Tuesday 20 March 2018

Well That Escalated Quickly...

As ever, if a photo looks a bit fuzzy at your end, right click it and open in a new tab.

An alternative title for this guff might have been 'The Beast from the East - The Sequel', because we've had some more solid weather in the Duchy of Cornwall in the last few days. 

As ever, the media had been going into a frenzy in the build up to the weekend just gone, as the forecast suggested we in my neck of the woods, could see a bit of snow on the Saturday night and again during Sunday afternoon. By Monday, it should all be over. Nothing too dramatic you'd think, but a quick look on the local newspaper's web page on Saturday found this:


One iffy night and following day in the forecast, at the weekend no less, and people are panic buying. 

But anyway, for a snow lover like me, all this sounded very exciting - could we here in Cornwall, where snow is a bit of a rarity, really get a second helping after having just had an unusually large dollop a couple of weeks beforehand? Excited but also sceptical I was as Saturday passed along with only the lightest of snow flurries blowing in the wind.

However, come Sunday morning, I woke up to find a little snow lying on my shed roof and in the grass, but better was to come when consulting the Met Office web site which had got rather interesting since my last visit. Nothing much through the morning but come 12 pm a 30% chance of snow, and from 1 pm through to 3 pm, a 95% chance... Now that looked very promising! 

Anyway, I was feeling up for a ride, so delayed my departure until just before 12, when I set off mainly bound for Ladock Woods, and hoping things would get interesting as the ride went on.


On the climb up from Trevella Stream towards Five Turnings and a quick Daffodil photo stop. More of these particular Daffs later...

Feeding the birds that morning I'd found the air a tad sharp - it was pretty flipping cold. So I'd set off wearing my full Arctic going attire of multiple layers, including disposable rubber gloves under my winter gloves, long johns under full trousers, and with leggings over the top and so on. During the previous bout of snow I'd worn a fleece lined hat with drop down ear flaps and setting off on Sunday I regretted my decision to leave that piece of loft insulation at home on this occasion. My ears and the back of my neck were really feeling the cold, and I was wondering just how much I was going to enjoy this ride, and even pondered wimping out and going home again. Thankfully though, I soon acclimatised and any thoughts of wussishness were swiftly forgotten.


Sunday started off a beautiful, if chilly, day, with bright sunshine and blue skies. The temperature for late morning was supposed to be 2.7 degrees with an 8 mph East North Easterly wind, so nothing too bad even if first exposure to the great outdoors did cause a little consternation at first, mostly around my ears.

Well it's all green on the hill up from Boswiddle Ford...

And still nothing unusual to report as I took a swoop along the lane beside Ladock Woods towards Trendeal. I couldn't make my mind up as to where I wanted to end up riding really, so went back to the original idea of having some off road nose pokery around the woods. So, I turned round and started back the way I'd just come.
By the way, who says Fatbikes can't chooch on tarmac? They are nowhere near as slow and draggy as some folk would have it, and 20 mph (No funny money KPH here thank you, only Great British Miles Per Hour) on the flat is an easy(ish) cruising speed to maintain.

Now, I've said it on here before that when the Met Office get it right, they get it very right. And very right they got it on Sunday, as just ten minutes after the suggested time, at precisely 13.10, the first flurries of snow floated about in the air. It was actually snowing lightly when I took this photo of Fatso bothering an unsuspecting gate, but so small and fine were the snowflakes, they barely show up in the image. Anyway, back to Ladock Woods for some off road fun, only to be...

Denied!
This new sign has appeared in the car park so I thought I'd go and have a read, see what was occurring. 
Oh Bums. Big Bums.
Well there it is, 'No bikes.' Doesn't say what sort of bikes mind, it is rather (and I suspect deliberately) vague in that respect, but I imagine they include mountain bikes and pedal bikes in general. If they'd meant motorbikes only, they'd have said so. 

So Ladock Woods is a no fly zone after all - I have wondered in the past to be honest, hence my preferred day to visit being a Sunday when there'd be no official lumberjack types around to tell me to beggar off. Damn shame though, as I've enjoyed my woodland rides there.

The next time Old Big Ears (otherwise known as 'Chuck the Hippy' or more formally HRH Prince Charles, the Duke of Cornwall) is down this way I think I'll go and have a stiff word with him.

