A Ride Around The Big City.

“When the spirits are low, when the day appears dark, when work becomes monotonous, when hope hardly seems worth having, just mount a bicycle and go out for a spin down the road, without thought on anything but the ride you are taking” – Arthur Conan Doyle.

Right, before we bleddy start... Previewing this post has thrown up a higher than usual number of blurred photos, and that really grinds my gonads. I don't know why some photos show up fuzzy, I've tried sorting it by reloading right the way back from my PC, but to avail. For some reason, it just takes against some images and decides to knacker them. To view them properly, right click and open in a new tab works best.

Also for some unknown reason, the formatting went all wonky. This Blogger site is certainly getting on my pip today that's for sure. I've no idea what happened, but I think I've fixed it, but if it shows up all over the place like a mad woman's breakfast, I can only apologise.

Right, where the bleddy hell was I? Ah yes, a couple of rides to catch up on, but I'll do them in separate posts I think, just to break up the hundred yards or so of photos that will accompany them.

The weather continues with its pattern of wet day - dry day. Wet day- dry day. Flipping hellishly wet day - dry day. Some summer this one is! Spring was a corker though, so we must be grateful for that, and the weather does mean that riding conditions, when it isn't puddling down, are actually very pleasant - no factor 50 sun blocker required, no risk of expiring in an overheated, sweaty, gasping heap on a hill somewhere. Pleasantly warm is how I'd describe the going at the moment, if a little wet around the edges.

Sunday, holding true to the established weather pattern, was a dry day with sunny intervals and little to no wind. Feeling about 90% fit spine wise,  or what passes as fit for me anyway, a ride was on the cards, the only questions being which bike and where.

The first question was a simple one - a ride on Fatso was long overdue. For the first time since I'd got the Fatbike, it hadn't done the majority of my monthly mileage when I added up July's totals. That honour went to the newly arrived Marin of course, but Fatso had only had a single outing in the whole of July, and tallied a beggarly 7 miles in the process. It had to be the Fatty.

Fatso ready to rumble in the Sunday morning sunshine.

That just left where to go. Usually I like to have a complete ride mapped out in my head before setting foot to pedal, but on this morning, I had no such details in my head, just a vague idea to head towards Truro and to make it up as I went along. A ride for the sake of riding really, the only real stipulation (bike choice apart) being to be on a bike turning the pedals and getting my knees in the breeze.

 Fatso is the only bike I have that I think has some character. Getting on it again after riding the others is like taking an eager dog for its favourite walk. It is a supremely comfortable bike to ride - you feel as if you are sitting in it rather than on it, and it never fails to raise a smile when setting off and hearing those gert fat tyres rasping down the road, as bike and pilot rumble and gently rampage along in search of fun. 

This shot above is a bit flat looking colour wise, despite some minor surgery in post, but that's the nature of the GoPro really, in less than ideal conditions images are a tad limp looking.

Not only that, but the bars look wonky in relation to the front wheel. I've checked the bike and all is tickety boo and straight ahead as a shotgun barrel, so it must be the angle of dangle of the camera.

Mooching along, relaxed in the knowledge I didn't really know where I was going, but nor did I really care.

Getting into Truro is a bit of a pain for the bi-wheelers of this parish, at least the human powered ones anyway. Cornwall's only city lies just four miles away from my front door, but the direct route involves battling the heavies on the main A39, a road that is really too busy, and too narrow and twisting for relaxed and happy cycling. There's no shoulder to speak of, and for parts of the route, not even a verge or a gateway to take brief sanctuary in let traffic pass.
So I tend not to ride into Truro much, which is a shame really,but there we go. When I do though, I take a big old dog leg to avoid getting banged on the head by a Scania wing mirror or shoulder barged by the number 88 bus. So, on this particular morning I chose to wend my way through the lanes to Tresillian rather go the other route through Idless, and then ride into Truro along a route I've never done on a bicycle, and not done on or in a motor vehicle for probably at least 30 years, I was going to go via Devil's Archway.

Random shot in Tresillian, and the offerings of the only pub in the village, The Wheel inn.

