The Sin Bin – Forgetful Poop Scoopers.

Or should that just be flipping lazy poop scoopers? I'm not sure.

One of the worst things you can ride through while out and about is a dog bomb. Actually, that is probably THE worst thing you can ride through. A freshly laid pile offers little in the way of traction, so if Bonzo downloaded his dinner right on the apex of a fast berm or something, you could experience a sudden loss of grip and a dramatic and smelly trip into the scenery. At best, you get to watch the squidged mess, looking like a melted Snickers but smelling far, far, worse, going round with every revolution of your front wheel. Plus, if your nose is as big as mine, (I suck in more cubic inches of air than most) the smell alone will have you gagging until you can find a way of getting the offending poop off your tyres. This always seems to happen in summer too, when the heat makes the smell even worse to stomach, and handy puddles to wash off the offending waste matter are hard to find. So you find a stick, to remove what you can, but even that process is full of peril as a little pressure in the wrong place can see the stick flick the dog log up into your face, or onto your clothing, somewhat less than desirable, especially if you're meeting up with friends or planning to visit a cafe. Or your stick might break, plunging your knuckles perilously close to the gooey, sticky mess you're trying remove. Even if you succeed in removing the majority of the fetid faeces from twixt your knobbles, there will still be a hefty pong hanging in the air from the residual smearing over the rubber.

All that is assuming the dog concerned had a healthy digestive system, heaven forbid you encounter the doings of a dog with a dicky tummy, and the resultant soft, near liquid, poop. Those beggars splatter all over the shop, and make like the worst sort of Catherine Wheel known to man as they fling foul particles in all directions with every wheel rotation. Run over some sloppy droppings and you'd better keep your mouth clamped firmly shut until you can pull over to commence cleaning operations.

So you'd think I'd be very appreciative of those folk who bag their pooch's poops into those twee looking little bags of doggy delight with the cute little rabbit ear bows on top. That's what I used to do myself when I had my much missed hairy arsed friend, I always scooped and bagged her emissions, but then I'd walk around with my little package until I found a dog poop bin, or failing that, a general litter bin. If those weren't forthcoming, well I carried it all the way home and put it in the household bin.

But that last bit about carrying it around is where I seem to to differ from some folk, who having gone to the trouble of remembering to take adequate supplies of bags with them, then done all the bending, wretching, gagging, and wondering just what the hell their beloved pet had eaten that meant leaving such a huge, malodorous and multicoloured steaming pile, then scooped it up and sealed the bag with that deft little pooper scooper's twist, then go and just leave the bag hanging from a branch, or on the ground.

Why do they do that? Are they planning on collecting it on the way back? Maybe, but it seems many folk then forget all about it, and/or fail to see the little packets they'd decorated the path with just a short while before. After all, people switch on their fog lights when driving, then forget they ever did it, despite the little orange light on the dash or switch warning them, and then drive around for weeks afterwards dazzling all and sundry with their forgetfulness. So they could quite easily forget what they'd done just a few minutes before, but I don't actually get how anyone can be that forgetful unfortunately, my mind is boggled by these folk. They must be always leaving all the lights on in their house when they go out, or drive to work, then walk home, forgetting the car altogether (actually, I know of someone who did just that, and reported the car as being stolen off their drive to the Police...).

Maybe it's just ignorance and laziness, and that is just as likely as the first option, unfortunately. If it is laziness, well the torpedoes would be better left unmolested where they were dropped, for nature to deal with, than wrapped in plastic bag and just left behind. Yes the bags do decompose, but it takes a heck of a lot longer. I'd rather take my chances with a freshly laid log than have the surroundings sullied by flipping plastic bags hanging from branches or just left right on the racing line, and a plastic poop bag is no more grippy than it's contents if you catch it with your front wheel while banked over.

That's not a giant bag of poop, just a low camera angle. Pretty colours or fancy scented bags (the wise scoopers use Nappy sacks - far cheaper than the 'dedicated' dog bags like the black one in the foreground here) don't excuse leaving your little packages of poop for others to clear away. 

