Singletrack Magazine - Good News and Bad news.

Whoop! The latest, (and 100th, as you can see) issue of Singletrack magazine clumped onto my doormat yesterday, and of course, it looks well up to the usual high standard.

That is the good news.

The bad news came when I just had my daily look on their web site and saw that Deputy Editor Jenn is stepping down. Reading further I discovered it was because she has stage IV Cancer, and that is so desperately sad. When you find a real corker of a magazine, a mag you enjoy reading and eagerly await every issue of, you also tend to connect with the staff in some small way, you enjoy reading their output and get to see their faces, and so you sort of get to know them, so when something like this happens, you feel the sadness and the tragedy too. Clicking the link and expecting to see Jenn was off to pastures new or something, I was gutted to read the news.

There are details on the web site of how donations are being made to Cancer Research UK and Macmillan Cancer Support from various 100th issue special product sales, and also from new print and digital subscriptions.

Best wishes to Jenn, and all those close to her.

Puddle Pedaling and Selfie Sticks.

Well Autumn is here alright. I seem to have missed summer, must've had my back turned for a mo and there it was... gone. But now the rain we've had during the erm... 'summer,' has taken on a slightly more hostile edge, aided and abetted by some pretty unruly and blustery winds. Monday night was a prime example – it battered down. The horizontal rain lashed my windows and the restless tree outside scraped its branches along the guttering all night (really must trim it back), making getting off to sleep a frustrating process. Eventually though I did and Tuesday dawned dry(ish) and calm.

Now all that rain can only mean one thing – one of my favourite lanes for a potter will be flooded in parts. I always enjoy these occasions because despite the depression and despite being the wrong side of the half century on this planet, I still behave like a small child sometimes, and enjoying splashing through the puddles and floods on a bike is one such occasion. 

Whoop! Here we go...

I see people walking bikes along the footbridge beside fords and think what a right load of boring old farts they must be. Surely it is every cyclist's duty to bomb through puddles and fords, preferably with feet up and off the pedals, and shouting 'wheeee' as they go. If not duty then it should be made law, and what a fun world it would be too, along some commuter heavy routes in particular. Cycling through big puddles is good for the soul. Well that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it. 

It's also why I am often to be found taking repeated runs through standing water, camera in hand, trying to grab some splashfest of a photo or other. That's another excuse – it's all in the name of art madam, nothing to do with being immature at all... Ahem...

Anyway, the promise of puddles and floods saw me setting off on the Voodoo (it was already besoiled from its previous outing, otherwise snotty, grotty roads would call for a snotty, grotty bike – the Carerra) armed with a new toy to try out with the GoPro.

When I bought the titchycam, I also got one of those huge bags of mounts that litter the Amazon listings. It was full of useful guff like the oft used so far chest harness, a head harness (yet to try that, needs to be dark for that I think, and somewhere I'm not easily recognised), and a collection of fiendishly clever looking mounting systems to explore, just as soon as I can figure out where they go, and what they might do. Also in the bag though was the dreaded selfie stick. I hate those things, as many others do it would appear. But you don't have to use the darned thing to aim the camera back at your grinning mush filling the frame ahead of some celeb or tourist attraction or whatever, it can be used for all sorts of interesting viewpoints of course, and I had an obvious angle in mind when I added the thing to my gear for the ride. I just hoped I didn't cark it along the way – oh the shame of having a stranger go through my stuff and finding a selfie stick in there. Some things are just too embarrassing to contemplate.

Anyone who could just see my head over the hedge going repeatedly up and down the road, must've thought I kept getting my jacket caught in a bush or something...

Anyway, it was all good wobbly fun, hanging the GoPro upsy down in front of me while riding through the puddles, so the stick proved its worth, and the rest of the ride was an enjoyable one too. It was a sunny periods/showery kind of day, although having donned all my waterproof gear (and spare water wings for the flooded bits – you never know how deep they may be) it didn't actually rain on me, which is typical.

I've often stopped at this gate thinking there is a photo here somewhere, but nothing has really worked in the past for various reasons. On this occasion though I managed to bag a shot I was half pleased with. 

Only a short trundle around one of my local loops then, but still an enjoyable one. It wasn't just the puddles that needed negotiating either, but all the other detritus that a dark and stormy night down here brings – tree branches in the road, mud that'd been dragged out of fields and across the lanes by fast running water, battered and blown recycling bins and so on. 

It wasn't all puddles and mud.

So Autumn is here, but it'd be pretty boring really if it was hot and sunny all year round wouldn't it.

Anna Hughes Takes On Lejog.

