Landsurfer
Veteran
He'll tell you you saw no Kestrels .... due to man made Global Warming ...... his standard answer
Your ride today....
- Thread starter gbb
- Start date
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Landsurfer
Veteran
Easter Eggs in Bramley, Rotherham, ALDI today ..........
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Shearwater Missile
Veteran
No need to consult CP. Just looked up about kestrels and this time of year they have about a 1km square home territory so there must have been that many I saw. I just wonder if the kestrel realises that he is limited to 1km square ? I guess it was a good time to hunt for them.He'll tell you you saw no Kestrels .... due to man made Global Warming ...... his standard answer
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Landsurfer
Veteran
Saw lot of Kestrels today ... making small mammals day really bad
....On my canal path cycling trips into Sheffield i see Kingfishers and Mink ....
Love the bright blue missile flying up the middle of the river ...
I fly fish in the Don and see so much of our urban wildlife close up .... a joy .........and i catch and release those wonderful wild brown trout that think they are Marlins ... back into the river .... the Don is so much cleaner these days, but there is a theory that they could be caught with magnets ......
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AndreaJ
Veteran
Last day of my Christmas break from work today and as the sun was still shining I made time for a quick ride. Despite the sun it was quite cold in the wind so extra layers were added and I set off to Whixall and straight through past Alkington then turned back over the canal to Fenns Bank and Fenns Wood where the starlings were just starting to gather over Whixall Moss for their daily murmuration,over the crossroads to Hollinswood, Lower Houses, Coton, Abbeygreen, Edstaston back towards the sunset, Highfields, Horton then back home. It was a beautiful evening but did get colder when the sun had set so I was glad of the extra layers. 20.81 miles @15.1 mph. Although there was quite a lot of rain overnight some of the lanes are dry now and the first ride in ages where I wasn’t covered in mud.
jongooligan
Legendary Member
- Location
- Behind bars
As featured in the Straight on at Rosie's audax.
Some great riding around there on quiet, flat roads. Have you been up the Trent side or across Thorne Waste? No contours at all but there's nowhere to hide from the wind either.
Noodle Legs
Winging it
- Location
- Coalville, Leicestershire
*copied/edited from MHCAM chatzone thread*
Set off this morning for a meet up with the ex-Saga CC now renamed “Team TBC“ boys for a little spin out. All six of us turned out which is a rarity in itself as normally at least one of us usually can’t make it!
Cool but not freezing, we started a little after 0815 and it was our usual route of sorts, pan flat roads skirting along the borders of southern Derbyshire, Nottinghamshire and NW Leicestershire with the only climb of note being between Long Whatton and Kegworth. Managed to nab another veloviewer square that I missed on New Years Eve as well. Stopped off at Kegworth about 21 miles in for breakfast at Oakland’s cafe which is renowned locally for its breakfast culinary prowess. Today didn’t disappoint either, most of the lads opting for a full English while I was a little more conservative in my choices with a bacon roll (or cob as it’s known in these parts but let’s not go there eh?) two hash browns, and a chocolate flapjack washed down with a latte and a pot of tea.
One of the lads had to shoot off early due to other commitments so we were down to five for the return journey. We deviated from the planned route as Will decided he was gonna take us on a “mystery tour.”
When Will says things like that it’s time to be worried because it’s very rarely without incident! Heading up the old A6 towards the M1 J24 island, we picked up some cycle paths that ran parallel with the A50 and before long we were at Castle Donington and Will’s motives became clear......
There’s been a new road put in to bypass the village itself which is complete but not yet open and still fenced off (yes you can see where this is going can’t you?) Will lifts the heras fencing, we all sneak underneath and try our luck.....
On the plus side it’s a beautiful surface and not half as steep as riding through the main village (all uphill) and we obviously had the freedom to ride wherever we liked! When it does actually open this will be a godsend as those who know this area will benefit massively on their commutes. Reaching the top without being arrested or chased by dogs and such like, we got back onto the loop road that skirts around East Midlands Airport and back onto the planned route which we rejoined at Donington Park. Had a bit of a thrashfest for a few miles as we reached Melbourne and said our goodbyes to Will and Tim at this point as they live there.
