Playing In The Puddles Again.

Tarmac may not be what fat bikes were designed for, but at this time of year, the fatter the tyres the better, at least on the rural back roads.

Mind you, setting off along my beloved Tregassow Lane, a motorboat might've been more appropriate, as once again, the road was flooded in a few places. Cycling still brings out the big kid in me though, and rather than dodge the floods and puddles I bomb into them with great enthusiasm, and rather wet feet too, but still.

To really make the most of the conditions (or was it just an excuse to make repeated runs through the water?) I fished out the selfie stick and dangled the GoPro where normal cameras should never venture to get some watery action shots. Dicking about, that's what I was doing, dicking about on the bike and dicking about with cameras. I may not be the world's greatest on a bike, or with a camera, but it's all good stimulating fun. Dicking about is very underrated in my opinion and is to be indulged in whenever possible, the world would be a much better place if more folk dicked about.

You get quite some bow wave from a fat bike.

But back to the ride and I also had another venture off the beaten track and into the greenery along a remote footpath, and it just proved a reminder of how much fun these fat bikes can be. I normally have to ride along this path fairly carefully, as the ground is uneven, all off camber and full of holes and divots. On Fatty though, I was blatting along without a care in the world, it inspires so much confidence with it's sturdy feel and forgiving nature.

One heck of a bunnyhop was needed to get over this recently downed tree...

But it's fun on the muckiest roads too. Further round my loop where the road is particularly grotty, with pot holes, gravel and broken tarmac making for a hammer drill ride, and with a thick lane of gloop up the middle, I recently passed a roadie on a very tasty looking bike coming the other way. He clearly wasn't enjoying this part of his ride at all, being very circumspect in speed and body language.  On Fatty I was hammering along, the tyres absorbing the chatter from the messy road surface and reveling in the conditions. It's just the same on my other two mountain bikes mind you, but Fatty just makes it even more fun.

It was on this stretch of road that I passed the roadie, not the ideal conditions for a thoroughbred racing bike really.

So two rides in and I'm still thoroughly pleased with my decision to go full fat instead of half way with a 27.5 plusser. I'm not even bothered that my shiny new bike is now rather blathered either. I always keep whatever vehicles I own clean, and hate getting them dirty as a rule (and yes, they are mountain bikes), but to hell with that with Fatty, I just want to ride the thing and not worry about cleaning it afterwards - riding it in the mud and filth is just so much fun!

A new Member In The Fat Camp...

First off, it's been a funny old week or so – a frustrating one and an exciting one. Frustrating thanks to the usual back trouble flaring up again which also happened to coincide with some internet trouble which went on for a couple of days. You only learn how to really swear when you keep losing your internet connection every couple of minutes, I can tell you. Some of the things I muttered I'd never even heard before myself...

The exciting part though was the result of some retail therapy (alright, this wasn't sleep shopping, this purchase was definitely intended) which arrived on Friday in the form of... a Fat Bike! Yes, in some cycling quarters it is a bit like announcing you've just joined the Moonies, but to hell with the cynics, I had a fat sized itch that needed scratching.

I had been pondering some very tasty and tempting 27.5 plussers for my next bike, but Fat Bikes have also long intrigued me. Some folk think they are the work of the Devil himself, 'Clown's shoes', 'pointless monstrosities only useful in six feet of snow' and so on. Others meanwhile seem to rave about them, riding the things here, there and everywhere, bulldozing flat everything in their path like a marauding Panzer, and enthusing about greasy pole climbing levels of traction and unwashoutable front wheels. The downsides of Fatternomics – weight, draggy tyres on hard ground, slow etc, don't bother me one bit. The upsides though prove very tempting indeed. Too tempting in fact to resist.

So last Tuesday, I finally made a decision and ordered an On One Fatty, which was built up on the Thursday and through my door in an unusually large box on the Friday afternoon. Pretty good going I think, so all credit to the lads and lasses at On One.

Latest arrival in my motive power depot - Fatty. Fun times ahoy!