I've done a fair bit of motorcycle touring and camping in the past, from weekends away somewhere to tours around Europe, and it is an experience I really miss these days. The sense of freedom is immense as the pressures of the daily drudge are replaced by a liberatingly simple and care free existence, an aspect aptly summed up in the title of the book mentioned here. Just you, your wheels, and yourself to please.

I no longer own a motorcycle, but the idea of a cycle tour, a bit of bike packing or even a sub 24 hour jobbie perhaps, appeals greatly as well of course, but due to my circumstances health wise I doubt I'll be able to manage even the single night out of an S240. So I make do with reading about the adventures of others, usually in book form of course, what with me having a bit of an Amazon habit and all. I've read a fair old number of cycle touring tomes recently then, and as you'd expect, some are a good read, while some I just don't connect with and put down after a few days, never to be finished. 

Definitely in the former group though is Eat, Sleep, Cycle by Anna Hughes, and the story of her 4,000 mile solo ride around the coast of Britain. 

Anna is less fond of the camping side of touring, preferring a proper roof to kip under but I'll forgive her that as this was a cracking book that I fair whizzed through – always the sign of a good tale told well, and a recommended read.

It therefore follows that my fingers are well and truly crossed that there will soon be another volume to dive into, as Anna is off on her travels again, and I can only hope she is experiencing better weather where she is today than we're having down here in Cornwall. It's minging out.

But yes, she's off again, this time doing Lejog – Land's End to John o'Groats, and I'm just sorry I missed her talk and book signing appearance at a local bike emporium as she passed through early on in her journey. It also would appear she is embracing the delights of the tent on this trip as well, so I'm looking forward to reading about how she gets on under canvas, or rip stop double walled ballistic hydrostatic nylon or whatever it is these days.

Anyway, whilst waiting hopefully for the book, we can still keep up with her adventures via her web site and her Lejog Blog.

I just hope this boisterous breeze that's tossing the recycling bags down my street right now is behind her.

Made To Feel Awkward on a Coffee Ride.

Waking up early yesterday to another sunny morning and feeling up for a ride, but not knowing where to go immediately, I decided to pack the stove and a selection of coffees and decide over a hot cuppa somewhere pleasant. So I stumbled out of the house rather than bursting forth like they do in TV ads on a sunny day, and still a bit foggy of mind and bleary of eye, set off for the local woods.

Nice morning for it.

Now, you know that awkward feeling you get when you walk into a room and disturb a private conversation? People stop talking and turn and watch you, waiting to see if you're going to stay or take the uncomfortable hint and go – that feeling. Well I got that on the way to the woods, not from any people mind, but rather from a load of cows. There is a gateway half way down the hill I was descending, and I always look through it as it offers rather splendid rural views, and on this morning, the field was home to a herd of cows including a lot of young'uns, so I thought I'd stop and bag a snap or two. Rather than come over to see who I was and get a good rub on the snout like many cows do, this lot just looked up at me, stopped what they were doing (munching) and stared, and then stared some more. 

That awkward moment when you walk into a room and everyone stops what they're doing and stares...

I felt like I was intruding on something and they were waiting for me to go so they could continue whatever it is cows do when we're not looking (my bet is line dancing). So now feeling very awkward with my obvious interuption, I sort of made an embarrassed smile and crossed the road back to my bike, the silent mooeys watching me go every step of the way.

Alright, I'll just go shall I? I said I'll just go... Oh forget it... 

It was as I was getting back on that I saw a fellow cyclist pedaling towards me over the summit of the silly steep, bad ass, section of hill I had stopped on, on what appeared to be a sit up and beg roadster. We greeted each other with a 'good morning' and I couldn't help offering my congratulations on the apparent ease at which he'd climbed such a challenging bit of the hill. “It's electric” he shouted as he trundled past with not a hint of breath shortage and rattled off up the still lightly ascending lane. I hate these electric bikes! I can just about winch my lung busting, leg screaming, face grimacing way up this particular hill and here was this chap sailing up it on some plain looking rattletrap without a care in the world. I eventually thought better of my plans to sneak into the chap's garage one night and unplug his evil, battery powered, cheating smugcycle (“Ha! Let's see you pedal up that hill with your underdeveloped leg muscles now chum!”) and contented myself with settling beside the river in the woods with a steaming Cappuccino instead.

 After a brief furtle in the bag of various coffees I have in stock, I settled on this. Good choice too, it hit the spot nicely.

A nice spot to kickstart the day.

