Like the Daffodils that are growing and flowering round here, the upward trend of my general mood continues, albeit slowly.
I got out for a ride mid week but t'was a pretty straightforward bimble about, nothing much to report. The forecast said to expect rain from mid morning, and after setting off later than planned, sure enough it rained on me, but it wasn't enough to spoil the ride, and anyway, I was wearing overtrousers that do a fair job of keeping water out. I was sweating like a glass blower's arse mind you under all that clothing but still, I prefer that to the cold dribble down the neck or the damp crotch of shame you get when caught in the rain.
The big news this past week was the progress of imminent destruction that was storm Doris. The media was full of promises of woe while the Met Office tried to play down the threat but while also admitting it would get a tad blustery and wet. The Met Office are in a difficult position in many ways. Since the big old blow of 1987 when they denied a Hurricane was on the way, and a Hurricane then promptly trashed the place big time, they have been on their guard, not wanting to get the blame for not warning us properly. But then you have the media who need to sell papers and/or mouse clicks, who at the merest hint of a couple of snugly packed isobars, start warning us we're all going to be obliterated in the storm to end all storms.
As it was, things did get pretty wet and also a bit windy on Thursday and Friday, but the culprit wasn't storm Doris (and who the flipping hell gives these storms such naff names by the way?), no, it was just winter. It's like that at this time of year, every year. Yes a few trees blew down, but that happens all the time anyway, and it is part of the slowest game of dominoes you'll ever see. A tree blows over in a wood, or beside a road, thereby exposing the next in line to the elements, and then that one cops it during the next big gusty period and so on.
Anyway, we down here in Cornwall like a bit of a blow, it wakes us up a bit and blows the cobwebs away an' stuff. While some folk are nailing down their garden furniture and boarding up the windows, the Cornish are on the beach, or on a cliff top somewhere, facing into the wind, having the snot blown out of their nose and all over their face, flying their dog on its lead like one flies a kite, and generally enjoying being thoroughly weather blasted. What some people label severe and damaging gales, the locals round here call a good drying day and make plans to wash and hang out their smalls.
I'm not a huge fan of the Met Office though, despite defending them here, as they do seem to rely too much on their vastly expensive super computer and ignoring what is actually going on outside their very own office windows...
But still, enough of all that, Saturday dawned a lot brighter, and just a bit breezy, so as it was forecast to once again stay dry to start with, I thought I'd set off to see if the stream at Boswiddle Ford was running above the road again.
Now this photo is the result of some serious surgery in intensive care, or Adobe Camera RAW, as it is otherwise known. It was very grey and overcast, yet the sun was still making its presence felt enough to cast shadows and generally give a witless photographer, and his camera's metering, a very hard time. I do love days like this, but by crikey it gives me some headaches trying to capture the resulting light adequately.
Firstly though, I had to pay a visit to Tregassow Lane, knowing full well it would be flooded in the usual places, and I'm a sucker for some splishy splashy photos. So I fished out the Magic Arm and clamped it to the Voodoo's crossbar (I'm old, bikes have crossbars...) so I could dangle the GoPro above the bars so it looked down over them and onto the front wheel beyond. It all looked a bit ungainly, and mounting the bike certainly was most inelegant with that lot waiting to to punch me in the face or chest, but I got the shots I was looking for. Only thing was I didn't place the clamp for the Magic Arm far enough back towards the seat, so it appears in the shots and cropping it out makes for an unbalanced photo, but there we go. That'll teach me to pay more attention to what I'm doing in the future.
I'll grow up one day, I promise. In the meantime I'll carry on playing in the puddles and trying to see how big a splash I can make. (Fatso is the bike for that, but he was tucked up in the warm on this day as I've just cleaned him again...)
I didn't ride the full length of Tregassow Lane this time though, instead turning back and making a more direct heading for Boswiddle.
Trevella Stream, at the bottom of the hill out of St Erme. When the stream runs that muddy brown colour, you know we've had some rain. That and everywhere is wet and soggy of course...
