#365daysofbiking

[brownhillsbob]

#365daysofbiking Church worship and a great deception:

Saturday 26th February 2022 - A weary, slow second ride of the weekend, again with Pickle. I had planned this the night before with my soul full of optimism, spring energy and warmth, but as it turned out the day although beautiful, was acutely chilly and the places we visited to see spring flowers were all mostly still barren.

It was a day of churches though, and they looked stunning: Dunstall, Clifton Campville and Lullington looked splendid as they always do, resplendent in their landscapes but the best of all was Lullington which pleasingly, had a gorgeous mix of flowers and colours: Cyclamen, narcissus, some early daffs, snowdrops and crocuses.

Sadly, the cold in this fool’s spring was so sharp it was energy-sapping and the ride was curtailed by agreement, but was still a respectable 54 miles.

That’s the trouble with beautiful days in late February: They deceive you that the winter is over.

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[brownhillsbob]

#365daysofbiking Down from above:

Saturday 26th February 2022 - Over to Pickle.

A very unexpected 84 miles. 'We rode out through Burntwood, Shute Hill, Longdon, Armitage, The Ridwares, Rowley Park, Hoar Cross, Newborough, Buttermilk Hill, Uttoxeter, Doveridge, Waldley, Roston, Norbury, Ellastone, Wooton and my happy place, the Weaver Hills. 

It was very cold up on the hills: The bike computer recorded it as just 3 degrees at sunset. We came over Raddlepits, Cauldon Low, Threelows, Oakamoor, Red Road, Alton - the temperature was back up to 7 here! Crakemarsh, back through Uttoxeter, Willslock,  and down the main road through Bagot Forest, Abbots Bromley, Blithbury, Handsacre, Hanch, Stoneywell and Hammerwich.

There were lots of flowers but sadly I didn't get the one I wanted: We did see some spring lambs but they were too far away to photograph.

Bob had a bit of a grim tum with cramps - but he never complained and we managed 14mph average which is great for pretty much the first good long ride of the year.

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[brownhillsbob]

#365daysofbiking Watchers of the night:

Sunday 9th January 2022 - I’ve been riding with Pickle, my 15 year old niece, for years now, as followers of my social media will know. She was always reluctant to share her images and thoughts on this journal, which she steadfastly considered to be solely my preserve. Now she’s older, we’ve debated the matter, and she’s now content to take part - after all, she shares the same enthusiasm for the places we visit and all that they contain that I had at her age, that hopefully I’ve conveyed to readers over the last decade. Sharing this passion with a youngster is contagious, and renews my fascination - not just for the places, but for cycling and life in general. Now I’m getting older, this isn’t a moment too soon.

But also being a teenager, Pickle has a full social schedule and it wasn’t until quite late on Sunday that she was free to head out. She has a new camera at the moment, and she was keen to exploit the low light features, and try out some techniques she’d read about in her continual perusal of photography forums and the device’s manual.

We needed a place that had a good atmosphere at dusk, and was within an achievable distance. I recalled that Hoar Cross church is lit at night, and the Needwood Valley it overlooks can be magical at any time of day, but especially in twilight. I thought if we headed up through Lichfield, Sittles, Croxall, Walton on Trent, then wound up through Barton, we might just hit Dunstall at the golden hour, then over Scotch Hills to Jacksons Bank and Hoar Cross by sunset.

The ride was fast, but the countryside and lanes absolutely sodden. The weather was clear and chilly, which aided in holding off twilight. Sadly, the golden hour wasn’t really happening, and the sunset had more important things to do too; but as the lass reflected, this wasn’t that kind of day.

At Dunstall Hall - a place that’s seen a number of uses in recent years - it was interesting to see the deer in the gardens before the house, and that gorgeous church on the rolling hillside was as captivating as ever. But we had another church in our sights, and we got there on time.

Hoar Cross church of The Holy Angels is without doubt, one of the finest churches in Staffordshire, if not England. Sat in the middle of nowhere next to Hoar Cross Hall, seat of the Meynell Ingram family, it sits on a ridge above the Needwood Valley. It is absolutely stunning, was erected as a memorial to Lady Meynell Ingram’s husband, killed in a hunting accident in 1871, although like all great Victorian tragic legends, some of this is disputed. 

My memory was correct and the church is lit at night by a very orange sodium light that really highlights the stonework of this remarkable building beautifully - but not only that, it picks out the angels watching over the slain hunter’s grave in a most remarkable way. We took lots of photos here, and listened to the owls unseen in the trees seemingly having a dispute. The atmosphere was amazing, and experiencing nightfall here was truly magical.

It was getting increasingly cold and we were hungry, so rode back - not on our usual Hadley End - Morrey - A515 route, but I wanted to find the keen photographer some alternate subjects on the way - so we turned southwestwards and through Rough Park, the Ridwares and Handsacre, where we took a photo break on that remarkable old bridge, redundant but resplendent, still adjacent to it’s modern replacement carrying the main road over the Trent.

