Rain, Rain

November 3, 2014

So I was going to thrill you all with the report of my ride down for the paper today – a whole massive 11 miles, on rather more undulating terrain than the ride back from Bigtown. There were all sorts of adventures including not one but two courier vans who decided I was two dimensional, being on a bike, and could therefore be passed as if I wasn’t there (sadly, just a day too late to be immortalised in the name of science by the Near Miss project), the cheery wave and a thumbs up I got from an elderly couple from the village who were driving back from the shop themselves – even a guest appearance from ASBO buzzard (or at least a buzzard that inhabits the stretch of road where ASBO buzzard’s reign of terror holds sway) which was flying off to watch me from the safety of a nearby tree, rather than dropping down out of the sky onto my head, fortunately enough. But the truth is, I got a bit distracted from all these delights because it was spitting with rain, causing me to resurrect an argument I’ve long been having in my head (and more recently fruitlessly on Twitter) with the idea of building solar powered covered bike paths to keep off the rain.

This superficially attractive idea is the brainchild of Steven Fleming, professional controversialist, architectural theorist and the bike blogger behind Cycle-Space who has been intermittently entertaining me for years, despite the fact that half of his ideas betray the sort of megalomaniac wrong-headedness that only architects and dictators seem able to keep up consistently (and I say this even as a keen supporter of the idea of building cities around bikes). I suspect most of them are floated largely to annoy the Dutch, who he regards as being insufficiently ambitious in their bike infrastructure, and to ensure a steady flow of invitations to various international cycling conferences. So replying to one of his tweets was undoubtedly foolish, especially as I then got snowballed in to one of those twitter debates in which, once you have included the twitter handles of everyone you’re disagreeing with, only leave you enough space to compare someone to a Nazi or, worse, John Forester, the bugbear of the cycle campaigning world.

Now I should say that I don’t object to covered cycle paths because I’ve got some romantic notion that it’s fun to cycle in the rain – I do live in South West Scotland, I know about rain – nor because I think that rain isn’t an obstacle to cycling among the portion of the population that we can loosely describe as ‘almost everyone who isn’t a bit obsessed with bikes’ or ‘everyone’ for short. I just don’t think that covered cycle ways are the answer – in fact it seems so obvious to me that I would have thought anyone but an architect would realise why. So what follows is probably of interest to absolutely nobody except myself, but it will at least hopefully save me from having to try and squeeze it into 150 separate tweets:

1. Unless they go from your door to the door of your destination, you’re still going to get rained on and – unlike with the traffic that segregated cycle tracks, which also don’t go door to door, protect you from – it’s not as if the rain gets less wet or less heavy when you’re on a residential street or a rural area (if anything, it gets worse, especially in the latter).

2. Unless the rain is politely falling down vertically from the sky, you’re still going to get wet because in Scotland at least, rain mostly goes sideways unless there’s a car passing you at speed in which case it goes upwards as well. And yes, you could also build walls, but basically then you’ve built a tunnel which is hardly very inviting for anyone to cycle in, especially women, or people who don’t like being mugged.

3. Even if the roofs did keep the rain off, you’d have to build them over the footpath as well because the instant it started raining, all the pedestrians would head for cover and it would be impossible to cycle anywhere for people. And even if you did cover the footpaths over, you’d still get stuck because every entranceway would be blocked by other cyclists peering out hoping it will stop raining soon.

4. In the unlikely even that it stops raining and the sun comes out, nobody would want to cycle under a roof because, in these northern latitudes anyway, we’re all a bit sun starved.

So yeah, it’s a pretty rubbish idea, and we’re saying so is not because we somehow lack ambition and want people to ‘man up and take the rain’ but because it WOULDN’T WORK. But then again, what do we know, we’re only people, not architects. And besides, shortly after thinking all this – and all but home by now – I realised that, astoundingly enough, there is a form of solar-powered bike lane roof that would keep a fair bit of rain off, not transform your cycle path into a piss-scented graffiti-strewn underpass AND allow the precious sunshine through, at least during the winter months. They’re called trees. But nobody gets invited to an international cycling conference for proposing that.