A ride around the local woods will always reveal around half a dozen little baggies lurking unattended, and it really grinds my gonads, it really does. When I finally cracked and fetched out the camera for the photo hereabouts, it wasn't just because there were two little bags in one place to photograph, nor that one was a rather fetching colour. No, it was because these two were about fifteen feet from two, that is two, one each side of the track, dog waste bins. Yet here they were, just sat on the grass making the place look untidy. Too lazy to nip back to the bins I assume. Well if you're that lazy then a dog is not the animal for you. Go get a Goldfish or Stick Insect or something that is less tiring to clean up after you useless articles! 

If I was Prime Minister, and if I'd paid more attention at school I could be, I'd make it law that anyone bagging and then just leaving the little parcel wherever, should have their nose thoroughly rubbed in the bag by the local Forestry Warden. Or mountain biker. It's a simple enough task to undertake, why do some folk only manage half of the jobbie in hand?

In the bin the lazy, half witted beggars must go! Grrr.....

Bimbles 2016, Up and Running.

My first post of 2016, and it's a couple of days late, as this is all about what happened last Sunday. Oh well, better late than never as they say on the railways these days.

Late last week, Craig, my next door neighbour and general banter dispenser, rang asking if I fancied a bike ride. He had been looking at the weather forecast and found a window around mid morning on Sunday, that was showing only showers rather than the continuous horizontal lashings of late. Admiring his optimism, but not holding my breath, I agreed to the idea and the date was set for the first ride of 2016.

Saturday night was a bit of a sleepless one for the usual reason – a brain that won't switch off from fretting about stuff. So being awake half the night also made me aware of what was going on outside – weather was what was going on, and lots of it. Lots of rain being thrashed against the windows by lots of feisty gusts of wind. The bike ride was looking dodgy to say the least.

But, come the daylight, there were more sunny spells than rainy ones, but I still donned my wet weather over trousers before setting off. If I'd had a life jacket and Canoe handy I'd have taken that too, so convinced was I of the likelihood of ship wreck or at least a thorough soaking at some point in the proceedings. 

Thankfully, on assembling alongside Craig's van at the appointed hour, I saw he had elected to take his old Giant hybrid, a bike I owned for a while and christened 'Lump' because that's exactly what it is. Craig now owns it again and has had it resprayed satin black, and also added riser bars and a Brooks sit upon. It's still a brutal looking bike though. 

I say thankfully because I was expecting him to take his Bosch powered, electrically assisted mountain bike again, and I can't keep up with him when he's on the rinse and spin setting.

Lump looking evil wicked mean and moody in the car park at Wenfordbridge.

The starting point for the ride was to be Wenfordbridge – terminus of the Camel Trail and old railway line that runs all the way from Padstow (of Rick Stein fame) through Wadebridge (not famous at all) and Bodmin (of St Lawrences hospital fame, locally at least). But, as it turned out, we weren't going to be heading along the trail this particular Sunday, Craig fancied getting onto the nearby Bodmin Moor, so we'd be riding on the roads rather than trails, but that was fine by me.

The inscription around the frame bangs on about how the babble of the River Camel can be heard now the clatter of trains has gone. This was Wenfordbridge, a branch line in the middle of nowhere, not Clapham Junction! On this ride though we weren't following the route on the map, we were going up and off the top of it.

Setting off, a theme for the outward stretch of the ride soon became obvious – hills. Upward ones. Nothing silly steep, just long hills to grind up. Still, something to look forward to on the return trip we agreed.

Leaving Wenfordbridge and...

Straight onto the first climb of many on this ride.

One of the hazards of rural lanes, a country dumpling. Looks like the horse concerned had a good breakfast, which was more than I had.

A quick stop was made in the village of St Breward where the local shop (for local people) was open and Craig stocked up on energy drinks and Snickers bars. Despite all the Christmas decorations around the village, it still seemed a bleak place to live in the weak winter sunshine. You need to be a hardy soul with your hat tied to your head to live in some of the places we were to pass that day for sure. 

The commercial centre of St Breward.

On the wall beside the village shop. A very good idea indeed too.

Heavy looking skies... it's bound to rain, surely.