By the way, I have met Charley once before, at Tregadillet Fair. It was a scorching hot Summer's day, and Charles was there to open the fair, but interestingly, on such a hot day, he was wearing a Fox Fur hat. Well I thought that was odd, and the poor chap was clearly sweating like crazy, so I went up and spoke to him - "I'm sorry your Royal Highness, but I can't help noticing you're wearing a Fox Fur hat, and wondered why you'd chosen that Fox Fur hat on such a hot day."

"Well" said Prince Charles, "I was at breakfast this morning with Mother (HRH The Queen) when she asked what I was doing today. I said that I was going to Tregadillet and she replied - "Wear the Fox hat..."

Ahem, the above story may not be entirely true...

Anyway, joking aside and back to Sunday's bimblery. The snow was starting to fall a bit thicker by now, so having been denied my woodland potter, I thought I'd make my way towards home, so took the lane towards Trispen and set about ambling along wondering (hoping) if the snow would get better.

A quick photo stop on the bridge over a stream (no names given on any of my mapping) and a close look reveals there is snow falling alright, but it's not yet settling.

It's the same story just a little further along the lane...

Just a little snow falling and nothing much to panic about. However, I had noticed, when stopping to take a photo, how quiet it was, a sure sign of snow in the air.
Now look at the road ahead in the above shot, and around that left bend lies an ugly great hill, the sort of hill you find yourself tipping over backwards when riding up it's that steep.* 
Well, by the time I'd slogged my way up that hill, things meteorological had moved along a bit.
*May be a slight over exaggeration... 

This was the state of affairs at the top of the hill, and it's getting a bit blizzardy. Settling too! Those trees are looking very photoworthy for a start.


Some Primroses and Daffs looking good in the hedge, but back to those trees...


Woo yeah! This is getting good!
No monochrome processing in the above shots by the way, they are in colour it's just the world went a bit black and white.


Messing about taking shots of the flowers and trees, I'd left Fatso parked in the hedge for a few minutes, and came back to find the bike copping a good covering.




Oh we're having some fun...
Pity though that it wasn't settling on the roads.
It might look a tad inhospitable, but I was toasty warm, and dry too, so riding slowly along taking in the occasion was nothing but a pleasure.

 Well maybe it is settling on the tarmac after all...




It was after the above shot of Fatso that the GoPro battery threw in the towel. I'm still using the battery it came with, and it's run time has reduced dramatically anyway, but in cold weather it really doesn't last long at all, despite me doing everything I could to prolong the charge.


The wind turbine near Five Turnings, and yes, some of those snowflakes were big. And wet. Some of them come fitted with an ear homing device as well, landing squarely and wetly in my unprotected lug holes with unerring accuracy.


With the GoPro out of commission, I had to take even more chances with the G1 X, which lacks weather sealing.


Five Turnings Junction.
From here I could've turned right behind the big tree in the photo immediately above, or gone straight ahead and down the hill towards Trevella Stream. I was undecided which way to go, so went left instead...

 And was rewarded with this scene as the lane winds up the hill towards Four Turnings.


 The same stand of trees following an ancient hedge, but from a different angle.

And zoomed in. (Starting a sentence with 'and' is supposed to be a big no-no, but knickers to that...).

While snapping the above shots, a woman walked into view and commented on me being 'brave' being out and about on a bike in that weather. Well you weren't so sane looking yourself out walking my love!
Anyway, I then rode back to Five Turnings, and after more indecision, I elected to take the more direct route home, via Trevella Stream once again.

Remember those Daffs at the start of this blog? Well here they are again a couple of hours later.

Taking the shot of the Daffodils saw the G1 X throw a tantrum and the LCD screen turned all white. I still got the above zoomed in photo of the lane leading down to Trevella Stream by deploying guessery and estimation. I suspected the issue was with the rather wet, and cold LCD screen rather than the camera itself, so was banking on it still recording photos ok, as long as I could compose them. But I did still have the DSLR in my armoury, so out that came as these trees were just too good not to photograph.



Moving on I got down to Trevella Stream but couldn't get a decent photo of the bridge or water so made for a gateway instead.

Habit (and forgetfulness!) saw me grab the G1 X again, and I found the LCD screen working as usual once more, just long enough at any rate, to grab this last photo of the day. 

From there, I made my way home as the snow had eased up, and I was in need of food, and coffee too.
Thankfully, the camera appears to have made a full recovery, and is working again as per normal. Fingers crossed it stays that way and no hidden damage was done by the weather. I'd hate to have this camera go kaput, as I don't know what I'd replace it with to be honest, other than another used example of the same model. It really is a very good camera and ideal for my requirements, other than for macro work that is, it's pants at that. So much do I like it, I'm considering buying another used one anyway, just to put away for the day when this examples chooches its last photo. 

