More Rides and Some Random Stuff.

Storm Hector is upon us at the moment, well, down here we're getting the very edge of it, but the weather forecasters still gave grave warnings of heavy rain and strong winds. They also promised that said rain would batter down the pollen and give we runny nosed, teary eyed Hayfever sufferers a break. So I was looking forward to a sneeze free day when I opened the curtains this morning, but never mind the weather for a mo, as my eye was immediately caught by a splash of vibrant red flopping about in the breeze down by the kerb at the front of the house. Bump starting the nervous system with coffee could wait a few minutes, I needed to get out and grab a photo of this heroic little flower before some kid picked it, or my neighbour reversed his van over it or something...

How I haven't noticed this Poppy before I don't know - it's right outside my front door for pity's sake, but there we go. I assume it's a Poppy of one flavour or another anyway, I haven't looked it up for definite, but it certainly looks like one.
Great to find such a colourful and delicate looking flower in a fairly hostile place for growing though.

What else?

Oh yes, time was when the countryside was full of strange cruciform figures stood motionless in fields like some sort of punishment or maybe a sacrificial offering to the gods of vegetable growing. Quite what any aliens visiting would've made of such sights I don't know, but I don't suppose they stuck around long to find out.

Scarecrows were first used by the Egyptians to keep Quail away from their Wheat fields along the river Nile and their use spread worldwide in fairly short order, and they have remained in employment if not always as successfully as would be hoped, ever since. They are a rarer sight these days though, more likely to be found on allotments or in back gardens than out in the fields, where more modern and efficient methods of scaring birds away have been developed.

 Birds, particularly Crows, are highly intelligent, and soon work out that the strange figure stood guarding the field is pretty harmless. Clearly, something better was required.

An unemployed Scarecrow recently.

Nowadays there are all sorts of inventive and cunning ways of scaring birds, mostly using visual methods of giving them a fright, but farmers have brought in the big guns, literally, and the once peaceful countryside can now sound like a battlefield at times.

 This beggar scared the hell out of me about a year ago, making me jump violently as I tootled along a lane, enjoying the ride. It was in the corner of a field around which the lane wrapped itself, and pointing out of the field across the road towards the edge of a wood, so anyone passing along the lane here got the full effect.

 I wanted to sneak into the field and stuff flour bombs down the pipe of this one and start mortaring the farm workers...

I haven't found any rules and regulations regarding the use of these things, only guidance from the National Farmers Union. This one though also gave me a jump when it went off as I was passing at about five thirty in the morning a couple of weeks back. A tad anti social as there is a house nearby, and that thing is pointing straight at it (maybe the farmer and home owner don't get along...).

Thankfully, the Scarecrow maker's art is not entirely lost these days and there are even Scarecrow festivals in some smaller towns and villages keeping the tradition alive, and though they may not have scared too many birds away, I much prefer the traditional bundle of straw and old clothes standing in a field to these explosive devices going off willy nilly. 

Rides, let's get onto a few rides I've had recently.

Back on the third of June, I thought I'd have me some Bridleway action, and a second visit to the Choon Bridleway that I'd first explored just before Christmas, and follow that up with a potter along the Tregavethan Bridleway that I know well. 

A good old ride around for sure and come the day itself, fresh from my recent ride to Portloe, I was feeling fit as a fiddle and in an unusually fast and competitive mood. I'm a bimbler, I potter slowly about and my idea of a personal best is the lowest average speed for a ride I can make. An average in the low single figures is a sure sign of a good ride enjoyed well. But on this occasion for some reason I was feeling alarmingly athletic and set off mashing Fatso's pedals as if my life depended on it and speeding through the countryside at for me, quite unknown and unheard of velocities. Enjoying the ride as I was I didn't stop for any photos at all until well onto the first Bridleway, several miles into the day's ride.

The Choon Bridleway lies off the main road towards the A30 from Shortlanesend, and to begin with, utilises a farm track and one of the most jarring, teeth rattling cattle grids I've come across.

Not long after the cattle grid the lane bears left and into the farm yard, while the Bridleway carries straight on, plunging into the scenery and vegetation. I copped stings on the ends of the fingers on my left hand thanks to those nettles, but busting through this sort of growth is something I always enjoy. Anyway, a few stings, bloody scratches and grazes, maybe even a partially severed limb or two, are all signs of a good time spent in the countryside.

There is a track here honest, quite a wide one too, but it is a tad overgrown at this time of year, and this was just the start of it...

I wasn't the only bi-wheeler to pass along here though, these tracks were fairly fresh and narrow too - most likely from a curly barred bike such as a Cyclo Crosser, Gravel Bike or Adventure Bike.

There is a ford marked on the OS Map but in reality it is but a trickle, but having navigated that you then pass through this gate and up towards open farmland.

 The Bridleway passes up the left side of this field, following that hedge.

