Muddy Marvelous.

Flipping fuzzy photos are frustrating and infuriating, but right click and open in a new tab and all will be right and proper.

Either it was a sunny day last Saturday, or Pentecost from Camborne has been beggaring about splitting atoms in his garden shed again...

There's nothing like discovering a new Bridleway to explore, especially when, like me, you think you've pretty much ridden them all in your area. But, as mentioned in my previous post, I'd discovered a Bridleway I'd not seen before, either in the flesh as it were, or noticed on the maps. Further more, checking it out on said maps, showed it promised much of the good stuff - routing well away from roads, woodland, a ford, and at the southern end, the site of a Medieval Settlement, so the distinct possibility this track would be an ancient one.

I had thought of leaving this Bridleway until the Spring, but with Fatso still bleddy hangin' (Cornish for being a little dirty) from the previous week's adventures, and with my curiosity and excitement pricked, I set off last Saturday morning in the sunshine retracing much of the route I'd done the week before.

It was a still morning, just a light breeze blowing, but it was a Northerly one again, and rather cold. Thankfully not cold enough for a frost or for ice to form though, so after plenty of hefty showers of rain, sleet and hail over night, the roads were a tad wet and messy rather than lethally slippery.

Looking back the way I'd come on the lane to Lanner Mill. I had that sun behind me thankfully, as going into it at this time of year is a sure recipe for a headache I find.

Of course the trouble with the lanes is they wander about all over the shop, so in places I didn't have the sun behind me, but had it strobing away in the corner of my eye through the trees at times.

A glimpse of the new build estate going up in Shortlanesend. The shared bike/pedestrian path here is closed in by that huge temporary wall for much of the route into the village, but just here we lucky nosy folk get to peer in at all the chaos and mess going on as new homes are thrown up.

This path follows the track of the main road, and on the other side of that road, another similar estate has just started building work. More green fields, trees, hedgerows and habitat lost, more excessive run off to over power the existing drains when it pelts down. We need thousands of new homes, apparently, but the infrastructure round here is at bursting point as it is. Cornwall is a very, very different place to when I was growing up, and it isn't the better for it.

From Shortlanesend it was a relatively short blast along the main road to where I wanted to be, but after the previous week's close passes by fast moving traffic, I wasn't looking forward to it one bit. 

As it happened, this week there was a lot less traffic and no nasty moments at all, yet it was the same time of day on the same day of the week. Odd how these things happen.

Target reached, the Bridleway past Choon where it meets the main road at Allet Paddocks.

The Bridleway starts off with some very easy riding, as it is a tarmac lane, albeit with grass growing thickly up the middle, down to the farm at the rather oddly named Choon.

This cattle grid was a beauty - not slippery like the matal ones, but properly rough even with Fatso's portly tyres. Double vision time this was.

After about 3/4 of a mile the lane bends left into the farm while the bridleway goes straight ahead down along the line of the trees. 

The first section off road runs down a slight hill to a big left bend where those two trees are, and along here the going was a bit stodgy, but perfectly rideable.

Looking back up the hill to where I'd just come from, with the roof of Choon farmhouse just visible.

And the view looking ahead, with a helpful sign post to point the way, not that you'd need such help really, it is pretty obvious where the Bridleway goes.

But all of a sudden, the riding has gone from a bit stodgy to looking a bit wet and gooey...

Woo this is getting squelchy...

The ground here was saturated, and the mud in places wheel suckingly deep. But running downhill still riding was still possible as long as I kept moving. Coming to a halt in such deep mud made getting going again difficult. Too low a gear and the back wheel spun uselessly, too high a gear and I couldn't push the gear, and the front wheel, through the mud far enough to get my left foot up on the pedal before coming to a halt again. At times the fat front tyre was a bit of a hindrance as it needed quite some effort to push it through the deep and wet mud.

Just a bit gloopy...

At this point the track is running down to the ford where it crosses a stream, and it appears all the ground water is following the track down there as well, as this section was very wet.

Odd how clean the tyres and the bike stayed through all the quagmire though, probably because it was so wet all the mud just ran off rather than clumping up all over the place.

It's always the sign of a good ride when you get bits of plant, tree, walker's bobble hats, small furry creatures and so on stuck to your bike.

View off to the side at the above spot and some rather old looking woodland. Dodgy the going might have been, but I was having fun, and the effort involved in riding to this Bridleway was well worth it.