Anyway, we had another goodly dump of snow, and hugely enjoyable it was too riding along in it and seeing the landscape being transformed before my eyes in such a short time.

The other good thing was I was pretty much (lone walker apart) the only person out and about, and even by a Sunday's standards, the lanes were quiet and everything was so peaceful.

Meanwhile, despite all the above, we here in my part of the country got away lightly, as further up, particularly in Devon and Somerset, they copped a right hefty fall, so I was still a little jealous - I'm a greedy git you see, always wanting more when it comes to snow!

So here I am, at the end of a beautiful sunny day, but nursing a tricky spine once again, thinking how good value 2018 has been so far, but that we've probably seen the last of any snow for a long while. Ah well... let's have a mooch around the internet, starting with the local news site once more, and hello... what's this then?



No... surely not, it couldn't snow down here again, could it? 

Fingers crossed...

-----------------



Saturday 17 March 2018

Making a Splash With Some Litter Picking.

Oh hayup... That's looking a bit wet that is. 
Tregassow Lane, up the shallow end.

Thursday dawned reasonably bright and sunny, after a rather rumbustious night of roaring rain that battered my windows periodically throughout the night. Weather warnings for severe rain had been in place so it wasn't unexpected, and sure enough, the local news web sites were full of stories of people up to their nostrils in floodwater and so on. One such 'flood event' as a big puddle seems to be called these days even took place in this very village, at the bottom of Trispen Hill and erm, right beside the new build housing estate that is in the process of being built, and has already been sporting a pop up lake most of the winter, as always appeared in that corner of the site every year when it was just a field. 

I've not seen a flood at the bottom of that hill before, so wonder if the building site has played a part in the way of blocked drains from mud collecting, or increased run off already taking its toll. 

Anyway, being a nosey beggar erm... being a concerned citizen and with a litter picking ride in mind, I set off on the Voodoo to go and gawp at the flood only to find it had all gone, and some rather large hoses lying on the verge from where some furious pumping or sucking action had obviously been going on. The show home opens for the first time today, so no doubt the developer was keen to get shot of that flood pronto. They won't be able to hide the big lake in the corner of the site though so lets hope any prospective buyers notice it and pick their plot carefully.

Anyway, the aim of the day's ride was to mooch along Tregassow Lane litter picking, and photography/bloggery wasn't really on my radar, so story telling with photos has once again fallen by the wayside and there are no shots of the gloopy building site to illustrate all that. Maybe next time.

As expected, after such a hefty deluge the night before, Tregassow Lane was also flooded, as it does with remarkably regularity, despite being closed recently for work to be done along it.

Now I'm a big kid when it comes to dicking about on a bike in water, and I always enjoy a goodly splash through deep puddles and fords, and also grabbing some photos too if I can.

So I rode through the lightly flooded early part of the lane in the photo above and made for my usual favourite floody photo spot just around the bends a bit further on, as it's always a bit deeper along there.

With my main 'proper' cameras not being weather sealed professional jobbies, getting them wet is a big no-no, so getting a GoPro was very liberating for me, allowing photos to be taken in all sorts of interesting (well, to me anyway...) ways. 

First of all though, I went for the Sea Gull's eye view via my selfie stick...

Casting off for some splashy shots, and I should've tidied up the bin bag hanging out of the right pannier, but hey ho.
My maths teacher always impressed on we kids the importance of showing our workings, so there's the selfie stick in all it's cheap and cheerful glory.


I don't know what I was doing when the wind changed, but that's a stupid look on my face...

Selfie sticks can be quite useful for things other than Instagramming one's mush and trout pout a hundred times a day...

Putting the selfie stick away I then lobbed the Manfrotto Super Clamp on the fork leg to allow some more stable, wobble free, shots.
I have no qualms about piling into the water on this stretch of road at maximum chooch, as there's little chance of rocks getting washed down onto the tarmac and laying in submerged wait, and there is no slime on the road surface either, unlike the slick tarmac to be found in some fords.
It's alright by the way, those boots are waterproof...

Oh yuck... My left trouser leg prevented water reaching my sock/boot top, but the trouser clip on my right leg meant a liberal soaking above the boot top and one very wet and soggy right foot.
I suffer for my art I do...

