At Last! Snow!

Well alright, a little bit of snow. No huge drifts, no villages cut off, no skiers hooning down the slopes of the Cornish Alps, not even any schools closed - that is how little snow we had yesterday morning, and anyone who knows how readily some schools lock their gates at the merest threat of a cold snap will realise we're not talking about snowmageddon here.

But yesterday morning as I levered myself out of bed and peered out the window, there was indeed snow falling, and settling too, albeit only in the kerbs and hedges. Not enough for the local kids to make a snowman, uh-uh, not even a snowborrower to be honest. A white out it was not.

But snow is snow and down here in Cornwall we have to make the most of what little we get so I was still quite excited and vowed to get out on Fatso at some point, even if you'll see a heavier coating of whiteness atop a sponge cake.

The main question though was when to get out for a ride? Leave right then and make do with what little there was or wait and see if any more snow fell and things got a bit more picturesque? My back was still giving me grief so I knew that I'd only really manage a single ride so I consulted the weather forecast as provided by the Met Office. Now I do give these forecasts some stick now and then, but I'm happy to also give them praise when they get it right, and they certainly got it right yesterday morning. The graphics showed an 80% chance of snow around 10 am and again at 12 pm, with a drop off in between. So I waited a while, had some coffee and set off just before 10.

See what I mean about not having much to brag about in the snow stakes? This was the state of affairs along my beloved Tregassow Lane as I winced, grimaced and gurned my way about the countryside.

Ah yes, now I mentioned my back was still a bit tricky, well it was very tricky. Even on Fatso which gives the least harsh ride of all my bikes courtesy of the fat tyres, I was still getting pain rocketing up my upper back, across my shoulders and chest with every lump or bump in the road, even though I know where all the bumpy bits are and can brace for them. It was painful going, and when I say I was Gurning, I mean it. For those outside of the UK and wonder what Gurning is, it's pulling a face. So imagine if you will seeing a cyclist riding along pulling faces, like this...

Or this...

Even this...

And you will get the idea. Those are web found photos by the way, not actual photos of me, I'm not as handsome as those chaps.

So anyway, riding and photographing was turning out to be a struggle, but there was snow fer heaven's sakes! I spend all winter praying for snow so when we get some staying home is not an option!

It wasn't just an iddy biddy bit snowy, there was ice about too, most notably across the top of puddles. This here entrance to a field has been a muddy quagmire lately, best avoided, but yesterday it appeared to have a good covering of ice. The puddles certainly did, and a tentative poke of a toe suggested the muddy ground was nicely frozen too. 

Well, first appearances can be deceiving, as as soon as I trod with my left foot and attempted to wheel Fatso across a puddle, the icy crust gave way with a crunch and my boot plummeted into the gloopy glunge and Fatso's wheels broke through and into the icy water. The upshot was mucky feet and a very mucky pair of tyres, as can be seen. But to hell with it, I was going to get at least one photo of a snowy scene so I gamely pressed on stogging about in the mud to get the above photo.

Back aboard the bike and the presence of ice in places made things a little scary as the last thing I needed was a prang, so I engaged Nervous Nelly riding mode and avoided the snowy bits just in case. This was already turning out to be a long ride and I did consider turning back, but you know, press on while I still can and all that, there maybe something better round the corner I'd not want to miss. And it's snow... Got to make the most of a bit of snow when we get it...

Hmmmm, not much to see here on this much photographed by me section of Tregassow Lane, but I still took a shot 'cos I like this bit of lane.

As promised by the Met Office it started snowing again just after 10 am, although it's hard to see in this shot. Neither of my two 'proper' cameras are weather sealed, so long exposures on the tripod weren't really an option as I couldn't find a place to set up where the wetness wasn't reaching. So it was a case of being quick on the draw with the compact, whizzing it out of my bumbag, leaning over the camera while I held it close to my waist while I set it up then raising it, pointing and shooting quick.

Trevella Stream.

It's amazing how a bit of snow dampens noise as even before it started snowing again, all was very quiet as the air, thick with impenetrable snow, was muffling the usual noise of distant traffic and so on. As usual I had a stop and poke about where Tregassow Lane crosses Trevella Stream, this time spotting a freshly downed lump of tree across the stream.

Here, under the trees at the edge of Trehane Wood, the softly hushed murmur of whispering snow falling on the leaves and branches really was utterly magical and despite being in some discomfort with my back, I stood dead still for a minute or so just looking around and listening, taking in the moment. That alone was worth the pain and effort of getting out and about, and I really must start doing video!

