WANDERING AND WONDERING

 Lately, I’ve been using up carryover leave. This has meant an ability to go riding during the work week, during off-peak hours, when both the roads and the pubs are quiet. I recommend this. Granted, there are  no Sunday roasts on offer, but nobody going down the scenic country routes, and no competing customers or crowds. 

Weekday riding is a great chance to explore little roads you don’t risk at the weekend, because they’re too choked with the kind of motorists who spend the week on public transport and generally don’t get enough practice at driving themselves - or paying attention to the existence of other road users. They’re probably more frustrating to get stuck behind than panel vans. 

 tried a new road - the A281- and a new pub. I’ve never been further on the A281 than the Chalet Cafe just outside Cowfold before, but this time I went all the way down to Hassocks, where I stopped for lunch at the Ginger Fox pub.

The A281 is a fun road - enough twists to be interesting and a surprisingly consistent speed limit between 40 and 50mph. I do like a consistent speed limit, especially if any changes are within 10mph. There should be a rule about not changing the limit by more than 10mph at a time - the roads that go 60-30-60-40-60-30 are a nightmare, especially when the signs posting the changes get overgrown in spring and summer. 

The A281 has a couple of rough tarmac patches and the odd corrugation, but tell me a road in the UK that doesn’t. (Please. I’d like to ride it).

The Ginger Fox was very pleasant. For a start, the parking is paved, always a bonus for the two-wheeled among us. The coffee is good, the food is better and their garden is a very pleasant place to sit (just beware of the beehives). 

THE JOY OF GETTING LOST

I don’t like or own a satnav. Call me a technophobe or a Luddite if you like, but I prefer map books. On a bike, I prefer to keep my handlebars clear. If I get lost, I prefer to be able to work out where I’m lost, rather than blindly following instructions.
Because there is a certain pleasure specific to the uncertainty principle: I might not know where I am, exactly, but I do know what I’m doing.

Generally, I plan a route before I go. Sometimes I make notes. But then I put the mapping tools away, tuck any notes into a back pocket, and go. If I miss a turn or get diverted, I have a general idea of where I’m heading – which direction, which place names to look out for. So I can enjoy to diversion as an opportunity to find fun roads and good pubs I would never have spotted otherwise. And I usually reach my original destination, approximately when I planned to arrive. Yes, I have a decent sense of direction, and these rules apply to places where I have some idea of the general geography. I’d probably be more pro-satnav if I didn’t have these things. But as long as I do, I’ll continue to relax and enjoy getting a little bit lost.

WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE

Maybe it’s a year of lockdown, but it seems to me that animals of all kinds forgotten to avoid us. I’ve seen a lot more roadkill than I used to. And insect life is on the rise as well, which probably had to do with an increased trend for wildlife friendly gardens and verges. Well, it’s on the rise at least until it flies headfirst into headlight or visor.

Some insects, of course, are smarter than that. I inadvertently gave a lift to a bumblebee the other day. I’m not sure when she landed on my tank, but I noticed at a red light that she was perched between the caps, apparently enjoying the ride. I can’t say I blame her. My only regret is that I didn’t manage to take a photo before she flew off again.

SUMMER GREYS

 

HAIL OUT OF A CLEAR BLUE SKY

Weather is a big factor in riding. It affects visibility, road conditions, personal comfort. There are things we all know about. There’s the first half an hour of rain, in which all the diesel rises to the surface of the asphalt: best avoided until it’s washed off.

There’s the mist created by columns of traffic in rain as they spray the water/diesel mix back under their tires.

And there’s hail. Hail is no fun on a bike with legs relatively exposed in jeans. It’s even less fun when it comes out of a clear blue sky. Not only does it fall onto any body part it can, it also bounces up of the road or back off the car in front, to find new angles from which to strike.

At least when there is rain, or gathering cloud, you have half a chance to put on an extra layer in the form of waterproofs.

SPRING STROLLS

Another sign of the season is the re-emergence of beautiful and deeply loved vintage cars (and, in the UK, convertibles owned by optimists). They are lovely vehicles, but not massively representative of their types, when you think about it. Most of their brethren were not so deeply loved, or so expensively cared for, and had more mud and scratches, and rather less polish.

SIGNS OF SPRING

Recently, I went on a spring hunt for types of flowers and blossoms - but there are less enjoyable signs of the season. It’s still too chilly and early for many insects – for which my headlight and visor are grateful. But other animals are in evidence – usually because they’ve been on the losing end of an encounter with a vehicle. I’ve seen badgers and squirrels and foxes, and even – unusually – a hare. Also a pheasant, which was a tragic sight of beautiful feathers wasted, waving in the wind.

So, when I saw a pheasant in full male feather strutting across the road ahead of me, I slowed down and revved just enough to scare him into jumping and racing the rest of the way. The car behind me wasn’t too happy, and I’m sure the bird wasn’t either – but surely he could better afford to lose his dignity than his little pheasant life.