Anyway, a few wet photos bagged, I pressed on with looking for litter, and was quite pleased to find very little indeed - certainly way less than I was expecting. But it is a quiet lane, not seeing too much traffic, but is popular with Sunday strollers, but they obviously behave themselves a bit better thankfully.

Further along the lane though revealed what work had been going on in the form of some resurfacing, and that may also explain a lack of crap lying about as no doubt the road is thoroughly swept clean by a road sweeping machine before tarmac spreading starts.

The sun was in and out like a Fiddler's elbow, but I stayed dry - just, once again I dodged a bullet, or rather a hefty shower, as it battered down about 10 minutes after I got home.
The new road surface here gets a solid 10/10 for bimbling loveliness - nice and smooth, no gravel. Bet they still come along in the summer and surface dress it though...

Someone was busy moving in the other night...

Dropping down to Trevella Stream, Tregassow Lane twists down through a rough cutting and meets the lane to Bodrean half way down the hill. The flow of rainwater across the mouth of this second lane at the junction was accompanied on this day by a rash of quite large stones, presumably washed out of the bank on the roadside and down across the lane. That must've been quite some downpour to do that then. I took a couple of wider view shots but they looked a bit boring, even though they showed the spread of stones better and the way they followed the line of trickling water down the hill. The grass where the trickle met the verge was all mud stained too, while the tarmac was washed clean, more clues I suppose to the magnitude of the rain that fell.

Trevella Stream moving fast like a mini Mississippi...

Primroses basking in the sun in Tregassow Lane on the climb up to Trehane.

I reached the top of the hill in the above photo, turned left onto the hedge free, field side road and boom! Litter every flipping where. The culprits are the agricultural workers employed on harvesting the crops and the road was lined with empty water bottles and tins of Mackerel and Tuna. The more you look, the more you find on such stretches, and in the space of about a quarter of a mile I filled both panniers to the brim with crap. I didn't take any photos of all this as I was busy as a dog digging for daylight picking it all out of the grass.

Once the bags were full there was nothing left to do but head home, although I took my usual slightly long way round rather than the quicker, more direct route, just to keep the legs turning over and the riding fitness up a bit. Litter picking on a bike is a very slow process and does little for fitness or weight loss!

Having had a bit more trouble getting crap into the black bags due to them flapping about in the wind I got on Amazon and ordered up some big old Bulldog clips to attach the bags to the panniers properly, (once ordered I discovered they're coming all the way from China) and have also got some gardening gloves due on Monday as my biking gloves have been getting very mucky, likewise the handlebar grips. Soon I'll have an efficient litter picking bike set up sorted which will make things a little easier, and I'm hoping I can do about a picking ride a week, but it dopes give my back some grief so I'll see how I get on.

Right, that's that, it's Saturday now, late morning, and me might have, maybe, possibly, perhaps, more snow coming in this afternoon and evening! Whoop! I've got my bike lights charging up as I speak write and Fatso is on standby ready for some more fun, so fingers crossed for a bit of a blizzard later on!

Until next time then, happy cycling!

-----------------

Wednesday 14 March 2018

Benny Who?

I spend a fair bit of time (ok, too much time) watching cycling Vlogs on Youtube as when stuck at home, they are much better than watching daytime TV. There are masses of good Vloggers out there, and I must admit, most of the ones I follow are roadies. They may dress a bit funny, but roadies are still cyclists and full of the riding bug too, albeit sometimes they do waffle on about category 3, level 12 rides at 74% FTP with a stop at stage four to 'take on fluids' (I understand that last bit, they mean have a drink...). But apart from the tecnicalities some of them get lost in, there are many enjoyable hours to be spent watching other folk's riding lives.

One such Vlog I discovered recently belongs to a chap called Nigel Ayers Linky and he really struck a chord with me, well several chords actually, recently, but the one that had me nodding in agreement was when he talked about motivation to get out and ride, and how easy it is sometimes to put obstacles in your own way, think of some pretty feeble excuses, and to not go out but to stay home instead. I suspect that will ring a big bell with many people, but especially those of us who suffer self doubt and anxiety and so on.

Sometimes I can hardly wait to get out for a ride, other times it's too much like hard work just keeping my eye lids open. Somewhere between those extremes is where normal service is usually found, so sometimes my motivation to get out needs a little help, and so I've developed a few tricks to encourage erm... encouragement.