This road is as busy as the more northerly running A39, but is far wider, and is equipped with a cycle lane, so whilst it is still noisy, it does offer safer riding.

Normally I turn left at the Western end of Tresillian and immediately left again to ride along the riverside, but on this occasion I decided to reacquaint myself with a route I often used when riding into Truro on my motorcycles back along - Devil's Archway, seen above.

Leaving the main road, you drop down sharply, then even more sharply the lane climbs narrowly and steeply between sheer sided banks, before flattening briefly and passing under the arch, or bridge that gives the route its name. How it got that name is a mystery though, other than it being a bit spooky through there at times perhaps. Maybe someone met a grizzly end here or something, who knows. The arch or bridge carries a path over the road through land belonging to the Pencalenick Estate, that's about all I do know.

Oh and travelling this road into Truro is best done in the morning, and out of town in the afternoon/evening so you don't go against the flow of fast driving rat runners trying to dodge the traffic on the main road.

This route into Truro takes one past Penair School and onto the long descent of St Clement's Hill, past the main Cemetery about half way down. With both parents and grandparents in the cemetery I took the opportunity to go in and visit their graves, something I don't do often enough really.

Being on the side of one of the hills that surround Truro affords the cemetery some great views across to the city, and on such a day as I was enjoying, it is a very pleasant and peaceful place to be. Not so clever in bad weather though, and funerals there can be considerable ordeals when heavy rain is being lashed across the hillside by strong winds.

Family graves. Maternal Grandparents in the foreground, my parents behind. Although sheltered to a degree from the prevailing south westerlies by the grave stones themselves, flowers never last long here, so I didn't feel too bad for not having brought any due to my spur of the moment ride planning.

Cemeteries are always sobering places, and I eventually left in a thoughtful mood only to be rudely woken from it by arriving at the bottom of the hill and bumping into the mad - for - a - Sunday traffic. By crikey the roads are busy these days.

Having arrived in the big city, (well it's big for down here, and it's a city, with shops n'escalators n'stuff, so there!) I knew I didn't want to just ride aimlessly around the centre, but also I didn't want to go too far elsewhere, so decided to have a trundle along the old Newham branch line that skirts around the southern edge of the city. This is part of NCN Route 3, and is much recommended for anyone riding between Truro and Falmouth as an alternative to the busy main road.

 Sunday is no longer a day of rest it seems (although I managed to capture a brief quiet moment traffic wise here) and the roads are almost as busy (and noisy) as any weekday.

I must say, Truro City Council's Parks Department always does a great job of the flowers around the city. A lot of hard work must go into it all and I think their efforts are a perhaps a little under appreciated by many folk.

The building behind dominating this view used to be Blewett's Bakery, home of the mighty Dreadnought pasty. I also used to work where that new building lurks at the rear of this shot, so mornings surrounded by the aroma of cooking pasties made for some seriously hungry staff come lunchtime.

NCN Route 3 crosses the dual carriageway (Morlaix Avenue) and then proceeds along a shared path along the Truro River, up the side of Tesco.

Hmmm... looking blurry...

NCN Route 3 travels out of Truro along the Newham Road until it reaches the quaintly named Gas Hill on the other side of the road, where it turns left into a car park half way up the hill, and through this gate at the end and onto the old Newham Branch line.

Newham sits beside the Truro River and along with Truro itself, was once a busy port, particularly in regard to the export of tin and also gunpowder produced in Idless Woods amongst other places.
The main railway line runs along high ground to the North of the city (up another flipping hill in other words...) so a branch line down into Newham was opened in 1855 for both freight and passenger services. The station closed in 1965 while freight services ended in 1971.
More information on the Newham branch, along with some superb photos, can be found on the Cornwall Railway Society site HERE

 When cycling between Truro and Falmouth you can brave the heavy traffic on the narrow and undulating main road, or tootle along here. I know which one I'd prefer.