Fatty arrived fully assembled and tuned, so all I needed to do was lob some pedals on (I ticked the 'no pedals' option on the 'build your bike' section) and straighten the bars, and if my back hadn't been playing up, I'd have been off faster than well kicked cat and enjoying the ride. As it was, I had to wait until Sunday for my first outing.

The only other thing I changed on the suggested stock spec list was to swap the standard grips for lock on foam ones at no extra cost. I've been a fan of foam since Grab-On grips first appeared for motorcycles and see no reason not to have them on my 'pushies' too.

I also bought from various retailers two spare tubes (Schwalbes from Merlin Cycles), a seat bag and basic Cat Eye Velo 9 computer (Amazon), and a Mucky Nutz front guard from a trader on Amazon. Wiggle got the job of supplying the DMR V8 pedals and a bottle cage. I had thought I'd make do without a rear mudguard... Big mistake! I now am waiting for a rear 29er jobbie from Mudhugger.

Overall then, I am very pleased with all these purchases and the service I've had. Everything, including the bike, was easily ordered and arrived promptly.

The bike itself looks a cracker. One of the reasons I went for the On One Fatty is the looks – I love the chunky ally frame, especially the twin top tubes, and the straight line from steering head to rear wheel. Some fat bikes look a bit like a kid's drawing with a spindly frame and huge wheels with balloon tyres, but the On One looks right to me. You don't buy a bike on looks alone though, and the 2x10 gearing and Avid hydraulic brakes appealed over a rival product's 1x10 (36t rear granny ring wouldn't play well with the hills round here, not with my legs anyway) and cable discs. Price of course is an important factor as well, and the On One scores well in that department too.

Unlike some bikes, it also looks great (to my eyes anyway) in the metallic white. Unable to ride it immediately, I grunted and grizzled my way through giving it a coat of good old paste car wax which really made the glossy paint shine, and makes subsequent cleaning easier.

The biggest impression though comes from those tyres. There is no escaping those huge rubber donuts whether viewing the Fatty from the side or from in the saddle, where that huge front tyre dominates the view ahead.

Anyway, enough of all that waffle, what's it like to ride?

Bloody huge fun!

Sunday came and I couldn't wait any longer, it would probably kill me, but beggar my achy back, Fatty and I were going for a ride!

The local lanes are still a bit bedraggled after the recent wet weather. That front guard does its job at keeping one's fizzog clean. Just as well too, 'cos these fat tyres don't half throw the muck up.

The immediate feelings were of immense security – this thing feels solid and planted – If someone opens a car door on you while riding one of these you may just notice a slight bump, otherwise it feels like forward motion would continue unabated.

The tyres do drag a little more than on my other bikes, and my legs got a good workout over the course of the ride, but that can only be a good thing – upping the fitness won't be bad at all, and I certainly am not bothered by the added effort or lost speed of fattying along.

That 2x10 set up proved the right choice too. I rode up all the hills on the lanes I used, including one properly bad ass one that regularly tests the bursting limits of my lungs. The 1x10 jobbies on most of the bikes I looked at would've required the fitting of a bigger granny ring on the back or a whole new wider ranging cassette.

Grinning like a loon already just riding the lanes, I decided to give my back an even tougher time and take Fatty into the woods. Oh, by the way, my bikes don't normally have names, but the Fatty seems to have the sort of character that lends itself to having a name, and well, it's called Fatty already, so Fatty is what he is now called.

So Fatty and I went off roading, and those big tyres soon made their presence felt. Going up one steepish, rocky, loose climb I heaved on the pedals and the bite from the rear was instant and the bike just surged forwards and upwards. Likewise with the front – it just rumbled over anything in its path whereas previous trips up here on my other bikes have seen the front wheel getting pushed around by stones and rocks.

Oldie and Fatty in perfect harmony.

I am a lazy rider I must admit. On my other bikes I set the tyre pressures more for the road and don't bother altering them for off road jaunts. The result is I don't usually like encountering mud, as the wheels dive in deep and the rear soon starts spinning, bringing me to a halt and having to put my foot down into squelching, clawing, gloop. On Fatty, I came across one long stretch that was pure mudageddon, but rather than going round the quagmire, or finding another path, I went for it. There was some rear wheel slippage I think, but again, the drive forwards almost caught me by surprise it was such a new sensation to experience in such conditions. I rode the full length of this path through the thick wet mud with quite some ease. Even the wheel rims stay clean as they don't sink into the clug like narrower wheels do. Fun!