The snow might've been falling but it wasn't posing any threat, not being heavy enough and was also more of the wetter variety of flake, so wasn't settling and not adding much to the little whiteness we already had.

T'other side of Trehane Wood and once again the snow is hard to see in this shot, but t'was falling quite nicely and just a shame it wasn't sticking.

 Now you can see it a bit better...

Aw bums, that bike was clean before I set off... As it lives indoors I had to wash the mud off the tyres before putting it back in my living room. A full wash was out of the question - far too much aggro.

T'is a blizzard I'm telling thee! 

Now on setting off I did have in mind 'Snow photo cliche number two - Daffodils in the snow.' Unfortunately, all the wild Daffs that are very much in evidence on the verges and hedges have yet to flower, but I did spot one or two had popped out in the Parish Council flower beds in my home port. Not much snow visible again though...

So we finally did get a dusting of the glorious white stuff, but by the time I'd managed to get myself out of the shower it had all gone thanks to the falling snow having turned to rain.

My back was pretty grim too, I'd aggravated it rather well despite it being just about the slowest trip round my regular loop I've ever done.

As it turns out, I should've kept my powder dry and waited until this morning as overnight we had more snow and a proper covering when I peered out into the weird grey light. Damn! This would've made much better photos and more fun riding too, but no way was I able to get out, not even into the garden for a shot, so I had to let it go, and go it has as once again some rain and then bright sunshine has seen it all off. 

So that's the news from one rather frustrated Bimbler. Had I been fitter I would've ridden to some far more photogenic places but going off road was out of the question, as was going too far from home. But still, as I used to tell my ex wife, a little is better than nothing at all, and that moment of wonder when I was stood under the trees listening to the snow more than made up for the disappointment of not being able to make more of the day.

Now I've just got to hope it's not three more years before we get another light dusting, let alone the eight years since we last had a proper, heavy, fall of snow!

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Marinating Metha Bridge and an Exciting Weather Forecast...

I wince and grimace every time I pass this... Makes my teeth itch it does... 'Meter' is bad enough in a country where we have 'Metres' (I'd prefer feet and inches personally, I know where I am with them...) but 'whellchair' really tugs my beard.

It has been a glorious winter's day here at Bimble Towers, not a breath of wind, just golden sunshine and blue skies. Flipping chilly mind you, but that's par for the course with winter sunshine. This is ideal weather for some quality bike pottering but unfortunately I've been confined to barracks for nearly a week now with my back which is giving me considerable grief after a short bus trip into town last Monday. I always have a stiff and painful back after bouncy bus rides and walking around town, but usually it'll ease after a day or two. For some reason this time it has refused to go away and has kept me off the bikes.

Right now though I'm even more desperate than normal to shift the pain and get in the saddle because we have an interesting weather forecast for tomorrow and into Wednesday as the local paper's web site notes:

And here's the forecast on the Met Office site:

The last time we had snow in my part of the world was the third of February 2015, and that was just a light dusting that only lasted a few hours, but I made the most of it alright, eagerly setting out on the old clattermonger Carrera and machine gunning photos all over the place.

Even a minor bit of unplanned break dancing on the slippery descent out of the village couldn't stop me enjoying the small amount of snow we had that morning.

So the feeling of excitement in the air here is palpable, well, in my living room it is anyway, other folk maybe less enthusiastic about snow, but knickers to 'em. Fingers crossed then that we get some, but knowing the weather forecasts we could anything from a mini ice age to a heat wave.

What else? Well while having been grounded this last week or so has been rather less than fun, I have had my nose into a really good book.

By crikey I'm crap at product photography...

I've recently started to really appreciate the work of James Ravilious who recorded daily life in rural North Devon in the 1970s. Looking at some of his work you'd swear the images belonged to a much earlier period, but this was a part of Devon that modernity was slow to reach and the images portray an at times idyllic way of life, but also an extremely harsh one.

The book is written by James' wife Robin, and although I'm only half way through at the moment, it is an utterly enjoyable read. Illustrated throughout, the book beautifully describes their individual early lives, their meeting, life in London and subsequent move to Devon, the countryside, characters and lifestyle. Ravilious was mostly contributing photos for the Beaford Archive who since his death in 1999 now hold the copyright to his images.

A book of Ravilious' photos The Recent Past was also released late last year and is on my shopping list for when funds are a little flusher. In the meantime many of his images can be found online and are well worth searching for.