To quote the Genesis album title “And Then There Were Three” we blobbed up and chain ganged it back for the two miles or so back to Swarkestone where I was totally spent having done the lions share on the front only for the other two to take the glory! Made it back in one piece though- great start to the year.
34.6 (55.7) in 2:01.
Square grab complete:
Kegworth cafe, the stuff of legend!
Testing the (not yet open) Castle Donington bypass
Route Summary
Set off this morning for a meet up with the ex-Saga CC now renamed “Team TBC“ boys for a little spin out. All six of us turned out which is a rarity in itself as normally at least one of us usually can’t make it!
Cool but not freezing, we started a little after 0815 and it was our usual route of sorts, pan flat roads skirting along the borders of southern Derbyshire, Nottinghamshire and NW Leicestershire with the only climb of note being between Long Whatton and Kegworth. Managed to nab another veloviewer square that I missed on New Years Eve as well. Stopped off at Kegworth about 21 miles in for breakfast at Oakland’s cafe which is renowned locally for its breakfast culinary prowess. Today didn’t disappoint either, most of the lads opting for a full English while I was a little more conservative in my choices with a bacon roll (or cob as it’s known in these parts but let’s not go there eh?
) two hash browns, and a chocolate flapjack washed down with a latte and a pot of tea.One of the lads had to shoot off early due to other commitments so we were down to five for the return journey. We deviated from the planned route as Will decided he was gonna take us on a “mystery tour.”
When Will says things like that it’s time to be worried because it’s very rarely without incident! Heading up the old A6 towards the M1 J24 island, we picked up some cycle paths that ran parallel with the A50 and before long we were at Castle Donington and Will’s motives became clear......
There’s been a new road put in to bypass the village itself which is complete but not yet open and still fenced off (yes you can see where this is going can’t you?
) Will lifts the heras fencing, we all sneak underneath and try our luck.....On the plus side it’s a beautiful surface and not half as steep as riding through the main village (all uphill) and we obviously had the freedom to ride wherever we liked! When it does actually open this will be a godsend as those who know this area will benefit massively on their commutes. Reaching the top without being arrested or chased by dogs and such like, we got back onto the loop road that skirts around East Midlands Airport and back onto the planned route which we rejoined at Donington Park. Had a bit of a thrashfest for a few miles as we reached Melbourne and said our goodbyes to Will and Tim at this point as they live there.
To quote the Genesis album title “And Then There Were Three” we blobbed up and chain ganged it back for the two miles or so back to Swarkestone where I was totally spent having done the lions share on the front only for the other two to take the glory! Made it back in one piece though- great start to the year.
34.6 (55.7) in 2:01.
Square grab complete:
Kegworth cafe, the stuff of legend!
Testing the (not yet open) Castle Donington bypass
Route Summary
I take it you have Strava segmented it, fastest timeThere’s been a new road put in to bypass the village itself which is complete but not yet open and still fenced off (yes you can see where this is going can’t you?
On the plus side it’s a beautiful surface and not half as steep as riding through the main village (all uphill) and we obviously had the freedom to ride wherever we liked! When it does actually open this will be a godsend as those who know this area will benefit massively on their commutes.
Noodle Legs
Winging it
- Location
- Coalville, Leicestershire
I’m sure one of us has.....got to be a KOM right?I take it you have Strava segmented it, fastest time
Grant Fondo
Guru
- Location
- Cheshire
No way was the man-flu keeping me in today! So a bracing short ride around the environs of Chester.
Part of the newer bit of the old walls, 17th century i think, when chester fortifications were beefed up for the civil war.
Followed the shropshire union canal and river tow paths quite a bit, dodged dozens of well wrapped up walkers with their dogs, all very pleasant in the sun when out of the wind.
Still well impressed with the gravel bike 6 months in...some of the Dee route was really muddy but got through ok.
Thats the first ride of the new decade out of the way, 10 miles or so....now where's the lemsips?
Part of the newer bit of the old walls, 17th century i think, when chester fortifications were beefed up for the civil war.
