Days Like These...

After an iffy few days of general mojo deficiency and back stiffness, it was back on the bike on Sunday and what a great ride about it turned out to be.

Feeling a bit better in general I was off faster than a bride's nightie come yesterday morning but had barely gone 100 yards before I was stopped and snapping away at the Snowdrops and Bluebells in the bank in the lane near Bimble Headquarters. This hedge/bank is always good for a splendid display and this year is no exception. Spring is I think my favourite season. Summer is ok but a bit plain and boring really. Winter is just dismal while Autumn I quite like for its pleasantly smelly atmosphere. Spring though, when everything comes alive and colour is busting out all over the place, takes the Gold medal. Such a great, refreshing time of year.

Barely out of the door and I've stopped for some snaps already.

The morning started off sunny in places, but also quite humid feeling, with a lot of residual dampness from Saturday's rain still lurking beneath tree cover, where a change in temperature could also be felt as I bombed down the hill towards Trevella Stream for yet another photo stop. Despite some recent rain, the stream is already an almost silent trickle as it drops smoothly down a level below the bridge. As I'm typing this, there is a story on the BBC News about a possible water shortage come Summer, with water levels in rivers and streams low already.

 The sun was trying to break through, but in the meantime it was a bit murky round the edges, and humid feeling.

The bridge over Trevella Stream and waterside Cow Parsley.

Another stop by the Cat Hotel a few yards on from the stream, and yet another up the hill towards Five Turnings and it was at this latter stop that I bumped into a friendly fellow villager who was on her way home from an early photo taking mission over on the Roseland. I'd missed erm, a misty start apparently, and she'd managed to bag some shots of some Deer in that mist that she was very excited about.

Memo to self – Get up earlier you lazy blinking git!

 One minute the sun was out, like here at the Cat Hotel where this brave Pheasant was mooching about unconcerned by my presence.

The next minute the sun was hidden (well almost) by cloud, but it just felt like it was going to turn out to be a warm and sunny day.

 No prizes for guessing which side of this lane faces the sun more. This shot took a lot of heavy lifting in post to make something worthwhile of it, as in the grey and overcast moments the GoPro doesn't fare so well.

Swooping down this hill felt fantastic - free speed and rushing through the air is always a good feeling combo.

Random viewpoint but it does portray the clammy, damp, humid feel. This was weather you can feel alright, you can feel it encircling your legs and neck in clingy warmth, like being in the reptile house at the zoo.

The roads were still damp beneath tree cover but you don't need a Barometer or a moisture meter to know if there is damp in the air, you need a disc braked bike. If I ride through a Bumble Bee's sneeze Fatso's brakes will start howling.

Just out of Boswiddle I left Fatso lying in a gateway while I took a photo. Just as I was lining up the shot, this rather splendid John Deere rocked up needing to use that gate. Typical eh?!

By the look of that tractor, this could well have been its first outing, it looked box fresh apart from the ballast weights on the front that is.

I'd set off with Ladock Woods in mind, and by now I'd been out nearly an hour and still hadn't done two miles, so it was time to get pedaling otherwise I'd still be out there now. Well that is all well and good in theory, but in practice it's a bit harder, and sure enough it wasn't long before I was stopped again at Boswiddle Ford for a good old poke around. I don't think I've ever ridden straight through here, I always stop for a while, and always enjoy the time I spend here. It's a tranquil spot on a quiet lane, with the footpath, the stream and various pools to explore, all to the constant backdrop of the local Crows. I don't know if they always make a racket like that or it's just because one of those upright things was walking around their patch down at ground level, but they were making a proper racket yesterday. All this squawkin' fails to spoil the tranquil atmosphere though, rather it adds to it, reminding me where I am. Give me water roaring through the culvert and Crows screeching over traffic or neighbourly noise every time.

 Boswiddle Ford. Now the water has retreated below the road again, the hi Viz boys have been back and laid new tarmac in line with the rest of the road. How long that tarmac will last with cold water flowing fast over it every winter remains to be seen.

 The culverts beneath the road still flowing freely enough to make plenty of great sounding noise.

And the view when snuggled up against one of those pipes.

I was wondering when the fuzzy upload would appear. Well here it is. Right click and open link in a new tab will see it right.

Hmmm... now this one is looking very fuzzy indeed - hopelessly so really, but being a multi shot pano it is a chunky file size I suppose. As above, right click and open in a new tab.

On the hill climbing away from Boswiddle Ford.