Then there was the rough, straight, downhill that saw me clinging on to the marauding Fatty like riding a freshly stung Rhino, all the while laughing out loud to myself... This thing is mad! Unfortunately, so was my back by now, only not in such a good way, so I had to rein in the antics and head for home while I still could. But by crikey this thing is going to be great if that initial ride is anything to go by.

So I made it home, much muddy of backside and in increasing pain from my back, but also with a smile on my face that only surgery could've removed. Fat bikes don't just like riding through mud though, they like sharing it around as well, and the tyres really chuck the muck with great enthusiasm, hence the immediate ordering of some rear protection. The 'just crapped my trousers' look isn't one I tend to favour.

This hill is a brute, and this was taken about half way up, but I still made it up ok without bailing out. The gearing seems spot on so far, covering all bases nicely.

One other aspect that I saw much mentioned on the net by owners, and I also encountered on my brief maiden voyage, was questions from 'civilians' about those wheels. One ride in and I've already had a long chat with a slightly gob smacked dog walker, and also over heard mutterings from two separate groups of walkers I passed - 'Did you see the wheels on that bike he's riding?!' Not for the shy and retiring types then, obviously.

The conditions were choppy on this stream that crosses the entrance to a field.

So now I'm just waiting for things to ease up again in the spine department so I can get out and bother some more mud!

There is a T-Shirt slogan that goes something like 'Once you try Fat, there's no going back' and that could well turn out to be accurate – I'm smitten!

Things That Go 'Add To Basket' In The Night.

Sleep can be very hard to come by sometimes when depressed or anxious, and when you do get some quality kip, things can still get a bit weird. Maybe it's the tablets, or I eat too much cheese, but some of the dreams I have can be quite dramatic, and not always in a good or interesting way. But I also appear to suffer from what I believe is a hitherto unknown problem of sleep shopping. It's a bit like sleep walking, but retail based. I wake up sometimes with the vague feeling of having had an interesting dream involving some web site or other I frequent often, and having been eagerly clicking through pages of goodies. Then a weird thing happens, as the following days go by, post starts arriving containing various desirable goods and... well, it's all a bit odd.

Take last week for example, I woke up one morning after a pleasant dream where I'd been enthuisastically looking at magazines. I could clearly remember the thrill of discovering new issues to read, and also previously missed back issues to add to my collection. As dreams go it was certainly one of the better ones, and a long way from some of the sweat inducing horror movies going on in my head some nights. But this is what this rambling post is all about you see, because a few days later and the postman started poking magazines through my over worked letter box. 

Hayup, it's the crappy photo pouffe again, in an equally crappy product pic.

First to arrive were a couple of back issues of Singletrack and also two issues of the long gone Privateer - a magazine I'd not actually read before, and difficult to track down at decent prices it seems. But in my dream I'd obviously been to the Tweeks Cycles site and done some clicking. But the sleep shopping hadn't ended there, as next to arrive was the tenth issue of The Ride, followed a couple of days later by the latest Boneshaker. My bank account had obviously taken some nocturnal battererings that night. 

As said, The Ride is issue number ten, but unfortunately could also be the last, as the team behind this excellent publication have decided to take an indefinite break. They've always said they aren't in it to make money don't pay themselves for their work, and therefore all profits go to charity, so it has been a labour of love, and no doubt, a very time and energy consuming one since they first decided to put their idea into action. 

The Ride and Boneshaker are both high quality independent publications, and offer something refreshingly different to the mainstream cycling mags. They're not for gear obsessed performance junkies, these aren't about the bikes themselves, more the experience of riding a bike, any bike, in all sorts of places and all sorts of reasons. How much that bike weighs, or costs, or how fast it bombs down hill or up some Alp or other isn't relevant, but what a pedal powered two wheeler gives the rider concerned in each story is. 