So have I had any rides to report? Well yes, on Sunday the 28th of January actually, the day before I knackered my back, when I went for a boot to Metha Bridge.

Woo hold up... is that... yes that's the mighty Marin, my 'best' bike being wheeled out for its first ride of the year.

As I mentioned in a previous post I'd told myself I really needed to ride the Marin more often, as it is a bit daft keeping it indoors just because I don't like getting it dirty. So I (very bravely I think...) wheeled the Pine Mountain out intent on having a good ride (and avoiding mud and puddles at all costs).

The bells were ringing summoning the faithful to the village church, but I was safe here from religious conversion as this is the Methodist's Church and they like a lie in of a Sunday morning, not having their service until a more agreeable 11 am.

The above two shots were taken on the Bridleway up to Carland Cross which back in the day, was actually the A39, hence being a rather well appointed Bridleway what with it having tarmac and Cat's Eyes n'all. The 'new' A39 is just over the hedge on the right and under that bridge top left in the lower photo.

These two also show what a grizzly looking day it was out, flat grey and gloomy, damp from previous rain but with no rain forecast (and none appeared either).

The Marin really is a superb bike to ride, after my other bikes it feels light and agile, itching to be slapped from side to side by an out of the saddle rider, but that's a bit beyond me unfortunately, but it does accelerate well and steers beautifully, really carving and holding a line to millimetre (oops, thousandths of an inch...) perfection. I find it supremely comfortable too, and have not yet felt any bum or back/shoulder/neck/wrist aches when riding it.

It wasn't just the weather that was bleak, the fixtures and fittings in some of the lanes were a little tired too, adding to the rather sullen feel to proceedings.

This (Metha Bridge) counts I suppose as the target for the day's ride, but really I was just riding a lane that I've only ridden once before, and hasn't really got a lot of interest on it, but still, a ride is a ride and all that.

There are actually two bridges at Metha Bridge, one over a stream, t'other over a railway line. No prizes for guessing which one this is though...

The line in question used to be the Chacewater to Newquay branch line, a slightly unorthodox routing even for a branch line, and the mostly rural nature of the land it passed through saw a decline in passenger numbers as road traffic grew and the line closed in February 1963.

But, as you can see, trains run beneath this bridge once more as the route is now part of the Lappa Valley Railway, a 15 inch gauge tourist attraction jobbie and I'm afraid, not really my cup of tea. (I was quite the rail buff back in my teens, and my disdain for what I unfairly perceive as 'toy trains' has yet to diminish...).

Not a shot taken in a field or anything, but on the bridge at Metha Bridge. 

The Marin now leaning against the parapet of the second bridge, as seen from the first, the rail bridge.

Hanging one's nose over the parapet (and taking care not to tread in the unfeasibly large dog poo - I don't know what sort of dog left that huge steaming pile, but it certainly had a good breakfast) one is greeted by this view of the stream below. The colour of the water could be the result of the recent rain running off the fields or metal contamination from nearby mine workings. Indeed, not a hundred yards away there is a capped mine shaft in the woods, so either, or both, is likely.

Oh hello, just up from the two bridges is this footpath... don't mind if I do...

I hadn't planned a mooch along this footpath, so just had myself a quick nosey to see what was what, and it is definitely one to revisit at a later (less muddy) date. As it is, I walked most of the path due to it being nearly all off camber and slippery as a well greased Weasel. I took this photo at the only flat bit I found on my brief sortie.

After the short footpath mooch, it was back on tarmac and in two shakes of a Lamb's tail I was in downtown St Newlyn East (that's the retail district pictured there - the local Butcher's shop.)

St Newlyn East isn't an easy village to get good photos of, frustratingly. There's a gert big pointy church smack in the middle of the place, but try getting an uncluttered view of it. Also this was a Sunday, and the place was rammed with parked cars, the above street only escaping by virtue of its narrowness.

Anyway, rather than go through the village and out the other side, heading towards the evil A30 at Zelah, I opted to head back towards Mitchell, thus making a bit of a loop. Instead of just taking the direct route though I did swerve off onto a single track lane but other than a random Campion there wasn't much there of photoworthy note either.

Campion on the back lane off Halt Road.

So I rode back into Mitchell (not photographed - too many parked cars) and back up the hill I'd flown down earlier, and thence hung a right and a nifty left onto the lane twixt Carland Cross and Boswiddle.

A 'Lanescape' on the lane between Carland Cross and Boswiddle. I've just made 'Lanescape' up, and I'm feeling smugly pleased with myself 'cos it is a term that doesn't appear to have been invented yet for photos of country lanes. So I'm bagging it - claiming first dibs on it. You saw it here first!

