Thursday the 28th of September... blimey that seems an age ago, but anyway, we'll start there and lob up a few photos from some of the rides I've done.
That Thursday morning saw me peering out of the window wondering who had turned the contrast down during the night, turned out just to be a bit misty outside so need to panic then. Well yes actually, 'cos mist makes for some good photos, but first, coffee. Sometimes I can go without the jump start that is the first caffeine injection of the day, but not on that day. So it was, that by the time I had got brain and body functioning to a level compatible (just) with riding a bike, the mist was already lifting as the sun burned it off before my very (still slightly bleary) eyes.
Spiders must hate misty mornings as their wonderfully woven and cunningly crafted webs become so visible, even the most short sighted of insects buzzing merrily along can see the trap looming.
Just a minute or two later on from the first webby photo up above and the mist is already clearing. Doh... Late to the party again!
It wasn't long at all before all signs of the murky start had been seen off by the sun. This image makes things look a tad bleak - a result I think of the still damp roads, the recently cut hedges and verges. Oh and me turning up the contrast a bit in post processing to make it look half way presentable as an image. In fact it was a rather pleasant, warm and sunny day that unfolded.
Right, I'm hitting the fast forward button here and missing out a ride 'cos not a lot happened worth putting on here.
So we suddenly get to last Friday, October the sixth, and a beautiful sunny day once again. Now a sunny day means it's ride the Marin day, so out came the Pine Mountain and off I booted, being careful to avoid puddles and mud as much as I could, the Marin being my 'best bike' as it were, and the one I really hate getting dirty. Trouble is, it's such a good bike to ride it's hard to keep it for summer use only or something daft like that, but with some careful weather watching and even more careful dollop dodging riding, I can ride it and keep it from getting ruinously grotty in the process.
An absolutely beautiful day for a ride in the countryside. Warm, soft, sunshine and no wind to speak of (meteorologically derived wind anyway, no such assurances can be made regarding the old bloke in this photo).
Between the hamlet of Boswiddle and the ford. I'd be going past that farm on distant hill over yonder later.
Boswiddle Ford... again. I can't pass through here without a good poke around, and of course, a photo or three. It is a magical little place for me, somewhere I always enjoy stopping and just taking in the noise of the water dropping off the road onto the lower level of the stream below, and the squawking of the Crows in the tree tops here.
This was taken using one of those very cheap and crappy mini tripods that was a freebie with, I think, my Canon G7 when I bought it. The sort of crappy little thing you'd find in a pound shop no doubt, but it actually does prove useful on occasions such as this, when a low viewpoint and a long exposure are required. The G1X boasts a lot of gravity for a compact, being quite a chunky number, but the little tripod holds it well.
Just cruisin' along.
If only I could bottle the waves of calming pleasure I feel sometimes when riding through scenes like this...
Oh hold up, what's this? A Covey of Pheasants, a Nide or a Bouquet of Pheasants no less. Suggestions all for the collective noun for these equally magnificent but dim, birds.
I'd suggest a Mayhem of Pheasants, a Chaos or a Pandemonium perhaps, as being equally, if not more so, suitable.
There are three of the beggars lurking in this photo, as they took the sun on a fallen tree in the woods near Trendeal.
I've tried before, but failed spectacularly, to get a good photo of a Pheasant or two, but these for some reason, seemed quite happy with me being nearby. I say nearby, but they were still a bit too far for the compact's zoom lens, so out came the big guns - the 450D and the 55-250 zoom, rather than a Purdey side-by-side, much to the relief of the feathery ensemble no doubt.
The only reason I can think of that these birds didn't scarper quick on my arrival was that possibly, they couldn't actually see me due to the sun being in their eyes. Or, if they are escapees from the pens and guns of the local shoot, maybe their survival instinct hasn't been formed yet.
The turning colour and dropping of the leaves can mean only one thing - it's that Pheasanty time of year again, and sure enough, the lanes have suddenly become full of the beggars again after the quiet, tranquil, summer months. Hardly a ride goes by now without me being startled by some gert big bird, or birds, busting out of the hedge beside me and running up the lane ahead of my advancing knobblies. They dodge left, they dodge right, making that awful cluuuurching noise as they go, before finally remembering they can fly, well after a fashion they can anyway. So they take off, but instead of soaring gracefully upwards and away to safety, they veer to one side or other and crash alarmingly through the bushes, leaves and branches bustling as they go, and I wince at the thought of the battering the bird must take in what usually would qualify as an air accident worthy of the AAIB's attentions.
Not the brightest of birds by any means then. Not intelligence wise anyway, but colour wise, their markings really are quite something. The area below the vicary looking white collar and down their backs looks for all the word like it is painted in acrylics or something. Those long tail feathers are quite superb too.
So I think it's a shame they are seen as good shooting fun. I don't like hunting for shits and giggles in any form, but I fail to see the sport in shooting Pheasants. Take a large, slow moving and even slower thinking bird, and blow it to bits with a gun that could hit all four corners of a barn door from 30 feet with a single pull of the trigger. Where's the skill in that? Let's see you nail one with a sniper rifle then I'll be more impressed with the marksmanship, and the poor dim bird will at least stand some chance. Easy for me to say all that mind you, I've never fired a gun and probably couldn't hit the sea from a rowing boat if I tried to fire one, but still, it doesn't seem overly skilled to me.