It may not have been raining at the time, but water was everywhere on and around the lanes. If it wasn't running down or across the roads, it was sitting in mini pop up lakes in the fields and everything was sodden and saturated. Even the sunlight was watery. Pulling up at the kerb on this ride soon became 'coming alongside' with pulling onto the verge 'running aground'.

 Typical conditions for a lot of the ride - narrow and twisting lanes, wet roads, cloudy skies with weak sunshine breaking through.

Also typical was the amount of water encountered, thanks to all the heavy rain of late.

The lanes twisted and turned, and dipped and climbed up onto Bodmin Moor which despite being a pretty windswept and bleak place, seemed to be teeming with folk out for a Sunday drive or walking off their Christmas calories. It was hard to get into a riding rhythm at times as we had to keep pulling over to allow cars to pass, the roads being too narrow to just trust to fine judgement and wing mirror avoidance.

A quick stop on the moor.

A pair of giants on Bodmin Moor.

We eventually came to a crossroads with Camelford sign posted to the left and Davidstow straight ahead. As they're a funny lot in Camelford and likely to want to eat us for dinner or something, we opted to head straight over and onto the exposed hill top road past Crowdy Reservoir and on towards Davidstow.

Davidstow featured an RAF base from 1942 until 1954, and following its decommissioning, even staged some Formula One motor racing, but parts of the old airfield are still in use today for light aircraft and microlight hedge hoppers. The road took us along what would've been an old runway or taxi way up to a junction, and there we decided we'd come far enough, and it would be prudent to turn back due to the time and me not having any lights on the bike.

 This is actually a ford, and I usually love bombing through fords like some big kid, but not this one, not on this day anyway. It was running fast and deep, and those fat wheels might be at a disadvantage for slicing through running water. So I bottled it and took the bridge.

We were following part of National Cycle Network's route 3, which is also part of the Velowest routing too (a link up with routes in Europe).

So after a quick snack for Craig, we turned to head back the way we'd come, straight into the wind. By crikey that was eye watering, snot blowing, head buffeting, ear billowingly hard work. Trying to speak was hard enough, actually hearing what the other had said impossible as the wind was like sticking your head in a jet engine... maybe. Perhaps.

All the effort of trying to make headway into the wind also saw me raising quite a sweat inside my many layers of water proofing but I wasn't going to stop and start disrobing – guaranteed to make it rain that would be.

The noise of the wind also made keeping an eye out for cars coming up behind more important, as on the way out we'd hear them well before they got close. Now we quickly discovered we couldn't hear traffic behind at all, even when it was up our chuff. At one point, finding some Sunday driver behind us, we both nipped onto the sodden and bepuddled grass verge to allow the car past. On rejoining tarmac Craig (who had been behind me) told me that I'd just floated over the grass, while he'd nearly gone over the bars as his wheels dug straight in. I love the Fat Bike!

We did swap bikes at one point too. Lump was just as I remembered, long and tall, like riding a five bar gate, and with hairy scary brakes too. The brake blocks were well worn down, and the brake cables in need of adjustment too, so after the hydraulics of the Fatty, the wet, tired and emotional V-Brakes on Lump proved a little bowel loosening at first. I could only just reach the pedals at their six o'clock position too, so getting power down was rather hard. Getting back on Fatty again was like coming home to a comfy chair, a roaring fire and a steaming cup of coffee. Comfortable and reassuring. As for Craig, I think he needs more time with Fatty, preferably off road, as I don't think he was won over, but they are a Marmite bike for sure.

What goes up must come down, and despite the buffety headwind, we enjoyed the long bits of downhill on the return trip. Mind you, given the woeful brakes on Lump, I'm not entirely sure Craig always meant to be going as fast as he was. He did stop and adjust them but it made little difference.

Getting near to Wenfordbridge again, we encountered the only rain of the ride, a brief, and light sprinkle of a shower, that was over in about 30 seconds. Despite all the turbulence, we had been really lucky with the weather on this trip, amazingly so really.

Before going back to the van we stopped on the bridge over the River Camel at Wenfordbridge to look at the swollen river below, and once again were bemused at how much traffic was out and about. Crossing the road here was more difficult than crossing Westminster Bridge in rush hour, or so it seemed.

