"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 a thought on anything but the ride you are taking." Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
The bikes, the lanes, the countryside, the fresh air, and the exercise have all been working their magic at keeping me going recently, as my mood has slipped a little and I've had more periods of feeling a bit crap. Things aren't that bad though as when they do get really rough, there's no way I could summon up the will and energy to pedal a bike - just getting upright in the morning takes everything I've got at such times.
These periods where I start feeling things slowing down and an all encompassing fog threatening to descend, fill me with worry as I fear if the slide can't be arrested quickly then I'll sink lower and lower and back into places I've been before and not enjoyed much, shall we say.
Thankfully I have still got out on the bikes and felt the benefits of spending some time getting away from it all, and immersing myself in my surroundings. A lot of my rides are purely for pleasure as it were, sometimes though, times such as I've been getting lately, they take on more of an importance - I need to get out and feel those benefits, and really fear the consequences of not doing so.
But enough of the gloomery now, let's get on to the actual rides and some piccies, starting all the way back last Tuesday, the 19th of this month of September.
Warm sunshine and strikingly clear air - a great day to be out and in the countryside, although I started off taking this shot of Fatso in rather less than salubrious surroundings.
Uh oh, fuzz time.
It hadn't rained since the previous Sunday, but there was still a lot of water running down the lanes. Trickling water is a sound that often characterises the lanes around here for a large part of the year - you're never far from a river or stream, or just these little rivulets making their way down the many hills as the water drains off the surrounding fields.
The ford at Boswiddle was my destination, always a good place to head to when I need some rural invigoration. The water is back to running across the road again, ramping up the decibels in the process as it makes a wonderful background roar to my pokings about.
I've taken a ton of photos of the ford itself in the past, so didn't take any on this ride, but I did see these intriguing footprints in the mud behind the ford. It's a pity the main print isn't a clean one, as it makes an identification a little harder, but possibilities include a Badger or an Otter. Sheer numbers would suggest the former is most likely, and the ford is in the bottom of a steeply sided dip with woodland either side, so Badgers could have Setts nearby without fear of getting flooded.
A sad sight was these two young rabbits lying dead in the undergrowth on the road between Ladock and St Erme. Quite what happened here, I've no idea, they bore no obvious signs of injury although I didn't poke them about to see. Possibly they were shot and dumped there, I don't really know.
One of those spots where you just know there's a good photo lurking, waiting to be taken, but I always come away frustrated at not having got it! It's a spot full of gates, and stiles, trees and branches, mud and tarmac, all good subjects for rural atmosphere, but this is one of only two shots/angles I've taken here. The other is on the outside of the bend there looking back where I've come from. I always have a good old mooch and a poke around but have never found another angle for a photo, which is more lack of imagination/eye for a photo than the location's fault.
Tuesday's ride was an extremely relaxing and rejuvenating one though. The Fatbike with its low gearing and steady as a rock stability make really low speed pedaling a real pleasure, and the lack of wind made for a very peaceful and calming ride.
Thursday last saw me once more poking Fatso down the road in need of more rural immersion, and when I say immersion, I mean immersion!
Sssshhhh... I won't tell if you don't.
Up near Lanner Barton is a remote footpath that I have ridden a few times when I want to really get amongst the greenery. This path bears all the hallmarks of once being a well used thoroughfare from the direction of St Allen and the church, it makes its way down to Idless Woods, where it meets 'the chute', the straight as a gun barrel ditch that drops right down the hill to the river. Most likely a Drover's path, this footpath is certainly pretty wide in places where tree shelter limits bramble growth, and ancient Cornish Hedges (earth mounds faced with stone) can still be seen on either side.
Just to one side of the top of the path, where the photo above was taken, is also the site of an Iron Age roundhouse, although all traces of that have now long since disappeared. Who knows how old this path really is then.
It was drizzly grizzly when I set off, and also knowing that I'd be doing a bit of bush busting, I had donned my over trousers before setting off. Baggy trousers is not just a Madness single, but a fashion statement round my way.
This footpath is nowadays not well used, as evidenced by the thickness of the undergrowth. Although, saying that, it's not looking too bad above is it...
Wherrrr... fwarrrrpppp...
I had to get off and push at one point as the vegetation was simply too thick to ride through. In the photo above I'd just had my arm dragged off the bars by a gert big bramble and a crash was only very narrowly avoided.