A common sight on this lane, rather flattened frogs (or Toads) in the road.

I can't pass water... no that doesn't sound right at all. I can't ride a bicycle past or over water without stopping to take in the atmosphere, and this bridge over an unnamed stream is no exception. A tranquil place to lurk for a few minutes.

Boswiddle is a place you'll see me mention a lot on here, but I haven't yet taken any photos of the actual hamlet itself. There isn't a lot there to be honest, just a farm, a cottage or two, a junction in the road and about a mile towards Ladock, the ford. But I must get some shots one day.

Having turned right in Boswiddle, climbed the hill up to Five Turnings, and turned right again I found the lane still flooded near Pengelly.

It had been a very enjoyable ride - the Marin, as said, is a great bike to ride, and the lanes were peaceful and most importantly, free of rampaging wind and flesh stripping hail showers!

Crappy mappage of the ride. Metha Bridge is at point 6, the bridge where I can't pass water (ahem) at point 12.

The full gory details of the ride can be found HERE

Ah... well you didn't really think I'd not wash my best bike once I'd got home did you?

Right, that's the latest, fingers, toes and all sorts are crossed for a bit of snow tomorrow bet it rains  no... must be positive... hopefully it'll snow and my back is fit enough for me to get out on Fatso (I'm nearly out of Paracetamol so have held some back especially for the morning...) - Snow is a Fatbike's raison d'etre after all!

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Late Again...

Well, good intentions regarding bloggery, photography and bimbling didn't last long - I haven't got out half as much as I'd like and when I have, I've been doing the same old things.

But, a quick look back at my records show that I'm actually very slightly ahead of last year's January efforts, both in the number of rides and the miles done on them, so January obviously just isn't my month.

I do like to keep a paper record of my rides - I'm not a Stravaerist so can't look them up online, but I have a journal instead where I write down the miles covered, average speed, the maximum speed achieved (woo yeah!), calories burned (Yeah right, utterly inaccurate but still, I may as well note them) and the odo reading for the bike at the end. I just use basic wired handlebar computers (each bike has its own) to record these details. Then I write in where I went and anything else I care to remember.

Why I do all that I'm not entirely sure! Just out of curiosity really, I suppose. It means I can look places up and see how far they are and so on, how many miles I'm doing and on which bikes and so on. It all sounds a bit sad really but who cares - it keeps me occupied!

So 2018 hasn't exactly got off to a thrilling start, but at least I do have an excuse in the weather - it has been wet and windy seemingly day in, day out for weeks now. I don't mind riding in the rain, but when that rain, or in many cases hail, feels like it's stripping the flesh off your face as it rips sideways into you propelled by an angry wind, well then I'm not so keen. "Sod that for a laugh" has been my usual summation on opening the curtains of a morning to reveal the wild weather shredding the countryside to bits.

One thing I've noticed - it's always blowing a proper hooley on general bin and recycling day - Monday in our case round here. The result is usually, once the men have been round doing their thing, a load of plastic boxes and an assortment of coloured bags flying about the place, and come the early evening, people who have been at work all day roaming the village looking for their recycling hardware, and having to pick it out of the hedges, pluck it out of the trees or from under parked cars. 

By crikey builders earn their money at this time of year. Working all day in the clawing mud, wind and rain would get old very quickly for me I must admit - I don't know how they do it.

This is the new build estate in a very prominent field on the edge of my home port, a field that every winter sports a pop up lake in the bottom left corner, and this winter, as can be seen, is no exception. Why they've piled up that soil there I don't know, it's probably going to be carted away or used for top soil in the gardens or whatever, but it is now surrounded by quite a moat. I had wondered if they plan to place any houses in this corner, but on having a butchers at the ecological survey done in 2015, I found mention of an attenuation pond, so presumably that is what is planned for this spot. I wouldn't be buying any house over on that left side of the field though, it's always water logged very quickly after rain so there must be a fair bit of groundwater near the surface in that area that flows down the hill and collects at the bottom. At the least I would think any houses built on that side will have rather wet and soggy gardens, but maybe there is some cunning plan to deal with that, we'll see.

What else? Ah yes, a photo that I first saw in the 2017 Photo Annual edition of the US magazine 'Bike.' Of all the great photos in the mag, this is the one that I spent the longest holding in the air in front of me and gawping at.