A lot of my excuses will revolve around effort - too much hassle getting all my riding clobber on, got to fish the bike out of the shed, got to slog up that hill blah de blah... All pretty lame excuses but some days they can seem very persuasive. It's these feelings of hassle that I can apply assistance to resistance as it were. The other worries - will I have a terminal mechanical I can't fix? Will I knacker my creaking back? Will I die myself to death crossing that busy main road? Well those worries take a different effort, usually involving just ignoring them actually, although that can be next to impossible some days too.
 As an aside though, the one time I did hit trouble and beggared my back good and proper when 12 miles from home actually ended up boosting my confidence, because despite all the pain and having to crawl back home in my lowest gear at little more than walking pace, I still made it home without resorting to helicopters/casualty wards and the like. 

But anyway, back to the tricks. Usually I have to decide to go for a ride the day before thanks to one of my various ailments, so that I don't go eating anything explosive and have to go jumping over hedges several times on the ride. But after that, well I will get as much ready the night before as I can. Seems obvious and I suspect many people do that kind of thing anyway, but for me, it really helps to beat the morning lethargy. So I'll get all my photographic kit together, assemble all my riding clobber and even put the chosen bike in the kitchen, all ready just to wheel out. Now someone else (I can't remember who now) who does this with the bike says it's important to point the bike towards the door. Well despite his assurances that it really works and which way his bike points means whether he gets out for a ride or not, I don't quite take it that far. But if it's Fatso or the Marin chosen, I will move them all the way from the living room and into the kitchen, where they'll get right in my way come coffee o'clock next morning.

Oh yes, I'm a huge Aeropress fan, so will assemble all I need for coffee ready and waiting the night before, so all I have to do is add the coffee and boil the kettle. 

For this ride I decided to give the Jamis a blast, so on Monday night I fumbled and stumbled my way out to the dark shed and brought the bike into the kitchen ready for the morning. I could go a step further and leave it out on the covered patio, but it'd be just my luck that that'd be the night some thieving basta scallywag would climb over the back fence and nick my bike.

Anyway, come yesterday morning all was made very easy to get out and enjoy the glorious weather that was forecast, with minimum excuses possible (although there have been many days when I've done all the prep and still woken up feeling flat and not made it out that day).

The plan was to go and have some mooching up a couple of lanes that I'd not yet set tyre to tarmac along, up near St Newlyn East. Nothing too exciting mind you, only about 4 miles worth of virgin bimblery, but who knows what a new road will reveal?


It really was a beautiful sunny morning, but under tree cover it was chilly as a Penguin's Plums and I was glad I'd worn so many layers.
This was a quick GoPro shot on the Bridleway up to Carland Cross. It being the old routing of the A39 it's actually tarmac, but farm vehicles that have access have made it a tad mucky in places, and the 29er Jamis got a bit squirrely as I hit the mud at speed - all good fun though!

After slogging up the ugly ascent to Carland Cross it was a quick dog leg 'inland' before the descent down into Mitchell, and it was while tooting down that long hill that I had one of 'those' moments I suspect we all have. One of the moments when everything comes together suddenly and you think 'wow' isn't it great just being out on this bike, right here, right now! The road there is Baby's bum smooth, the bike running quietly mechanically but just presenting a lovely hum from the tyres, the wind behind me, and the sun shining as I soared down the hill through the gentle bends past the square cut hedges and down into Mitchell. It was one of those moments when you want to go back and do it again (up that hill just so I could swoop back down it? Nah! Ain't going to happen...). That feeling alone made getting out on the bike yesterday worthwhile. 

Through Mitchell and under the A30 for the first time that day, and I then hung a right turn, chooched along a bit, then hung another right headed for Benny Mill.

Wait... who?



No not Benny Hill... Benny Mill...



The past couple of miles had been ridden under my very own personal cloud - all around the distant hills were bathed in sunshine, while I was pootling along in a chill, grey, dull light.

Arriving at the crossroads where the sign for Benny Mill pointed me in the right direction, suddenly the sun broke out from behind the cloud and I felt its warmth wash over me as the countryside lit up with colour (blimey... I'm getting all lyrical... that'll never do, must get back to writing slang and the like).


Most welcome!

So good did it all look that I decided to set up for a ride by selfie...

Look closely and you can see the sea... Look not so closely and you can see the edge of Newquay... Yikes! My inoculations aren't up to date, best not stray too close then...