Followed the shropshire union canal and river tow paths quite a bit, dodged dozens of well wrapped up walkers with their dogs, all very pleasant in the sun when out of the wind.
Still well impressed with the gravel bike 6 months in...some of the Dee route was really muddy but got through ok.
Thats the first ride of the new decade out of the way, 10 miles or so....now where's the lemsips?
Attachments
Looking out of a window this morning there seemed to be a bit of a breeze. No frost or rain, just the unusual sight of branches blowing about in the back. It is a bit of a sheltered spot, prevailing winds ( is that right? Usual winds, south westerlies ) usually have little effect. Still, pedal off.
And discover winds. That is OK, they will be pushing me for half of the ride. As ever, Holbeck first. Quiet ‘cos of Saturday, leave it behind riding along Great Wilson Street to Crown Point Road, and across the river. Pass Leeds Playhouse, turn right and head on up the rising road to the clock at Oakwood. Left there and ride up Princes Avenue between all the football pitches, pass the big gates and pedal along Street Lane. Which is a long left handed curve. As the gradient eases the wind becomes more of a headwind, constant speed and constant effort.
At last, turn right onto the A61. Negotiate the almost finished revamp to the Ring Road crossing, still an incomplete confusing mess, and ride up the road. Eventually leave the suburbs behind, crest a final rise and drop to the left hand turn for Eccup. Both reservoir and village are along here, in that order. The view from the dam, in the wind, showed some impressive whitecaps but the waves were not that high. Happily. A bit of a rise and fall then a sharp climb to a cattle grid. Downhill cattle grids are fine. Uphill, I walk across. A mile of flat exposed road to the village, then a sharp left turn to Five Lane Ends.
And a map of just the video
Without too much effort this leads to the A660 for the first time today, and almost the last of the uphill riding. On the way to cross the Ring Road again I passed another rider. Very rare occurrence. But an interesting bike, rack and one Ortlieb pannier. Very shiny frame but almost worn out bar tape and bar end shifters which also did not look young. We said good morning but did not slow down for a chat. On down the road to Headingley and then further down to the river and canal at Kirkstall. Which left a gentle ride down the towpath and minor navigation through a bit of Hunslet and then home twenty two miles after leaving. A cold but good ride stuck a smile on my face though.
The complete loop
And discover winds. That is OK, they will be pushing me for half of the ride. As ever, Holbeck first. Quiet ‘cos of Saturday, leave it behind riding along Great Wilson Street to Crown Point Road, and across the river. Pass Leeds Playhouse, turn right and head on up the rising road to the clock at Oakwood. Left there and ride up Princes Avenue between all the football pitches, pass the big gates and pedal along Street Lane. Which is a long left handed curve. As the gradient eases the wind becomes more of a headwind, constant speed and constant effort.
At last, turn right onto the A61. Negotiate the almost finished revamp to the Ring Road crossing, still an incomplete confusing mess, and ride up the road. Eventually leave the suburbs behind, crest a final rise and drop to the left hand turn for Eccup. Both reservoir and village are along here, in that order. The view from the dam, in the wind, showed some impressive whitecaps but the waves were not that high. Happily. A bit of a rise and fall then a sharp climb to a cattle grid. Downhill cattle grids are fine. Uphill, I walk across. A mile of flat exposed road to the village, then a sharp left turn to Five Lane Ends.
And a map of just the video
Without too much effort this leads to the A660 for the first time today, and almost the last of the uphill riding. On the way to cross the Ring Road again I passed another rider. Very rare occurrence. But an interesting bike, rack and one Ortlieb pannier. Very shiny frame but almost worn out bar tape and bar end shifters which also did not look young. We said good morning but did not slow down for a chat. On down the road to Headingley and then further down to the river and canal at Kirkstall. Which left a gentle ride down the towpath and minor navigation through a bit of Hunslet and then home twenty two miles after leaving. A cold but good ride stuck a smile on my face though.
