With the depression I get good days and bad days, good weeks and bad weeks, good months and so on. Sometimes it is cripplingly grim, full of angst and despair, sometimes I just feel utterly crushed, an empty husk of a human being. Other times I can just feel pretty flat - up and about, but with no real energy or desire to do much. Thursday, a day I had planned to go for a ride, was a day when I felt the latter.
The night before I decided I'd go and have a good rummage around some of the Byways and Bridleways around Probus - nothing new to me at all, I've done them several times in the past, but a ride is a ride and an off road ride is even better.
But when I woke Thursday morning I knew I was in trouble straight away. It took me about half an hour to get out of bed - always a bad sign that, but at least I did make it upright and still intent on going for my ride. I hoped the fresh air, the exercise releasing endorphins and a good old poke about on Fatso would sort me out. Get my plugs sparking and my toast buttered. Or something like that.
I had coffee but I was still struggling with the should I go for a ride or just stay here and veg out dilemma. It's hard at times like this to make the positive thoughts overcome the negatives, but I was pressing ahead and slowly assembled all my guff and wheeled Fatso out into the road. Another warning came as I first threw my leg over the bike and instead of riding off straight away, I dithered - "Do I really want to do this? I could just go back indoors now and everything would be a lot easier."
Finally I pressed on though into the dull grey day, in the hope the ride would weave its magic as it has done in the past, and lift my spirits. It wasn't to be. I got as far as Riverside where I turned left and started on the ugly great hill and I just knew it wasn't happening, I just didn't have the spark, the energy or the life in me at all.
Everywhere was still and quiet - disturbingly quiet actually, where has all the bird song gone? There I was in a tree lined sunken lane surrounded by fields on both sides, and there was no noise at all. That just added to my gloom, we really are mullering the wild life in this country one way and another, and fast.
I did take my first photo of the ride though of a Cuckoo Pint, or Lords and Ladies as it is also known - the knobbly, vibrant red poisonous things that scream look at me with their bright colour.
That hill was the final straw - I turned round and made a new plan to ride up to Trehane then back home via my usual regular route. That would also mean riding up the longer but less steep gradient rather than going back the way I'd come where the hill is shorter, but a right bad ass so and so, that I wasn't in the mood for.
In the lane from Riverside up to Trehane.
Even climbing the shallower gradient was too much hard work as my legs struggled to push each pedal down - what a bummer this day was!
I made it home though, obviously, after seven very out of sorts miles covered. A bike ride in the country can be a great anti dote to depression and modern life in general, but sometimes it's an uneven struggle and Thursday was just such a day. These things happen, no doubt I would be good to go again soon.
With all this hot and dry weather I haven't been washing the bikes anything like as often as normal. Partly as it seems a tad irresponsible when the reservoir levels are now starting to get very low, and partly because a bit of dust isn't half as bad to look at as the usual mud and cluggery that blathers the bikes after a few rides.
Now though, the state of them really is starting to make my clean bike reflex twitch and I'm going to end up washing them soon I'm sure.
Now all the above makes for some very glum reading, and I hope it hasn't made anyone unfortunate enough to read it all reach for the gas oven or order a noose from Amazon or anything. I hate showing my mood to other people when I'm down, I have no right to inflict it on other people who have their own miseries to worry about. But this blog is really supposed to be all about how good cycling is for the mood and so now and again I will describe how things are.
Besides, the attack of the glooms didn't last long this time - thankfully, and by Friday evening I was feeling a bit more like it again. So much so that I plotted a ride for Saturday morning.
Rather than set out to complete the failed ride from Thursday, I thought I'd venture North of the A30 once again and poke my nose up a couple of lanes that I'd never been along before near St Newlyn East. Going and returning via Mitchell means also not having to tangle with the A30 directly, I can go over it on the way out, and under on the way home - result!
The mighty Marin was the bike for this job, and on this day, I really was back to normal. As soon as I climbed aboard and set off it just felt good to be on a bike, in the fresh air and just riding somewhere.
I didn't ride far though before I was stopping and breaking out the camera for a shot of some dead stuff. In this case it was a rat or a large mouse - I wasn't sure which to be honest, usually I can tell a rat when I see one, and I'm told by a helpful fellow Flickr member that this indeed was a rat, but it just didn't look right at the time.
No good going back now for another look - as I rode home I saw a car had run it over, squashed it flat and let all the mince out. Like a furry mini Pizza - very messy.
