A View from the Bridge

It’s been some time since my last post, though as it’s my blog I make no apologies. Life’s busy.

The next 9 weeks or so should be interesting though. Fieldtrips to Eire and to Wales so hopefully more posts to come; kit reviews; geological oddities; travel information and maybe some pictures too.

For those of you who occasionally call by, keep checking the RSS feeds, for those who are spammers, keep trying

Catch you later.

Pale orange tendrils, trailing from the fleeing sun,

Brush your skin, gently as a lover’s touch.

Breath, sweet, slowing as our rhythm wanes, softly spoken words

No meaning but a reassurance of our pleasures. Taken. Given. Together.

Hands held on rising breasts as our beats slow.

Your head rests now on the pillow;

Raven’s wings across a snowy field, the heat from you melting me.

Eyes open, languid pools reflecting memories of that we have shared, stir me.

A kiss, tenderly given, no need for more, says much; a thousand words pass between us

Unspoken, understood.

A shiver as fingers, once strong in passion, now careful,

Trace figures across your smooth skin.

Selene to my Endymion you move closer,

As I offer myself anew, stirring beneath your lithe form.

Sleep must come, but later, in the failing light.

(25th October 2010)

Cycle commuting in the UK would appear to be a cross between canyoning and urban warfare. Not only are other road users out to get you with stealth weapons such as opening doors, wing mirrors and more blunt methods such as aiming directly for you but the weather too has got you in its sights.

A recent article in a cycle magazine stated that in the UK commuters need only expect an average of 12 wet days per year. Yeah. Right. Did the author research this in the Atacama Desert? In a bubble? The reality is that if you ride you will get wet. To combat this careful gear selection is required. To date here are bits of kit I’ve found useful…..

Sealskinz socks and gloves. Different weights for different temperatures. Invaluable in Winter if you want to keep those extremities. Maybe less useful in Summer if you don’t mind damp digits and can dry off at your destination.

Altura Attack waterproof shorts. 3 words. The. Dog’s. Bollocks. Not really a fan of waterproof pants these are a good compromise when on a bike. In summer over your bike shorts, in winter over your thermal tights. Also worn on a field trip to Scotland where, over a pair of Montane Terra shorts they performed fantastically. When teamed with gaiters they look mad but I stayed dry. Apart from river crossings. But anyone crossing a Scottish river in spate deserves to get wet. Or look mad. Or both.

Altura Night Vision waterproof  jacket. Fluorescent yellow, reflective strips. Makes me look like a radioactive lemon but one less excuse for numpty drivers to hit me. Or maybe not.

Exped drybags, various sizes. Very useful for stashing wallets, ‘phones or anything else that dies in the wet. Some are small enough to fit in your pockets, others large enough to line your panniers.

Monkey spasm: muscular jerking of limbs following a near-trip in a public area or when observed by those who you are trying to impress most. Often continues until next social faux pas overrides it.

Not been on for a while – nice to see the spammers are still in business,

On a field trip in Assynt. Beautiful country, persistent arthropods. Never mind. Catch you all soon.

Bitter is this sweet vict’ry

Fallen blossom. Crushed,

Life and spirit ebbs away.

(December 2009)

Ah the joys of rail travel in England. Clear skies & a bright moon overhead, dawn creeping in. Last night’s takeaway regurgitated onto the seating, a used condom hanging off the fence, morning phlegm glistening on the platform.

This weekend (24th/25th) was the first major field trip of the course. And what a weekend!

Day one saw us at Port Dafach, Anglesey, followed by a trip to Parys Mountain, scene of many a vintage Doctor Who episode.

The evening, spent in one of Llandudno’s luxurious hotels, ( too scathing?)  passed in a blur of alcohol and kebab. Nearly missing the coach on the second day was the highlight of my sojourn in Llandudno.

Day two passed in a detox state around Cwm Idwal. The fresh wind soon cured the hangover and geological exploration kept the mind sharp.

For me it was interesting visiting places I’d been to on many occasions beforehand and looking at them afresh.

It’s what it’s all about.

Just some thoughts on a few commuting essentials.

Pedals and shoes. Definately DMR V8s and 5.10 Freeride. Brilliant combination which allows on bike comfort and efficiency and off bike comfort. Doesn’t look like a cycle shoe, resembles a skate shoe or casual trainer.

Mudguards. Noone really wants a wet backside do they? Cheap plastic snap-offs are best. My favourite at the moment? Tortec Reflector full length mudguards. Light and effective.

More thoughts as the gear is put through its paces.

The carriages are often too few, forcing passengers to stand. There is generally insufficient space for bicycles resulting in cyclists shifting their bike from doorway to corridor and back many times over to allow the ingress and egress of other passengers. The general state of the carriages is often appalling; dirty; in disrepair and lacking in space.

As if this horrible environment wasn’t enough of a nightmare the behaviour of the passengers adds to the misery. Conditioned by years of Pavlovian stimuli, the moment a door opens there is a rush to enter or leave. Everyone needs to have a row of seat to themselves and there is much huffing and looks of disapprobation to the unfortunate who, politely, asks a fellow passenger if they could sit beside them.

Pushchairs! In an age of super lightweight folding micro everything pushchairs just seem to get disproportionately larger, specifically designed to hinder progress through the carriage.

Yes reader, everything it seems is designed to make the journey harder than necessary.

Which brings me, conveniently, to the origins of the word “travel”. Travel is a derivative of the French word “travail”, or work, labour, toil. But the irony doesn’t stop there! Travail itself is believed to descend from the Latin word “Tripalium”, a device of torture, apparently favoured by one of the greatest urban redevelopers ever, Nero.

So that just about sums it up. The morning commute is a method of torture. It’s pupose is to prepare the British workforce for the day ahead. If you can survive the journey the rest is easy.