The complete loop
twentysix by twentyfive
Clinging on tightly
- Location
- Over the Hill
Mrs 26 and I rode over to the meet. Margaret PR, Jules H, Steve E, John G, Pete M and Rob A made up the peloton. Graham R was there too on his way back from walking Harvey. Mrs 26 headed off to meet a friend while we all headed for the Hams and around by Hartpury for Highleadon and the cafe.
On our departure John's front tyre went down so Pete and I assisted with the fix. Rob and John turned at Pendock while we all took the standard run back. Plenty of Kestrels and Buzzards about as well as good chats and craic. 49 smiles
On our departure John's front tyre went down so Pete and I assisted with the fix. Rob and John turned at Pendock while we all took the standard run back. Plenty of Kestrels and Buzzards about as well as good chats and craic. 49 smiles
- Location
- Shrewsbury, Shropshire
Todays plan was; walk the dog, get home, get out on bike. What actually happened; walk dog, dog splashes about in lots of mud then jumps into pond, get home, bathe dog, clean mud off interior of bathroom.
By the time that was done the morning had pretty much gone so I got the bike out after lunch for a shorter ride than intended. In very general terms it was a reversal of the route from New Years Day but I did use a few different roads for variety.
There was a bit more fettling before I started off - fitting a new brass bell similar to the ones on the other bikes (an Ohgi one this time rather than Lion. Seems well made but doesn't sound as classy as the Lion ones). I headed onto the Quarry via Porthill and like last time it was very busy with people walking and cycling so wasn't quick to get through. At the Greyfriars Bridge end I found the towpath gated off still so took a detour past the Abbey and over the Castle Walk footbridge to Castle Fields instead. It was almost as busy by the river here too as people make the most of the last couple of days before the schools go back.
I braved the muddy old canal path and was slowly catching up with another cyclist as we made out way to Uffington. As he was headed towards Upton Magna too I pulled alongside and we had a chat over the next couple of miles (he is relatively new to cycling and is trying to build up his mileage).
Approaching Atcham someone shouted something out of the window of a Corsa as they overtook. I don't know what they actually said but with the doppler effect it sounded like a very squeaky and super-posh "I Say!
Probably not the effect they were going for.
By the time I reached Cross Houses I was getting on pretty well so I decided to extend the trip a bit and took a left then a right towards Cound Stank, then another left into Upper Cound and a right up the long drag to Acton Pigott. I had this road entirely to myself and found the climb easy going even into the wind.
The run from Acton Burnell through Pitchford was as good as ever (this is a favourite bit of road as it's a long gentle descent where you can get some speed up). There was a club group coming the other way as I got into Condover - all nicely lit up as it was getting gloomy by this point. I decided to go for the short route home up the main road and this was the right choice this time as the A49 was quiet making it quite pleasant.
I put the bike away under a vivid pink glow. The overcast sky was hiding quite a good sunset I suspect.
25.8 miles for this trip at 12.7 mph average which I'm quite happy with considering the slow going through the Quarry.
Sorry, no photos this time.
By the time that was done the morning had pretty much gone so I got the bike out after lunch for a shorter ride than intended. In very general terms it was a reversal of the route from New Years Day but I did use a few different roads for variety.
There was a bit more fettling before I started off - fitting a new brass bell similar to the ones on the other bikes (an Ohgi one this time rather than Lion. Seems well made but doesn't sound as classy as the Lion ones). I headed onto the Quarry via Porthill and like last time it was very busy with people walking and cycling so wasn't quick to get through. At the Greyfriars Bridge end I found the towpath gated off still so took a detour past the Abbey and over the Castle Walk footbridge to Castle Fields instead. It was almost as busy by the river here too as people make the most of the last couple of days before the schools go back.
I braved the muddy old canal path and was slowly catching up with another cyclist as we made out way to Uffington. As he was headed towards Upton Magna too I pulled alongside and we had a chat over the next couple of miles (he is relatively new to cycling and is trying to build up his mileage).
Approaching Atcham someone shouted something out of the window of a Corsa as they overtook. I don't know what they actually said but with the doppler effect it sounded like a very squeaky and super-posh "I Say!