Like I say, this ride was completely different to Thursday's, I was grinning like a well shot Fox as I rode along enjoying the Marin's responsive ride. I was into the rhythm of riding very quickly - my breathing, my cadence, the speed of the wheels on the tarmac, the whirring rustling of the transmission all came together to give that wonderful easy wheeling feeling of self propelled movement. It was going to be a good ride.
It really is amazing the difference a day or two and a change in mood can make, as I veritably romped my way along the lanes through Mitchell and towards Summercourt, where I had a quick zig zag over the main road and onto virgin lanes. I'd checked these lanes out on Google maps and couldn't see anything spectacular, but you can't really tell from the quick look I had, you have to go and look for yourself - who knows what you might find?
So far, the day had been about riding rather than photooing, dead stuff excepted, and I was well into the ride before I stopped for a poke around at a small bridge over a stream.
Looking over the opposite parapet to where the bike was resting, I looked down and saw this rather odd looking installation - a sort of knobbly, gnarly thing, the likes of which I'd never seen before.
Well, once again, it was Flickr to the rescue, this time with my neighbour up in Devon, Overly Curious Bystander, who knows his countryside very well. This is an Eel Ladder, a device to help Eels swim past various obstacles safely, in this case a slight rise in the stream bed as the Eel pushes on upstream.
Well there we go, I learned something new there, every day's a school day alright!
Another advantage of these lanes I was riding is they're largely flat, no socking great hills to grind away at, so the riding was sheer pleasure, ambling along at a comfortably slow pace, enjoying the day although it was very grey and in places, murky out. The promised sun had yet to break its way through, which actually isn't a bad thing given the strength of it recently.
Nothing spectacular but very enjoyable riding all the same.
Another lane, another bridge to stop and peer over. Nothing much of interest below this one however, although there was a Lloyd Loom Chair down there, lobbed over the parapet by some feckless idiot. It actually looked to be in good condition, and therefore probably worth £30 or £40.
Those bars don't half look wide... well they are wide, at a gap bothering 780 mm, but they are supremely comfortable for me and my wonky back and neck.
Eventually I came to a T junction and without thinking went left down the hill and immediately knew I had wanted to turn right. Still, at the bottom of the hill lay Trewerry Mill and a little bridge over the River Gannel, which was all very nice, or would be if it wasn't for a lot of traffic coming through here.
Once again it's thanks to Overly Curious Bystander who identified this tree as being a Eucalyptus, and the shedding of bark is what it does.
I say I took a wrong turning, well I did, as I thought I'd go and have a quick look at the Manor House at Trerice. It wasn't far away and the hill up to it, not too bad, so off I went.
This is what I found. You can't see a huge amount from the road due to the high wall, and I wasn't about to pay the National Trust any money and go in. (I used to be a member of the National Trust, but in recent years have turned against the way they go about some things).
Photo taken, gate peered through, I rode back down through Trewerry Mill and onward heading for St Newlyn East. The lane was narrow, even as lanes go, but the traffic was just crazy. It wasn't heading for, nor away from, Trerice, but seemed to be holiday traffic - lots of motorhomes, a 4x4 towing a hooting great caravan, lots of Vee Dubb T4 and T5 vans carrying surfboards, canoes, bikes and so on. The roads are getting busier by the day, and the vehicles bigger too.
Back on familiar territory at St Newlyn East I rode along - the church on one side of the road, the Butcher's shop on the other. What a wonderful smell there was coming from the latter too, I'd forgotten what a proper Butcher's shop smells like. I rode back to Mitchell without bother, and then turned up the hill towards Ocean View and if I thought traffic had been a pain before, I was wrong. I don't know what was going on, but as the hill ascends it gets narrower towards the top and I pull in to let anything behind pass. Well I could hardly move, there was wave after wave of traffic coming up the hill - I'd hear something coming, pull in and let a dozen or so cars pass. Unbelievably busy for this road. Then I'd pull out and immediately have to pull back in again as another wave came up. All I can think of is that there was probably a big traffic jam on the A30 approach to Carland Cross and this lot, possibly heading South at the junction, were coming off the A30 and dodging through to Carland Cross via the lanes. At the three way junction at Ocean View they were all turning and heading for there rather than carrying on to Ladock or whatever. Summer Saturdays have never been so busy as they seem to be these days!