While sat on a stump sipping and savouring the sweet frothy coffee and listening to the water trickling past, I heard something familiar but strangely out of place approaching... hang on, that's an engine, who the hell is driving around the woods at Sparrow's fart on a lovely morning like this? Well the foresters that's who. The growling 4x4 stopped, down hummed the window and one of the chaps inside called me over. They were about to start felling some trees further up the track and were about to close it off, so I would have to exit the woods the way I came in. No problem there, and refreshingly, no problem with me having a camping stove going either. 

Everybody seems hell bent on poking their nose in and spoiling other folk's fun these days, so I was half expecting a 'no fires or stoves allowed' kind of thing, but instead, on asking, I got a thumbs up and a 'no problem.' 

Hmmmm... I definitely won't be unplugging matey's bike now, instead, if I meet him again, I'll give him a cheery wave and a smile, he's just doing his thing after all, as I like to do mine.

Once fueled up with coffee, I had a very relaxing amble around the lanes in the sunshine - a good start to the day then.

Country Smells, Water Sports and Jungle Busting Bimbling.

Summer has been and gone, and I hardly noticed it. The weather has been a bit rubbish - while last year's summer was accompanied by the smell of industrial strength sun cream, this year the top hasn't been off the bottle at all.

Last year I was able to string several consecutive days of rides together, but this year they have been very fragmented indeed due to my usual afflictions and/or that weather.

The latest gap in riding action came courtesy of my back, after a trip into town on Friday left it feeling stiff and painful. Not such a disaster if the weather is manky and miserable, but the weekend was a good'un weather wise, as was Monday, and that is just plain frustrating.

But by Monday evening my back was easing up, and plans were quickly made for a bit of a bimble, and so it was that on Tuesday moring I sallied forth to ride a loop of quiet lanes, a short rural footpath (ssshhh...), Byways and Bridleways.

One reason I prefer riding alone is I can do whatever I like, and with photographs very much in mind, that is important, and I'd hardly got into my stride before throwing out the anchors and making a 'uey' to go back and have another look at the view through a gateway I'd just passed. I do this a lot while out riding, not always profitably, but on this occasion my smoking brakes and abrupt u-turn proved worthwhile as the weak early morning sunshine lit up distant trees and shone down through the gate illuminating the mud and puddles surrounding the now photogenically placed bike. Barely a mile in, and with a yard of photos of a cracking rural feel good moment already in the bag, I just knew it was going to be an enjoyable ride.

Not even ten minutes into the ride and I'm already stopped and taking photos.

The sun was in and out the whole morning, usually hiding behind a cloud whenever a camera appeared of course, but the lanes were warm and the air quiet, if a little smelly. A farm yard I passed through was advertising home made looking bags of 'quality fertiliser', a euphemism I imagine for the sh*t left over from being spread all over the fields. My dear life the air was humming, and with a nose as big as mine that can be a problem, I take in more square feet of whiff than most folk, but still, rather that than the smell of petrol and diesel fumes, or a fellow commuters armpit. The smells of the countryside, even several acres of freshly sprayed poop, trump the smells of 'civilisation' every time.

Easywheeling along the lanes.

Old lane leading to Zelah now stops at a kissing gate following the re-routing of the main A30, and continues again on the other side of the main road, but is now downgraded to footpath or 'other public access' status.

The ride took me through Zelah, then Little Callestock and onto the byway leading towards the old West Wheal Chiverton lead and zinc mine. A route probably used the miners on their daily trudge to and from work, but now utilised by farm vehicles, and we 'leisure users' on foot, horseback and bike. Out in the open the surface was fine, but under tree cover it was still very wet and muddy, and I resigned myself to losing the clean as a new pin bike I'd set out on.

Passing the old engine house the landscape opens up and affords some striking views to the west from the byway, but you have to strain to see them over the hedge, but it's worth the effort.

From there it was a short hop along a country lane before arriving at what I think of as the 'Hole in the hedge' bridleway. There are no signs indicating the presence of this right of way, but it is on various maps, and in a handy booklet of off road bike rides to be had in the area. But if you didn't know it was there, you'd easily miss the entrance as it is just a gap in the trees and bushes that line the road, much like the sort of gap left by a Saturday night hatchback crash. 

'Hole in the hedge' bridleway entrance.

This bridleway though, is a real favourite of mine. That lack of advertising and its miles from anywhere location mean it is a quiet and secluded ride along the narrow path through the trees, punctuated in the middle by a small clearing where I always enjoy a bit of a pause to take in the solitude, peace and quiet.

A nice spot to linger and take in the peaceful surroundings.

Byway towards Wheal Frances.

Carrying on, bridleway became byway as I headed past the hamlets of Wheal Frances and Carnkief and into Goonhavern. 