The bridge that gives Wenfordbridge its name, in a rare moment of no traffic. Plenty of water though. 

The River Camel at Wenfordbridge running fast.

So that was the first ride of 2016, and a great one it was too. I didn't take as many photos as normal, as with company I can't stop as often and dick about setting photos up, but some of the scenery was pretty special, in a rugged and bleak, lots of sheep and moorland kind of way. The bikes stayed pretty clean too, the roads being remarkably clear of all the mud and farm slurry we get on the lanes around home. There was also a distinct lack of wildlife to be seen too. A quick spin around my local lanes always leads to at least a couple of encounters with Pheasants or Squirrels, even Hawks or Buzzards or whatever they are (I can never tell). This trip we just saw lots of Sheep, Horses and cagoule wearing walkers, and no sign of the legendary Beast of Bodmin Moor either (though other folk might've thought they heard its mournful and chilling howl at times, but it was just us grinding and groaning up another hill or into that wind).

We'd ridden a whisker short of twenty miles, at an average of seven mph, and both enjoyed it immensely, although Craig has since reported being absolutely knackered once he'd got home.

One last thing – I tend to switch the GoPro on and off on a ride, as and when I encounter picturesque bits or whatever, and it is set to take a shot every 1.5 seconds. Well I forgot to switch it off on the way back, and had 804 photos to download. They took some looking through to sort out I can tell you, I relived every hundred yards sorting the good from the dull and disastrous.

Again, not a detailed map but I'm working on it. 10 miles each way was the journey, and we went out and back via the same roads.

Anyway, ride number one of 2016 is in the bag!

A Quick Photographic Look Back At 2015.

2016 is almost here, and although I don't usually do New Year's Resolutions, I've got to try and improve things health wise and sort my life out. That's the main task, but also I want to take better and more interesting photos, make better and more interesting blog posts, and ride more often and get further from home too, I need to explore new places on the bikes!

2015 was the usual blend of ups and downs, but I'll stick with a couple of the highlights, which included listening to a Woodpecker getting busy while holding a steaming coffee in my hand beside the river near Tresillian, early one misty morning, and watching some Kingfishers darting about a bit further along on the same day. There was the arrival just a couple of weeks ago of the Fat Bike too, but let's have a completely random and self indulgent mooch through a few photos and have a quick look back at 2015. This isn't a comprehensive account by any means, nor are the photos in any particular order date wise, just a hotch potch selection.

Early February was a bit chilly. The second of Feb shown here, had seen frequent hail showers coupled with freezing temperatures to leave the lanes a bit sketchy and my backside a bit twitchy, as things were a bit slippery in places. Riding through the puddles and listening to the ice crunching was good fun though. But better was to come the very next morning...

Snow! Well, a little bit of snow, but we don't see much of it down here so even a light dusting is enough to get excited about (and bring the county to a halt...). This was taken approaching the Five Turnings junction about a mile and a half from home, and I'd already had an unplanned Break Dancing episode by this point involving descending the hill out of the village and some injudicious application of the brakes. Thankfully it was to be the only 'off' of this little ride.

My feet were colder than the socks on an Eskimo's washing line but I wasn't going to miss the opportunity for some wintery looking photos. Fingers crossed we get some more snow in the next couple of months!

January had seen the first of many trips into Idless Woods (above two shots) and throughout the year...

... mud and puddles were to be an ever present feature in parts of these woods, as above in March...

....and again, in July (above). 

It wasn't all splashing and slithering about in these woods though, as I found a previously undiscovered by me path that I first thought might have been an old stream or river bed, but is more likely to have been an old Drover's path. It runs pretty much straight its entire length and down hill too, so makes for a pretty good 'chute' to ride down (above).

Idless Woods are a good place to find Bluebells too (above)...

... as is this rural footpath.

That footpath is a little secluded delight that unfortunately peters out as it has become heavily overgrown, but it's still worth a ride along now and then (above and below)...

... but is best avoided during the shooting season as Pheasants are released on one side of the path, while the shooters line up on the other. Somewhat less than ideal for a quiet potter then.