Anyway, I hope the lads and lasses behind The Ride enjoy their break, then get back to work on producing more 'cos I for one am a bit gutted to know this one may be the last.

Very odd this sleep shopping business though don't you think? Funny thing is, I was dreaming last night of some sort of white bike and having to remember... pedals... that was it, I had to get pedals... Weird eh?

Weight Weenies And An Ambush Fail.

Well Thursday night was a bit wild, with plenty of rain and howling wind to keep the light of sleep awake all night, but when Friday dawned it looked a whole lot better. The wind had eased considerably, and the sun was out... strewth, best get outside quick then!

As usual, I took far too much junk with me, but yesterday I particularly excelled myself given the modest plan for a quick trundle around one of my local loops. The fault lies entirely with those voluminous panniers, they are so invitingly cavernous that it is all too easy for me to fill them with photographic guff I might, maybe, possibly, need. So in went the DSLR with the Siggy 10-20, plus two extra lenses and the 430 EXII flash. In the other side, in with the two spare tubes, tools, spare leggings and bungees, went my Manfrotto Magic Arm. I never know when I might want to mount the camera in some daft location on the bike, and it fits so well in the pannier. Oh and I also had the remote flash/shutter triggers of course, and my tripod in case I wanted any ride past selfies. The G1 X went in its usual place in my bum bag (for fast draws see - I'd be a great gunslinger) and around my neck and waist went the GoPro. It's safe to say I go well equipped photographically. It's also safe to say the Carrera was just a little tail heavy, in fact I was pondering letting some air out of the front tyre to help keep it down on the ground. 

But this is obviously where the weight weenies on their training runs are doing it wrong. They go out in their sprayed on lycra, riding their flyweight speed machine, piling on the miles to keep their fitness up for summer racing. Clearly that is the wrong way to do it. When I next ride one of my bikes without all that clobber with me, I know I will feel fast as hell and my legs will have power to spare (maybe). They should take a leaf out of my book and do their training runs in long baggy trousers, big jacket and weigh the bike down with junk. No good trying to maintain fitness and testing yourself while making things as easy as possible. These people are fools!

But anyway, the leaden Carrera and I set off to enjoy some quality bimblage around the lanes. There was that lovely 'after the stormy night before' feeling about the countryside as everything looked a bit disheveled and the air felt fresh. The sky was pretty ominous looking at times though, but it failed to dump any rain on me so that was good.

Despite the volatile looking sky, waterproofs weren't required.

The ride also turned into one of those 'just a bit longer' jobbies, where I extended the journey a couple of times rather than head for home. It still wasn't a long ride, but was a very enjoyable one. 

When the lanes get really narrow, and you meet oncoming traffic, diving into the hedge is often the best solution.

The lanes can be very atmospheric at this time of year, there's certainly no mistaking what season we're in, and daft as it may sound, it's hard for me to decide whether I prefer winter or summer for pottering about. Summer gives longer days and more colour, and warmth, obviously. Winter though gives fresher air, fewer airborne things to swallow, and no sunburn to worry about. But there is also a naive sort of sense of adventure about the countryside in winter, and a feeling of being more connected with it. The air is also more bracing and gives energy and renewal to a weary old body like mine, rather than sucking the energy out of it, as the heat of summer does. Neither winter nor summer can beat spring though - best of both worlds that is, but winter isn't always as bad as it is cracked up to be.

This dog started out nearer the road, but as I got closer, so he went further in trying to hide behind the wall while still peering round the edge of it, full of excitement at the imminent ambush. But, his concealment skills need a bit of work and I was fully ready for him. Thankfully though, he wasn't a chaser, only a barker, so a high speed chase and escape was avoided.

It's not all single figure speeds when I go a bimblin'. 

Oh and all that photographic gear I lugged around with me went untouched. Only the G1 X and the GoPro saw any action. Doh...

System Restore.

