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
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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