The perils of Fatbike ownership! There I was, all set up for some ride past selfies when a fellow bi-wheeler arrived and wanting to know all about this strange bike I was riding. Depending on your outlook, a Fatbike can be a great way to meet people - a real conversation starter, or a pain in the neck, grabber of unwanted attention. Repeating the answers to the same old questions could get old rather quickly, but I don't mind too much in all honesty, and I'd rather exchange a few pleasantries with someone than just ignore them or be ignored.

On some parts of the trail vegetation has failed to overcome the ballast making for a wider path, but in other areas it narrows, although there is often still plenty of room to pass by simply taking to the grass.

Travelling to Falmouth, riders would leave the Newham line where it crosses Old Falmouth Road just above Calenick. Or you can carry on west towards County Hall, again, a far more pleasant way of circumnavigating the city by avoiding traffic and also a socking great hill.

 Some distance from the road lie the remains of a burned out caravan, possibly used by seasonal farm workers.

 Just about to cross the bridge over the lane that passes up alongside County Hall.

And the same bridge from the lane. The trail continues on and travels up the other side of County Hall (or the Chapel of Rest as it's sometimes known...) before emerging back into civilisation opposite Sainsbury's. A good trail for the bike riding supermarket shopper then.

Blurr time again.

The reason I didn't do the last section of the trail was  because I had decided to double back and get a photo of the view that everybody takes of Truro - well those travelling along the main road at any rate. Almost opposite the football ground, you have to be quick when travelling along by car as you only get a glimpse, but this is the view from the main road around Truro, and rather splendid it is too if big pointy buildings are your thing.

 Having got back into Truro, I had a run down Lemon Street into the city centre. The Moggy soft top might belong to the vicar of St John's, you never know. Last time I saw him he owned a bright red Mini with a white soft top roof (proper Mini that is, not the modern BMW heffalump version).

 Ok, so all the photos are turning out fuzzy now... The river passes beneath those phone boxes on the left, and the bollards on the right. That area to the right was once a busy Quay with some quite large sailing ships mooring up to exchange loads. The river though was/is a beggar for silting up, and also of course, the railway and then road traffic took work away from the port of Truro, and the quay here was covered over and is now a pedestrian area.
A photo of the quay when it was in use, and showing what is now the Hall for Cornwall (the building with the arches) can be found HERE 

Paris - Roubaix cobbles? Pfft! We have cobbles here in Truro too (I reckon they were put here to make my northerner neighbour feel at home...), don't know what all the fuss is about...

 Truro Cathedral is a bit of a Johnny come lately, a new build if you like, in comparison to other Cathedrals in this country, with work starting in 1880 and completion in 1910. It is one of only three Cathedrals in the UK with three spires, the tallest of which, the central jobbie, stands a chunky 250 feet high, or 76 metres in digital. Local granite was used for the main building work but some facings and the decorative bits were done in much softer Bath Stone. It's no surprise then, that despite the Cathedral being a bit of a youngster (barely out of warranty one suspects...) that heavy restoration work has been going on over the past few years. Being surrounded by far lower buildings, with the air being salty, and with the weather often travelling at high speed, various areas of stone work needed serious repair work, and for long periods, the whole building has been hidden behind scaffolding, in fact part of the Southern side still is.

I'm no expert on these places, as you may suspect, but it is a good looking building in my opinion, one of the more attractive, nicely proportioned, big Churchy things I've seen for sure.

Not being a Devil Dodger myself, this is about as close as I like to get to Churches n'stuff, lest I be struck down by a lightning bolt for being a non believer or something.

I did have a brief ride around Truro, but decided I'd wait until the summer season is over and then have a proper old mooch around when all is pretty much deserted. I much prefer town and city centres when there's nobody about and all is quiet, as it used to be at any time on a Sunday in Truro, but now, with the majority of shops open, it's almost just another day.

So I then headed homewards, leaving Truro via Daubuz Moor nature reserve and the lane to Idless, then through the woods and back to my home port of Trispen.

It is nice to have a route to and from the city through the woods, but in winter of course they are just a tad wet and muddy, and also, going home involves scaling the lung busting bad ass hill up out of Lanner Mill, so it's not always ideal, but on this occasion made for a pleasing ride home.

I've not been able to find out for sure, but I imagine the raised platform on the right in the above shot was a loading platform for the nearby gunpowder works.