November and December are always tricky months for me now, and it's not just the grotty weather that gives me the glums. So far this winter has been rather less than good on many counts, and one casualty has been my bike riding. I'm not one for technology like Strava, heart rate monitors and cadence thingamies (my cadence is usually about five rotations of the cranks and coast...) but all my bikes do have their own basic computers on them, and I do make note of the miles I do and where I go. So with November having recently passed into history, I thought I'd tally up my mileage for the month. Well it didn't take long, and the calculator went unbothered in the drawer, let's put it that way – just 25 point something or other miles for the whole month. Oh now that is embarrassing. Mind you, a couple of winters ago, being still a bit new to being back on a bike, I didn't ride at all from the end of October until the middle of March the following year, but still... 25 miles...

So, there was nothing else for it, I needed some country lane therapy, and fast. So yesterday I was up bright and early, well... I was up early... well... I was up, and despite a slightly aching back, I mounted the crappy Carrera and set sail for a much needed dose of fresh air (plenty of that rushing about), rolling wheels and peace and quiet.

I'm not into Pumpkin soup, otherwise I'd have had this particular piece of roadside booty away in a flash, well, a pannier, but I'm a Chicken Noodle man through and through.

The village here has been a tad chaotic of late as contractors have been tarmacing the roads. “About time” I thought as all the trucks, compressors, portable buildings and Hi-Viz tribe assembled ready for action a week or so ago. Well the results are mixed, being partly 'woo this is so smooooth' and partly 'waddachuff... why haven't they done this bit?' They've done sections of the roads, but not all of it. The new bits are a pedaler's pleasure, and my knobblies were positively humming on the smooth as a baby's backside surface. Then it'd be ba-ack to ju-dd-eri-ing and cr-ash-ing about on the gravelly, rippled and torn up sections of road that for some reason have been left as they were. God they say, moves in mysterious ways, but has nothing on the local council for truly befuddling schemes.

But never mind all that, it was rejuvenation I was after and it wasn't long before I was away from civilisation and enjoying the feeling of free movement and fresh air. I no longer have any motorised transport, and my crap back restricts me in many ways when on foot, so getting back on a bike again after a bit of time out of the saddle immediately gave me a big boost. I even found myself whizzing down a hill standing on the pedals and jinking from side to side like a little kid as I relished the free movement I can get on the bike. Yes my back was a bit stiff before I left and riding might make it worse, but to hell with it, I'd pay the price later, for now, I just needed to enjoy myself.

This is what it's all about for me when riding on roads - bimbling along the country lanes, away from traffic, pain in the arse people, and all the other hassles of life. 

It's not all pleasure of course, not living round here at any rate, and the route I picked meant going up a pretty ugly hill that feels like riding up the wall of a dam, only a bit steeper, but I got in the granny gears early and just took my time and made it to the top without bailing out. There is something strangely satisfying about determining that you will ride up a certain hill, hunkering down and watching the front tyre turning slowly but relentlessly as you reel the top in. 

Having crested the summit I was then exposed head on to the wind as the lane runs along the top of the hill I'd just climbed and away from the protection of trees. So the legs got another good workout but again, being in bimble mode means that even a strong headwind did little to lower my spirits. I had no schedule, nowhere to go but back home which wasn't far away, no King of the Mountain on Strava to chase, so again, I just sat back and let the ride take as long it would take, and enjoyed feeling the nature of the day physically, and embraced it, rather than cursing it or hiding from it behind bricks or glass. Every day feels the same unless you get outside and feel it warming on your back or blowing in your face. I'm guilty of looking out at the howling wind and strafing rain, and wimping out in favour of staying in with a hot coffee, but sometimes, feeling and hearing the weather around me is invigorating and reminds me I'm alive.

Ernest Hemingway said “It is by riding a bicycle that you learn the contours of a country best, since you have to sweat up the hills and coast down them. Thus you remember them as they actually are, while in a motor car only a high hill impresses you, and you have no such accurate remembrance of country you have driven through as you gain by riding a bicycle.” Well you can add truly experiencing the changing seasons to that, as dashing from centrally heated house to air conditioned car hardly qualifies as living with the weather, yet we are all obsessed with it, checking multiple forecasts then mostly avoiding it anyway whatever is going on outside unless it is searingly hot. Other ways of getting windblown/wet/sun burned are available, but riding a bike works pretty well for 'feeling the day' I find. 

