Some Early Morning Meanderings.

Some geezer by the name of Tolkien once said that not all who wander are lost...

But on this occasion...

Early mornings at this time of year have to be the best time to be out in the countryside on a bicycle. Everywhere is so still and hushed, soft sunlight filters through lingering mist and there's always the chance of encountering some normally shy, people dodging, wildlife making its way home after a busy night.

The lanes are bursting with new growth and colour at this time of year too, along with the great feeling of optimism that late Spring early Summer brings. 

Pottering slowly about the quiet lanes around my home port not long after sunrise, I can feel like the only person on the planet - not even the farmers, traditionally the earliest of rural risers, are out in the fields as I slowly mooch along drinking in the atmosphere, so I've got the landscape to myself, all the photogenic beauty of the dawning day, it's all just for me! (well, that's how it seems anyway...)

Thankfully I've never had trouble getting up early throughout my life, although bouts of depression can lead to a distinct reluctance to get out of bed I must admit (as has the bout of Man Flu I've just had), but between them I have no trouble being a morning person. It also fits in well with other issues I have, so it's no hardship, when I'm able, to wheel a bike out into the day while the birds are still yawning and stretching, and the rewards are considerable - so uplifting.

All of which is a long winded way of saying I've been out chooching at Sparrow's fart again. Thanks to an unscheduled bout of the aforementioned Man Flu, I am once again late with this update, so it's another long one with several yards of photos to wade through.

So first up we have a gentle meander out through some new to me lanes, starting from St Enoder.

This map is crap, which rhymes nicely, but doesn't tell you too much - click HERE for a more detailed look.

The lanes I'd not ridden before are those between St Enoder and point 14 on the map, and I was riding them for that reason and that reason alone - I'd not ridden them before. There was nothing spectacular to be found along the way that I knew of, no reason to head over that way other than I'd not been over there before, but that is surely reason enough. Get a mood of mindfulness enabled and even the plainest of country lanes will be rewarding to explore. Besides, a route that some folk might find uninteresting and not worth a look after consulting a map or Google Street View might contain immense treasures for the easily pleased like me - a rusty old car, a dead something, or an unwisely designed or decorated house to unfairly criticise. Keep expectations low and rejoice in the ordinary and the mundane as well as the exotic and spectacular. That's my philosophy anyway, and I'm sticking to it.

It was a grey start to this day (the 18th of May) as it happens, a little chilly too so once again I was sporting my jacket to fend off the shivers.

This above is the rather well appointed Bridleway between Trispen and Carland Cross and as can be clearly seen, was once a main road, in this case the old routing of the A39.

Aw, never mind mate...

Taking this route to Mitchell dodges a big ugly hill along the lanes, but thanks to a local farmer not being as generously minded as his neighboring colleague (as the rumour goes), it does involve a huge dog leg 'inland' from Carland Cross whereas the route of the old A39 did lead directly to Mitchell, and indeed is still clearly visible on aerial photos, but the landowner wouldn't allow public access of any sort once the road was rerouted. That's the story as told to me by someone who claims to be 'in the know' but it could be a load of tripe. If it is true though shame on that farmer for being so selfish! I blow a mental raspberry in his general direction every time I ride past the gate blocking off the inviting tarmac that could save we cyclists a deal of effort going the long way round.

I didn't actually need to pass the church at St Enoder but as I was going so close I thought I may as well have another look as it is a fine looking church, but a beggar to photograph as it's mostly hidden behind trees. This view was taken from a footpath opposite.

The start of the new to me lanes - the road from St Enoder to White Cross.

 Oh for fuzz sake... As ever, if a photo looks fuzzy, right click it and open it in a new tab.

One of the obvious pleasures of riding a bike is the access to all the scents, pongs and odours that the motorist enclosed in his or her air conditioned safety capsule will miss. Clumps of these Ramsoms will give you a Garlicy/Oniony waft as you pass, and if they don't, well go back and have a good sniff up close.

This lot were just in the process of waking up, the lazy beggars.

There's only one wind turbine at Retyn, but he's a big beggar.

Down at ground level there was nary a breeze to be felt, not even a hint of a draught, but this whopper was chopping away at the sky quite readily, and sending shadows racing up the road as I passed it. Hardly noiseless either, but not intrudingly so, the rhythmic swooshing of the blades/sails and slight whine from the mechanicals is not an unpleasant noise in such a location. 

Plenty of growth on the verges, but the tree is yet to flourish.

It was while packing all the photo shizz away that I decided to dispense with the jacket as well - must be getting warm then!

At the junction of the road between Luke's Shop and Gummow's Shop stands this milestone (and no, I've no idea about how those places got their name...)

Be careful of this particular milestone though should you find it, as it unusually sits on a large base that is just waiting to stub the toe of anyone intent on a closer look.

As the stone suggests, I could have hung a left here and headed towards Mitchell but my preference was to carry straight on and take the lane down through Degembris.

Random rural view.

As it happened, the Degembris lane made for some very pleasant riding but little to tempt my camera with so I've only the shot above to show for my efforts there.