Probably not the effect they were going for.By the time I reached Cross Houses I was getting on pretty well so I decided to extend the trip a bit and took a left then a right towards Cound Stank, then another left into Upper Cound and a right up the long drag to Acton Pigott. I had this road entirely to myself and found the climb easy going even into the wind.
The run from Acton Burnell through Pitchford was as good as ever (this is a favourite bit of road as it's a long gentle descent where you can get some speed up). There was a club group coming the other way as I got into Condover - all nicely lit up as it was getting gloomy by this point. I decided to go for the short route home up the main road and this was the right choice this time as the A49 was quiet making it quite pleasant.
I put the bike away under a vivid pink glow. The overcast sky was hiding quite a good sunset I suspect.
25.8 miles for this trip at 12.7 mph average which I'm quite happy with considering the slow going through the Quarry.
Sorry, no photos this time.
footloose crow
Über Member
- Location
- Cornwall. UK
Jan 4 Perran and Aggie
I have no burning desire to go to Perranporth. I have a work ethic though. It is four days into January and I have not had a proper ride yet and we are going sailing in Thailand in ten days time and the pressure is there. Entirely self imposed. I try to explain it to Madame Crow but she doesn't get it.
"I have to do a 50k and a 100k ride every month this year".
"Why?"
I am unable to come up with a reason that will stand up to her sceptical scrutiny. Except that without this goal, I may not go out at all when it rains or is cold. That would be November to April then.
Yesterday when it was sunny and dry I tried to have a ride and this is what happened. A single, tiny thorn, one of thousands on the road after hedge cutting season.
The tyre was difficult to remove. The first inner tube went in and the tyre muscled back on. I broke the valve pumping it up. Tyre off again and a second inner tube. Pumped up again. Now the wheel would not go back on without rubbing the disc against the brake pads. An hour went past. My sister in law waved at me as she drove past. I got a text later 'You looked like a banana - all in yellow and bent over'. The people in the house whose fence I hooked the bike on, came out to check I was OK. They tell me it was the house which Roger Moore once owned as his holiday place.
None of this is helping so I went home, pushing the pedals manfully against the resisting brake pads. Only two miles but it felt further. In the garden I put the bike on the stand for a proper look. After another hour and a half of taking the wheel off and putting it on again I gave up and phoned Clive Mitchell's Emporium of Temptation. 'Bring it over, easy to fix'. Once there the mechanic found he could not get the wheel on either and asked me to leave it with him.
It felt oddly bereft being bike-less. Like leaving your partner in hospital and returning home. Madame Crow said I was being melodramatic. The sun shone, the solar fountain in our pond came to life, I kicked around the garden looking at the space in the shed where my bike used to be. I felt deeply frustrated. I was sure this would be the only sunny day for months.
The bike came home at the end of the afternoon, just as it was getting dark. The LBS guys had managed to get the wheel on and explained the problem but I could not follow the explanation. I worry now about the next puncture.
So today I needed to get off cycling but the weather has changed to drizzle and wind with the odd heavier shower. It is grey. It is not especially warm
So Perranporth it is, chosen because it has the least hilly route out of Truro and today I am feeling tired. From time to time I get bouts of acute anxiety and panic attacks and today was one of those days. So I knew this was going to be tough because I would be hyper vigilant about every threat or worry. Is my chest hurting because I am going uphill.....or am I dying? Laughable - unless you have been in the same position.
The light today is dramatic as the sun keeps breaking through and illuminates the wetness, lighting up droplets of rain on leaves, creating rainbows and fractal patterns on my glasses as I stare into the low winter sun. It is already afternoon when I leave. Legs feeling heavy and the bike has apparently lost it's lower gears overnight. I keep looking down to check that yes, it really is on the largest back cog.
I had programmed the GPS to do the route the other way round to the way I am going. I do this sort of thing a lot. The GPS is pretty unimpressed and alternates between sulking and flashing angry red lights. It doesn't do opposite ways or it might but I don't know how to tell it. I turn the route off - I know the way, probably. The lanes are as dirty as ever heading mainly uphill, up to the spine of Cornwall. More cars today on a Saturday but they all slow or wait for me and I wave cheerfully. There is barely space at times and at one point I have to get off and climb the verge with my bike so a van can pass. The driver smiles. Must be the banana outfit.