I had planned on returning via Carland Cross myself - my outward route, but that would mean more tailgating and having to pull in all the time, so instead I took the Ladock road, which runs nicely downhill for a good way and believe me, I made very good use of gravity as I piled on the pedals initially to enter the descent with maximum velocity already engaged and set about flying down the hill, which is safely wider than the climb up to it is.
It's a great feeling, speed on a bike. Whether a push bike or a motorbike, the wind rushing over you, the ground near your feet a blur in your peripheral vision, leaning through the curves fingers covering the brakes just in case - how invigorating that is, especially on a hot day when the cooling rush of air is really welcome.
Past Ladock Woods (not allowed in there any more with a bike - Boo!) then a right turn and I headed for my usual stop and poke around at Boswiddle Ford.
I photographed these honking great Fungi a few weeks ago, and now they're even bigger and have changed shape somewhat too. There was a very sweet smell in the air here, but on putting my hooter up close and inhaling a large amount of air (I've got a big nose - proper beauty it is, like the tail on a 747...) I decided the fragrant pong wasn't coming from the Fungus. I was also curious as to the texture - soft and squidgy or tappety tap tap brittle upper surface? The former as it turns out - soft and squidgy. That's as far as my investigations have taken me, I've no idea what type of Fungus this lot is, nor if they are edible, but they are pretty spectacular looking, I do know that.
I've never personally seen the water level so low as it is at the moment, and that meant I could do a little paddling and actually cross the stream to the other side. The bank on the right here is fenced off and inaccessible from the road, so this was the first time I'd got across to here.
The bike isn't hanging off the fence, its front wheel is on tarmac, the rear wheel in the gap between the tarmac and the fence. Bike shot taken, I turned around to see another view I'd not properly seen before as I looked down stream...
What I want to do now is explore down there as far as I can while the water level is still low.
I will come back with the Voodoo (I don't want any of my bikes nicked, but the Voodoo is the one I'd miss least!) lock it to the fence and have me a wander down the stream. I didn't have my rubbishy lock with me so didn't want to leave the Marin out of my sight, even in the countryside.
Another shot looking back upstream. In winter the stream runs well above the road surface where the bike is.
And that was that. I made my way home, feeling fit and invigorated - an extremely enjoyable ride had been had. So much did I enjoy it that I plotted another ride for the very next day - yesterday!
That plotting involves a little more than just wondering where to go as I have to be careful with what I eat the night before a ride - I really don't want to be riding with a griping gut, or the feeling that I need the loo - NOW!
So I had very little for dinner on Saturday night, just a bowl of soup and a sandwich.
Sunday dawned in my house at about 08.30, and I set off on the Marin once again heading for a mooch around the big city!
Once again I was feeling fit as a Butcher's dog and made mincemeat of the ride down to Tresillian, and then unusually for me, took the shared path alongside the main road up towards Truro. I normally take the riverside path to St Clement or dodge through the lane up through Devil's Archway.
The main A390 as it climbs up from Tresillian to Truro.
Woodcock Corner is a well known bend on this road, and is apparently named after a horse that dropped dead and is buried beside the road. I heard the story being told when I was on the 'Loser Cruiser' (the bus) once. I can't remember if the horse was called Woodcock or the owner, but it was used to pull carriages from Grampound into Truro way back in the day.
It's a bit of an uphill run as can be seen from the photo, but eventually the shared path takes you across the road and into the Park and ride/Waitrose complex. You could ride along the road but it is narrow and busy, but anyway, I wanted to poke my nose at all the new builds that also share the site.
Vast swathes of once farmland are now covered in the park and ride and Waitrose car parks, but up towards the back of the site (or the front if on the A39 Newquay road) are a ton of new build houses going up.
They all look rather posh too - no affordable jobbies for first time buyers here by the look of it. This lot above do have some greenery to look out over - it's not theirs, they can't use it as their garden, but they do look out over it. But they also look out over...
The Park and Ride...
But at least they have a half decent view, other houses either look straight into the house opposite, or across the main A39 and the scruffy retail park.
Being nosy, I had me a look around the finished and inhabited areas (there's a big lump in the middle where building is still going on - they build outwards in these days - makes sense in attracting buyers to the inner housing I imagine). The roads are narrow and cars are parked everywhere, up one side of the road making it a single track road, and in other places, on the pavements outside homes. The communal parking areas were either full or too far away from the front door of the lazy owners, so they park right up against their front doors... lovely. But something else caught my eye as I made my way out onto the A39 on the other side of the complex...