So I’m sorry to have bored you with all that, but I did have to get it off my chest, and besides, it was so distracting, it quite took my mind off noticing what the ride to the papershop was like so I don’t really have that much else to report. And I wasn’t about to go out again because no sooner did I get home than it started to really rain and I wasn’t going out cycling in THAT.


There Have Been Days…

October 28, 2014

rainy front drive
… when I’ve been totally frustrated at not being able to get on my bike. Today, it is safe to say, was not one of them. Something about being woken by the sound of the pouring rain, the view all but obscured by it, made being stuck in the kitchen by the Rayburn all day a rather welcome prospect.

flooded road

Well, not quite all day, because there was obviously hydrological engineering to be done. Exciting coonsil drainage works or no coonsil drainage works, nothing quite blocks a drain like fallen leaves so there were plenty of opportunities to go out and do important poking things with a stick (and the rather less enjoyable reaching into freezing cold water to hoick out handfuls of leaves).

drain emptying

I suppose you could argue that it would be better if the coonsil came along and cleared out its drains regularly after all that is what we pay them for, harumph harumph, but to be honest, where’s the fun in that?* Because there’s nothing quite so satisfying as the satisfaction of hoicking out a final handful of leaves and hearing the gurgling sound that signals that the flooded road is about to empty itself like a giant bath.

field culvert

Water pouring out of the road and into the downstream field. Slightly tough luck on the sheep who were in it at the time but they were on the side of a hill so weren’t likely to flood

That said, there’s nothing like an inconsiderate quarry lorry passing too fast and sluicing you with the last of the water to rather take the shine off it.

Intensive negotiations with the other half have resulted in me being allowed to try a bit of gentle cycling tomorrow and resume the trip down to Papershop Village on Friday. Weather Gods permitting, that is.

Oh and the ford?

ford level

I thought you’d never ask.

*unless they bring their big yellow digger


Exciting Drainage News Update

October 6, 2014

This spring, as I may have mentioned, the old boy, the young guy and their big yellow digger came from the council to sort out the drainage outside our house for once and for all – thereby ushering in one of the driest summers on record, but I really am not complaining. Still, we are in South West Scotland and October is already shaping up to be Octoberish with two weather warnings for excessive rain already, which means their work is getting properly stress tested at last. Of course, first we (and by ‘we’ I mean the other half of course – I’m recuperating, don’t you know, and so couldn’t possibly stick my hand into freezing cold running water) had to clear out all the leaves that had accumulated in the drains and the channel that runs along the drive. That done, the new enlarged drain pipe started clearing all the excess water like a good ‘un, and for a day or so it looked like we might even be able to spend a winter without watching four-by-fours aquaplane past our front garden through the flooded road as if they’re Moses parting the waters of the Red Sea.

flooded drive

Which was when the Weather Gods kicked the weather up a notch, and two things happened: first the water overwhelmed the new pipe and started flowing across our drive as normal, although the other half reports that it’s still sucking water down as fast as it can. And second, the new enlarge pipe overwhelmed the rest of the drains so that further down the road the water started pouring out of the drain instead of into it, so the road is still flooded more or less as normal (more committed bike bloggers than me can insert their traffic metaphor of choice here).

flooded road

Note water welling helpfully out of the drain on the left…

This may be a good thing, as our river is full. As undoubtedly is the ford, but the other half’s wellies have developed a leak and he’s not up for any walks that involve wading through our localised flooding for some reason.

not quite flooding river

In other news, I have resumed my habit of vehicular walking and will continue to ‘take the lane’ on the road down to the village until drivers learn to slow down when they pass pedestrians on wet roads rather than flying past them and drenching them from head to foot. If you see me, I’ll be slap bang in the middle of the road. And I’ll stay there until you’ve slowed to walking pace AND have acknowledged my cheery wave. Just so you know.


Normal Weather Service Resumed

October 3, 2014

wet October weather

I might as well admit right now that today was not the sort of day when I resented the fact that I couldn’t cycle. Today, in fact, was the sort of day when we got the woodburner lit early (Rayburn Man isn’t coming till Tuesday) and found useful things to do on our laptops. I’d blame convalescence but it was more just the urge to hide away from the rain…

That said, I have not been entirely housebound. For the last two days I have implemented my new plan for getting the paper – walking the 1.5 miles down to Nearest Village, where I pick it up from one of the villagers who take it in turns to fetch each others’ papers. I can finally walk at normal speed again, which means the whole thing takes about as long as it used to take me to cycle to Papershop Village but with the added bonus that, if it starts raining half way through, you get a lot less wet.