Here, the lights of the Armitage Shanks factory and Rugeley really made for a good muse, but neither of us can yet atone to the view without Rugeley Power Station. A sad loss, something I never would have thought of myself saying 20 years ago.

We returned home up past Grand Lodge, Goosemoor Green and Fulfen, cutting across Chasetown to Chasewater, where Pickle had something she really, really wanted to try: I think you’ll agree her starry night shots are stunning.

A 53 miler on a surprisingly cold day in quite challenging road conditions: But a good ride nonetheless, and some great photos. Always good of the soul.

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[brownhillsbob]

#365daysofbiking Season of the sunset:

Sunday 6th February 2022 - Returning from Lichfield on an errand, I caught a good sunset - not a brightly coloured one, although those always occur this time of year sooner or later - but the sort of dramatic, moody, muted skyline that bristles with what Simon Jeffes might have termed surface tension.

The skeletal trees of Home Farm looked stark and beautiful on the skyline of Sandhills, as did the trees meeting the sky in a garden at Lynn.

Winter does have it’s compensations, but they can be few and far between if I’m honest.

This journal is also on Wordpress, where the pictures are in higher resolution and the search box works! Click here.

[brownhillsbob]

#365daysofbiking The thinness of the air, and turning for home:

31st December 2021 - It’s been a weird old Christmas. The weather has been the worst over the holiday period I’ve known in many years: Pretty much constant rain and drizzle for over a week.

The festive period is normally an opportunity for us to get out on some seriously nice rides - often in the lead up to Christmas, the traditional Christmas and Boxing Day rides, and there’s usually good fun to be had in the period up to and including new year.

But not this time. The ceaseless downpour has meant that although I’ve been cycling every day, it’s been for utility only; delivering presents or cards, seeing friends and relatives, going to the pub, getting shopping in or getting fresh air. Every journey has been in waterproofs, and I’ve come back sodden. It’s not been nice. But on New Year’s Eve, a day I usually hate, the rain stopped. The sun came out. But odder than that, it was warm. And I mean, really warm: 14 degrees. It was like spring out there. I set off later than I’d planned with my young pal for a loop around the local area, as we had an errand to do in Lichfield, and another in Burntwood. 

The riding was fast and easy: There was a strong wind, but frankly, it didn’t matter. Up over Stonnall, Thornes, and the backlanes into Shenstone - but as we neared the village on the hill, we realised something was different. The old, ruined thirteenth century church tower - a remnant of an older, nicer church before the gothic horror that stands today was born of Victorian hubris - was sheathed in plastic sheeting and scaffold. It seems to be undergoing renovation. This is interesting, as it’s been derelict for all of the 40 or more years I’ve been riding around here. It seems that a group have got together, raised money and are renovating the tower to save it out of charity and community spirit. Yet again, communities pay for Church of England neglect, it seems. But the plan is good and seemingly very competent. Searching when we got home we found the tower has a website here which is pretty useful on history, but not on the future. For that, we found Lichfield Live had reported plans to add a viewing platform to the tower last March. To my surprise, these have been approved.  I do hope this will be open to the public periodically. I bet the view is incredible. I salute those undertaking this project - it’s remarkable. This has largely passed me by over the summer and is an indication of my failure to ride much that ways on last year. I must rectify the neglect.

Further on, we caught a fair sunset up at Chesterfield, between Shenstone and Wall - any sunset is a bonus right now. Pickle caught it well, as she did a somnambulant, subdued Lichfield. The bars seemed busy but the streets less so. As ever, the festive lights and night sky combined with the muted, orange street lighting to make a magic that Pickle was all too keen to capture. 

Returning down the wonderful Chasetown High Street, Pickle noted that the Christmas lights were switched off, but it didn't matter, as it’s always festive at night on the beautifully lit, inclined High Street. I don’t really know what it is about Chasetown, but it shares the phenomena with Walsall Wood. At night, it always seems much busier than it actually is, and has a lovely homely, soft glow to it.

As New Year’s Eve rides go, this has been the best for a few years. We both enjoyed the absence of rain, and the thin, clear air. Such a change from the last couple of weeks... But as we stood at Chasewater, with nothing but the sound of water lapping against the dam, we reflected on the year gone. It’s been hard. There have been times when I wondered if I’d ever do another long ride again. But there has also been great joy: Recovery, the longed for autumn long rides, the return to the outdoors, the sharing of moments like this. 

So we turned for home feeling positive, and light with the optimism of a new riding year ahead. There will be winter yet, yes - but spring and the daffodils and cowslips. Long rides on the Moorlands and Peaks. Green on the trees and hedgerows. Summer days and cafe stops and ice cream, and even the odd pub garden. It’s all to come. It was impossible not to face the prospect with an open, happy heart. Happy new year to you all.

Thank you too for all of your messages of support and encouragement over the last week. Dry Valleys summed it up when he said you cannot serve from an empty vessel. For a while, I was empty. But now... I am feeling somewhat replenished.