But, Pheasant numbers in the 'wild' are on the rise apparently, and it is the shoots that we have to thank for that, as numbers bred in captivity increase each year, leading to the inevitable lucky escapees taking up residence in the countryside, albeit devoid initially of self preservation and foraging for food skills.
So well have their numbers grown that a recent University of Exeter study found that Pheasants make up 38.1% of birds killed by traffic between 2013 and 2016, the highest number of any roadkill bird species (Pheasanty slaughter). I've personally nearly added to those figures myself after having had a couple of very near misses with the blundering bird while out riding. But despite all the startle induced wobbles and undercracker laundry traumas, I'm a fan of the darned birds. Thick as a yard of gravy they may be, but a ride in the countryside just isn't the same without their catastrophic presence. It was too quiet this summer so I'm glad the shooting season is underway and may as many Pheasants escape the guns as possible.
Riding on having bagged some shots of the Pheasants, I saw some far more graceful feathered flying courtesy of a couple of Raptors that swooped out of the tree tops and soared up the lane in front of me. It turns out they had spotted a Rabbit or Hare that I then saw floppeting up the road and I braced myself to witness the kill, only to see a car come round the bend ahead, the Rabbit (or Hare, can't tell the difference without my prescription glasses on...) dive into the hedge, and the birds swoop to the right off over the adjacent field.
I've had many encounters with Raptors over my cycling years as well, and they are altogether a more special moment than encountering a floundering Pheasant. I need to take my NHS specs, binoculars and big zoom lensed camera, and stake out a couple of the places where I regularly witness the effortless flowing soaring of these birds of prey. Oh and a Raptor ID book for idiots would be handy as well.
The Cornish Space Agency have got the launch pad sorted, now they're just searching Ebay for used Saturn Fives and there'll be Trelawney men fair and true in space before you can bake a big bloke's pasty.
Alternatively, this may be a BT phone mast I've heard about, near Carland Cross...
Sunday, yesterday, the 8th of October, was Fatbike Sunday once again, and another ride into Idless Woods.
Not Idless Woods, but a scraggy raggy bit of woodland nearby, atop the nearside hill above Lanner Mill.
I love these bits of 'wild' woodland that dot the landscape. I desperately want to get in them and immerse myself in their disorder, but they're all privately owned by some bugga or other, and most are protected by walls, fences, signs saying 'beggar orf,' minefields and watch towers etc. The woods I do get to explore seem almost too well managed in comparison, almost as if Disney did woodland. These raggedy bits provide reminders of what the countryside could've looked like centuries ago before we started tarmacing and concreting, and organising and controlling everything.
I started off poking Fatso along the middle path through the woods, as seen here, but was soon seduced by a 'new to me' path down through the trees.
Boldly going where Fatso and I had not gone before, and most enjoyable it was too.
Close up of some twisty Idless bark.
I must admit to not always being a fan of the long exposure treatment given to moving water. It seems such a cliche these days, every (white) water shot you see looks more like smoke than gushing wetness, and the result is also not how we see it with our MK1 human eyes. But... I'm slowly changing my mind and experimented a bit with some longer exposures beside the stream in the woods. Too long an exposure and I got the smokey effect which left me not overly enthused. But the second shot of these two above was a bit quicker at 1/10th of a second, and is a half decent compromise, conveying the movement, power and maybe even the noise of the water here. The smokey look, to me at least, never portrays or suggests the noise that accompanies these mini waterfalls.
The original plan had been to do a loop of the woods then beggar off back home in time for lunch, but I changed my mind, enjoying the ride as I was, so took the long way home from the woods, via the road. This meant descending back down to Lanner Mill (where I'd entered the woods) but my bimbling was nearly interrupted by this fallen tree. On my side of the road, the left in this photo, I would've banged my head a treat (but missed my brains by about three feet), had I not seen it and been able to stop. Just as I stopped, so a Ford Fiesta came down the hill behind me and just squeezed under the tree by going to the right side of the road. Anything bigger would surely hit it so once I got home and could use the internet (my mobile phone doesn't do internet... actually it doesn't do much at all, it's a phone, for making phone calls with) I found the contact details and phoned it in.
This lane is a cut through for people travelling to/from the north west side of Truro and wanting the A39 towards Newquay or the A30. This lane gives Truro and its traffic a swerve, so you do get all sorts along here, and sooner or later, a4x4, a motorcyclist or a van would no doubt twat this tree a good'un, it being a steep hill and a bend an all.
I got an email this morning saying the tree had been cleared so all is good (hope it was done yesterday just after I called it in mind).
So that's the news from down here in Autumny Cornwall.
I'm rushing to finish this post now, 'cos there's live Speedway on in a mo and we're getting near the end of the season so I want to get my fix while I still can. I won't be spill chocking this until later either, so it might be fill of mistooks and bad grammarisms, but it'll have to do for the time being.
Right, until next time, happy bimbling!
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