The hills feel tougher than normal and I am doing a constant self talk, calming my fears, ignoring the sirens of temptation from some inner part of my brain that worries about my heart, my lungs, the pains I can feel. It feels like cycling with the brakes on. It is exhausting battling the physicality of the hill and at the same time the mental challenge of dealing with the fears that drift like smoke into my consciousness and have to be ignored. I have been like this so many times over the years, catastrophising to the point where I will drive myself to A&E convinced I am about to die. I am not but some part of my mind is refusing to accept this. It feels real to me.
I can see Perranporth now. Downhill into the town with a view across the roofs as the houses run down the steep slopes to the beach. There is a rainbow appearing. A strong and complete semi circle and I am heading for the middle. I tell my fears that this is a sign that all will be OK and for a while it works. I sit on the same bench at the beach that I have sat on every time I have been here this winter. The Christmas crowds have gone so no one is feeding the gulls who mew angrily about it. The surf is big and messy and I can hear the waves breaking even up here.
Next stop is St Agnes if I am to do 50k today. 'Perran' and 'Aggie' as they are known here, are like two argumentative siblings who sit close but not too close to each other, each convinced they are the better of the two. Perranporth has the best beach, Aggie has the best surf. Perran has more shops, Aggie has better ones. Both are being colonised by Londoners looking for better prices than the uber trendy and expensive Rock and Polzeath up the coast. Perran is more welcoming to visiting surfers, the Aggie crew are notorious for being aggressive and territorial.
It is a pleasant ride up a gently sloping valley to St Agnes. You cannot see the sea and the valley is steep sided and wooded but the road is quiet. The hills are going more easily now. The fear level subsiding. I just want to keep going, hoping to outrun whatever it is that is frightening me, convinced that speed and distance will help. Or that the contemplative spinning of pedals will soothe me. I feel a constant pain in my gut where I have screwed up my muscles unconsciously. It makes deep breathing harder forcing rapid shallow breathing and a lack of oxygen, so aerobically I wobble up hills, focused on the summit and not thinking beyond it, crowding out the siren voices of fear and catastrophe with a single minded target of getting to the top.
There is a good downhill into the place where signs welcome you to St Agnes, but it's followed by an immediate 7% average hill up to the village centre. I am not sure of the way now but don't want to stop, so just keep making instinctive decisions based on half remembered landmarks until I find myself as planned heading out on the road to the coast. This road girdles St Agnes Beacon, a lump of metamorphosed shale that squats facing America and resisting the sea. The Beacon looms over the village and can be seen for miles. The views are extensive and the road elevated enough that you can see almost to St Ives to the south and up to Trevose Head near Padstow to the north. Even today where clouds are boiling up black and angry, there is enough light to see the dramatic north coast, headland after headland plunging into the sea.
It has been feeling hard pedalling on this elevated road and I blame it on my mental state but as I turn the corner to face north, I can feel the wind is now behind me and I am going faster and faster. A kind of madness comes. The roads tilts down and disappears but I cannot stop myself risking it all in a plunge down the hill, wind in my ears, leaning through the bends. This is what happens when I am in the grip of anxiety - it encourages an opposite reaction sometimes: a complete lack of self preservation. As if by moving quickly, I can leave the negative thoughts behind, unable to keep up. There are fortunately no cars today, no patches of grit, no potholes and I come to my senses as I hit the village outskirts again, having circumnavigated The Beacon.
Time to turn for home. More down than up on this part and my average speed creeps up. The fear levels have subsided, just a background rumble of undermining thoughts. The knots in my stomach remain. I drop onto the lower part of the bars and get the speed up to 24 mph on the rolling roads towards Truro. I know this route well now after my winter of cycling.
The landmarks pass. The rain comes and goes. Cars pass in a wet fuzz of headlights and spray. The last hill is painful, I still can't get my breathing right and my leg muscles protest at the lack of oxygen.
