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!

Looking for my mojo, but found something else...

It has been ten days since my last ride thanks to the usual ailments, plus a brand new one – Shingles! That's not a whole barrel of laughs either, and the novelty soon wears off believe me. So it's been a while, and even today, as I wheeled the old snotter Carrera out of its kennel, I wasn't feeling the buzz, but still, 'give it a go' and all that.

So the usual loop around the back lanes beckoned, but even after just those ten days I seemed to have missed out on a fair bit. Along Tregassow Lane the hedges seem to have grown rapidly and narrowed the lane dramatically. I can no longer see over the top of them either to gawp at the view. Whole crops have gone too, changing the look of the local landscape from my last trundle through, and it seems like all the wild flowers lining the verges have disappeared as well. 

Traditional farming in the foreground, diversification in the form of a solar farm in the background.

It feels more like Autumn than late summer, and the puddles and mud/gravel collected across the road at the bottoms of a couple of hills bear testament to all the rain we've had recently, but muddy gravel wasn't the only hazard I encountered.

Plenty of evidence of the recent rain still to be found on the country lanes.

I could've done with a puddle like this just a couple of miles later.

I recently mentioned successfully dodging the dog poo on a lane that is popular with dog walkers, but today, somehow, I rode straight into some. Round and round on the front wheel it went, squashed into the treads of the tyre like a well mashed Snickers bar, and boy did it whiff. I was in danger of spilling my breakfast, and typically, just when you need a decent sized puddle, there aren't any to be found. So I had to make do with scraping off what I could with a stick, and riding along the edge of the road hoping the gravel collected there would help scour it away. The rattle of a few stones flying up were proof of the adhesive qualities of this particular dog's dinner along with a big grey patch of dirt clinging to the front tyre. I didn't look at the back wheel to see how that fared, the delights of the front were enough for one day.

Thankfully the Carrera isn't a house bike like the other two, it lives in the shed, so at least there was no danger of bringing any remnants into the house, but they don't warn you of the hazards of dog doings when promoting cycling and the pros and cons to expect, a serious oversight I believe.

Not a lake in the local wood, nor a pond, just a big puddle. A common enough sight in winter here, but not in summer.

Other than that, it was an uneventful ride, and I looked, but didn't find my mojo anywhere along the way, but that's the way things are, not every ride can be a winner.

Coffee and Monsters.

Mornings, when things are going well, are easier for me to deal with in many respects when it comes to getting out and about and that isn't a bad thing at all, as I do prefer the start of a day to the end. When things aren't going so well, well then the whole day lacks appeal and there is little attraction at all in getting out of bed.

But as I've mentioned elsewhere, I've added another feature to some of my rides to encourage me to get out on those days when things are going ok, but might slide if I let them. Complicated business this waking up malarkey sometimes. Anyway, that feature is my Mini Trangia stove and yesterday was another proper summer's day in the making. I'd had another sleepless night as it goes, my brain just would not calm down and kept churning over things I have no control over and making me very restless. I was awake well before dawn and already contemplating a ride – there was nothing to stop me as I have lights, but I also planned to take the stove into the local woods, and they're a scary place in the dark they are, all sorts of weird shit goes down in the woods during the hours of darkness my imagination tells me, and I scare easily.

So after allowing all the beasts of the night adequate time to retreat into the shadows for some well earned kip, I sallied forth into a warm and sunny early(ish) morning. I was feeling tired after my lack of slumber, but the fug soon wore off as the gears clicked down the cassette and the hum of the tyres picked up speed. Sometimes it is just damn good being in or on a vehicle and having wheels turning beneath you. Just moving is something I've always enjoyed, whether as a passenger or as the rider/driver. But with a bicycle or motorcycle, you also get a great feeling of movement too as you push through the air and feel the wind rushing around you. Both types of two wheeler are the best out there for waking up and getting the senses going of a morning, and that is nothing new of course, as bike commuters have been in on the secret for years.

So I was soon wide awake and really enjoying the ride by the time I hit the woods and revelling in the peaceful surroundings. There really is something magical about low, warm, early morning sunlight filtering through the trees accompanied by the sound of rushing water from the nearby stream. I always make slow progress on such occasions, as I keep stopping just to take it all in, or take a photo or two as well. Early it might've been, but I wasn't alone in the woods, as I discovered when I stopped for a quick snap. No murderous beasties or munsters though, just a dog walker and then a fellow mountain biker going like a train along the path but still finding time for a hearty 'mornin'. I'd hit the rush hour obviously.