All in all, the ride was just what the doctor ordered  - a relaxing way to spend a Sunday by having a carefree bicycle ride, one that as I say, I just made up as I went along and enjoyed what I found on the way, even though it was all familiar territory. Most of the time, I like to know what I'm doing and where I'm going, but just occasionally, simply following the front wheel wherever that takes me, makes for an extremely satisfying ride. 

No hurry, no hassles, no worry.

The crapmungous map of the ride. The Newham line lies between points 8 and 10 on here, point 9 is roughly where it crosses Old Falmouth Road.

The better map and other details can be found HERE

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Back Road Brambles.

"Blackberries, Sloes, Sorrel and even Blueberries and wild Strawberries are out there in the rural larder. The pleasure of collecting your own food, then taking it home and making it into a crumble or Sloe Gin, or Sorrel and Nettle soup, is intense indeed. You have completely sidestepped the need to work and earn money, and the whole process has been a joy from beginning to end. You have glimpsed a world of true autonomy and freedom." - Gathering Food From The Hedgerows, The Book of Idle Pleasures, by Dan Kieran and Tom Hodgkinson.

The last time I went Blackberrying I would think I was in short trousers, it was that long ago. But a Sunday evening phone conversation with my sister who lives up where the locals talk funny (Bristol - funny lot they are...) pricked my interest in revisiting something I'd done many times as a 'tacker' (snotty nosed kid), but not since, having decided that supermarkets presented the safest option for getting food rather than picking wild growing things that could delight, or possibly kill, or even and far worse, give me the trots for a week.

Yesterday, Tuesday, my back had recovered enough for me to get out and do some manly hunter gathering, so the Voodoo was fished out as it was the one with the panniers fitted when I went to the shed, and off I pedaled, a man on a mission.

Always a pleasure, wheeling out for a ride a freshly cleaned, adjusted and lubed bicycle.

 I say ride, but the Voodoo was to spend a lot of time lurking in hedges and on verges while I went foraging.

Hmmm... hardly enough for feast here, but still, crack on!

Windy out, but a nice morning for a ride, and a poke about the hedgerows too.

Hmmmm... yep, now we're starting to get somewhere.

 Erm... no. I'm not going to try eating Snails just yet, even if the French consider them a delicacy (funny lot they are...). Those red berries look tempting though, but I'm not taking any chances, knowing my luck one of those could fell a cart horse. I need to do more some research before branching out into other foragibles (is that a word? T'is now...)

I was using the water bottle for picking and then transferring the spoils to a carrier bag in the panniers. Much more convenient when hauling on the brakes for a quick pick after sighting a cluster of berried treasure.

 The result of my morning's bramble bimbles. More than I intended to get admittedly, but you know how it is, you think to yourself you've just got enough when you spot a clump of fat juicy looking berries that you just can't leave behind. The upshot of that is you come home with a veritable sackful and wondering whether Tesco might like to buy some off you...

First job (after washing my fruity plunder) was to make a jelly with added slices of Apple. The jelly was Strawberry, not my preferred choice for the job of Raspberry, but it was all I had.

So I've been enjoying the fruits (sorry) of my Blackberrying labours by making the above jelly, sprinkling some on a salad, and also having some with sliced Apple, Banana and custard as a dessert last night. I'm thinking of doing a crumble, but that might be beyond my rather modest culinary skills, we'll see how brave I'm feeling.

A very relaxing and enjoyable few hours of riding about, picking, jellying and custarding it all was though. I managed to lose myself in the task quite happily and time flew by so it was an immensely satisfying exercise in every respect, except one - the reaching, stretching and standing made for a stiffening back again. But I'll recover from that again soon enough and once my supply has run out, I'll go Blackberrying again without a doubt.

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Three Ride Catch Up.

Where the hell has our summer gone?

Right, it's about time I got caught up with this here blog, although to be fair, not a lot has been happening to report, just the usual bimbling about around my local 'hood last week.