There may be other benefits too. I was a bit surprised to discover this morning that I’ve actually lost weight in the last ten days – despite the other half’s best efforts and a delivery of cake supplies (and cycling gossip and plotting) from Back on My Bike. Walking’s inefficiency has its advantages

Tomorrow I venture up to Embra for a day of cycle networking to which I invited myself after the initial suggested guest list contained no women’s names at all.* Fortunately Back on My Bike and I have some ideas about that – and meanwhile our Women’s Cycle Forum idea has grown legs (wheels?) and will be popping up in London too – with me on it. I’ll be the one trying to look like an award-winning cycle campaigner while trying not to be too intimidated by everyone else on the panel.

* Apparently because it was just an indicative list off the top of someone’s head. So that’s all right then.


Cock and Bull

September 15, 2014

I promise I’ll do a proper serious final independence referendum post as soon as I work up the energy but meanwhile I swear to God, the minute before this picture was taken these two were getting pretty frisky, except that SHE had decided she wanted to be on top. It’s for moments like these that I wish I wore a headcam.

cow and bull

Sure, they look all innocence now

In other news, the sun disappeared and the rain began again. I have discovered that my new greenhouse makes an excellent space to hide from the rain, listen to the radio, and pot up tiny seedlings. Even if I never grow anything in it properly, it’s worth it for that alone.

 


Gardening Leave

August 18, 2014

I’ve been having one of those days today. You know the sort, the kind that starts with your computer announcing it wants to reboot – now! – just when you’ve got up early to get something finished before an appointment which you then don’t get finished in time, because you’ve got to go and end up sitting in a waiting room for an hour – an hour! – so you’re now running doubly late so you get half way home before you remember you need to pick up milk so you have to turn back and now you’ve wasted even more time and you can’t even relax and enjoy the cycle home because even though the forecast was all sunny intervals, the reality has suddenly become heavy downpours. And I’m still theoretically having one of those days because even though I did manage to get everything done for today’s deadline, there are another two looming this week and to be honest, sitting here typing this isn’t helping.

But sometimes, especially when you have worked all weekend to get something finished and sent off only to have it greeted by an out of office reply from the person you sent it to, you’ve got to take a break. And as I was sitting having coffee on the bench my eye fell on my poor spring onions which have been sitting waiting to be planted out for weeks while I tried to find room for them in the veg plot. And as we’d finally agreed that the current batch of towering salad leaves, magnificent though they are, are becoming a bit bitter, clearly it was time to go up and get some gardening done.

towering lettuce

An hour or so later the lettuce was gone, the spring onions planted out, and I felt a little less frazzled and ready to resume my place at the grindstone.

spring onions planted out

After I’ve finished blogging this, of course…


Thickety-Boo

August 12, 2014

We’re all about the casual gardening style here but I think I may have overshot the boundary between ‘deliciously informal’ and ‘inconvenient mess’ with my mangetouts, which have now formed an impenetrable thicket.

impenetrable mangetout thicket

There are mangetouts in there if you know where to look but finding them involves bodily picking up the entire tangle and rummaging around in it. As with all veg harvesting, it takes at least three iterations to even begin to feel you may have found them all, and even then you can guarantee you won’t have (see also: potatoes), which is why every time I go up to pick the next lot I find some which have clearly been beyond ready for weeks and have to be podded like conventional peas

mangetout thicket close up

Anyway, we were going to have mangetouts in our fried rice this evening but it was still hammering down and playing hunt-the-legume did not appeal, so perpetual spinach it was. Next year, I swear, I shall grow my mangetouts in regimented rows, like a proper gardener. I think I may make this resolution every year at about this time.

And talking of hunt-the-legume, the dinosaur eggs have produced dinosaurs.

mystery bean pods

Recipes for something resembling borlotti beans welcomed.


Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 288 other followers