothing unusual but still a stiff old wind blowing - a West North Westerly gusting to about 50 mph. We were lucky obviously, as up country people copped far worse. Mind you, 50 mph winds count as a near Gale, and a Force 7 on the Beaufort scale, but only scores a four on the Cornish stroppy hooley scale.

So given that Doris would be busy elsewhere, I made plans to have a ride on Thursday. Nothing much, but it would be good to get out. 


Excuse the outstanding crappiness of the photo, and the lack of housekeeping. This wasn't in fact a 'proper' photo anyway, just the result of dicking about with the camera, but I kept it and have lobbed it in here.

I've been exercising the other bikes a bit recently, so it was high time Fatso was dragged away from the comfort of the living room and saw action. This is a cycle (no pun intended) I always go through - get Fatso mucky while enjoying riding the thing. Eventually I give Fatso a thorough clean by way of reward and then don't want to take him out again to get filthy too soon, instead preferring to admire him while I'm sat watching Coronation Street my foreign language world affairs programmes. Ahem... keep going, no one will have noticed...


Fatso looking peachy after being dragged away from the comfort of the living room. Now to get him mucky!

I know, I've said it before, many times, but I love riding the Fatty. Bombing down the road out of the village I can't help grinning like a loon as the tyres rasp, the gears kerchanggg and the freehub sounds like a swarm of pissed off Wasps. This bike has character, at least I think so, it feels like an affable enthusiastic puppy heading out for a walk the way it blunders eagerly along the road, and it always feels good to get back in its saddle again.



Well the Daffs are out in the lane towards Idless Woods...

I had decided I'd head for a couple of Daffodil fields at Penmount, on the edge of Truro (by the Crematorium too) and adjacent to the main road. But that main road to me is like Garlic to a Vampire and I give it a swerve at every opportunity. It might be a long way round, and also involve a lung busting bad ass hill to climb, but I was going to nip through Idless Woods and approach from the other side. The aim was try and capture the wind roughing up the Daffodils by using a slow shutter speed and zooming right in to create some bright yellow blurriness. 

Passing through Idless Woods I went off piste, cutting off a corner on the main path and briefly made my way through the trees, picking my route over the fallen twigs and branches, and dodging stumps. The noise under the trees was terrific - so invigorating. The gush of the wind, the clacking, creaking and graunching of branches tangling and rubbing together, and the occasional twig falling to the ground. Meanwhile, at ground level all was still - it was fantastic.


It may look peaceful here, but it was all a bit lively, and refreshingly rowdy, above ground level as Storm Doris did her thing.

Back on the main path down the hill towards the car park progress was swift, and I was having to hold Fatso back on the brakes to avoid going too fast as the path is popular with dog walkers and besides, I scare easily.


 The Hamlet of Idless. Not exactly the hub of the universe, but that bungalow is for sale if anyone has the odd £465 grand knocking about.

The old phone box in Idless has now found new employment as a book exchange. A great idea I reckon, and one they are looking at in my village where a similar old phone box has just been purchased for a nominal pound from BT.

The River Allen at the far end of Idless. This is a good spot for free range Daffodils, Snowdrops and soon enough, Bluebells, but as you can see, no flowers were harmed in the making of this photo as they were all elsewhere and in places less photogenic. It wasn't to be the only photo fail of the day.

A quick stop to see what was going on in Idless (nothing much) and then another quick stop beside the River Allen to poke about among the Snowdrops. From there it was up the narrow lane to Penmount that climbs out of the valley and up the hill opposite Idless Woods. This is a steepie and I bailed out early on, resigned to pushing up the worst of the gradient.


Like the crematorium near the top of the hill, this boils the blood. A bit of fly tipping in Penmount Lane. 
The local Police recently had their loo stolen, but it's clear they don't know who did it, as they said they have nothing to go on...


Looking across to Idless Woods. If I'd been here half an hour earlier I could've watched myself coming down the track that is just visible near the top of the hill above old Fatso there.

Reaching the summit, and arriving at the gates to the fields I was targeting, I was met with disappointment. Some Daffodils were in flower, but they were in the minority. These fields are like a gert big yellow duvet when the Daffs are in flower, but I was obviously a tad early. The Daffs are out in force elsewhere, but here where they're grown commercially, they're a bit later reaching their best.
I still lobbed the telephoto lens on the trusty 450D and had a look at a few shots, but what I had in mind wasn't what I was finding in my viewfinder at all. Fail!

