Ground Clearance

I've been reading a book that has brought nature back to me.

Gradually.

This week has been epic and stressful but reading has helped me lift myself out of the sofa, sit in the garden and look at the sky.  I've started to notice the birds - on the river, in the trees, in the skies.

I invested in a bird-book to replace the Canadian book which isn't really much use to me anymore.

I've started reading Nan Shepherd too.

This weekend I needed to de-stress gently.  Every time I've been upstairs to do yoga I get slightly depressed by my cyclo-cross bike which is propped upright by the wall, asking to be fixed up ready for next season.  On Saturday morning I brought him down, put on a new derailleur, fixed the gears and gave him his first bath since he stood-in for my mountain bike in December.  After that I got the mountain bike out and re-tuned those gears so it doesn't annoy me when I ride it.

In the afternoon we walked into town.  Not a very nature-oriented activity but as we sat outside at the cafe I thumbed the bird book and learned some new things. 

We got home and I started attacking the garden.  One of the trees in the garden is being strangled by vine.  I hadn't realised how bad it was till I saw a few spindly branches with yellowing leaves on the end in stark contrast to the over-riding evergreen vine leaves. I gradually, over the course of the entire afternoon, peeled back all of the vine from the tree.  I then cut back the grapevine that's moved in from next door from the elder, the dog rose and the pine tree. 

The patio was more "dappled shade" than "basement" now.  The brambles gone.  I fear for the future of the elder tree, it was damp and rotten in many places where the vine was rooted between branches. I'll need to keep an eye on it but it seems reasonably strong and I hope it survives.

This morning I sat outside to eat my breakfast.  There were no birds singing.  I couldn't see any either except a few darting around high in the sky above the valley.  Suddenly I could pick out the different varieties - house martin, swift and swallow - against the blue sky.

I spent the rest of the day trundling around town to buy a mower (the old one broke) and some bags to take the garden rubbish to the skip where we also deposited the old mower and a bunch of waste electrical equipment and old batteries.

Back at the house we managed another load of garden waste and sat and watched the birds again whilst drinking tea. 

In a world where I've tended to shy away with the computer on my relaxing days, it was great to work hard, outside, on my space.  It no longer feels like a lost cause.  It's now a planted out, slightly tidier, slightly lighter, more thriving space to breathe.

Nature is supposed to bring me out and I would have liked to ride today but my self has been exercised at home and is immensely grateful for it.

I might be quiet on twitter for a while.  I feel incredibly middle aged and I really don't give a shit.

The Hidden Valley Uncovered *Warning - risk of Clichés and Overstatement*

A tantalisingly small quantity of snow fell last night.  Still, it was nice to see snow in the trees.  We grasped the opportunity to ride up to la Villa in the van with Pietre.  We scooted up to the tops, dropping down to Armentarola with a little diversion via the wrong piste (which was very pleasant).

After wrestling with the bus stop, we paid our 6 Euros each to the taxi driver to ride 25 minutes to Lagazzuoi cable car from where we embarked on the ski run of my life.  (no dramatisations here).

The view starting to appear from the fog.

We started out in thick fog - a kind of snow mizzle.  After around 200 metres we stopped with everyone else that had stepped out of our cable car... only a limited 25-30 people.

We all stood in awe and gawped at the magnificent scenery and laughed amongst ourselves in sharing a moment, luck, virtue, something more pure than a snap on Instagram.

Deep seated shared joy and incredulity.

I waited until everyone had left and set of with my arms outstretched.  Namaste, mother nature, Namaste.

At every turn in terrain the view tumbled away in frosted turrets of pink granite on both sides of the valley.

Tiny mountain huts, chapels, shelters and animal sheds nestled amongst the rocky outcrops.

At times we caught up with our cable car neighbours and at times we let them float ahead and enjoyed the silence.  Crows soared overhead.

Conifers and Ponderosa pines clung to the sides of the valley.

Wisps of cloud filtered through the towers on the crags like the ghosts of soldiers in castles fought for and lost.

The icy fingers of time clutched to rock one moment then slid away to be caressed by the sunshine and blue skies.

A number of flat sections of piste gave away why this route is reserved for experienced skiers only.  Speed is needed to cross flats and rises and with no obvious ski patrol a high-speed crash would be risky.