Eventually I was grunting and mincing my way through the kissing gate as I manhandled Fatso through on his back wheel into Ladock/St Enoder Woods. You could spend ages exploring these woods and not see a single Bluebell, just not the right environment for them presumably, but I was headed for the path on the most Easterly edge of the woods that I thought might find some lurking given the rag bag nature of the woodland there, and I was right too! This border path requires a bit of climbing up a steep rooty, stony track to reach, and I ran out of legs before Fatso ran out of traction and so had to bail out and push the last few yards to the top. At first I thought I was wrong in my prediction, but after a short ride back in the direction of the car park as it happens, (the path is accessed via a stile from the car park, too much for me to lift Fatso over so I have to go the long way round), I found the beautiful blue beggars and in some numbers too. Add in all the other wild flowers sprouting all over the shop at the moment and it was all a rather blue, yellow, pink and white wonder show.

 Ladock Woods.

  Onto the path on the Easterly edge of the woods and now to see if there are any Bluebells about...

Hayup, the sun's out again.

And there they are. I love 'em I do.

 A single Rhododendron bush beside the path.

Greater Stitchwort amid the Bluebells.

Back along the path, and after saying hello to the local ladies, and copping some Mooey slobber full on in the face (do Cows get Hay Fever? Bit of a bugga for them if they do...), it was back down the steep path and then on for a general and leisurely potter around.

I've been to these woods many times in the past, and thought I knew them pretty well, but somehow, and with my ex wife's advice in the back of my mind presumably, I got lost. No matter what track I took, I couldn't get my bearings at all, but this of course is a good thing, getting lost is all part of the fun and the deeper you go into a wood the less likely you are to encounter a walker or run over one of their offspring, even inadvertently. These woods are pretty dense in places too, and fearsomely dark as well, not a place I'd want to spend the night I can tell you (they're a funny lot round Ladock way anyway, let alone those who might live in the woods...), but eventually I found myself back on familiar ground and was soon grappling with the kissing gate once again.

 Now this really grips my plums. Why do people bring along a bag, scoop up the dog bomb and then fall at the very last hurdle of responsibility? Any half wit will know anyway that a dog poo will degrade far faster if left in the open, so if you're not going to dispose of the bag and its steaming contents properly, then don't bother at all. 

 Mornin' ladies...

 Awwww...

It was at this point that the friendship came to a wet end, as the cow on the right of the front pair was just about to sneeze all over me. Charming.

It's no good looking at me like that... I'm off.

Lost in Ladock Woods.

More country lane goodness as seen from the entrance to Ladock Woods.

Leaving the slightly muddy woods saw Fatso merrily Catherine Wheeling up the road as mud flew everywhere. Thank goodness for mudguards, that's all I can say.

From the woods it was an uneventful but still very pleasurable toot along the lanes to Carland Cross and then down the old A39, now a Bridleway, towards home. It was on this section of the ride that I glanced at my watch and had a bit of a surprise. As an ex bus driver I generally have a pretty finely tuned idea of time and its passing, but my watch just confirmed what I knew and felt already – the ride had been a thoroughly relaxing and enjoyable one as it was far later than I expected it to be. I was thinking I'd be home around lunchtime but it was nearly three o'clock! A sure sign that is of a good time being had, utterly immersed in what I was doing and what was around me.

Talking of lunch, the only downside of the day (apart from a stiff and painful back again from all the poking about I did off the bike) was the number of flipping Flying Ants. Least I think they're Flying Ants – gert droopy arsed lumbering creatures. Anyway, I encountered great fogs of the things, and other random low flying protein matter as well, and I've no idea how many of the beasts I swallowed but I do know that despite being out later than I thought, I wasn't at all hungry when I got home – I was full up!

Memo to self – Remember one of the ten biking commandments as told by Paul Sample of Ogri fame in Bike Magazine (the motorbike mag that is) - “Ride ye not with thine gob gaping...”

On the old A39, now a Bridleway, Fatso reached the 1,000 mile mark. That's all three of my bikes reaching 1,000 miles each this year, which is only a modest mileage, but is still not bad going for me. The Clattermonger Carrera has also done over 1,000 miles in my ownership, but is now in retirement.

But the aches and pains and chewy airborne matter couldn't spoil what a superb day it was, days like those are what it's all about for me and even now, the next day, and with my back easing again, I'm still feeling the buzz of an invigorating and stimulating ride.

Map of the route. Ladock Woods are at points 4, 5 and 6, but the trace hardly does my meanderings justice. The full map is Here

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Autopilot Bimbling.

It has been an odd couple of days.

Firstly, after five months of stress and anxiety, sleepless nights and at times, utter despair and frustration, the DWP have changed their mind regarding a decision they'd made, and I've been properly categorised once again. Maybe it was because I'd started Tribunal proceedings and they knew they were on a sticky wicket, I don't know, but I'm glad that it has finally been sorted.