Another look down the hill towards the stream.

When I saw the magic word - 'Ford' on the maps, I envisaged perhaps something rather more exciting than this I must admit. A rope slung across the raging waters to guide the traveler across and help prevent him/her/yet to make their mind up, from getting swept away perhaps. A bridge off to the side for the less intrepid to avoid getting their boots wet. 

All I got was this bit of a trickle, but still, there it is and jolly nice it was too.

One thing the stream did provide though was a good opportunity for some much needed housekeeping - the chance to wash a couple of pounds of mud off each boot. Bizarrely the bike's tyres stayed free of clingy mud, not so my Beetle Crushers, so I was glad to get them clean again.

Only to go and sink in up to the ankle when pushing the bike through that gate beside the stream... doh! There's never a walker's dog, or a sheep, a young child perhaps, to wipe all the muck off your boots on when you need one. Back to the stream I went...

Emerging from the trees beside the stream the route of the Bridleway isn't so clear. There is a big gap off to the bottom left of this shot, so does it go left and across, left of the hedge and up, or right of the hedge and up. I looked up at the horizon and it looked like keeping the hedge to my left was the way to go, and it proved correct.

Nice to see the farmer not cultivating right up to the very edge of the field/Bridleway, but leaving a good stretch to its own devices. Good for wildlife and all that.

Passing from the open field to tree cover once more, and although the going was muddy again, it was shallow mud and made for easy riding.

Up through this last section of the Bridleway there was a great sense of this being an ancient thoroughfare. I'd enjoyed the ride thus far, but up through here things got even more interesting with old Cornish Hedges up on the high banks either side of the track, and all around was riddled with holes, tunnels and burrows. At night this must be teeming with hairy arsed nightlife.

 Badger Town. One mound in particular was peppered with entrances to Badger Setts.

Given there is the site of a Medieval Settlement about 150 yards up the hill behind me here as I took this, I couldn't help but wonder if this had been a route used way back then. Amazing to think of who may have trudged along here in the past.

Where the rubber meets the road - End of the Bridleway where it meets the lane towards Tregavethan or New Mills.

The Bridleway had been well worth the ride, and even though the mud made for some very heavy going and some spine bothering bike pushing, I really enjoyed being immersed in the surroundings. I must've gone two hours without seeing another soul as I poked about, and that's always good!

In summer of course this may be a tad busier with horse riders and walkers, we shall see, as I am already looking forward to better weather and riding this route again, particularly in Spring when the wild flowers will be putting on a display.

Back on tarmac as I headed along the wet lanes towards New Mills.

Whoop! I do like a good ford to belt through, and after the slight disappointment of the off road one earlier, I was going to enjoy myself with this one alright.

Sppppppllllooooosssshhhh!

Great fun!

Random lane shot.

Heading back I took the handy short cut option through Idless Woods where some Mushrooms/Toadstools/Fungi growing out of the bank caught my eye.

What they are I don't know. I did try and look some Fungus or other up in the past to try and identify it properly and get a species name. Big mistake! My word that is a complicated subject. I'll leave it with Fungusy things then.

 Crappy map of the ride.

And a bit of detail of where the Bridleway lurks.

The full version of the mapping can be found HERE

So another great ride in the bag, and one I'll definitely be repeating in the future.

Fatso was both a help and a hindrance really on this ride. Normally I have no problem with mud in most of the places I ride, it's never too deep and with the Fatbike giving good traction, it's not an issue.

At times on this ride, once again the bike was an ally, just driving forwards through all manner of slop that I know would see my thinner wheeled Voodoo floundering in a blur of wheelspin. But also there were occasions when that big front tyre made it's presence felt, acting more like a plough needing pushing through the clag. The ideal set up for this route would be a fat rear wheel/tyre for traction and a skinny front for cutting through the slop rather than pushing it aside.

Of course, the 27.5 plus Marin, with its three inch tyres might be the correct compromise, but that would mean getting that bike, my 'best' bike all mucky... Oh no no no... that ain't happening any time soon... Maybe I'll take it along there in summer, when I know it isn't so muddy!

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Bridleway Bimbling.

As ever, any blurry looking photos, just right click and open in a new tab.

Muddy trousers, muddy boots, muddy tyres - I've been having some fun.

Before all that though, some news both good and bad.