Hello... wossthatthen?
There's another one...
What the hell? Blanked out windows!! What on earth is going on?
They are of course a feature of many an old house due to the window tax that was introduced in 1696, and the more windows a house had, the wealthier the owner, obviously, so the more tax they could pay. Cue a rush to get some windows bricked up quick to avoid paying higher taxes. But here's a heads up for the developer - the window tax was abolished in 1851! Blanked out windows might have been a feature in some Georgian houses, but so were Smallpox and Typhus, and we don't want them either.
I don't know, that just bugs the hell out of me! Fake bricked up windows, what is the world coming too! The one in that last shot really eats away at my OCD tidiness reflex too... Makes my teeth itch it does.
Rather than blat straight down the main road - no real worry as it is really wide, I opted to go up a shared path that comes out beside Penair School - a nice enough ride up a tree lined path that used to be a country lane.
Whuuhhh... whuuhhh... whoaaaa - Clannnggggg!
No I'm just joking, I didn't actually ride into this barrier, but those wide bars do need care at times.
Entering Truro down St Clements Hill, I once again made full use of the long and steep gravitational pull and flew down the hill at about 30 mph... well 29.9 mph officer, before braking hard as I collided with the city centre at the bottom of the hill in the form of the busy Trafalgar Roundabout.
The view across the city from Morlaix Avenue, and I must say the City Parks Department do a cracking job with all the flower beds, planters and hanging baskets - lots of colour all around the place.
I wasn't going to spend long in town though, at least not yet, as I wanted to check out the progress of yet more new builds that are going up beside the old Newham branch line, so made my way around the back of Tesco and up the Newham Road and onto the bed of the old track.
A sunny Sunday morning saw quite a few runners and walkers out along here, as well as a few other cyclists including a youngish chap on a touring bike full loaded up with panniers front and back, bags on the rack and bars and all sorts. This route is part of NCN route 3 (I think) and is far better when traveling to or from Falmouth than using the busy, narrow, steep and twisting main road.
The old branch line is peaceful enough for some really enjoyable riding, apart from this bridge that is, as it crosses the main Truro - Falmouth road and the traffic roar is a constant intrusion here.
Anyway, I was glad to see no sign yet of the new housing, as it might have implications for this path. I don't think they will be building onto it, but how close the houses will get to it is another matter. There was also talk at one time of making this old branch line a bus way, allowing buses a quick shortcut into Truro and avoiding all the traffic on the main road. I don't think that will happen either to be honest. Well, I certainly hope not anyway.
The houses are certainly flying up at the top of the field where it meets the main road - once again build from the roadside down I suspect so prospective purchasers get a good look from the road at the sort of boxes homes that are on offer.
The branch path goes up the side of County Hall in Truro, or the Chapel of Rest as it is otherwise known. I know of someone who took a temporary placement working there, and it was the only placement she asked her temp agency to be relieved from. Going to work to get work done is frowned upon in such a place it seems, and she just could not tolerate the cliqueyness of those employed there, nor the working practices/attitudes.
Passing the place brought back memories for me though of Summer Thursday evenings and winter Sunday mornings back in the late 70s and early 80s when I was first a trainee on the old RAC/ACU motorcycle training scheme there, then a helper and finally a qualified instructor. Happy memories they are too.
Where to go from County Hall, that was the question. Well throwing my usual caution and distaste of busy roads to the wind I got across the main road and set off for a goodly bomb down Station Hill and into the city centre.
I don't know, first we've got blanked out windows, now we've got outside toilets. We really are going backwards in many ways... ahem...
I had a bit of a mooch along the riverside and into the garden opposite the church in St George's Road. This was the church in which I was first married, on the 13th of May 1987.
I can remember the day well, a Wednesday of all days, thanks to work not being helpful with holiday dates.
I remember the vicar asking me "Do you, Michael Back Road Bimbler, take this woman to be your lawful wedded wife?"
"I do"
Well the vicar raised his eyebrows a bit, took a step or two back and looked my wife to be up and down for a few moments. The he turned to me and said "Now look, I'm going to ask you again..."
After mooching about the riverside it was into the town centre for a bit of hoonery. More memories of when I was a teenager on my old ten speed 'racer' bozzing through the city streets and having a great time hurling myself round the corners and weaving through the pedestrians.