You might think that was cause for celebration, and people I've spoken to all say it should be, but it's not really, as I'd rather be healthy physically and mentally and not claiming any sort of benefit at all. I'd have a chunk more money too of course! What these things do, like when I have to explain all my issues again to someone, is reinforce just how useless I feel, these things sort of confirm it, even though I know it anyway and have been arguing such for months. One of my ways of coping is to just live in the moment, not think about the past, nor the future, nor all my troubles, just live in the 'now' and take things as they come. It's sort of shutting out the issues, but it helps me cope. Going through it all again just drags all the depressing stuff back to the forefront, despite the final outcome being the correct one in my current circumstances.

This mixture of feelings were also felt yesterday (Wednesday) when I went out for a ride I had planned and prepared for.

I had decided I'd head over to the Carnkief area West of Zelah and spend some quality time bimbling around the network of Bridleways and Byways around there. I'd woken up not feeling at all lively, and even a double strength dose of the sort of coffee that would revive a three day old corpse failed to inject life into me.

But, as I've battered on many times in this here blog, a good ride in the countryside can work wonders when it comes to a little mental healing and therapy. So I persevered and poked Fatso out of the village and down the lanes, thinking all would come right in the end.

It was not to be though. When I get days like this – and they can go on for days on end sometimes too – it's like wearing ear plugs and seeing everything through glass. There's a strange feeling of detachment, I still see and hear, but it's like there is something between me and those senses, and whilst I was riding along in the sunshine on beautifully quiet lanes, it was just something that was happening to me, it's as if I was watching it on telly (boring programme that would be...).

Oh ok, another fuzzy beggar...

Everything ached too, my legs had little go in them and it was all a lot of effort. I abandoned the plan to head over to the Byways and decided to stay local. I could've turned back but somehow persuaded myself to carry on around a loop that gives many options for turning for home. At each junction though, I managed to keep heading around instead of towards, home, but I still wasn't at the races. However much I hoped things would pick up and the head fog would clear if I just stayed out a little longer, it just wasn't happening.

 The sun was shining but an Easterly wind as chilling as Tony Blair's smile meant I haven't ditched the cycling jacket for shirt sleeves just yet.

I took some snaps as well, as I do, but again, I just wasn't functioning properly. I was a proper biking zombie, utterly flat and devoid of inspiration and enthusiasm. Like an overworked Pathologist examining stool samples, I was just going through the motions.

So the countryside bimble failed to revive me, as it has done on occasions in the past too, but that's the way it goes, and thankfully, this time I've picked up again fairly quickly and feel a bit more with it today.

This was nothing desperate, on a depression scale of one to ten where one is happy and ten is my boots swinging below a tree somewhere, it scored a four. I've had far, far, worse of course, this was just one of those days everyone gets I think from time to time.

It could be wrapped up in the DWP decision reversal though, as all this time I have been on edge and a bit frazzled, so maybe I've relaxed a bit and tiredness has kicked in in some form or other, I don't know.

So that was that, a non ride ride, as it were. I went out, came back, and it barely registered with me at all. But hey ho, with a bit of luck normal service – whatever that is with me, will be resumed again shortly. If I'm lucky, tomorrow, after a trip to the doctors which should wake me up a bit – going into town always makes me want to escape into the countryside on a bike as soon as I get home to purge away all the stress of a busy place*

I try not to post too much glumness on here, the last thing I want is sympathy or to make other folk miserable, but this blog is about depression and how biking can help combat it, most of the time, so this failure to chooch is relevant to the topic. So there it is, more positive guff to follow with a bit of luck.

*I say busy place, this is Truro I'm talking about, hardly the whirling hub of the universe, but you can't throw a pasty thirty feet without it landing on a car's roof or some bugga's head, and that's too busy for me... 

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Another Woodland Mooch.

It has been an unusually dry winter and spring so far, although South West Water are reporting reservoirs are still 85% full, but would expect them to be at around 98% at this time of year. The trails have been very dry too, even those perennial puddles that never seem to wane are now just a patch of slightly spongy earth. This makes for some bumpy riding over all the tyre tracks, equine hoof and human foot prints, until their edges have been worn away, but this unseasonably good weather has made for some excellent riding with plenty of grip available on the climbs and no leg sapping, wheel smeering mud to schlep through, or bikes to wash after every ride either, which is another bonus. What all this means for the months ahead I don't know, water shortages? Hosepipe bans? Who knows, and of course, it depends on what we get over the next couple of months, and in that regard, things have just changed for the wetter.