Carnkief byway.

A few hundred yards up the main road towards Newquay then see a turning to the right and another byway that becomes a bridleway, then a byway again. The first bit of byway is notable as it always includes a little water sport. It floods, even in a drought there would be a boggy lagoon to traverse and yesterday wasn't going to be any different, given the rain we've had lately. I have walked along the side of the puddle before, treading in the bushes to the side while wheeling the bike through the stagnant water, but I engaged bravery mode and decided yesterday to ride through it, as it really isn't that big a deal and I'm a rufty tufty mountain biker after all. 

Pah! Easy...

Riding through was a good move too, as I made it to dry ground on the far side, but only by the skin of my teeth. About half way in and going well, the front wheel ran aground on some submerged obstacle and suddenly lurched to the left. I was in danger of being toppled off balance and therefore either being launched into the brambly and bushy scenery beside the track, or having to hastily put a foot down through the water into the clawing mud to save my dignity. But instinct kicked in with my brain calling 'power!' and an emergency heft on the pedals saw me just catch my balance and maintain forward momentum. Shipwreck was thankfully avoided.

Disaster was narrowly averted by a desperate lunge on the pedals...

Earlier bridleways had been easy riding, but this one, while still firm and flat beneath the wheels, is made more difficult by the overhanging vegetation, brambles mostly. It all gets a bit Indiana Jones hacking through the jungle along there but, dodgy back withstanding, it is all good fun. Emerging from this section and pulling various bits of foliage from bike and body as I rode past I surprised an elderly gent tending his hedge as the path switched back to byway status once again. I gave the chap a hearty 'mornin' as I passed but judging by his rather bemused facial expression I imagine he doesn't see many people, let alone anyone on a bike, come busting out of the undergrowth like that.

Final bit of bridleway for the day was a bit overgrown further on.

From there it was a mix of byway, B-road and country lane back to base. The weather had been good, the riding relaxing and enjoyable, and most importantly, my back held up and all the frustrations of the previous few days had been well and truly banished. Maybe I need time away from the bikes now and then just to appreciate what they have to offer all the more when I do get out on them.

Has someone mislaid their weather event?

Take a look at the photo below...

Officially, this ain't happening... Nope, not raining at all, the computer says it isn't you see...

That's what a “dry week ahead” looks like, what a white cloud and 10% chance of precipitation looks like. The quote is from last night's weather presenter on the TV, the latter what was showing on the Met Office web site this morning while it was pouring down outside, and had been for quite some time. Just minutes ago though, the web site changed to show dark clouds with rain drops and an 80% chance of rain. That's not forecasting, that's looking out the flipping window and changing things quick hoping nobody noticed!

There were gasps of astonishment just a couple of weeks ago when it was announced the BBC was ditching the Met Office and awarding the contract to someone else. Why they are so surprised I don't know because down here in Cornwall at least, the more they spend on flashy computers to give more accurate forecasts, the more they seem to cock it right up. Maybe those are the issues here, firstly using computers instead of 'proper' old style forecasting methods, because as we all know, to err is only human, but to really lash it up you need a computer. So go tap a Barometer chaps and see which way the clouds are blowing like you used to, it'll probably be more accurate. 

Secondly, perhaps they are trying to be too accurate, thereby laying themselves open to appearing to get it wrong more often, when a bit more vagueness would result in less sarcasm and general moaning.

Maybe though it's just a rogue bit of rain, even though it pelted down overnight and has been raining steadily all morning so far (well, now at just after 10am). I wonder who this rain 'event' (what's with all this 'event' business as well? Should we be hanging bunting out and having street parties for 'our' weather 'events'? I wish someone would tell us...) belongs to because it obviously isn't 'ours', maybe that is the problem. 

You see, one of our local weather girls has given us ownership of 'our' weather in her forecasts. Quite what we are supposed to do with 'our occlusions' or 'our misty patches' I don't know, but still, this clearly isn't 'our' rain, so it must be someone else's and I wish they'd come and retrieve it because I had planned on getting out on a bike again this morning.

I'm not a complete fair weather rider, I do venture out when it's raining, particularly when it's thundery, and there is a sort of perverse pleasure to be had from spinning along, carving through the puddles, leaning and braking confidently in defiance of the wet conditions. But today I'm just not feeling the wet weather love. 

I'm not training for anything so there is no absolute need to go out and ride in the rain, I ride purely for pleasure and the relief it gives from the stresses and strains of life, and today I'm just not feeling like I fancy the cold, wet, trickle down the front of my neck, or the damp inner elbows and knees I usually get in wet weather. 