I did explore a couple of new to me Bridleways in 2015, this one going from the Truck Fork junction and up to the back of Probus village (above and below) was a good find...

As was this section of path leading up to the old West Wheal Chiverton Mine (below)

This way to the mine beats this path below...

which is inclined to get a little muddy.

What else? Ah yes, May saw a trip to Holywell Bay to go and see the sea.

Pushing the Jamis through the soft sand dunes was hard work. Guess where I've got a trip planned for the Fatty in 2016?

Getting to Holywell meant riding through Cubert which boasts a very well appointed bus stop...

See what I mean? There's a choice of fair or foul weather waiting, there's plenty to read at the information hub and it is connected to the world at large as well via the communication centre (phone box). If all that isn't enough, there's en suite refreshment available too. This place has everything.

A very worthwhile addition to my riding kit was a Mini Trangia stove and kettle. I don't carry it on every ride, but it gives me an excuse, or a reason, to get out early and have my first cup of the day somewhere pleasant and relaxing. It also makes me stop and linger awhile which makes for some good relaxation - time to dwell and listen and watch what's going on while the kettle is doing its thing. 

 March saw the demise of my Canon G11 camera. That was a bad tempered day that was! I took a photo and the lens failed to retract on switching off the camera - it became a doorstop and I was less than delighted to put it mildly.

But, that meant I needed a replacement and an opportunity for an upgrade, and I soon had a used Canon G1 X winging its way westwards.

The first ride using the G1 X (above) showed the camera to be worth every penny, with a big step up in picture quality and ease of use, but with one big drawback - the minimum focusing distance is measured in Furlongs rather than millimetres. It's utter pants at close up stuff, but that's the downside to having the large (for a 'compact' camera) sensor.

September saw another photographic arrival as after many months, nay, years, of pondering, I finally pulled the trigger on a GoPro Hero 4. I've not yet scratched the surface of what this thing can do creatively, so that's firmly on the agenda for 2016. There are only so many over the bars shots like the one above, I can stomach.

What else? Ah yes, June saw a bit of a trip down to Coombe and Cowlands.

A good ride that, somewhere I hadn't ridden before and beautiful weather for it.

So good was the weather that my trusty Baseball Hat proved inadequate and so...

I obtained a rather less than fetching sun hat to keep my ears and neck from burning. 

I'm a scruffy Herbert though whatever I wear.

Another place I returned to a couple of times was Newlyn Downs.

This is a public access area in and around the Carland Cross wind farm, and is also the site of an old lead mine. The streams here are tributaries of the River Gannel and run red with the rusty iron deposits of the mining spoils. It is also an area of Special Scientific Interest due to its areas of wet heathland. 

I don't know about the wet heathland areas at all, but it is also thick with Gorse which makes for some vibrant colour on a bleak landscape.

But Newlyn Downs also offers some quality off road pottering, with the constant backdrop (and whooshing noise if it's windy) of those big fan things. (I don't buy this idea of generating electricity, I think they're huge fans pointing against the prevailing winds to straighten the trees up...)

Looking back, there didn't seem to be much of a convincing summer to enjoy. There never seemed to be a run of good days, just a sunny day, followed by an overcast one, then a flipping wet one.

This shot above was taken in May, and the weather was distinctly cold and although dry, was just grey and bland. This was on the old A30 at Gossmoor, a well known traffic bottleneck on the journey in or out of the county. At the far end of the moor was the infamous railway bridge, that regularly saw the undoing (literally in some cases as HGV trailers got peeled open under it) of many a high vehicle, leading to even more traffic chaos. Thankfully, eventually, at flipping last... the road was by-passed, and the old route is now a peaceful multi use trail.

 But, still, there some, occasional, summery days.

So weatherwise it was a bit disappointing. Despite clocking up exactly 100 rides for the year, it also felt like I didn't get out as often as I'd intended, nor did I get as far from home to new places as I'd have liked. And that is about it for a quick (?) look through my photos. I took a ton more of course, and have probably missed out some things that were a lot more interesting, as this all looks and sounds pretty uneventful (dull/boring) but still, there were some positives to be had, and hopefully many more to come in 2016.

Happy New Year!