The forecasts for the Bank Holiday weekend were not promising with hefty rain forecast for all day Sunday and equally hefty showers for today, Monday. That meant Saturday was the last chance to ride the hard packed trails before they came over all gloopmungous again.

I didn't have anywhere specific in mind to go come the glorious (but blustery) morning, so decided on a make it up as I go along ramble around Idless Woods again. 

Craig, my neighbour, recently asked me what it's all about for me - the cycling or the photography. Well it's both in fact, and those two are joined by just being outside in the countryside and poking about, seeing what's going on and generally trying to relax. All three are important for me these days, with the riding the most vital ingredient I suppose, as without that I can't do the other two. I've tried general photography around the house, and with this village being a bit quiet (at the moment...), street photography isn't really a 'thing'. No, it's illustrating my rides and why I enjoy them that clicks my particular shutter. 

What Saturday morning looked like round here - a bit breezy, with bright sunny spells and clouds that looked threatening at times, but failed to deliver any rain.

 A roadie out for a relaxing spin judging by his easy wheeling pace, heads towards Lanner Mill. The verges really are alive with colour now.

Saturday morning then, having bump started my brain with some strong coffee, I set off feeling good again - good about the ride, where I was going and just the day ahead (live Speedway to watch on the net later to top it all off, the first coverage of the season) and when I'm in that sort of mood, I can hardly ride a hundred yards without pulling up and taking a photo or two. They're all crap mind you, but I enjoy taking 'em. It's no wonder though that I ride alone mostly, but that's ok by me, although at times I do miss having that special someone to share these pleasures with (they'd need to be special as well, to put up with me on a ride...).

Having the Magic Arm with me I thought I'd indulge in some GoPro ganderflankery on the hill down to Lanner Mill. I had hoped to get the camera into the Bluebells more but they weren't close enough to the road really.

 Being back in the woods I had to check on the Bluebells again, and since my last visit a few days before they have darkened in colour considerably.

 Damned fuzzy uploads...

I've not been the only one photographing this lot though, there were many paths of trampled flowers into the Bluebells where people have presumably gone looking for the right angle. That doesn't sit quite right with me I'm afraid, I prefer to keep to the paths and not trample the flowers but maybe I'm just being a bit of a whinger.

 This tree will have been down quite a while now but there was still a smell of freshly disturbed earth around it.

 Lining up for the mother of all bunny hops...

My rides see a lot of this - riding a bit and stopping every few yards for a photo, or just for a look around, a prod about, and poke of my nose.

Foliage on the branch above the path is writing cheques the branch can't cash.

 Riding back on the lower most path I stopped and had a good old poke about in the stream by the ruins of the old Gunpowder works. I didn't find much truth be told, no treasure or strange critters, just these gert lumps of fungus on a downed branch.

 New Beech growth from an old stump. Gunpowder works in the background.

Random trickley stream shot - insert your own relaxing gurgling bubbling sounds until I get around to shooting video.

So I had a very enjoyable and peaceful morning pottering around, absorbing the sights, sounds and smells, and machine gunning photos of anything and everything I came across. 

Enjoyable and peaceful that is until I got back to my home port and found this sign that I'd missed on my way out...

This is the field where those eighty five homes will be going. Eighty five?? If you'd asked me I'd have said about thirty max would fit in here, and I wouldn't want them let alone eighty flipping five. 

More greenery and habitat lost forever. 

The local hospital can barely cope as it is, but there is another field in this village just been sold for development, new houses going up in other villages, and plans for 300 new homes just on the southerly edge of Truro. 

Back home, I've got one particular Blackbird in my garden that makes some fantastic, cheerful and cheeky sounding chirps, which makes all this building everywhere seem the sadder. It is an absolute joy to listen to its merry chirping, even while it's battering down with rain out.

The reduction of wild bird numbers in recent years is staggering, not just due to building but also farming practices, as these couple of articles illustrate: Daily Telegraph and BBC. Those are just birds in decline, all the ground based insects and furry critters are similarly plummeting in numbers and it is a real shame in my opinion.

But generally, habitat worries aside, all this getting immersed in nature is working wonders for my health I think. So much so that, with my back still playing ball at the moment, I may even get properly suited up and go out for a ride in the rain - Weather you can feel (down your neck and soaking into your crutch usually) and taste... Oh hang on though, it's just started strafing my windows again, really torrential stuff, it's hosing down out there. Well we'll see, but a bike ride in the rain isn't too bad when you're just out for the sake of being out, so my Bank Holiday may not be a complete biking write off just yet.

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