Home in the dying winter light. Hose down the bike. Shower. Tea and flapjacks. I like the rituals of coming home. I am glad I went out despite not wanting to, still driven by this self imposed target, this refusal to back down from something so arbitrary and pointless but which makes me feel I have achieved something. Even if is just a trail of electrons, a little less rubber on the tyres.
I know too that I have faced my fears and done what I wanted today and that is the sweetest victory of all.
I have no burning desire to go to Perranporth. I have a work ethic though. It is four days into January and I have not had a proper ride yet and we are going sailing in Thailand in ten days time and the pressure is there. Entirely self imposed. I try to explain it to Madame Crow but she doesn't get it.
"I have to do a 50k and a 100k ride every month this year".
"Why?"
I am unable to come up with a reason that will stand up to her sceptical scrutiny. Except that without this goal, I may not go out at all when it rains or is cold. That would be November to April then.
Yesterday when it was sunny and dry I tried to have a ride and this is what happened. A single, tiny thorn, one of thousands on the road after hedge cutting season.
The tyre was difficult to remove. The first inner tube went in and the tyre muscled back on. I broke the valve pumping it up. Tyre off again and a second inner tube. Pumped up again. Now the wheel would not go back on without rubbing the disc against the brake pads. An hour went past. My sister in law waved at me as she drove past. I got a text later 'You looked like a banana - all in yellow and bent over'. The people in the house whose fence I hooked the bike on, came out to check I was OK. They tell me it was the house which Roger Moore once owned as his holiday place.
None of this is helping so I went home, pushing the pedals manfully against the resisting brake pads. Only two miles but it felt further. In the garden I put the bike on the stand for a proper look. After another hour and a half of taking the wheel off and putting it on again I gave up and phoned Clive Mitchell's Emporium of Temptation. 'Bring it over, easy to fix'. Once there the mechanic found he could not get the wheel on either and asked me to leave it with him.
It felt oddly bereft being bike-less. Like leaving your partner in hospital and returning home. Madame Crow said I was being melodramatic. The sun shone, the solar fountain in our pond came to life, I kicked around the garden looking at the space in the shed where my bike used to be. I felt deeply frustrated. I was sure this would be the only sunny day for months.
The bike came home at the end of the afternoon, just as it was getting dark. The LBS guys had managed to get the wheel on and explained the problem but I could not follow the explanation. I worry now about the next puncture.
So today I needed to get off cycling but the weather has changed to drizzle and wind with the odd heavier shower. It is grey. It is not especially warm
So Perranporth it is, chosen because it has the least hilly route out of Truro and today I am feeling tired. From time to time I get bouts of acute anxiety and panic attacks and today was one of those days. So I knew this was going to be tough because I would be hyper vigilant about every threat or worry. Is my chest hurting because I am going uphill.....or am I dying? Laughable - unless you have been in the same position.
The light today is dramatic as the sun keeps breaking through and illuminates the wetness, lighting up droplets of rain on leaves, creating rainbows and fractal patterns on my glasses as I stare into the low winter sun. It is already afternoon when I leave. Legs feeling heavy and the bike has apparently lost it's lower gears overnight. I keep looking down to check that yes, it really is on the largest back cog.
I had programmed the GPS to do the route the other way round to the way I am going. I do this sort of thing a lot. The GPS is pretty unimpressed and alternates between sulking and flashing angry red lights. It doesn't do opposite ways or it might but I don't know how to tell it. I turn the route off - I know the way, probably. The lanes are as dirty as ever heading mainly uphill, up to the spine of Cornwall. More cars today on a Saturday but they all slow or wait for me and I wave cheerfully. There is barely space at times and at one point I have to get off and climb the verge with my bike so a van can pass. The driver smiles. Must be the banana outfit.
The hills feel tougher than normal and I am doing a constant self talk, calming my fears, ignoring the sirens of temptation from some inner part of my brain that worries about my heart, my lungs, the pains I can feel. It feels like cycling with the brakes on. It is exhausting battling the physicality of the hill and at the same time the mental challenge of dealing with the fears that drift like smoke into my consciousness and have to be ignored. I have been like this so many times over the years, catastrophising to the point where I will drive myself to A&E convinced I am about to die. I am not but some part of my mind is refusing to accept this. It feels real to me.