Right now I am once again grounded thanks to my back, after a very pleasant few hours in the big city on Thursday (well... Truro but it's big for round here...) spent meeting a lady friend for lunch and a bit of a natter. It's all the walking about and catching buses and so on that does the damage, but riding in isn't always practical what with me being a scruffy Herbert when in my best riding togs. I'd need to get a decent lock too, but on balance I think for when meeting someone for pleasure, the bike is perhaps best left at home. 

But anyway, I've been nursing a beggared back since then, but thankfully it's starting to get better again and so I should be out on a bike again very soon. 

On the upside though, I did get all the bikes cleaned before my little trip into town - the Jamis hadn't been done since before Easter I think, so all is well there. Not sure I want to ride them again now... I'll only undo all that hard work again. Hmmmm...

Anyway, back to last week. Well to answer my own question above, our summer obviously went North - they had it up on Shetland and they weren't letting it go. In July, Shetland had 192.9 hours of sunshine, compared to Cornwall's paltry 153.5 hours. August so far, has seen the duffness continue with rain and wind interspersed with wind and rain and it just isn't right. It seems those long hot summery days of my youth are long gone now, replaced by a couple of scorchers in June and then weeks of rain or at best, showery/sunny intervals. 

The downside to these wet summer days is the towns down here in Cornwall are absolute murder to navigate, either by road or on foot, as all the holiday makers flock into the towns  to wander about, bored witless and generally clogging everything up. You couldn't throw a pasty down Lemon Street without it hitting someone on the head, that's how busy it is at the moment. Behind the tills is the only place you hear a local accent too, as we're invaded by all sorts of exotic sounding voices like Scouse and Brummie, and of course, Dutch. The Dutch get everywhere. I often wonder, if all the Dutch dotted around the world at any given time were all told to go home would the country sink? I reckon it would, hence why there are always Dutch folk wherever in the word you go. They must have some sort of agreement or timeshare thing going on to ensure so many of the population are out of the country at any given time. 

Ah well, it'll soon be September and the holiday makers will all flock off home again and normality will be restored. Blimey, never mind the weather, where has the year gone?

Anyway, back to Bimbles. As I said, not a lot has been going on, so I'll just lob some photos in and witter away in the captions I think.

Thursday the 27th of July saw a quick chooch around my usual Tregassow  Loop. Not many photos taken on this occasion, but I need one from every ride I do for a Flickr group I'm in, so have to come back with something. This time it was the Marin plonked in a gateway to show off the high banks of this narrow section of Tregassow Lane. After rain, you can trace the exact path of a stream of water criss-crossing the road as it ran down the hill here in the dirt that accumulates in the middle of the road. Back and forth across the road it goes, and I must admit to having followed it in the past, swooping left and right and keeping the tyres out of all the muck in the process. I'll grow up one day I'm sure!

 Sunday last I headed out for a short ride, but didn't get far before stopping for a photo or two down by Trevella Stream, this time being a bit cheeky and nipping into a field for a bit of 'crop plus bike' type photoery again.

Setting off again, I barely got half a mile further before there was a belter of a shower, so I took shelter in the tree tunnel leading up to Five Turnings for the few minutes the rain lasted.

Oh strewth, damned fuzzy photos again. Right click and open in a new tab if anyone wants to see the photos rendered better.

 It turned out I was right on the edge of the shower cloud that had dumped on me, as only a few yards up the road all was dry. I quite like days like this though for riding and taking photos. The air is fresh, the showers often bring out all sorts of scents and pongs, and the light can be weird too. The contrast slider gets turned up a bit on days like this too, making for better photos as far as I'm concerned anyway.

On the road to Boswiddle, Ladock Woods are on the hill top in the background there.

I found a long forgotten head harness for the Go Pro - part of a vast bag of cunning mounts I'd bought when I first got the camera, but an item I hadn't yet used at all. So putting dignity to one side (I must look a right pillock with the GoPro mounted on my head) I thought I'd give it a go so I can get two handed overhead riding shots instead of the more usual one handed and rather wobbly ones I've done so far.