The target location was soon reached once I got going again, and I'd earned my first coffee of the day alright having had to push the bike up quite a steep path up the side of the valley. That, and the lack of anywhere to sit once at my desired spot, meant my back soon started giving me grief, but having come this far, I wasn't about to make for home without the much needed caffeine injection.

Nice spot to spend some time... but what is that noise...

While waiting for the kettle to boil and absorbing my surroundings I heard something very disturbing – a snorting and heavy footfall behind me... then a ripping sound... this really was some sort of gert beastie, maybe they work a day shift too these days? Then there was another set of noises, and another... there was a whole load of whatever they were heading towards me and at first look I couldn't see them... this was getting scary and I was just about to opt for making a run for it while screaming like a gurl when I realised there is a field just behind the thin line of trees on the very top of the hill, and the evil beasts were nothing scarier than a bunch of munching mooeys wandering about. Laundry traumas and embarrassing squeals avoided, I once again settled my over revving imagination and nerves and set about doing what I'd set out to do – enjoy a good strong mug of coffee somewhere nice and peaceful.

Thought I'd give this a go, very nice and frothylicious it was too. I've got a selection of assorted coffees to try on such occasions - all part of the fun.

The mind said carry on, my back disagreed, so I headed back the way I came.

Given my stiffening back I thought it wise to head home rather than carry on riding somewhere else, so coffee consumed I mounted up and aimed for home. Passing through the car park I found it rammed with mint hatchbacks, a proper traffic jam of well cared for small cars waiting to park. Filtering up the outside into the parking area revealed the place was awash with elasticated sun visors and Eric Morecambe shorts as a whole load of elderly folk were gathering for a guided woodland ramble. I'm an oldie myself, or at least, feel like one, but I reckon I must've been the youngest person there, and by some margin too, so that was a bonus event, even if some of them did look fitter than me. Bet cows don't scare them either...

Summer Rambles, Poops and Pongs.

It's been a bit more like Summer these last couple of days! After some seriously manky rain and wind on Thursday and Friday, Saturday dawned as a proper Summer's day should – bright, warm and sunny. Ideal for riding away some of the non weather related hassles, stresses and anxieties of the previous couple of days then.

As usual, I set out aiming to avoid busy roads and places as much as possible, but arriving in  Probus took me back to the relaxed atmosphere of early mornings while on family holidays. Everywhere still felt quiet, but there were a few folk about, going to the local shop mostly it seemed, fetching the Saturday paper and something pastry based for breakfast by the look of things. Lots of smiles and hellos greeted me as I ambled up to the centre of the village, and it was all very relaxed and pleasant - how things should be.

Probus village centre.

Probus Church tower is the tallest in Cornwall at 129 feet, or 39 metres for those who prefer metric type stuff, and can be seen for miles around, and in many pictures too, as we'll see.

Despite all this peace and calm pervading the village, I was still intent on riding some of the quiet bridleways and back lanes and getting some solitude, so I headed off down the narrow road past the rather splendid church, heading for Wagg Lane. This used to be a country lane linking Probus with Tregony by the look of things, but has been downgraded to 'Other routes with public access' status according to the O.S. maps. Just the job then.

Wagg Lane, Probus.

The tarmac surface is still much in evidence to start with as the lane drops through one long tree tunnel down to a small stream. One drawback to these sorts of routes is their popularity with dog walkers, and therefore there were plenty of doggie torpedoes to try and avoid, some so big they had to be negotiated as you would a mini roundabout. Nothing worse than getting fresh dog doddle smushed between the knobbles of your front tyre especially, as you get treated to the sight of it going round all the time, and also of course, the rather less than fragrant smell assaulting your nose. Hitting one at speed and having it splatter and get thrown about by the front wheel like the worst sort of Catherine Wheel imaginable is an event I prefer to not even contemplate, most unpleasant that it is. Then there is the lack of traction and grip afforded by a fresh pile that could result in a lurid front wheel skid and a potentially messy and smelly crash. But still, that's enough about the impactive properties of dog poop, back to summery sauntering.