I'd got everything set up to photograph the old boy (me) chooching along a deserted lane in the sunshine, when of course, someone came into view at the far end, and wearing a red jacket to match mine too. Usually it's a car that appears from nowhere to spoil such a shot, but in this case, if anything, the walker actually doesn't hurt the photo at all although the eye is drawn to the second blob of red.

That's definitely a Friday afternoon bit of road (after the road builders had spent Friday lunchtime in the pub) being a bit wonky.

The Jamis, for a cheapo bike, does ride very nicely indeed, and these roads and my gentle pace are ideal for it. It is a Mountain Bike, supposedly, but if you took it off road enthusiastically you'd kill it in short order no doubt, especially the front fork, but it rolls away the miles really smoothly and comfortably, and so is a great ally on sunny days like this where the bike doesn't make its presence felt by holding you back, mangling its gears, or giving you pains where no pains should be.


I could potter along lanes like these all day long...

Now it was just before I took the above two shots that I had a Big Nelly moment. Wheeling easily along the lane I rounded a left bend at Trenance Farm to be confronted by a couple of rather attractive cottages, with Daffodils basking in the sunshine atop the front garden wall. As I pottered past I looked at the Daffs and thought what a great photo they'd make with details of the cottages behind in the background. But this is where Big Nelly stepped in and took over, and I rode on - there were cars parked outside so someone was at home in both houses, they might see me taking photos up close and wonder what I was doing... they might tell me to beggar off... This shyness if you like is still a problem for me sometimes and spoils my attempts to portray all that catch my eye on some rides. So I rode on frustrated, and beating myself up for being such a wuss. I stopped to take the above pair of photos, mounted up again and carried on, all the time bitching at myself, before I finally thought to myself 'sod it' and turned around and started to ride back to the cottages. I was going to get my shot!
Well, I didn't quite shrug Big Nelly fully off, and when I got back to the cottages, I chickened out of getting in close, and instead opted for a rushed grab shot from a bit further back, and then made my escape before I was noticed. This is daft really, what's the worst that can happen? Anyway, the chances are, if the home owner did come out whilst I was mid shot, the result would probably just have been a minute or two of pleasant conversation. Some days, despite all the preparations and bigging one's self up, the lack of confidence still rears its head.

A lovely setting for a shot, but the photo I really wanted was in close to the Daffs on the wall, with the cottage windows as an out of focus backdrop.

Having bagged a photo in the end and retraced my steps once more I found myself at the aforementioned Benny Mill. I'd love to say there was a gaggle of naughty nurses chasing an old bloke in a dirty mac around but the reality was just a T junction and a house or two and nothing to write home about. Nor indeed, blog about. Except I just did.

Anyway, it's Benny crazy round that way with the Lappa Valley's Benny Halt being at Benny Bridge, and I'd bet the river/stream there is also called Benny, but alas I can't find it named on any of my mappery.

Benny Halt, terminus of the Lappa Valley Railway. That's Arthur by the way, the diesel shunting locomotive. At this time of year the railway only operates at weekends, but dropping down the Benny Hill (no... not that Benny Hill...) to Benny Bridge I'm sure I could smell in the Benny air the gorgeous whiff of steam mixed with oil and grease that is so evocative of places such as this. 

From Benny World it was a long grind up a bad ass hill towards St Newlyn East and back onto familiar roads.

 Bloody telegraph wires!

Just entering St Newlyn East and I stopped for some Daffodil shots. Quite how these flowers survived the recent weather is a bit of a miracle. These are perched on top of a high Cornish Hedge and are very exposed. It wasn't the recent snow that might've done for them, but the fierce gales and freezing rain that strafed the county later that night that you'd think would've knackered anything and anyone who was caught out in it. It really was a very rough, and horrendously harsh night for sure, but, the Daffodil is obviously a hardy sort and here they were again, standing proud in the sunshine.

The Pheasant in St Newlyn East, a pub that used to have, and I suspect still does have, an excellent reputation for the grub it serves, a reputation that means Sunday lunch requires booking in advance and the place rammed with customers.
Just beyond yonder pub and almost hidden, is a pair of matching blue Vee Dubb Beetles. His n' hers perhaps, who knows, but anyway, more on the Vee Dubb Beetle a bit later...