Oh well, there was nothing for it but to head back towards home, a mere ten minutes away if I took that main road, but no, the rumble of the heavy trucks accelerating away from the speed limit by the Crematorium just made my resolve to avoid the road stronger. It's just too narrow, too winding and too heavily trafficked for my liking. 

Heading back down the hill I was almost having to pedal as I bumped into Doris head on, and it also became Wet Nose Day - don't you just hate it when the wind blows the snot right out of your hooter?


 Coming back down the hill and going head to head with Doris. I had to take my sexy hat off and thread it over the bars to avoid it getting blown off my head and half way to Plymouth or something.
Despite being on the edge of Storm Doris, it was a stormy wind all the same. Usually you get gusts and then quiet bits in between. This storm, like all good storms, was a continuous blast of air, like being in a wind tunnel, with gusts on top of that.
This brings up one disadvantage of Fatbikes - the fat front wheel doesn't half catch the wind when it's coming from the side, making for some wavy wobbly progress at times as you get deflected off course and then have to correct it.

The lower part of Penmount Lane.

Instead of mooching back through the woods, I took the longer route home via the lanes, which being tree lined, offered a lot more shelter than the windswept affair at Penmount. 


 The lane around the edge of Idless Woods.

And another random lane shot, this time just above Lanner Mill, again, on the edge of Idless Woods.

So that was Doris down here - a bit feisty but nothing much to worry about, unlike for a lot of folk elsewhere unfortunately.


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Saturday 18 February 2017

Mojo Found!

It has been a good week on the whole, despite a possible major set back, but I have got my Mojo back from wherever I left it, and have had a couple of very satisfying days.

First up was Monday and a little TLC for the Jamis. I finally got around to fitting the new chain I'd bought for it a while back, and gave the cable disc brakes a tweak, followed by a thorough clean. Time spent doing these jobs is always time well spent, especially when things go well.

Tuesday came and after an anxiety filled trip into town, I got home and headed straight out again aboard the Jamis for a quick potter around the village, and my usual loop by way of a road test to make sure the chain was chooching as it should and I hadn't put it on inside out or anything daft.


Sunny St Erme. This field is earmarked for about 80 new houses... oh joy.



Outside the dead centre of the village...

It felt weird at first getting back on the gert big wagon wheeled Jamis, after Fatso and the Voodoo, it was like riding a five bar gate, and the cable brakes are definitely not in the one finger league, but it only takes a few yards to remember all this and I do enjoy riding this bike as much as the others to be honest. I only ride it on the road though, as the other two are both much better suited to low speed nidgery nadgery and mud plugging and so on. What the Jamis does is pace. It doesn't accelerate quite as readily but once you get it moving it feels very long legged and makes a delightful mechanical whirring noise. 


Bozzing along Tregassow Lane.

Wednesday wasn't so clever to start with, but by the evening I was getting the urge to go exploring - I needed a bit of an adventure! I really wanted, no needed, to get out and go somewhere preferably new, or at least seldom visited, and just poke about and take lots of photos. 

Thankfully, I was still feeling the urge the following morning, so once it was light I boarded the Jamis and set off into the mist, heading initially for the ruined church at Merther.

The weather out was superb! It was chilly at first in all the mist, but the sun kept trying to break through and it was clear that once it did, a nice day would result. But I wasn't in any rush for the sun to burn off the fuzziness, as it made for some good photos and stunning views all around.


 The lane from Trevella Stream up to Four Turnings junction.

There was one drawback to this mist though, it didn't half make the brakes howl! Coming down the hill into Tresillian I met a car coming up and so applied a goodly amount of brake, only to be rewarded with a noise like someone strangling a couple of Wolves. But that wasn't all, as the mist was coating every forward facing surface on both bike and old giffer, and that included my glasses which had droplets of water form near the bridge in the middle and so not only was the bike howling like a loon at the moon but I was trying to peer out from the lower part of the glasses as I braked to a stop, head cocked back as if I had a pony tail caught in the back wheel or something. What the driver coming the other way must've thought I don't know. 



Those puddles are from water running off the field on the right. The farmer has been spreading something on this field recently, and boy did that water pong - it was humming!

Where the sun failed to penetrate the mist properly, everything became almost monochrome.