Doddle dodging practice pays off when carrying a bit of speed on lanes such as this.

The climb up the other side away from the stream is far too steep for me so a short push is in order and once at the top, the tarmac and trees give way to high hedges and mud. Not to worry though, as despite the recent rain, it was just a bit spongy and not the clawing quagmire to be found in Winter.

The second half of Wagg Lane is very different, with high hedges replacing the trees and broader verges, and soil instead of tarmac.

Looking back towards Probus and its church makes for a very English rural view.

From the top of Wagg Lane it was more tarmac bridleways and blissfully quiet, easy wheeling, sun dappled country lanes to Ladock and then home via lanes I use so regularly I think I've worn a groove in them. Maybe that's why the council have seen fit to surface dress them leaving the surface awash in chippings, but hey ho.

Still feeling willing and able, Sunday saw an amble round some local woods, again fairly early on and before all the dog walkers invaded the area. Woods are always a good way to escape the world and immerse one's self in tranquil surroundings, and I try and make the most of them in the drier summer months.

So, some very relaxing and pleasurable rambling about was had then, and inner calm thankfully restored.

Bridleway Baristacrat.

The idea of lugging a small stove and kettle about on the bike, along with bottles of water and mugs and all the other guff I deem necessary, might seem a bit of a daft one. There are, after all, loads of places to grab a coffee while out and about on a ride, and I don't ride far/long enough usually to warrant a coffee stop anyway. I could just have a mug of Asda's finest instant before I potter off, and another when I get back, low caffeine levels/enhanced grumpiness would not be an issue.

But it isn't just about the coffee, it's about making a reason to go out for a ride, finding somewhere nice to plot up and brew up, and spend some time just taking in the surroundings, and hopefully, relaxing at the same time. Plus messing about with camping stoves and so on is fun isn't it, and a hot mug of coffee on a ride is most civilised at any time of the day. But the mellow start also, fingers crossed, carries over into the rest of the day too, so it's a win all round, even if some folk do think it a bit weird.

So it was that I set off yesterday morning heading for a popular location for an early brew up for me – beside the Tresillian River. There is a Bridleway that runs from Tresillian to St Clement, alongside the river the whole way, making for a flat ride – always a bonus down here in Cornwall, and a very picturesque one too.

The soft early morning sun and long shadows always make for a pleasant time to ride along the lanes, the manic early rush hour traffic (rush three hours is more like it these days) ploughing through Tresillian less so. But the road is wide so it's no big deal to tangle with the commuters, and it isn't long before the Bridleway appears anyway, and peace, the river, muddy puddles, nosey dogs (and their owners) and a mug of hot coffee beckon.

Beside the Tresillian River.

I'm not alone in my liking for carting a stove about on a bike and having a brew up somewhere out and about, quite a lot of cycling folk do it in fact, and most also get involved in proper filter coffee and all manner of grinding and filtering contraptions too. Me, well I go for 'three in one' instant coffees – they do the job well enough for me, and it's good fun trying out the various makes and flavours available. Today was a new to me sachet of Cappuccino, a box of which I picked up in the local pound shop. A good 7/10 that one, very nice indeed, but not as strong as the Nescafe Cappuccino sachets, top banana they are so far.

While sitting and chilling, I got chatting to one of the many dog walkers who pass by and who is also a bit of a bird song expert, and among the various noises to be heard apparently were Oyster Catchers, Ravens hanging around the tree tops, and also Kingfishers, a couple of which also put on a spectacular display of vibrant colour while flitting low across the water just yards away.

Tresemple Pond on the opposite side of the track to the river.

Luckily, the Bull didn't appear to be home, but I still made like Lance Armstrong on a double dose across the field just in case.

Far side the field reached safely.

A brief foray up another Bridleway followed before I headed back the way I'd come rather than make a loop which would involve heading into Truro and a whole world of busyness and motorised mayhem- beggar that for a laugh!

Most of the coffee I drink at home I hardly notice, so taking the time to savour a mug somewhere quiet is a small and simple pleasure, but one that really helps when it comes to being able to put the worries and stresses to one side for a while. For the Winter I'm already planning to stock a range of hot chocolates and cup a soups for a bit of trailside sustenance, lovely!