I can see Perranporth now. Downhill into the town with a view across the roofs as the houses run down the steep slopes to the beach. There is a rainbow appearing. A strong and complete semi circle and I am heading for the middle. I tell my fears that this is a sign that all will be OK and for a while it works. I sit on the same bench at the beach that I have sat on every time I have been here this winter. The Christmas crowds have gone so no one is feeding the gulls who mew angrily about it. The surf is big and messy and I can hear the waves breaking even up here.
Next stop is St Agnes if I am to do 50k today. 'Perran' and 'Aggie' as they are known here, are like two argumentative siblings who sit close but not too close to each other, each convinced they are the better of the two. Perranporth has the best beach, Aggie has the best surf. Perran has more shops, Aggie has better ones. Both are being colonised by Londoners looking for better prices than the uber trendy and expensive Rock and Polzeath up the coast. Perran is more welcoming to visiting surfers, the Aggie crew are notorious for being aggressive and territorial.
It is a pleasant ride up a gently sloping valley to St Agnes. You cannot see the sea and the valley is steep sided and wooded but the road is quiet. The hills are going more easily now. The fear level subsiding. I just want to keep going, hoping to outrun whatever it is that is frightening me, convinced that speed and distance will help. Or that the contemplative spinning of pedals will soothe me. I feel a constant pain in my gut where I have screwed up my muscles unconsciously. It makes deep breathing harder forcing rapid shallow breathing and a lack of oxygen, so aerobically I wobble up hills, focused on the summit and not thinking beyond it, crowding out the siren voices of fear and catastrophe with a single minded target of getting to the top.
There is a good downhill into the place where signs welcome you to St Agnes, but it's followed by an immediate 7% average hill up to the village centre. I am not sure of the way now but don't want to stop, so just keep making instinctive decisions based on half remembered landmarks until I find myself as planned heading out on the road to the coast. This road girdles St Agnes Beacon, a lump of metamorphosed shale that squats facing America and resisting the sea. The Beacon looms over the village and can be seen for miles. The views are extensive and the road elevated enough that you can see almost to St Ives to the south and up to Trevose Head near Padstow to the north. Even today where clouds are boiling up black and angry, there is enough light to see the dramatic north coast, headland after headland plunging into the sea.
It has been feeling hard pedalling on this elevated road and I blame it on my mental state but as I turn the corner to face north, I can feel the wind is now behind me and I am going faster and faster. A kind of madness comes. The roads tilts down and disappears but I cannot stop myself risking it all in a plunge down the hill, wind in my ears, leaning through the bends. This is what happens when I am in the grip of anxiety - it encourages an opposite reaction sometimes: a complete lack of self preservation. As if by moving quickly, I can leave the negative thoughts behind, unable to keep up. There are fortunately no cars today, no patches of grit, no potholes and I come to my senses as I hit the village outskirts again, having circumnavigated The Beacon.
Time to turn for home. More down than up on this part and my average speed creeps up. The fear levels have subsided, just a background rumble of undermining thoughts. The knots in my stomach remain. I drop onto the lower part of the bars and get the speed up to 24 mph on the rolling roads towards Truro. I know this route well now after my winter of cycling.
The landmarks pass. The rain comes and goes. Cars pass in a wet fuzz of headlights and spray. The last hill is painful, I still can't get my breathing right and my leg muscles protest at the lack of oxygen.
Home in the dying winter light. Hose down the bike. Shower. Tea and flapjacks. I like the rituals of coming home. I am glad I went out despite not wanting to, still driven by this self imposed target, this refusal to back down from something so arbitrary and pointless but which makes me feel I have achieved something. Even if is just a trail of electrons, a little less rubber on the tyres.
I know too that I have faced my fears and done what I wanted today and that is the sweetest victory of all.
ruffers
Veteran
- Location
- bury, lancs
now that is a post 👏🏻👏🏻