Anyway, after hopping across the A390 at Tresillian I set about the long climb up towards Tregerrick. It's not steep by any means, just a bit of a long drag with not a lot to see in front as you climb - sky mostly, and the hedges lining the road. No, it's all going on behind, which is a good excuse to stop and have a good stare at the view I reckon as you can't see much looking over your shoulder.


The Tregothnan Estate Gatehouse at Tresillian is all Grade 2 listed, including those bollards.


Riding in the mist everything forward facing got covered in tiny water droplets, looking a bit like frost. This included my moustache/beard too, which made me look like I had shaving cream on my face...

I first visited the ruined church at Merther last Summer, and had decided then to return in Winter when the trees would hopefully be bare and a better view of the church might be available.

Sadly that wasn't the case, and the Western end of the church and its tower is still nigh on impossible to photograph satisfactorily thanks to all the trees being so close to it. 


Merther Church was abandoned in the mid twentieth century, but the grounds have recently started to be maintained once again.





A few years ago the whole plot was thick with brambles apparently (so my research on the net tells me anyway) but recently the churchyard has been cleared and appears to be regularly mown and strimmed. The building itself though is in a pretty rough state, and signs warn not to go inside. Truth is, there isn't a lot to see inside anyway, once again it's all overgrown in there to the point it's not worth even trying to get a photo.






The church was dedicated to St Coan who was a martyr apparently, but apart from that, I can't find anything much on the bloke. Information on the church itself is hardly generous either, but I do know it fell into disuse mid way through the 20th Century, and the font and bells now reside in the church at Tresillian.

The church is at the end of a dead end road, with only a farm and two houses for company, so to say it is quiet and peaceful there is to understate matters rather, and I spent almost an hour mooching about, reading gravestones and snapping away, and generally feeling very relaxed indeed.


 It's that yellow time of year again already, when the fields round hereabouts are full of Daffodils. The sun has just started winning the struggle against the mist...

A rather splendid looking tree at Eglosmerther, opposite Merther church.

Looking on various maps suggests a road or path continuing on from Merther church but it goes through the farm yard, and there were signs up saying 'private - no public access' and 'bugger off' and so on, so it was back the way I'd come again, just as the sun started to win the fight with the mist. Like someone slowly opening a curtain, the sun broke through and warmed me up considerably to the point where I needed to stop and lose the jumper I had on beneath my jacket, and swap gloves too.


It takes me ages to ride anywhere, 'cos I'm always looking for possible photos, and that includes stopping frequently to look at what is behind me. On this occasion I was rewarded with the above view just as the mist was lifting. Within minutes, it had completely gone.

From Merther I headed down another dead end road that leads down to the armpit of the Tresillian and Truro River's confluence. The lane was steep but with (very) fleeting river views on both sides as it descends to distract the vista hungry cyclist who strays down it. At the bottom though, lies disappointment. A couple of houses and more signs saying 'sod off' and 'be off with you' and so on, or words to that effect. So there was nothing else to do but to turn around and slog back up the hill to the top again.


Halfway down the hill to erm... not much actually. 


The Tresillian River is in shot here, but the Truro River joins it just out of sight in a fold in the countryside on the left. 
I went down the hill on the left. This was taken at the top after coming all the way back up again. I knew it was a dead end from consulting the maps, and there is a sign there too of course, but I had hoped there'd be at least something to see at the bottom, but it wasn't to be.


Dropping down the hill just at the start of Lamorran Wood, and what a superb day it was turning out to be.

Once back on the bigger road again, I sallied forth heading along new roads to me, bound for Ruan Lanihorne. All around this area is land belonging to the Tregothnan Estate, and it is also an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, with creek views and unspoiled woodland in every direction. Riding in the sunshine was nothing but a delightful pleasure, but all was about to come unglued...


 Down the bottom of the hill and where the road bisects Lamorran Wood with a small meadow on the right for added photo appeal. It was while shooting these shots that the bike dropped its chain.