It really is very pleasant riding on days like yesterday, as long as you're dressed correctly of course (and it was properly chilly when I set out), and the breeze was comfortable and calming rather than boisterous and physical, and everywhere had that eerie feel you get after a
I was stood on the verge at Five Turnings junction taking snaps when a young lady on a bike came up from Trevella Stream direction and hung a right heading towards Four Turnings. She was most apologetic about the fact she would be 'in the way' of my photos. Not at all! It made a nice change to show a cyclist in the scenery that doesn't involve setting up tripods and getting my photo face on and so on.
Having said all the above, here is a selfie shot of me out and about in the world. This is on the lane that drops down from Five Turnings towards Boswiddle, and I've often looked back up the hill from the sharp right hander and thought it might make for a photo, but usually the bright sky has been highlight blowingly bright. But given the grumpy sky yesterday I thought I'd give it a go. I did take other shots as I came down the hill and got a lot closer to the camera, but I like this one, although I did give it a short back and sides with the digital scissors, as the original was zoomed in anyway, so some cropping was needed here to show off the old boy on the horizon better.
Boswiddle Ford wasn't very tranquil though, although the roar is still addictively refreshing, and the stream was indeed running above the road, which is how I like it! So I parked the faithful Voodoo at one end of the ford and set about taking a few photos to try and capture the feel of the place.
It wasn't me that busted the fence... It was like that when I got there... honest...
I'm not a huge fan of long exposures for moving water I must admit, as it seems to be very over done now, although the technique does have its place, and as with everything, it's all a matter of taste anyway. But I find it's often quite refreshing to see photos taken by 'non photographers' on their phones and sent in to the papers and so on, as they show, for example waves, as we see them - all splashy and lumpy, rather than smooth and smokey as 'proper' landscape photographerists are prone to displaying them. The same goes with streams and rivers, but on this occasion, I did want to try and capture the speed of the water flow so got busy with the tripods, both normal and tiny, and spent an absorbing 45 minutes or more, wandering about, looking at the angles and at what was there to see - all the kind of thing I enjoy about being somewhere such as this and poking about with a camera in my hand.
Sometimes you have to break your own rules, and on this occasion I broke one of mine and made the exposures as long as a fat bloke's fart to capture the speed and flow of the water.
Huge panorama, but I hope it conveys a little of why I find this spot so appealing.
Riding a bike you get to see, feel, smell, taste and hear the surrounding countryside and the weather too, and with a camera along for the ride, you go looking for stuff to photograph, and so see, and in my case learn, more as well. For banishing all the bad stuff from life a good ride and poke about with a camera does me at least, a power of good as I get lost in my immediate environment and the task at hand.
Bike wheel on the still side of the ford. Fascinating stuff eh?
Back to practical matters and I'm pleased to say that my twenty five quid boots from Decathlon continue to repel water, even when submerged almost to the ankle in a fast moving ford - I know I've wittered on about these budget Beetle Crushers before, but I am really rather impressed with them to say the least.
Riding under the trees is sometimes like riding up the aisle of a big church, or a cathedral even, albeit one without a roof, and without the wine and nibbles too. But anyway, the wine is just a sip (and the priest geezer always holds the base of the goblet with his other hand to stop you tipping it up to get yourself a good mouthful) and the bread is pretty poor I must say. You spend the rest of Sunday trying to unpeel it from the roof of your mouth, and it'd make some pretty lousy sandwiches it has to be said. At a tenner for 250 slices online you'd think it was a bit of a bargain, but give me a Kingsmill 50/50 every time. At least you can fish the Kingsmill out of the toaster, unlike the stuff from the church.
What relaxation looks like.
The remainder of the ride was peaceful and pleasant, if a bit uneventful, as I headed homewards for lunch. I got home just in time too as it slapped it down just as I parked my freshly showered backside in my favourite chair with a bowl of steaming soup. I say just in time, as unlike on the previous ride, I hadn't bothered wearing, or even taking, my leggings with me, so would've got a right sluicing. But I trusted the forecast and again they'd got it right. (I still give 'em hell and call 'em useless articles when they cock it up though...)
Almost home and I saw the Daffodils on the corner have started to come out already. A very welcome sight they are too.
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