This photo, by Robb Thompson,was also recently a Photo of the Day over on Pinkbike.com, and I just love the light as a shower hit the riders near sunset. Normally, you leave space for riders to move into in the frame, but having them pointing out of the frame and on the edge gives a great feeling of speed - blink and they're gone sort of thing. The shot wouldn't be half as good without those flowers in the foreground too.

There are loads of photos that I admire both online and in print, but this one really butters my toast, and scores a maximum on the wish list:

Wish I was young again and able to ride like that.

 Wish I was there at the moment the shot was taken.

 Wish I could take shots like that!

But anyway, on to more mundane riding and the few weather beaten pootles I have managed of late.

The 14th of January, and the morning after the stroppy night before.

A quiet and still morning, with sunny periods too, but the puddles and streams of water running off the fields and into the lanes tells the story of the weather we'd had the night before. Everywhere was the sound of gushing, trickling and dripping as the countryside recovered from the lashing it had just endured.

Out on the Voodoo again, despite pledging to ride the Marin more often... Well the Marin hasn't got a rear mudguard you see, and I didn't want the mucky streak of shame up my backside... The Voodoo has got panniers so I could carry leggings/Sou'wester/water wings should it rain again...

This hill doesn't look much (they never do in photos do they!) but it's a real brake burner when going down it, being long and in places, steep as a set of stairs.

At the bottom of that hill lies the Tresillian River (above and below).

I've been after a photo of this tree between Probus and Ladock for a long time, but in the past I've always been foiled by rain, or the light being wrong, but on this day all the ducks were in a row and I bagged it. Like a lot of the trees round here, this one was showing signs of recent damage too.

That was basically that for this ride - just a ramble along the lanes in a loop taking in Probus and Ladock, with not much to report, and not many photos taken either, but it was still good to get pedaling once again.

13.54 miles done, a maximum velocity of 28 Great British miles per hour reached on a goodly plummet down a hill and 216 calories burned apparently - Fascinating stuff eh?

The 19th of January saw a quickly grabbed ride around my usual Tregassow Loop.

Another day of bright sunny periods between rampaging showers. Conditions like this give the camera metering, and more to the point, my camera skills, a hard time. Thank heavens then for RAW capture and being able to do some heavy lifting of the shadows on the computer.

The lane along the edge of Trehane Wood, always a good bit of road to keep an eye out for hairy critters as I've encountered Badgers, Rabbits, Hares, Foxes and Deer along here in the past.

Looking over the hedge on the lane from Five Turnings to Pengelly with Treveale Farm in the mid distance and Ladock Woods on the hill top.

Weather update: Peachy.

Hmmmm... lot of portrait orientation in this post...

Ditch beside the lane at Killiserth.

Weather update: Take cover! 

Just nearing my home port of Trispen my luck with the weather that morning ran out big time and I copped the hail shower from hell itself. Thankfully I was under tree cover at the time so took shelter while the trees took a very loud strafing from the hail stones. 
Once the passing shower had relieved itself enough to allow a photo or two, I bagged this photo while balancing on top of a Cornish Hedge looking into a privately owned wood.

 There's a great tree/puddle shot lurking at this location, but all the best angles are obstructed from the road by nearer trees and also the wide flooded ditch. But I did manage to get across the ditch and onto the hedge top, and while hanging onto a tree with one hand and aiming the camera in the general direction I wanted with the other, got a photo. It's not the best angle as I say, but without trespassing, or going bog snorkelling, it's the best I could get at the time.

Finally we arrive at last Monday, the 22nd of January and that just shows how tardy I am at updating this blog.

It was high time I got one of the fat tyred twins out again, Fatso or the Marin, but given my intended destination was the uppermost path in Idless Woods. I once again opted to leave the Marin in port and sacrifice Fatso to the mud and slop. The Marin will be going out very soon - I've told myself to stop being such a big Nelly and take it out on my next road ride...

Fatso in my back garden prior to the off, and still looking peachy after it's post Christmas clean.

A freshly damaged tree at Treworgan, between St Erme and Lanner Mill.

Last time I came along here there were two trees down in a field beside the road, this time I found this tree on the roadside itself had copped it in the latest storms.

Part of the felled portion of the tree, post emergency surgery by a man with a large chainsaw.

This is like a piece of art in itself, a rural sculpture if you like, and believe me, if I could lift it and fit it in a pannier, I'd have this in my back garden (we'll gloss over the question of theft... call it window shopping, or window salvaging on my part).