Some stopped at the refuge part-way down.  Others (including ourselves) continued to the base refuge for coffee where we were mostly entertained by the Newfoundland dog mooching about on the flat roof of the café.

We momentarily made new friends with the Italians on the next table as the waitress grouped our bills together. The first time this week I have not been mistaken for being German.

Taking inspiration from mountain textiles and colours.

It was all over too soon.  I didn't want to leave this beautiful and heavenly place.  I felt like I could have spent my life there - chopping wood or waiting tables.

I was spoilt by the prospect of hiking back up or of moving on to other areas to enjoy the good snow.  TSK didn't feel like he wanted to learn to skin up hill on something so (recently in his mind) steep and intimidating so we set off down the trail to base to practice on something more blue.

The way we just came.

The long ride out of the valley is often (for mere normals) via a horse-tow whereby 2 slightly overweight ponies trot 30-40 people dangling on a rope-tow along a trail of around 1 km.  We had been told that there is one point where the horses have to canter to stay ahead of the ski train and also to get enough momentum to get up an impending slope.

We had visions of a long and steep up hill tow which, to be honest, would make good skinning practice for TSK.   Even though we both fancied the horse tow - I mean who wouldn't? Right?

Sid and Juniper wait to pull some colour

However, when we saw the brightly coloured train of 50 or so skiers and boarders hanging onto the back of the receding horse cart, we quickly decided we fancied neither the thrill or the company of the horse-tow and our somewhat romantic image of gently slaloming behind a stallion with the wind in our hair disappeared.

We were happy to hold on to 3 Euros and ski-glide out.  It was in actual fact quite flat and a bit of an anti-climax so we headed for the nearest blue where we could dig out a pair of skins and give TSK the opportunity to practice on something a little bit challenging.

Unfortunately he forgot his skins.

We set about making the most of the rest of the day by ski-ing a large portion of the Corvara slopes, excepting the ones we will ski later on the Sella Ronde.

Slightly alarming mini golf on offer.

Calling it quits about 3 pm we started to make our way back dropping down to la Villa base after the last lift down to near our hotel.  We had already planned to walk home along the river and passed Frosty about 5:30 on his way to his next appointment as we rocked into our hotel to claim the last two cakes at tea time then hit the sauna.

TSK cooked himself and I threw some yoga shapes in the solarium above the pool.  The perfect end to the perfect day.

They didn't really expect me to go straight back to work on a day like today?

On keeping an eye on the weather when you're running without any kit.

Bleaklow not looking so Bleak

Emley Moor from Bleaklow Moor

Secret tiny snow-bridges

'Icklest Teeniest Lamb

Impending sense of cold.

Getting a little worried but still sunny, so enjoying myself... right?

Last little hidey hole from the wind and I can see the car on the snake pass - phew!

Very glad to see this arrive only 3 minutes from the car - cue 3 minutes of epically frozen hands.

Iced up

The Beast and Friends

"I love the beast. I actually look forward to the beast showing up because every time he does, I handle him better. I get him more under control." Lisa Smith-Batchen on fatigue.

I woke up. I stared at the wall. I still felt sleepy but no matter what I did, I couldn't go back to sleep. My tummy rumbled. The clock said 3.45. If I got up to eat there would be little point in returning to bed. I had to leave for Norfolk at 5am.  I tried to pretend I wasn't hungry.

I pretended to snooze. My brain started to think about work so I thought of something nice. Running. I got excited. I thought about my favourite bits of my favourite book and those words went through my head.

"The only way to truly conquer something is to love it."

I swung my feet out of the bed.  To hell with sleep.

I was going in search of the beast.  

I  At 4.15 I said goodbye to TSK and set off to Norfolk.

For 2 hours I drove through fog listening to Sarah Cox et all ranting it was going to be warmer than Spain, Greece, barmy!

Eventually Mr Sun made his big red appearance.

Suddenly distracted and invigorated, it was a wonder that I even saw the Tawny Owl sweep across the road right before me and settle on a fence post.

We shared a look that said, "I won't tell anyone if you don't".

I had to get out there. I know, I was supposed to be working but  "I won't tell anyone if you don't".