When first heading into the rough I had gravity on my side which made bush busting a lot easier. On this section however the track runs uphill, and is also very lumpy and bumpy, so pedaling can quickly become hard work, especially as the vegetation gets thicker...

I might've been feeling unusually fit and full of vim and vigour but eventually I had to admit defeat and bail out. Pushing a bike on the road is enough to give my upper back some grief, propelling one through this sort of thick going is guaranteed to give me trouble so I did ponder going back the way I'd come, but decided to press gamely on and hope I didn't really knacker myself.

 I just need to reach those trees...

Almost there...

Once back under the shelter of trees the track becomes a lot easier to navigate as it becomes a sunken lane, bordered by two ancient looking Cornish Hedges, that travels up to where once there was a Medieval Settlement, just over the lane that lies at the top of the track.

A lot of the country lanes I ride follow ancient paths of course, but it's on these Bridleways, with their signs of once busy thoroughfares that I love to wonder just who has passed along before me. No, not that other biker, but way way back in centuries past.

Once at the top of the sunken lane, it's a quick left along tarmac, then a right, and down to Tregavethan, where more off roadery awaits.

Crossing the River Kenwyn at the hamlet of Tregavethan.

This second Bridleway of the day from Tregavethan to Treworder sees a lot of horse traffic but on this day, the going was pretty well perfect, not being too wet and sloppy, nor so dry and hard as to make things really bumpy. The mud here was sort of like the consistency of a Christmas Pudding - wet but still granular and almost powdery, although it did pack the tyre treads out, as can be seen.

There were sections however that featured some proper slop.

I love riding these sorts of tracks, legally going where comparatively few other people go, into places full of peace and quiet (flipping Bird Bazookas excepted...).

Reaching the end of this second Bridleway I got pedaling on tarmac once more amid a pair of muddy Catherine Wheels as all that sticky soil was flung high and far off Fatso's wheels, some even hit me on the back of the head...

Time to wash the remaining mud off the tyres through the ford at New Mills.

Normally I'd take a right at the summit of the first hill out of New Mills, and thence up another long climb to the main road near Shortlanesend, but on this occasion I went left instead and back along the lanes, enjoying the flat going before a lesser climb up into Shortlanesend itself.

The lanes around New Mills feature a lot of fords, here's another where a farm gate also leads off the road.

And the tadpole's eye view from below the water level in the road part of the ford, where the surface is pretty broken up.

We're getting into summer now, but there are still some gnarly treescapes to be found, such as here on the lane down from Shortlanesend to Idless.

Rural random view through a gate at Lanner Barton.

And that was pretty much that for the day. A good old ride around but I was left with the slight legacy of upper back pain from all that pushing through the long grass. But that is the way of things, and after a day of resting up and machine gunning Paracetamol down my throat, things settled back down again, thankfully.

A bit of a figure of eight going on here, and it looks a lot further than it actually was (16.5 miles according to the bike's computer). The Choon Bridleway starts at point 7 and the Tregavethan track at point 8.

Full details can be found HERE

A few days later, on the 6th of June, I took the Voodoo out for a spin around the lanes, this bike not having seen any action for a while seemingly. I use the Voodoo for litter picking rides, but haven't done any recently as there's not much litter to be found along the lanes. I'm sure its there, it's just hard to see as the hedges and verges have become so overgrown. I still pick the odd bit of crap up as I go along, but for the moment at least, actual litter picking rides are on hold.

Foxgloves are pretty spectacular looking as wild flowers go, being not just a vibrant Baboon's arse pink, but also tall and gangly with it. When it comes to being harmful to humans and animals though, these things are pretty well tooled up, being lethally poisonous, so best not added to a salad or with mayo in a sandwich or anything like that.

Random shot.

And another.

Lanes like these might lack spectacular views, or exotic roadside wildlife, or anything else to make for an interesting photograph, but to me they mean peace, tranquility, relaxation, calmness and solitude. They are ever changing too - there's always something new to see, or listen to, going on in the countryside. These lanes are simply the best anti depressant I know.

Two days later and I was out again for another aimless but rewarding meander around the countryside.

Yet another hot and humid day, full of sniffles and sneezes and weird hazy light.

Just bimbling along...

Sometimes the lanes could do with being a bit wider...

The lane between St Erme and Ladock.

A bit of rear or second curtain flash makes for a ghostly effect. Unfortunately, despite my best efforts, the camera didn't focus sharply enough on the Foxglove for my liking. Checking in Canon software afterwards show the focus point being bang on the middle of the flower, yet it's soft. 

The lesson I learned here (bet I forget though...)  is to not just check the LCD screen, but to zoom it right in and check it properly before packing up and heading off.

 I love this tree, and have photographed it many times in the past.

Five Bar randomness.