A good bozz through some puddles might wash yesterday's mud off the old snotter mind, there is that I suppose, so I may tempt myself into sallying forth yet, so we'll see. But, having seen the forecasts, and made preparations last night by eating carefully and minimally (one of my current health issues means care needs to be taken and rides need advance planning to avoid unscheduled hopping over hedges and getting stung on the bum by nettles...), I am just a bit tapped off to see the weather isn't what was promised at all, again.

I also need to shell out on some decent wet weather gear too... maybe that'll be the Christmas prezzie to myself this year, decent strides and a jacket that actually repel water instead of absorbing it. Given the state of our weather forecasting these days, that sounds like a pretty good idea, and maybe I'll send the Met Office a Barometer too, although they'll probably wonder where the USB port is and how much RAM it has or something.

GoingPro...

“Go pro” said the girl in the advert for a toothpaste, or is it a toothbrush? I forget just now. Anyway, the girl tells us how her dentist told her to go pro... a tad forward and a bit rude I thought, but it turns out he meant she should try some fancy new dental thing that will give 'pro' results – that just cleaned by the dentist feeling. “Go pro” she said... “Go pro.” Well these advertising messages really must work because I did indeed think it was time to go pro, only not with a new toothbrush or paste, but with a camera – I took the plunge and got me a GoPro.

Hayup, new stuff incoming...

I've always liked interesting point of view shots, and those action shots in the car and motorcycle magazines where the camera is tracking the vehicle at speed and you wonder how the shot was made. The answer usually involved rigs in the form of lots of suckers and bits of tubing, a camera ready to be wiped out on a lamp post, and lots of cloning in Photoshop. Either that, or the photographer hanging by his belt out of the boot of a car or something similar.

I have had some success in getting on board motion shots myself using a Manfrotto Magic Arm and Super Clamp, and very pleased I've been with the results too. But GoPros and their ilk kind of spoiled all that, they were cheating, taking the mystery out of the photographer's magic and making weird angles easy peasy. 

No action cameras here - this was the Eos 450D hanging upside down from the Magic Arm.

So I've treated action cameras with indifference, well, up until recently anyway. But just as my head was eventually turned away from 35mm and towards the Devilish Digital, so I found I'd begun to harbour GoPro type desires and fantasies. Anyone who has had secret desires will know the feelings will only get stronger, and sooner or later you have to see if the reality will live up to the dream. So, having spent many weeks pondering and researching online, I finally settled on a GoPro Hero 4 Silver. 

Now I don't know anything about these contraptions at all, certainly not the video side of things, so don't go expecting an in depth review or anything like that. You've all seen those shots on the TV of monkeys picking up a mirror and looking at their reflection in a half confused – half excited sort of way – well that was me when I first turned the GoPro doodah on and peered at the LCD on the back. I was amazed at how small these things actually are, and at the resolution of the rear LCD as I held it up and roamed around the house aiming it at stuff and muttering 'wow' and so on. Little things and all that...

But it's arrival has also coincided with me having a downward period, when I've not had any oomph or interest in anything at all much. Normally a new photographic toy would see me itching to get out and play with it, but at times like I've had recently, even new stuff fails to strike a spark. So I've had the thing a while, turned it on and off a lot, looked at and been confused by the manual, and played with the bag of mounts and harnesses I also got with it. But I hadn't tried it out until today, but even then my enthusiasm still wasn't back to its usual self. So it was just a short ride into the local woods, bung the camera on the chest harness and set off with the intervalometer thing doing its stuff. It wasn't all a success – I let the camera sort it all out itself, it does have 'Protune' which is like manual mode on a normal camera, and therefore provides me with lots of exciting new ways to stuff things up, but that's for later. But the photos taken whilst riding down a very tight tree tunnel (an old Drover's Way) were too blurred to be of use, but that is no surprise – it was dark as a grave robbers smile down through there, and rough too. So it's no wonder the shots were a bit of a blur fest.

But on the whole, I'm very pleased so far. I did try the camera mounted to the left of the crossbar as well, but they were all fairly boring shots of nothing of interest, and I also ended up downloading several yards of photos onto the computer. So next time I'll remember to stop and start the camera as and when I need it rather than set it going and just leave it.

I've not tried video yet - there's only so much wizardry and witchcraft I can manage in one day...

Fairly routine photos these, but today was just about trying the thing out and learning how it all works.

As for the ride, well it went ok, although I've lost a bit of hard earned fitness it seems as I ache more than I'd expect to at the moment. The recent rain made for a muddy ride as well – just as well I took the old snotter then!