Returning to the Jamis after taking the pub's photo, I spotted this lurking in the stone wall belonging to a nearby house.
There was an article in the local paper recently about people painting stones and leaving them in places, not too obvious, but also where they might be found, for no other reason than to brighten someone's day, and it's these sort of things, like yarn bombers who knit things then decorate town centres anonymously that I really love. When the news is so full of doom and gloom, a little madness and eccentricity is just the tonic to remind us it isn't such a bad world after all. The idea is for people who find such a stone to take a snap and then go to some Facebook page and upload the photo there, but not to give away too much about the location. I reckon this stone, done by a child by the look of it, is part of all that, but me not being a Facebooker I can only post it here, but it still brought a smile to my face, and as the article suggests, maybe I should do a stone of my own to leave somewhere.

St Newlyn East Church and some rather wonky verticals. Taking the photo at the wide end of the zoom and looking up makes for some weirdness which I tried to fix in post processing but the church is still leaning back a bit. Proper photographers would probably sort it all out in an instant, but post processing on the computer is not something I enjoy and the novelty quickly wears off when I'm struggling to correct some issue or other, so if I can't fix it quickly, beggar it!
It's also why I don't clone stuff out, like those telegraph wires in the Daff shots. I've done many hours of intricate cloning in a past life when I took photos for estate agents and was asked to clone out parked vehicles or pedestrians and so on, and I'm done with all that now!

St Newlyn East always poses me a problem - where to now? I could head back to Mitchell directly on the main(ish) road and under the A30, or just go back exactly the way I'd come. Or I could carry on towards Zelah, but the road is a pretty plain one, and I always seem to have a headwind going along there, but knickers to it, I decided I wasn't for going back to Mitchell on either road, so through the village I went and then headed West.

Tapping along in the sunshine but into a (thankfully) light head wind. A lot of people ask me if I can see anything in that mirror, it being down and in under the bar like that when the usual fitment for it is up and out from the end of the bar. Well duh! If I couldn't see anything in it I wouldn't have it there would I Einstein eh? I don't know... people eh? Anyway, given that this is pretty much the angle I look into it from, here is proof that I can indeed see what's behind. For me it's just nicely tucked out of harm's way there and not prone to being knocked out of adjustment.
Oh and yes, that is a jumper sleeve poking out from under my jacket - I am a right scruffy whatsit, and largely eschew proper cycling clothing (jacket excepted) in favour of more 'normal' clothing, and it was cold out that morning when I had fed the birds so opted for another layer.

Heading West out of St Newlyn East you get a good view of Carland Cross wind farm from the other side of the A30, so seeing this rather idyllic looking scene I parked up, leaned over the gate and started lining up a photo. Unfortunately though, Flossy on the left there (I'll call her Flossy, just  because... well why not?) got the hump with being papped and stamped her front left foot before taking a half step back. This stamping is something a Sheep does when you pee it off, and it's their way of saying you really should bugger off now, or I'll fetch you an unfortunate head butt to the Jacob's* (*for overseas people, it's rhyming slang - Jacob's Crackers - knackers). I love it when Sheep do this stamping thing, they do it with such conviction you are left in no doubt you've just been told off and are possibly in trouble.

Quite why Flossy was so upset with me I don't know, nor what she would've done about it, given there was five bar gate between us (and I can pedal faster than she can run if she somehow vaulted the gate or something), but there we go.

I was now on NCN Route 32 which might explain the number of other bi-wheelers out imbibing the fresh air and sunshine - there were loads of other cyclists about, most of them roadies, but I wasn't overtaken by any of them I'm pleased to say, not one cyclist overtook me. How about that then eh? (We'll gloss over the fact they were all going the other way and I met not a single bicyclist going in my direction - I went for a ride and wasn't overtaken at some point by another rider. It doesn't happen often so I'm claiming it!)

I do like my Daffodil shots. This one, in a bed of them, was at Fiddlers Green (no apostrophe, there are no fiddlers here) but the light was giving me hassle so I nuked it with the flash and still blew out the details in the sky, but I was shooting towards the light, so that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.

Fiddlers Green sits alongside the same railway line that the Lappa Valley partly occupies - the long defunct Chacewater to Newquay branch line. No miniature trains run along here, it's just a rather wet looking track bed below this bridge. To reach this far, if they wanted to of course, the Lappa Valley would have to reinstate an over bridge on the other side of St Newlyn East. 

Fiddlers Green is just a few houses strung out along the lane, in the middle of which sits this letter box, the GR marking it out as being erected during the reign of King George V, between 1910 and 1936.
The box is still serviced daily, but in this day and age, and given the sparsity of housing nearby, you have to wonder just how much post there is to occupy the postie on his rounds.