These posh gaffs don't have much of a view either, so the new builds aren't alone in that regard. This is Walsingham Place, and very pretty it is too.
Car park hoon - that's why! I wanted to get on the top deck of the multi storey and have a gawp at the view from up there. The 3 inch knobblies make a satisfying squeak on the polished surface in there, although that also means grip isn't likely to be too generous.
Looking back down at Walsingham Place again, a view photographed many, many times by everyone and his mate, so why should I be any different.
Random rooftop view.
The pointy thing dominates the skyline around Truro not because it's particularly tall, but because there's nothing with more than one set of stairs built around it.
It looks good in a sunny sort of way, but my word did it smell up there. It was hummin' summat 'orrible, or 'smeechin' as the Cornish sometimes say. The cause was all that Gull poo everywhere. Gulls eat well it seems, and their deposits can be both voluminous and lumpy, so walking around was like walking on lumpy grass at times.
While up there I did my good deed for the day. Around the wall of the top deck is an Armco barrier, and some mesh fencing, open at the top. Somehow a large Gull had got down between the fencing and the wall and couldn't get back up out again. Every time it took off it battered its wings hard against the narrower gap at the top of the fence where it curls over and then landed again. It was clearly in some distress, and in the full glare of the sun too. Lots of feathers on the ground suggested it had been there a while too. Well this was going to pose me a problem I couldn't just leave it there as it would certainly die before the day was out, and I didn't really fancy leaning down into the gap and picking the thing up. Gulls are flipping big bitey, pecky things when you grab them, especially when they're in a bad mood.
But there was a gap at ground level where the Armco and fencing ended where it meets the block of the stairwell that comes up. All the Gull had to do was walk along half the end of the top deck and it would be able to get out. So that's what I did, I chased it along without having to poke it with my tripod or anything - it was trying to get away from me so my mere presence drove it in the right direction, and eventually we reached the stair well and the Gull found freedom and took off rather shakily, maybe lacking a little aerodynamic lift after losing a load of feathers. Thank heavens for that, I thought I was going to have to contact the RSPCA and wait for them to arrive or something.
Gull rescued it was time for another...
Car park hoon! Gravity assisted this time and a whole metric tonne of fun.
Still enjoying myself I came out of the car park and headed into the city centre once again.
That's Lemon Quay to the right, and the river runs underneath the road across here.
More floral splendour.
Michael Spiers (brother of TV's Judy Spiers I believe) Jewellers on the left was done over to the tune of nearly one million pounds worth of stock in an armed raid in January. That sort of thing just doesn't happen down here! A couple of milk bottles going missing off a doorstep constitutes a crime wave normally round these parts.
Shop on the right was Henri Lloyd, another closure, another empty shop in the city centre.
Random GoPro shot as I made my way through the city.
Heading out of the city at last I went through the Daubuz Moor Nature Reserve, a nice short cut and flat too, compared to the nearby lane that rises sharply then falls again. I came across a very wet and muddy patch in there too, never seen mud in that spot before and water was clearly running across the path from beneath the wall that borders the area. Presumably, given the quantity and free running nature of the water, a burst or leaking pipe somewhere.
Heading home I was starting to feel the miles I'd done over the past two days, and no doubt the lack of food the night before plays a part there. I was starting to lack energy and my legs were starting to ache, but I still enjoyed the slow pace as I rode around Idless Woods on the lanes rather than going through them, and then on to my home port.
The Sustrans marker on the left had been leaning alarmingly for some while. I even reported it to my neighbour who was once a Sustrans Ranger or something, and is still in contact with them. Anyway, nice to see the problem has erm... been fixed. Yes well... we'll move on quickly before it falls over...
Well that's it for this upload. Things started off on a seriously glum note, but my word did my mood pick up in short order and allow me to enjoy those rides.
I'm afraid I am well behind with stuff today, and now I'm having trouble doing the maps... Grrrr... I've got something going on with my PC at the moment, it took me several goes and much industrial language to do my online grocery shopping yesterday, only cured after removal of all cookies, history and what have you, and using a different browser. I think it might be the pop up and advert blocker, or maybe my anti virus that's making some sites a nightmare. So that's something to battle with this evening, trying to sort that out.
So once again, no proof reading as I really must get on, so apologies for any howling errors and mistakes lurking above.
In the meantime, happy Bimbling!
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Lovin' the past rides here.
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