You can always tell when you've been out in the countryside because you get home either smelly, muddy, wet, or with skin and clothes ripped to shreds. I ticked the boxes marked wet and ripped on this ride, even my right ear started leaking blood freely thanks to the attentions of a bramble, and how my jacket and over trollies remain in one piece I don't know. The post ride shower was definitely a stingy affair, despite my legs being covered by two pairs of trousers.
Busting out the thick stuff the width of the path becomes a little more apparent, the trees on either side marking the boundaries. Most of those trees are growing out of the top of the Cornish Hedges, and this is often no accident, as plants and trees were planted along the tops of the earth bank to add height to the wind breaking properties of the hedge. They're called hedges rather than walls because of this living part of their make up, as said, done by design rather than accident, and because over time, the facing stones become hidden behind various types of vegetation growing out of the sides, often displacing stones as it does so. Visitors to the County have often found out the hard way that an apparently soft looking hedge is actually an unforgiving granite car reshaper wearing a clever disguise.
In some places, the facing stones are quite visible, and the 'hedge' is also more of a traditional wall, the central earth bank being a chunk thinner.
Once again, the true width of the path can be clearly seen between the banks, and also another footpath, with ancient Cornish granite stile, joins just off to the left in this photo. Not much chance of me following that path though, not with a bike at any rate.
Poking around this path you can't help but wonder just how old it is, and who has been along it in the past.
After about a mile and a half, I have to turn back, having reached this gate and stile. One day I'll take a bravery pill, get the bike through that gate and follow the path some more as it runs along the edge of farmland before running into Idless Woods.
So, back the way I'd come I go...
I love paths like this though, they are seldom used by walkers it would appear, and yet were once busy with human and animal traffic in the past. The A30 of their day perhaps.
I love the remoteness of a couple of these footpaths that I ride as well. They're miles from anywhere really, and that's where they meet the road. Take the paths and you end up going where you can easily believe you're the only person for miles around, in places most people (other than a few farmers perhaps) will never see.
Now we're up to yesterday, (Sunday), the 24th and once more I headed out in the same direction as the previous ride, but this time would nip through the woods to knock a corner off and save a mile or two.
Lanner Mill and the entrance I use to Idless Woods. Bike du Jour this time was the Voodoo.
Taking a breather at the top of the first hill that you need to climb to access the middle and upper paths through the woods. The initial slope is steep (for me...), rutty and stony, and I've never got all the way up it on the Voodoo as I always end up getting derailed by some large stone or the front wheel getting pushed about by the ruts. Fatso meanwhile just bimbles straight up, ambling over all the lumps and bumps with considerable aplomb. But, I'd taken the Voodoo so had to reacquaint myself with the joys of pushing a blubber lugger of a bike.
From this spot, the left bend that marks the end of the steep and rutty section, the gradient is easier and the track smoother, so after a brief stop to allow legs and lungs to recover for a photo, I was able to jump step back on and enjoy the erm, joys, of narrow tyres off road again. Hmmmm... Definitely a slippy slidey affair compared to my usual off roader of choice these days, Fatso.
Overnight drizzle had given way to half hearted, hazy, sunshine, and all around was the sound of water dripping off the trees. Not just the sound either as I copped a drip the size of a small bucketful, right on the back of my neck while setting this shot up. Or maybe I'd just been bombed by a mischievous Gull or Pigeon... hard to tell when you can't see just what splatted you so comprehensively on the nape of the neck.
Not Idless Woods this one, but the Watts Nature Reserve at Shortlanesend.
I always have a trip around the reserve when I'm passing, as it is a nice enough way to spend a few minutes. I finally encountered some wildlife too - a grey, thick tailed beast with alarmingly sharp looking front teeth. Yep, a Squirrel. I guess all the exotic stuff the info boards promise have Sundays off...
An almost suspiciously neat looking arrangement of Autumnal deadness lying on the boardwalk of the nature reserve. Maybe someone just before me had arranged these leaves into this little group, or maybe it was just a little 'eddy' of light wind. Who knows, but this neat little cluster amongst the random leafy scatter caught the eye.
The lanes on the North Westerly side of Truro are riddled with fords, so always a pleasure for a splash loving big kid like me. This lane, narrow and on a Sunday, reasonably quiet, is a busy rat run on a weekday as people use this route to access Treliske Hospital without having to drag through the town.
Well, that's that really. The photos I took on these latest rides were a bit disjointed, as photography wasn't really the priority, but the rides have done me a power of good, as they do most of the time. It really is amazing how a simple ride on a bicycle can do so much more than tablets and 'pulling your socks up' can ever achieve.
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