Issue 20 of Boneshaker Magazine is out, and it's always a good day when the latest issue plops through my letterbox. Pricey, yes, but these sort of magazines are keepers, not read once and chuck in the recycling jobbies, these have more substance about them. Quality is the word here, the paper used, the design, the writing and reading, and the illustrations are all of the good stuff.

I'm a bit of a latecomer to Boneshaker, having only got the last four issues before this one, and a compilation book, but I've thoroughly enjoyed reading them all, and then reading them all over again.

Sadly though, we get to the bad news, this issue, issue 20, is the last one, and now Boneshaker will join The Ride Journal in my list of much missed publications. 

Both Boneshaker and The Ride were sort of 'hobby' magazines, put together by people with a 'proper' job to go to and for whom producing the magazines was where their spare time disappeared. Labours of love rather than a paying nine to five. So a shame to see them both cease publication, but better to go out on top though, when the quality of output is still high, than carry on in a half hearted manner, or sell out to some big publishing company or other.

Tyres are a funny thing. Not so long ago I swapped the tyres front and back on Fatso, to even out the wear a little bit and I've been having trouble ever since. I've read a lot of reports of Fatbike tyres self steering, and was glad that on Fatso this wasn't an issue on or off road. Bike and I just rumbled over anything as you'd expect really - no dramas. But since swapping the tyres round, the front end has been squirming and wriggling about on tarmac a fair old bit. This has baffled me, as the tyres aren't front or rear specific, you can bung 'em on either end, and both are fitted the correct way round for forward motion. I've dicked about with the pressures a bit to no avail, so it must just be having a slightly more worn tyre on the front, but not worn by much more it has to be said. 

Most odd, and setting off on a cold Saturday morning I wasn't best pleased to find the front end still writhing about after another change of tyre pressure. Oh well, this is the way things are going to be from now on I suppose, should've just left well alone.

Feeling a bit fitter physically than of late, I had decided on a bit of off road adventure was in order for my Saturday, and was bound for a favourite Bridleway that I've only previously ridden in the middle of Summer.

Dropping down the hill to Lanner Mill, which rhymes.

My cheeks and nose were as rosy as the red of my jacket given the rather bracing temperature on Saturday. T'was cold as a Penguin's Plums out, and before setting off I had not only donned Long Johns, but also silk inner gloves beneath my winter gloves - a relic from my motorcycling days. A little feel is lost in return for a bit of extra warmth, but I can put up with that. As it was, my Pasty Grabbers got flipping cold messing about with the tripod and camera setting this shot up, so I was glad to get the gloves back on, even if I couldn't feel the remote shutter release button with my thumb. 

Despite the chilly air, it was actually very pleasant out, not sunny but I don't mind that in Winter, and with very little wind - thankfully. 

The countryside was alive with the distant sounds of gunfire though, as various shoots were busy blowing slow moving birds to smithereens, and also a couple of smells. It may be winter but there was still an Autumnal pong in the air, a very pleasant whiff it must be said, but it was frequently joined a rather flatulent smelling odour emanating from the fields as crops of Cabbages are being harvested all around. 

Winter trees near Lanner Barton.

A random fly past shot out 'in the countryside' (a euphemism for I don't know exactly where this is as it's in the middle of nowhere).

I set up the DSLR on the tripod and made my way up the hill on the left of the shot and round the bend, ready to ride past the camera. I was just climbing on when three roadies came round the corner towards me wondering loudly what that camera was doing stood in the field. If I'd have known they were coming I'd have snapped them, as they'd have made a better photo here than the one I took of myself.

It is quite amazing just what can grow on the top of a granite bridge parapet.

After the bridge shot above, I mooched along the anonymous lane, heading towards Allet, and was rewarded at one point beneath some trees by the sight of a Fox crossing the road just in front of me. I love encounters like that, little moments of magic, whether the beast in question is a Mouse, a Fox, a Deer or Hare, or some airborne Raptor or another, these brief glimpses of wild life are always a bit special to experience.

Allet reached, I then turned onto the main road from Truro to the A30 and/or Perranporth, and despite having little more than a mile to ride, I still had a couple of high speed close passes, despite the road being of a decent width. Some drivers seem to be in their own little steel bubble with no fear or appreciation of consequences or repercussions. When I'm Prime Minister my first job will be to ban all in car safety aids, make all cars noisy, cold and draughty, and have wobbly steering and tyres fitted by law. Fill the insides with metal rather than soft touch plastics, and drivers might then drive a little more carefully.