Another well used quote is ''There is no such things as the wrong weather, only the wrong clothes." Well I'm going to suggest changing that to the wrong mindset. Accept it, give in to it, embrace it!

I have a bit of a thing for rivers and streams, I nearly always stop on bridges and just lurk for a while, enjoying the sound of the running water and the wind in the trees. That running water usually makes me want to pee too, but we'll gloss over that...

So the ride was a success and my mood lifted in a way no amount of tablets or touchy feely, nodding sympathetically in a 'I'm listening' kind of way therapists, can.

The Things You Find...

Another ride around one of my local loops yesterday. I really should take a man up pill and ride a bit further afield in winter, but something has got into my head that demands I stay local during the crappy season. Some of the rides I enjoy in Summer are out of bounds at this time of year granted, I'd sink up to the bar ends in clawing gloop no doubt, and that's no fun at all. But I should set my sights a bit further afield at this time of year.

But anyway, a ride was on the cards but what bike to take? I gave the Voodoo a proper tickle last week and it is looking clean as a new pin. Get it all dirty again so quickly? Oh no no no... The Jamis then. Well that's clean as well, but the Carrera... a snotty bike for snotty roads. It's what it's for after all. So, armed with a big stick, I dragged it out from the corner of the shed where it was quietly festering, and then sallied forth on the wretched beast to see what was going on in the (local) world.

The joy of Snotternomics. Leave the pride and joy tucked up in the dry and warm, and enjoy the liberating feeling of piling through the sludge without a care in the world.

The lanes are a bit lacking in vibrance at this time of year it must be said, unless blustery winds count of course. The warming sunshine, bright colours and sweet smells have long gone, leaving everything a damp and dull green or brown. Bozzing along them though is still an enjoyable experience, especially when mounted on an old hack bike you don't fret over, and the decrepit wreck and I (so two decrepit wrecks then) were soon making good pace ploughing through all the sludge and muck. It's an old mongrel of a bike, but it still rides well enough, although the V-Brakes take a little getting used to again after the consistent bite of the discs on the other two. It also keeps aggressive dogs at bay as well - they spy me coming and imagine the fun they are about to have chasing another poor cyclist, then clock the malevolent collection of fetid parts the old bloke is riding and think better of it, keeping their distance and following my progress past their territory to make sure I don't stop and let my bike sully the place. Even the mankiest of farm dogs give me a wide berth when on the Carerra it seems.

So, concerned farm dog aside, what else was happening? Well the only things of note turned out to be crap dumped at the roadside – the first of which was a shopping basket. I had the rack on the bike, but no bungees, otherwise I'd have had that for all the bike furtling and cleaning guff in the shed. I might yet go back to get it.

I think I'll go back and retrieve this, that is if nobody else has blagged it in the meantime. 

The other 'find' was three old car tyres. No use to me, but farmers like them for weighing down tarps and stuff, so at least they too might get re-purposed as it were.

Plenty of life left in them... Mind you, the fatter one on the right wouldn't look out of place on Lewis Hamilton's Sunday afternoon biffabout.

So anyway, that got me thinking, and the result is a small collection of photos of the sort of treasures, oddities and trash I've found while tootling the back lanes.

Old wrecks.

This old ex RAF AEC Matador above has taken up residence beside the road near Grampound, and is apparently waiting to be restored. A superb old beast though, and it looks a proper animal to drive.

On the edge of Truro lurks this old Landie, slowly getting taken over by the hedge. But, it is apparently not alone, as after posting these to Flickr, I was told there is in fact a second Landie behind it, already well engulfed by the vegetation. So well engulfed in fact, that you have to really look hard into the hedge to see it. Next time I go past I'll have me a good prod about.

There seems to have been a purge on old roadside derelicts at some point, as when I was a kid they were a frequent sight round the lanes and in the woods. Obviously to many folk they are a blight on the landscape, but to me their loss is a shame, I love finding these old warriors parked up and slowly decaying.

 Strange goings on...

Now here's a wonderful thing, a Tigger in a tree, in the middle of nowhere. But he wasn't alone...

