Monday 17 December 2012

Little Achievements


I DID IT!  It was as we pulled out of a turning on our tandem.  I said to Paul:  "That's it, I'm not riding any more this year" and he said "ok then you can walk from here".  Then he hugged me and kissed me. 

I'd done it - I'd ridden my 3000th mile of the year.

Besides that little fact, it was a fairly uninspiring ride in dull and damp weather which deteriorated as we pedalled.  It waited until we were home to start raining though, and then it pelted down. 

Some time ago I wrote an entry about challenges and personal challenges, and I mentioned my possibly stupid idea of riding 3000 miles a year.  I came up with this figure some years ago when the British Medical Association gave recommendations about physical activity and I interpreted their recommendations for myself with this challenge.  I lived in a flat part of the UK at that time... but things change.  My home terrain changed, but I couldn’t quite accept a shortening of my desired mileage to compensate.

But thanks to some fabulous holidays, to my husband’s encouragement and to our determination to make the most of every rain-free day (there have been precious few), I’ve managed my first 3000 mile year whilst living in Shropshire.  

I’m not sure I’ll manage it again though!

Tuesday 4 December 2012

Floods


The River Severn
stops me in my tracks
No sooner had I uploaded my last piece than I realised that the wet roads I’d been writing about were as nothing as compared to what was to come.  The very next day the rain started, and continued, with devastating results for many unfortunate people.  Let me say right now that I am not one of the people whose homes have been inundated - although many of the roads I have been riding have been wet (and I’ve had to turn back once or twice) I am always privileged to have a warm, dry home to return to at the end of the day.  I’ve no direct experience of being flooded, so I can’t profess to truly understand.




But it’s not by accident that our flood risk is low.  When we moved into this house, I privately lamented its lack of proximity to water.  There’s a little stream by us (some would call it a drain) but it’s very little indeed, and no risk to us or our neighbours.  To stand by a proper river I have to cycle a good few miles, and descend quite a few metres.  It’s not much, but that small descent, and the ten accursed steps between the street and my house (which I struggle to carry my bike up), keep us free from the risk of water ingress.  This is something we considered carefully before we parted with our money, and we will again, if ever we move.



My husband added a comment onto my last blog entry, saying that the Severn had flooded around Welshpool.  I rode there a few days later to see what he meant and it was quite a dramatic sight, in many places a rather beautiful sight. But I can only say it was beautiful because I don’t think any homes were flooded in Welshpool.  The flood plain around the Severn is undeveloped, so it can do its job.  The sheep might find their field size reduced for a while, and doubtless many farmers are being significantly affected, but the water birds are in heaven. 



In other places of course, that's not the case.  Flood plains have been built on, with dreadful consequences.  Winter always brings wet weather and flood defences have been tested in the past.  But our drains and defences seem to be inadequate these days - is this because of particularly adverse and unusual weather, or because we have become complacent in thinking we can always build structures to tame nature?   

I can’t answer that question.  But it’s no secret that I love nature, in all its wild fury.  I like bad weather, with its stormy purple skies and underlit clouds reflecting onto the ripening crops in autumn. And I revel in the sound of trees swaying in breathtaking windiness, when my wheels are stopped in their tracks and I can only gaze in wonder, even as the rain stings my eyes.   

Wind can be very destructive, and rain can be too.  But they were here before us, and they will be here after us.  Whatever the misery they cause, they have my unfettered and humble respect, and I would hope that our city planners have respect for them too.