To someone skilled in interpreting the rings of a tree there is probably a lot of information to be gleaned from this lump of wood. The rings don't just indicate age, but also give clues to the climate during each period of growth, any insect infestations, periods of drought and even where something such as another tree has leaned against it or provided heavy shade.

Now this winter really does seem to have been an interminably wet and windy one, and to add insult to bedraggled injury, once again we missed all the dumps of snow that afflicted most of the rest of the country.  I've pretty much given up checking the weather forecast as it nearly always says 'wet and windy,' 'windy and wet,' or 'stay indoors it's going to be mank out.'

But... it's not all gloom and doom, what winter grimness lays ahead is shorter than what we've endured, we're on the home straight now and proof that Spring is just around the corner is starting to appear. 

Primroses, and generally regarded as the first flowers of a new year - Snowdrops. You beauties! What a welcome splash of colour these were amid all the gloom of a Monday morning in January. 

If the hedges and verges are half as bountiful and colourful this Spring as they were last year, then we're in for a treat.

Sartorial elegance money just can't buy...

I've always been, and always will be, a scruffy Herbert, and my riding clobber provides a fine example. Some people are born to look cool in anything (usually Italians) but I could make the finest tailored suit look shabby and mis shaped.

The weather forecast (I lied... I do still look at it) had promised a day without rain, but I still donned my baggy over trousers for this ride, for a reason that will become obvious very shortly.

I'd just taken a ride by shot of me gurning my way up the first half of this hill at Lanner Mill, and took this as I looked into Idless Woods (at what I thought at first was a stray dog as it happens) to keep the camera alive before going back down the hill for another run up for the camera. Pause too long between shots and the camera goes into hibernation and many is the time I've ridden up and down machine gunning photos only to find the camera had gone into sleep mode half an hour before and I'd captured the sum total of nothing.

Freshly downed trees on the edge of Idless Woods.

Tree nearest the camera is a fresh casualty, the one behind came down about a year ago.

Bang goes the clean bike... Any hope of retaining clean trousers too, hence those leggings.

Riding through this level of slop is good fun, with the wheels rarely in a line and steering accuracy measured in feet rather than millimetres (or fractions of an inch perhaps)as both wheels were prone to wandering about. Picking a line was less 'just pass between that root and that leaf' and more 'just keep it between the trees'.

Woo that's sloppy!

It's been a while since I last rode the uppermost path through these woods, as I knew it would be pretty gloopy, but curiosity got the better of me and I wanted to see what was occurring after all the weather we've had. Puddles mostly.

One benefit of cleaning a bike is it stays clean longer, and is also easier to clean once home again, and Fatso was actually holding up well with a lot of the wet mud simply not sticking.

Find of the day this erm... levery type thing.

The woods are home to classic motorcycle trials now and again, so I did think this may be the kickstart from a 1934 Rudge Running Sore or the gear shift from a 1948 Scott Flying Testicle, or the advance and retard from a BSA Barking Backfire 650 Twin or some other old wheezing motorised bi-wheeled rattletrap. But I'm not so sure to be honest what it is. 

Whatever, I have no possible use for it, practical or ornamental, so put it back where I found it.

Wet and muddy tyres plus plentiful rootage equal bowel loosening slipping and sliding, even on fatty tyres.

Fatso leaning against the same tree. Despite suffering a spectacularly lurid front wheel slide on those roots, dignity was preserved and I avoided (somehow, it would've been more by luck than judgement) face planting the scenery and bike and pilot remained upright.

It wasn't all sideways mud plugging though and some parts of the track do drain well.

Heading back towards home along the lower path takes one alongside the stream, that was of course, running both fast and high.

Despite being quite a substantial body of water, the stream appears to be as yet, and rather bafflingly so, unnamed. 

Last shot of the day - Fatso beside the upper branches of a tree that came down in the storms back in the Autumn. If you're thinking we've had a lot of storms lately, you'd be right.

Despite some parts of the bike remaining pleasingly clean, I couldn't take Fatso back in the house with tyres covered in slop so broke out the pressure washer and gave both the Fatty and the Voodoo a quick wash, so I'm back to having all the fleet looking tickety boo again. But the Marin is going to cop it next time I head out... That's a promise!

Right now, I'm going to sign off quick 'cos there's a repeat of The Sweeney on the telly, followed by an episode of The Professionals. Lots of people loved the Professionals at the time, but watching them now some of the acting and action looks terribly camp compared to the convincingly gritty Sweeney. "Alright Tinkerbell, you're nicked..." Great stuff!

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