Once back in Mitchell I slogged my way back to Ocean View where the roads form an H shape and opted not to return via my outward route but instead to have a buzz through the lanes to Boswiddle.

Taking the Boswiddle route means I get to hoon round this beautifully cambered bend. I always have a bit of a go round here as it's one of those bends that just feel so right that you have to make the most of it and get a bit of a lean on.

Two days later, on Sunday the 20th, I headed out once again, and even earlier this time, for my seemingly annual visit to Gossmoor.

 Leaving my home village at around 06.15 into a beautiful landscape.

Down at the bottom of the valley by Trevella Stream though the sun was yet to penetrate the mist, and there was a distinct chill in the air.

Progress towards Ladock was unusually slow on that morning thanks to all the stops made for photo taking, but what a great time to be out and about in the world it was.

Heading through the wooded bends towards Brighton Cross on the main road from Ladock my ears picked up some rather odd noises coming from somewhere ahead of me until I rounded a bend and found this chuntering along. What is it?

This!

I had felt just a bit vulnerable sat behind this slow moving combination through those poorly sighted bends, as traffic does bomb along that road and I didn't fancy getting hit from behind and into the trailer by some speeding car so nipped past at the first opportunity then lay in wait to get a photo as the old warrior chuffed, clanked and wheezed its way through the roundabout at Brighton Cross. The smell - a mixture of smoke, grease and hot oil, was superb!

Of course stopping to take a snap meant having to overtake it again, but beyond the roundabout where the road opens out more, that was no hardship. I'm not breaking the law here either as crossing a solid white line is permissible in order to pass a very slow moving vehicle such as this.

Now after the initial Photographic frenzy, this ride saw me take very few other photos as I made my way up through Fraddon and Indian Queens and onto Gossmoor, as, well... it's all a bit crap looking. In fact, the whole ride is a bit crap scenery and interest wise, and therefore photographically barren for me as well. Others with a better eye will fare better, but I mostly just kept riding. Besides, I've ridden this route several times before and taken all the obvious shots many times already.

I did stop to bag a shot on the course of the old A30 though. This infamous section of that famous road used to be rammed solid with traffic, being single carriageway along its length, making for hellish bottlenecks either side as well where the dual carriageways ended, but now it's all quiet and peaceful.

I did take another shot, a better composition, as those two riders neared the Jamis and filled the tarmac to the left of the shot, but the camera missed the focus on my bike, rather annoyingly. I've had this before with my Canon EF-S lenses for some reason. One minute they will nail the auto focus, another shot a second later and focused on the same spot and it'll be a miss despite the little beep and the green focus point telling me all is tickety boo.

One feature I suppose is this level crossing over the Par to Newquay branch line.

Another is the often fizzing/humming presence of two power lines and their attendant pylons. There's no escaping these as the track follows the electricity for a large portion of the route.

All this is a bit unfair as it doesn't sound all that good as a place to ride. In fact it is, there are around seven miles of easy off road riding to be had and no doubt plenty to interest the more knowledgeable naturalist. There are information boards dotted about as well to help you identify local wildlife and what's growing nearby. You can also marvel at the mere trickle that actually is the mighty River Fal as you cross it. So it's a pleasant enough ride alright, just not much to blow your socks off visually.

Here's a map of the Goss Moor Trail that I've nicked off the internet, but it's better examined HERE which is a PDF file, so you can erm, do whatever it is you do with PDF files. Print 'em off I think...

Coming from 'down West' I get onto the trail by the Screech Owl Sanctuary, so that could also be worth a visit for anyone thinking of doing the trail. 

I encountered one of the staff there holding an owl on her arm as I cycled past, I stopped and looking at the Owl, said hello. 'Piss off big nose' said the Owl. Well I was bit shocked and asked the girl what that was all about and she said it wasn't well, it was suffering from Irritable Owl Syndrome...

Behind her was another Owl stood under a shower, lathering itself up and generally having a good scrub. I said what's that? "That's a Sanitary Owl" said the girl...

I looked over at another forlorn looking Owl and asked what his problem was. "Oh he's lonely" said the girl, "He wanted to go out last night looking for a mate, but it was raining. It was too wet to woo..."

Oh come on... three Owl jokes there, and pretty good ones I might add, what more do you want eh?

Oh well, suit yourselves, back to the ride and after leaving the trail I once more got down to some steady pedalage as I headed back, this time taking the St Enoder route, the second time in a couple of days I'd pass that church.

Heading towards Summercourt I passed a happy Peleton of girls out for a sunny Sunday ride. Mostly roadies but there were also a couple of flat barred bikes there as well.

I find most other riders friendly and willing to tender a hello as I pass, but if I don't get any sort of recognition of my presence I can guarantee the miserable bast... offender will be a male roadie. Most of them are fine (male roadies I mean) just the occasional one will completely blank me, whereas I've yet to be greeted by anything less than a warm smile from the female of the species. 