No mention of the friendly dog that is usually found lolling about in the road ready to welcome anyone who comes along.

Just over the summit of a hill on the lane towards Boswiddle and the sun has come out properly.

Yet a bit further down and in amongst the haze the light is a bit weird (although I have lifted the shadows in this shot).

When the sun goes back behind a cloud more normal light resumes.

Both those rides were very enjoyable if not exactly memorable, but I did have another ride, just a couple of days ago, which didn't go so well.

Lovely floral display at Penhale, once again on the Ladock - Boswiddle road.

I'd set out, once again on the Voodoo, for another good old ride, but within a mile or so I knew I wasn't really enjoying it. For a start I'd left my photography head at home. Normally I can barely reach the end of the road without stopping and machine gunning snaps but on this occasion, the photos just were not happening. My head felt heavy and a bit achy, and I think the humid atmosphere and high pollen levels were conspiring to make me feel an unresponsive participant in this ride. I just couldn't 'see' any photos, and it all felt a lot of effort, although I did still bag the flower shot above, but as for bikey type shots, they were just not happening. Wherever I stopped and looked at placing the bike, the shot just looked proper pants. I need a bike related shot from every ride for a Flickr group I'm in so I had to get something, so in the end, on the climb up from Trendeal towards Summercourt, I set up for a ride by selfie.

Finally I bagged a bike related shot.

Just to make doubly sure I had something bike related, I clamped the Gopro onto the crossbar for a random knee's view of the road ahead.

That last ride was no drama though, it's not a worry as I'm sure my lack of oomph was more to do with the heavy and thick, humid atmosphere and my Hay Fever being barely restrained by the tablets, rather than anything more concerning, and I'm keen to get out and snap away again as soon as possible.

The Hayfever really has been the worst I've had for many years, and so far Storm Hector has failed miserably to quell it so I'm still sneezing and spluttering away, and likely will be for a while yet. Of course, riding a bike through the countryside is less than ideal when suffering from a grass pollen affliction, but the alternative is not to go out at all and that's not an option when I'm feeling ok otherwise mentally and bodily.

My main problem is as ever, trying to decide where to go for a ride next, and which bike to take (both Fatso and the mighty Marin are clean as new pins having just had a good scrubbing so don't want to get them too mucky straight away...) but that's not a bad problem to have I must admit.

So that's the lot for now - happy cycling all!

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A Ride to Portloe.

I had intended to do this ride the previous Saturday but after copping a bout of the Manflu, well it was more of a 48 hour thing really, I ended up going instead the following Tuesday, the 29th of May.

As it happened, I was a bit premature and should have left it a couple more days as to be honest, I didn't really enjoy the ride much. I thought I was fine as I made my usual preparations the night before, but come the morning I was definitely a bit off form. My legs were leaden and I was also feeling a bit bloated which makes riding uncomfortable, but having got up early and got all my gear on to go for a ride, out I went into the early (05.20 I left - yikes!) morning gloom.
Gloomy it was too - no gorgeous sun rises this morning, instead the sky was either a blown out light grey or a bruise colour depending on which direction I was facing, and it was hellishly humid. Like being in the reptile house at the zoo, the clingy heat wrapped itself all around my body as I rode, and I had sweat in places that don't normally sweat on a ride, like in my ears!

There was no real reason for heading to Portloe other than I haven't been there in about 30 years and as it's reachable for me, why not? 

Not feeling 100% though meant I wasn't in the mood for taking my usual ton of photos but I got a few as the day wore on, I just wasn't hauling on the brakes every hundred yards and machine gunning shots like I usually do.

Early morning humid haze and gloom.

Classic thatch in Tregony. Nice to look at and photograph, but would I want to live in a cottage like this? Erm... no. My sister lived in one for a while and boy was it pokey inside. Some might say cosy, I say pokey. Not a straight or flat wall in the place, and as for low beams... being a tall and handsome sort I'd need to wear a hard hat if I lived there. No, cottaging isn't for me...

I had thought of simply blatting along the main road from Tregony, it being early and all, but then I remembered the hill that leads out of the village... that's a long and ugly climb in a car never mind on a heavy bicycle. Plus despite that early hour, there was a surprising amount of fast moving traffic on the road. I say surprising, I really need to get with the times and accept that the roads are busier than they used to be, even at silly o'clock. So I consulted the OS Map and took the back lanes instead, which still meant ascending a brute of a hill but at least the road was quiet and I was out of harm's way. 

I don't know if my bout of the lurgy had done something to sense of smell, or it was the thick humid air (most likely the latter) but my word there were some strong and beautiful scents reaching my considerable hooter as I made my way along the lanes. Thankfully my Hay Fever tablets work well as I am a sufferer and the Pollen count was forecast to be high, but all was well in that regard and the open countryside was not a bad place to be.

Whoa... Tough neighbourhood...