Thank you to the wonderful community that support me here.

This journal is also on Wordpress, where the pictures are in higher resolution and the search box works! Click here.

[brownhillsbob]

#365daysofbiking What makes this mine:

Thursday 27th January 2022 - On my way home from work in Darlaston, I stopped in Pleck, one of the most ethnically diverse areas of Walsall to get some shopping in from one of the best international supermarkets around.

Within, I took my pick of staples and treats from Indian, Pakistani, Bangladeshi, Chinese, Jamaican, African and Arabic cuisines and foodstuffs, and as usual, came out with loads more than intended. I love that store.

Standing on the car park, I noticed the remnants of daylight had turned the sky a gorgeous colour in that transition from light to dark, and the skyline was  as diverse and colourful as the contents of my bulging panniers.

People knock Walsall and the Black Country relentlessly; people with divisive intent spew hatred about the diverse communities and drive poisoned wedges into any available fissure. But it’s precisely this disparate, chaotic and multi-faceted nature of this place that makes me feel at home. It’s what I love: The food, the people, the history, the complete chaos of the built environment around me.

Here are my people an this is my place... Wherever they are from.

This journal is also on Wordpress, where the pictures are in higher resolution and the search box works! Click here.

[brownhillsbob]

#365daysofbiking On the skyline:

Thursday 13th January 2022 - Crossing Chasewater on an errand I’d deliberately held back until sunset, my studied tardiness was rewarded handsomely. 

Chasewater is the best place locally to catch a sunset, and the gull roost was massive with thousands of birds too, so the spectacle was twofold. The deer were out on the North Heath and obliged beautifully.

I’ve said this many times and I’ll continue to do so: This place is beautiful. But you have to want to see it, and actively go look. Had I not had one eye to the skies I’d never have seen this.

There’s nowhere I’d rather have been than here, this night.

This journal is also on Wordpress, where the pictures are in higher resolution and the search box works! Click here.

[brownhillsbob]

#365daysofbiking Just this side of midnight:

26th December 2021 - I will post a fuller explanation in coming days, but I came to within two days of this journal’s ten year anniversary on March 30th, 2021, and just stopped, because I couldn’t decide what to do with it. It was a sort of creative block. At the time. But it was a bit more than that. I was very ill, but didn’t realise it at the time. It’s taken most of the year to get past those difficulties both physical and mental, and find my ease again. It’s not been a comfortable journey. Part of it will be that the nature of this journal will necessarily change.

I still cycle, every day pretty much. But documenting every day was becoming hard. I’m a decade older. I’m well into my 50s. My health has not been great. When I started all this, I would regularly not go to bed until 4am and be up for work at 6am and be fine. Now, I don’t have that energy, and it was getting harder and harder to find things to photograph, and street photography has got harder. Again, more on that later.

Way back in the spring I was quite ill with my bowel again. This was making me tired, and getting that sorted at the height of summer was such a boon - but within weeks, while my immunity was suppressed, I caught a skin infection. My leg swollen, I couldn’t ride some days - not because of any pain, but because I couldn’t get trousers on. Sorting that out properly took until the autumn. Autumn brought me a gradual, day by day recovery: Not just of my physical power, but of my sense of mischief and desire to explore things.

Then came the debate: How do I deal with 365? I don’t want it to die. It’s been a huge part of my last decade, and it’s probably the least-read but most heartfelt writing I do publicly. I don’t want to lose that, but I can’t post every day: It’s become repetitive, I’m not sure anyone’s reading it that much and It’s too rigid a format to say things I want to say now. So this journal is going to change. But also, sort of stay the same. You’ll see what I mean in coming days, weeks, months.

As I type this on Boxing Day at just my favourite side of midnight - 1:30am in a darkened house - I post a photo taken from Ogley Junction footbridge 3 hours before on one of the most unpleasant Christmas nights I’ve known - heavy rain for hours and all was sodden, but curiously, not my spirit. I was full of a great family Christmas Day, and the subsequent evening pursuit of solitude for a while, also hoping to burn off some of the digestive load. It was, at least, warm. The nights are opening out. I survived a particularly vile Autumn suck. It’s OK. All shall be well. One of the oddest features of this year is that although this journal withered, my passion for riding bikes actually grew to a level I’ve not experienced for years. Although I was sporadic for a week here or there, I’ve actually ridden far more miles this year and had many more long rides than usual. it was rediscovering that joy that helped make me well again, a fact I am certain of.

So here I am, just on the morning side of midnight, on the light side of the dark, on the well side of ill, ready to journey onward, but only documenting rides when I feel I have something to share.  Hopefully that will work for you.  But there’s something I have to do first. Stay tuned. Please. And I beg you to accept my apologies. I didn’t want to let you all down. But something had to give. I have written a huge amount on this journal. I think I’ve earned a more relaxed role. Stay tuned.

This journal is also on Wordpress, where the pictures are in higher resolution and the search box works! Click here.