A little further along the same road and up popped a pair of peachy old Massey Fergusons. Most likely heading to the same show or rally that the steam roller had been heading for, this well restored pair were clean as a new pin, and also testament to the hardship of the farmers of yore. No roll over protection here, not even anything to keep the sun, wind and rain off for that matter. Nowhere even to stick your lunchbox. 

Now though, they're designing tractors where the driver doesn't even to be present at all! You just tell the thing to beggar off and plough the top field say, and off it goes, all by itself. More time for the farmer to do other farmy work I suppose, filling out endless forms for the ministry no doubt.

Coming back up to Ocean View (it's the rather optimistic name of the house that sits beside the H shaped road junction, but is used on various maps) from Mitchell once again I opted for my more normal route home from that point, back the way I'd come the other day along the old A39.

Much to the amazement and incredulity of my not long out of bed neighbour, I arrived back home at about 10.30 am, just as he was loading his bike into his van to head out. My jibes of 'half the day has gone mate,' and 'you're too late, missed all the fun - you snooze you lose' didn't go down too well but hey ho.  I can be a properly smug git sometimes!

The map says 27 miles , the bike's computer said 29 miles. Whatever, it is a decent ride, and a rare one for this lumpy county, being one that includes a fair bit of flat riding.

Full mappage is HERE

So what next? Well two days later I was back on the Marin (no saddle soreness to speak of after the previous twentyish mile ride, it is breaking in far quicker than I expected) but just for a short mooch around my usual loop, just to turn the legs over again and to see what the wild flowers were looking like.

The answer to the wild flower question was pretty good actually. This section of Tregassow Lane (immediately above) actually isn't looking as impressive as last year, with fewer blues, pinks and yellows showing through, but is still stunningly beautiful to ride along.

I also had a minor mooch along the footpath off Tregassow Lane. Oh Noes... one shirt cuff folded back, one not - It's a symmetry fail!

 I gave this shot a tickle in Nik software, which is a bit of a photographic sin as it means my photos lack consistency of look, but what the hell.

This almost looks like a second curtain flash shot, with the mix of motion blue and an almost sharp looking knobbly front tyre, but is just a GoPro still from under tree cover, hence it selecting a slow shutter speed. I quite like the almost impressionistic feel to the shot I must admit. If Claude Monet rode mountain bikes...

Last ride for this upload now you'll be pleased to know, and Fatso's first outing since undergoing Bottom Bracket surgery.

Random roadside trainer.

Quiet Lane says the sign. Yes it is says I. 

Fabulous display of wild flower colour in the hedge on the lane to Idless Woods.

I thought it was about time I went and had a look at the Bluebells in Idless Woods. Compared to some places the display is pretty poor it must be said, no vast acres of blue to be seen here, just a light smattering but still worth a look.

This is a crop from a several shot panoramic so I wouldn't be at all surprised if it is a bit fuzzy looking (but actually looks ok where I'm sat...)

No Bluebells were harmed in the making of these photos as Fatso and the intrepid photographerist (me...) were both on paths. Something that really, really hacks me off is when I see someone taking photos of a good display of Bluebells and going stomping off through them looking for an angle to shoot from. Yeah thanks mate, not only are you treading down a path to spoil the shots of other's photos, but you're trampling down the very flowers you're here to photograph yourself you idiot. No such bad behaviour on this occasion, but last year at this same location the evidence of such lack of thinking was clear to see as several paths were trampled into the flowers, presumably by people looking for photos.

Checking out the Bluebells means popping out onto the uppermost track around the top edge of the wood, which is all very well but on this occasion I quickly nipped back down to the middle track by way of what I think of as 'The Chute.' 

This path runs almost straight as a gunshot down through the wood to the stream at the bottom, from a starting point where a footpath from St Allen meets the edge of the wood. Clearly an old thoroughfare then, but what it also is, is a narrow, downhill track through the trees that is a bit like that scene in The Italian Job where those Minis are bombing through those sewer pipes. I'm pretty careful and slow on a bike as a rule but even I swoop up and down the banks down through here, zig-zagging my way down and generally enjoying the freedom of movement this track offers to someone with a knackered back. Fatso makes it a lot easier to do as well. I've tried the same on the Voodoo and it didn't feel half as secure. 

Hanging bags from trees is bad enough, but leaving them on seats is just charming. People say they leave their little bags of delight in order to pick them up again on their way out. Well clearly there are a lot of very forgetful folk out there and besides, there is a dog waste bin about 50 feet away from this seat. Grrrr....

Anyway, on that note, it's time to call it a day. The flu is a heck of a lot better today, so much so that I'm thinking of getting out on a bike again tomorrow but we'll see how this evening goes. I say flu, well really it wasn't, but it was also more than a cold. Friday night through to yesterday afternoon was spent shivering and sweating, and with everything aching like crazy. I was annoyed because at about 2 am on Sunday we had a brief, but rather spectacular looking/sounding thunderstorm, but it was beyond my weakened state to even get off the bed to open the curtains and enjoy the show. Damn - I love a good thunderstorm!

Anyway, that's it for now. Happy cycling!

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