Where the lane bisects Lamorran Wood I was doing a bit of photography, doing a ride past with the camera on the tripod, and then a couple of on board Go Pro shots, to get some movement into my photos. It was while doing the second Gopro shot that the Jamis dropped its chain off the small front chainring, leaving me coasting along, but not especially perturbed, after all, I've had a dropped chain before, it's no big deal is it. Is it? Well yes, it flipping was! Quite how a chain can casually drop off, yet wedge itself so tightly twixt chainring and Bottom Bracket I don't know, but it was resisting all attempts to fish it out with my trusty Leatherman pliers. Nothing for it but to turn the bike upside down and try and fnnnnngggg.... bas....tad....fish the fugnnnnnnn.... chain out woo you.....fnnnngggg....bast... that flipping way... Finally, after much industrial language and bloodied fingers, out came the chain. Being about 12 miles from home at this point, I had started to become just a little concerned at the state of events as I imagined what it would be like to do the walk of shame and push the errant bike home. It would be rather painful I knew that, so when the chain relinquished its grip and broke free so I could replace it on the chainring, the relief just washed over me and I broke out in a big smile - the ride was saved! Erm....

What I then did, in all my relief, was to grab big handfuls of bike and lift to flip it back onto its wheels. Big mistake. I ricked my dodgy back a right one. It felt like someone just lobbed 50,000 volts up my spine, down my legs and around my ribs. It wrung the breath right out of me and I dropped the bike sharpish as the air once again was turned as blue as the sky by some rather advanced level swearing. It bloody hurt I can tell you. I now had a fully functioning bike again, but could hardly move to get on it! Hmmmm.... this ride wasn't going quite so well now... 


Gadzooks this day has taken a turn for the worse... Not only was I leaking claret all over the place, but I'd just given my back an almighty tweak. I took this just as I was slowly getting back on the bike again. The other hand was leaking just a bit too. Darned sharp these chainrings...

All I could do was was painfully lower myself down and sit propped up against a fence post and let everything relax, while swallowing the two remaining Ibuprofen I had on me. Slowly the tightness and pains all over my back ebbed away and I gingerly got back up. I tweaked it again and pain shot up my spine, but it subsided again after a few moments. Slowly, painfully and carefully, I managed to get all my guff together and get back on the bike, amid many tweaks and bouts of shooting pain. The aim was obviously just to get home, but going back the way I'd come wasn't the best option, or so I thought, going forwards and staying on the route I'd planned would be the best way to go. As it happened maybe going back might've been shorter, but there we go.


Setting off again with the aid of gravity, but this proved to be too fast for comfort, literally.

I did stop however to capture this burned out car near Ruan Lanihorne. One of the benefits of wearing an ugly bum bag is having the camera easily to hand.

I set off coasting down the hill wincing and grimacing at every slight bump, despite having the soft front suspension unlocked to ease the ride. It was too much, I had to slow down, and ended up in the very bottom gear pedaling extremely slowly, as every stroke of the pedals meant pain around my lower back. Going so slowly at least made bumps in the road easier to avoid or anticipate. The first uphill gave me a fresh problem of course, and I soon ground to a halt. But having painfully managed to get off, I found I could push the bike. It still hurt, but I was also still moving homewards, albeit very slowly. As I slowly plodded on, back on the bike on the flat and downhills, pushing on the ups, the pain was lessening and the tweaks getting fewer. Eventually, after 12 of the slowest miles I have ever done in my life, I made it home and was able to set about sorting myself out with tablets and rest.


Crappy map of the route. Merther Church is at the end of the dead end road numbered 6, the other dead end is number 10 and my back went ping roughly by the 'o' of Lamorran. 25 miles was the total and the weather was splendid, so despite the problems with bike and spine, I still enjoyed the ride immensely.
The full size map can be found at http://gb.mapometer.com/running/route_4483965.html
Why it says I was running I don't know - chance would be a fine thing!

Now, a couple of days later, my back is a heck of a lot better, in fact, it feels better than it has been in ages. The recovery has been quicker than usual, which is odd, but I'm not complaining!

The main thing is though, it hasn't dented my confidence, and if anything, it has actually given it a boost. I have always had concerns with regard to my back and what I'd do if I really ricked it while out. I've tweaked it many a time, and headed for home immediately, but never as badly as this, and certainly not out in the middle of nowhere with a bike in tow! But I made it home. It hurt like hell at the time but at least I made it, and what's more, with my Mojo still feeling refreshed, it hasn't spoiled the ride for me. I enjoyed every moment until the chain fell off, and as I think back to it now, I think of the positives rather than the negatives, which is unusual for me to say the least! Maybe all the pills I take are starting to work at last!

Whatever, it was a great day to be out and about, and I'm glad I went. I plan to head back to those roads and that area again soon too, as it is clearly all right up my street! 


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