I nearly suffered an underwear trauma when taking this photo as a Rabbit suddenly broke cover down by my feet and made a run for it up the road. Made me jump it did.

Hoi oi oi... Excuse-me... Portloe?

Ah ha, that's more like it.

A Guidepost rather than a milestone, as it doesn't tell you how far anywhere is. This one is unusual too in that the details are painted rather than carved, and also mixes the old spelling of St Austell with the more modern spelling of Tregony (that old finger post above shows it as Tregoney and that would be more recent than this old stone obviously).

Oh hello, I've picked up another passenger I see. Most of my bikes already feature a handlebar spider, a bit like the wing mirror spiders on cars, I believe they are a factory install. Now though this slimy beggar was blagging a free lift as well. I left him alone and he was last seen mooching contentedly about under the top tube bag that contains the batteries for my front lights.

After passing a few houses scattered about along the lane to Portloe, I finally arrived in the village itself and had to blag a shot of this bus shelter for a couple of reasons.

Firstly I was amazed buses come through here in the first place. The bus company only have 'proper' buses as far as I know, none of the Mercedes Sprinter bodied affairs you often encounter in hard to navigate rural areas

The other reason was the shelter and the surrounds are a credit to all those who look after them. The shelter was decorated on the back wall for the Royal Wedding, while on one end wall were poems about prominent local residents, and on the opposite end, old photos of the village. The whole thing just has a lovely community feel to it, and proof that a bus shelter can be so much more than something to keep the rain off while you wait.

A common enough sight in villages around the county, an old boat used to grow flowers in, but not the best idea it must be said, to have the road name in there as well, at the back and therefore obscured by the plants. That's being a bit picky though I must admit.

Muchly wonky verticals. Exactly what you shouldn't do with a wide angle lens - go low and point it upwards, even worse when your target buildings are at funny angles to the road in the first place.  Anyway, this was a small detail on the road through Portloe, just above the small harbour.

It's not hard to see why some similar small coastal villages have banned vehicles from their centres.

A quid for a crappy old shell with Portloe written on it? Talk about a rip off. No wonder the jar is empty...

It's certainly a pretty little village, and still home to a couple of working boats fishing for Lobster and Crab.

The building right foreground is The Lugger Hotel.

The South Coast always finds a flat and calm sea, at least when I visit anyway. 

According to the February 2014 issue of the Veryan Church magazine, there are only 89 houses in Portloe, 47 fewer than in 1901. Two or more being knocked into one will account for some of those lost, and six were demolished to make way for The Lugger's car park apparently, although when that happened it doesn't say. As of 2014, only 28 of those 89 houses are permanently lived in, the rest are second homes or holiday lets.

A quick stop on the way to Veryan to bag a photo of the Foxgloves and instead I managed to get a Bee doing its thing.

How nice to find a village shop not blathered in garish 'Happy Shopper' or similar branding. Mind you they do need to work on their window display...

Entrance to St Symphorian's Church, Veryan.

I've got a bit of a thing for Coffin Rests, I find them a fascinating feature, so opened the double gate rather self consciously in order to get this one in the shot nicely.

All the Coffin Rests I've personally seen have been just plain oblongs, this one though is tapered, while the rest at St Levan is actually Coffin shaped.

No shelter under the Lychgate roof for the dead peeps here though, nor anywhere for the Pallbearers to sit.

St Symphorian's Church, Veryan.

Featureless, blown out skies do my head in!

Headstone honouring Frederick Dowrick of the Sixth Battalion, the Duke of Cornwall's Light Infantry, who enlisted in 1914.

The adjacent headstone must relate to the same family, as that is a name I can't say I've ever come across before, so hardly common, yet there appears to be some disagreement regarding the correct spelling between the two stones. Changes in spelling are the bane of family historians, as my ex wife found out.

Finally I made a stop to brew up a coffee, once again at a fave place to do just that, beside the river at Ruan Lanihorne.

By then I was feeling the humid heat not just in the form of sweat but also by way of a thumping headache so made no further stops for photos, instead just making my way quietly home.

On a different day I would've enjoyed the ride a lot more, but there we go and it wasn't a bad ride by any means, I just wasn't quite as enthusiastic as I normally am.

Full details can be found HERE

I'll probably go back and do this ride again when I'm feeling up for poking my nose about a bit more, especially where Veryan is concerned, as there are some very interesting features to be seen in the village other than a shop and the church. 

At thirty miles this was a big old ride for me, especially given I was doing little more than going through the motions! Still, lesson learned, if I don't feel quite right, leave it for another day, as on a ride like this, I just wouldn't be doing it justice.

On the upside, I took Fatso out yesterday for some quality Bridleway bimbling and I must say I felt as fit as a very fit thing, with strong legs and an unusually for me healthy desire to belt along at a fair old clip. But that's for another post.

Happy cycling!

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