The Marin really is turning out to be a great bike to ride. I love the wide bars, the simplicity of the one by gearing and the way it steers and absorbs road irregularities. It is a great bike for these back road bimbles where the view and the general surroundings are as important as the ride, rather than it being all about speed, cadence or thrashing down some single track in a flurry of flying mud. 

As ever though, fat tyres will lob mud and spray around most enthusiastically, and even with mudguards on the fork and downtube, my trollies still get blathered as can be seen in the photo. Not having any form of rear guard on this bike, I've also rediscovered the charm of the muddy streak of shame up my backside and the yucky feeling, cold, wet, bum. Yeeewwww... I must fish out the over trousers when riding this bike.

 Grrrrr... More flipping fuzziness.

 I'd like to know what the maximum height the water at Boswiddle Ford has historically reached, but there are no markers on that measure - those stripes being straps holding it to a backing post. 

Muddy water in the rivers and streams of course is always a sign of recent heavy rain, and we've certainly had plenty of that lately. 

So that was last Sunday's ride, just out to Boswiddle Ford and back. A very enjoyable ride as it happens, just ambling about and taking my time.

Monday and Tuesday had been very wet and windy, and Wednesday wasn't much better, but with the wind having eased and the rain making its presence felt in the form of showers instead of constant drenching, I donned waterproofs and nipped out on the Voodoo for a spin.

Fans of the 1990s TV cop series Wycliffe might recognise this scene, as it appeared in at least one episode as being outside the Superintendent's local church, and it is indeed outside my local church, which is behind me when I took this.

Every week the locals, and the Cornish ex pats living up country, would sit glued to their screens watching for recognisable locations and faces in the background, and notes would be compared over the following days, along with the gripes about the awful attempts at Cornish accents from some of the cast.

The same thing goes on with Poldark of course, but the locations are harder to spot there as they use more coastal and moorland scenes what with it being an historical piece n'all. They did film in Camborne I'm told, and it cost them a bomb to bring the place up to the 18th Century for filming purposes...

Yep, I'm liking that head harness alright. See what I mean about our summer going awol? It's August and Tregassow Lane is wetter than a Dolphin's dinner. More like winter down there t'was, as far as puddles and floods go anyway.

 Rainy the lanes might've been, but there's still no better place to be sometimes, not as far as I'm concerned anyway.

Puddles on the left in this photo are harmless enough. Those on the right however, when coming towards the camera here, are hiding a couple of gert big potholes and a very broken edge to the road. Not so bad on a mountain bike but not too clever on anything else, and reason enough to be wary of puddles on unfamiliar roads.

The lane past Trehane Wood, not looking at all summery. But, when you're all togged up properly, riding in the rain can still be a pleasurable experience when away from busy roads and traffic. It's not the rain that bothers me so much, but the wind that often accompanies it down here, lashing it into your face and driving it down your neck and so on, it's not so nice then, but when the wind is light and the rain is falling in a more gentle fashion, there is no reason not to go out for a ride.

So those were the rides, nothing special there then. Meanwhile I've been having more visits from 'Flash' my Badger chum.

Please excuse all the crap in the background here, this area is a bit of a dumping ground for some of my stuff at the moment.

He visits most nights now, but at varying times so I don't always get to see him. No need to stake the place out though, there's no mistaking when he's about due to all the noise he makes, snuffling, gruffling, and barging about. I thought he was being incredibly bold coming so close to the house but it turns out Badgers are not at all shy, and are very determined. It wouldn't surprise me one bit if he opened the back door one night and let himself in the kitchen to go through my cupboards. I come down some mornings and it looks like the aftermath of a ram raid out there, with stuff strewn all over the place from where he's been stanking about looking for food and generally being nosy. He's even been getting up on the wall behind and helping himself to the bird food I put out, the greedy git! How he gets up there I don't know, but he finds a way of climbing up my crap somehow. I saw him up there a few days ago, but my neighbour chose that moment to open his back door and let his dog out and Flash here leaped off the wall like a proper stunt Badger and was away across the garden sharpish. 

It really is marvelous to have him coming in and being able to watch him though, makes my day, or should that be night, every time. Costing me a fortune though feeding him and the birds... and once you start you can't stop can you...

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