In making cars ever safer, the manufacturers are actually making them more dangerous for everyone else using the roads. This though is nothing new, it goes back at least to the early days of Volvo promoting their ground breaking safety features and tank like builds, and the term 'Volvo Driver' becoming a byword for any conversation about bad drivers. The more vulnerable someone feels, the safer they will behave both towards themselves, and others.

Another step might be to make close passing vehicles fair game for any hammer wielding cyclist - make large hammers standard fit on every bicycle sold - panel bashing for the use of, and the riders not just immune from prosecution, but positively encouraged, rewarded perhaps, for giving any reckless driver's car a good bashing. That'd sort 'em.

Ah... I drifted off into the realms of fantasy there for a moment... back to the ride...

Now beat me on the backside with a rolled up copy of The Rough-stuff Journal, but knocking along the lane I took from the main road I caught a glimpse of my favourite colour of post mounted arrow guarding a path I'd somehow overlooked when scouring maps, both paper and online. Here was a very tempting looking Bridleway that I didn't even know existed! I must've ridden past it twice before too, so how I've managed to miss it thus far I don't know. 

Looking on the mappage once home, this Bridleway looks a stonkingly good one to ride - right up my street as it were, so rest assured I'll be back pretty soon to check it out. 

Down the hill from Tregavethan Manor, the road passes over the River Kenwyn, which pops up out of the ground not far from here, and runs right down through Truro and into the river there.

The (flipping fuzzy) view looking upstream. I had gone paddling again to get these photos, stood with water almost up to my ankles and with the camera on the tripod to allow slower shutter speeds. Waterproof boots are so liberating - no way would I venture into the water in the boots I wore in the past.

Another shot from in the River Kenwyn, this time from the downstream side.

The local BMW car dealer must have done very well from the people round here as every darned car that went over this bridge was a BMW of one flavour or another. I noticed this as nearly all of them slowed to a stop to gawp first at the bike, then at the scruffy twerp stood in the middle of the river. 

Just over the bridge, once I'd finished dicking about in the river, was my target, the Bridleway to Treworder.

The early part of the Bridleway actually carries motor traffic as access to a house and also farm traffic. Riding in these tyre tracks proved the easiest option here - the mud up the middle being very thick and clawing.

Fatso, even at this point in the proceedings and well into the track, was still looking surprisingly clean. It wouldn't last though, and bike and rider soon got mucky.

The find of the day - this rather old horse shoe, which is now in my back garden performing decorative duties. 

The track has got just a little muddier.

The going might've been wet, sloppy and gloopy, but there was still some colour to be found, even in the puddles.

A cringeworthy self portrait in Treworder Wood.

The Bridleway finishes up the side of a farm house at Treworder, where it joins the lane between New Mills and Threemilestone.

Remains of a downed tree in the lane twixt Treworder and New Mills.

The River Kenwyn again, and the bigger of the two fords at New Mills. Despite recent bad weather, the water wasn't running too deeply or fast, otherwise I'd have taken the path to the side. I rode Fatso through here once when it was running high and fast, and discovered, much to my buttock clenching surprise, just how much those big tyres get pushed around by the fast moving water.

Every one's a fuzzy one...

After the lung busting climb up from New Mills I had a quick chooch along the shared bike/pedestrian path into Shortlanesend. By now though, time was getting on and the Brain of Britain here had set off without bothering to take any lights, so it was time to get a shake on.

One of the hazards of hooning in the countryside - Country Dumplings on the racing line.

So with time being against me, I had me a bit of a thrash for home, to round off what had been a very enjoyable ride indeed. It's not often I ride hard like I did on Saturday as I pressed for home, well, riding hard by my standards anyway, but I got home feeling pretty darned good as it happens, very invigorated. 

Fatso meanwhile, wonky steering apart, handled it all with his usual aplomb, but is now rather muddy again, but there we go, you can't make an Omelette without getting your bike dirty.

Quick map of the route. The Bridleway is where the trace goes straight as an arrow through point number 7.

The full map can be found HERE although the map doesn't show the entire route, as I couldn't get it to track the return home from point B, which was the the same way I'd ridden out, so it shows the mileage as being short by about 4 miles.

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