No matter where you are up this neck of the woods, you can see Carland Cross wind farm, so here's another view of it, from that bridge over the defunct railway.

Having hung my nose over the old rail bridge and snapped some snaps, I pressed on and soon passed the cemetery where the grass is very neatly tended,  and some graves are marked by flowers, headstones and even small stone figures. Not a normal cemetery this though, it's a pet cemetery, a quite poignant and moving sight it makes too.

Eventually I ran into another bit of local geography that gives me headaches - the junction where the road I was on meets the A30. Now the quickest, most direct route home from here is to nip over the A30 and down the lanes, but... 'nipping' 'over' and the 'A30' are mutually exclusive concepts when one is on a bike, you can wait ages for a gap in the traffic in both directions, but even at the junction where I was, which is staggered and with a central painted refuge, it's still not a relaxing manouevre to make by any means. But I could turn right, go along a bit then turn left and drop down into Zelah, which is what I did.

The trouble is, what to do when I'm in Zelah? How do I cross the A30 again? At the Eastern end of the village is another staggered junction, requiring riding along the road a short way then waiting in the middle of the road usually before making the right turn. Or in the middle of the village is an old lane that the A30 now crosses on an embankment, but crossing the main road can be done by climbing and descending the steps on either side, and dodging straight across the road in one go, something I have done many times in the past, but usually after a lengthy wait. Another alternative exists however, and that is to ride through Zelah towards Redruth, and then hang a left onto the Shortlanesend road which will take you under the A30 without fuss. You can see that when my mood isn't right, that A30 can be a right barrier to me as I opted to go through the village and under the road, which actually makes for a big dog leg round and a couple of lung busting hills to ascend too.

But it was a nice day and all that, so on we go...

I took the road to Shortlanesend then took a left into the lane towards Gwarnick and ultimately Lanner Barton and home. On that corner marked out by the roads is a socking great solar farm, a mere fraction of which is visible here through this gate. There are Sheep (no grumpy attack Sheep on this occasion) and a lot of Lambs too, grazing freely amongst the solar panels too, just my luck that where a photo is available, there were no cute little Lambs.

Turning round from the solar farm shot is this view of one of the Daffodil fields that will soon be full of pickers. The nearest Daffs are escapees living on the hedge top.

Getting towards the junction for Lanner Barton or St Allen and the going has got a tad lumpy and muddy. Meeting an oncoming Jeep I pulled over to let it pass but instead the car pulled up, the window dropped and out leaned a farmer to apologise for the state of the road! I know technically anyone who drops mud on the road should clean it away, or be held liable for any accident occurring from it and on a fast main road, maybe that's right, but on these lanes you can't complain, well I don't, some might I suppose! But it's the countryside and while we're out enjoying leisure time, the farmers are working and a bit of mess here and there can't be helped. Still it's nice that he stopped to apologise, a decent chap obviously and it's always nice to be reminded how friendly most folk actually are in this day and age, when everyone can appear to be rude and self absorbed if you just go by the papers and the internet!

Now this is a sight I always find sad. Without poking the body about I couldn't see any damage from a car strike, and some people do illegally kill Badgers then dump them in the road to look like roadkill. Whatever, it's always sad to see such fine animals lying dead like this.

But on a lighter note... remember I said there'd be more Vee Dubb Beetlery earlier? Well check this out...

Woo... erm... that's... erm... yes... well...

Ok, it's all down to individual choice and what someone does with their car/bike/motorbike is no one's business but theirs, it's a free country and all that. But I must admit to not being a fan of this sort of 'custom' car at all. Mind you, I do like that bookshelf on the boot, I might pinch that one night for my living room. 
It's a pity about the two lowest lights - one white (reversing presumably) and one red (fog?) as apart from them, and the number on the plate, there is some strong symmetry going on there. 
But the whole 'crashed through Halfords' look puzzles me a bit, but in it's defence I will say this car wasn't done too badly, there are a lot, lot, worse out there that's for sure!

Anyway, that was yesterday's Bimble, and despite not being able to fully shrug off the Big Nelly and my lack of confidence, it was all in all, an utterly enjoyable and interesting mooch about the countryside.

It's time once again for my dinner, and if you've read all this guff then my congratulations! But I'm off to thoroughly massacre some unsuspecting foodstuff so without proofreeding or grammar chekking it all, off I go, leaving you with just a map of the choochings and a fuller view of it all available on This Link


Happy Cycling!

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