This rather drunk looking bear was also taking the sun alongside the lane, along with some other soft weirdness hanging from the tree. 

Riding through the village of Zelah I came across this chap. Could be part of some community scarecrow festival, or maybe just one of the locals having a breather on the way to the pub. Hard to tell really, they're a funny lot in Zelah...

Smallest libraries in the world?

There are a few old phone boxes being put to use around the county (and probably beyond too, but I don't go up country... full of funny folk it is up there) as local book exchanges. Bring a book - take a book is the principle, and I think it's a brilliant idea. It only works in 'quiet' places mind you. We have an old phone box in the village here, but we also have a lot of bored youths who would delight in trashing something like this, unfortunately.

Examples of old crafts and rural skills.

There are loads of such things of course, but I've only got photos of one example of old crafts in use - hedge laying. Good to see practices like this still surviving when it would be easier no doubt to just bung in some modern fence or other. This hedge lines both sides of the road for about three quarters of a mile, and would've taken a lot of time and effort, but is far, far better than wire fencing, not just visually but for wildlife too.

Cyclists!

Yes, who would've thought you'd find cyclists on the country lanes, but if this sign is anything to go by, it might come as a surprise to some folk. Or maybe it was asking drivers and pedestrians to caution cyclists, to warn or punish them, after all, there is no punctuation there to suggest a different meaning. Caution them about what though isn't clear.

Useful stuff.

I've no idea what this lever fell off, or what I might use it for, but it is now in my tool box waiting for the day when I need such a device, even if it's only to stir paint with...

Oh ok... this isn't very useful in fact - there's no valve cap look... Someone has been having some puncture related nightmares though - what a mess.

Ah ha! Now that is useful - the forces of win were strong with this find. Some roadside treasures need a bit of spotting, but your eyes soon tune in to look for even the smallest foreign objects lurking on the tarmac or in the hedge.

Memorials

Plenty of memorials to be found on the roads these days unfortunately, and many, like this one, are well tended. 

Rubbish.

Uh oh... incoming rant ahead! 

Unfortunately, there is an increasing amount of rubbish appearing on the lanes recently. The local council don't help when they announce they are going to charge for loads of items at the local tip. A trip to the tip with a car full of crap used to be great fun. You roll up, enjoy lobbing all your crap onto the tip, for FREE, then come home with a car full of someone else's crap you salvaged because you thought you could put it to good use. Now though, there are bins for everything and woe betide you if you launch the wrong thing into the wrong bin - the Tip Police will pounce in a flash and make you feel like the worst form of criminal because the old office chair went in the metal bin but had some plastic on it or some such act of evil. But things got even worse when charges were announced for all sorts of items. You now need a calculator and a supply of ready cash before heading to the dump, and things can get very expensive, very quickly. Yet the council wonder why fly tipping is on the increase... None of the above is an excuse mind you for littering the countryside, the people who turf this junk out on the roadside are beneath contempt.

The junk in the above photo is the telly, not the bike...

Well at least the local cats get somewhere comfy to rest up after a hard day at work sitting under cars and staring into hedges.

If I had my old van I would've had this away, cleaned it and mounted it on the swivel base of my office chair.

A couple of dead bike frames waiting to clang the blades of the council hedge cutter. Whoever dumped them didn't want anyone else having them as both had been cut through before being lobbed into the undergrowth on the verge.

There are loads of other things to be found on the roads of course, especially if you like those red industrial gloves, there's always plenty of them lurking, they've taken over from the miles of unwound cassette tape I think as the most commonly found roadside litter. 

Well that's about that for roadside finds, and wasn't it just thrilling... I have a bucket list of things I'd like to find and actively search the roadsides for - large sums of cash for example, a pair of shoes that actually fit me (why is there always only one shoe?) a new wife even, but so far my best finds amount to a couple of tools. But if anyone finds the end cap from the Voodoo's left pedal, you can keep it, the bearings are knackered already so I'm going to replace them. The lens cap off my Canon 18-55 kit lens though I'd quite like back... lost it somewhere near Tresillian I did.