I span out the drive as long as possible balancing temperature rise against the ever dwindling remnants of breakfast stored in my belly. Just as I started to skim Sat nav for a river to follow, I found signs for a wild flower garden.

I hope the pheasant wasn't embarrassed by my nudity as I dressed into running kit. There certainly weren't any dog walkers at 7.15.  Conveniently the paths were well marked.

I thought I was just on for an out and back along this pretty but smelly stream

I thought I was just in for an out and back along a smelly stream in the cold air but then it opened out in to a rewarding Ford (with foot bridge) and crossed the main road, still signed, where I fluffed the ears on a Bassetthound before continuing. That and the owl, together, could have made my day. 

The pigs feasting in the warming Sun, squealing and chasing each other, that made things so much funnier. 

This little piggy was alone in a field

The rolling trail, the woodpecker in the trees, blackbirds pimping their song, the deer I only just caught sight of because she saw me first.

The stately home estate which houses all that glory,...



...the March Hare that I saw first and who posed for a photo before running away...

The stately home estate which houses all that glory, the March Hare that I saw first and who posed for a photo before running away or the exhilaration of arriving back at the car, still fresh, turning around and doing it all again in the opposite direction... any of those things, combined with the tawny owl could have made it the most amazing day.



The Fact that I found a tower for TSK to enjoy.



The fact I found a tower for TSK is one thing...

but what really made my day was the wild boar that crashed out of the bushes RIGHT NEXT TO ME, skittered across my path and bolted into the woods opposite.  Its tail flashed through the trees. It looked back as it departed. It's little tusks were only as big as my own hooked finger but a hell of a lot sharper and tougher.  He probably looked back to make sure I wasn't in pursuit but I'd like to think it was more an expression of "I won't tell anyone if you don't".            



Upright snowdrops next to a slopey bridge



Week 2 - A helping hand from mother nature

I won't lie, it's been a struggle getting going after being ill.  Last week was week 1 and I managed all but two training sessions.  The last one - the 6 mile run on Sunday was a real slog.  The sleet and rain didn't help but after 3.5km, I nearly sat down on the wall outside Bramhall Lane and cried.  Serves me right for trying a city run really.

So I had my rest day on Monday, despite having to travel on Tuesday in the car.  I did enjoy my rest day Monday a lot.  I even left work on time to ensure I got a proper rest.

On Tuesday I chickened out of training again, choosing instead to have a long deep bath in the luxury of my freely upgraded hotel room.

then go for dinner with my new inlaws.  It was a lovely meal and so good to see them as we haven't done so since the wedding day.

So this morning I set the alarm for 5:30 but snoozed it twice (at half hour intervals).  I couldn't get back to sleep after the second so I got up and reluctantly over-dressed against the freezing weather and set off for my run along the Cromer beaches.

This time I turned towards Cromer and once I'd passed the flotsam on the walkway, had a lovely clean run along the shore edge.  Some of it was challenging, where the rocks were large along the waves so I was forced onto soft sand.  Some of it was really rewarding.  Eventually it came light enough for me to turn off my head torch and I noticed that the coastal temperatures were so high I didn't need my wool leggings on.

handy beach-hut?

With 700m to go to the turnaround point I decided to run to the end of the peir.

Cromer lifeguard museum - just me, my shoes and a fisherman

Tiny Arctic Turns scurried around the wooden deck picking up traces of food - chips, discarded worms and breadcrumbs.  As I walked by they flew over to the railings, sliding about on the steel posts like slapstick comedy performers until they gave up and swooped down to the ocean, suddenly transformed into graceful black and white darts.

Taking a turn for the better

 Cromer has its nice bits and this is the view back up the pier to the Cliftonville hotel and the church behind.

Nice, Cromer

After the peir and snapping holiday pics, I headed off up the ramp which leads to the town, thinking that it would be nice to do a circular run along the clifftops instead of trudging through the sand on the way back.  I was so glad I did because the higher elevation meant I was met with this view... and this doesn't portray half of the RED that was going on.

Here comes the sun

In case you need another look

 My first thought to myself was, "I'll never miss another morning run again because I'm being too whingey and moaney and can't be bothered".

My follow up thought was, "If I'd got up at 5:30 and got back to the hotel in time for the pancake breakfast I had promised myself, I would've missed this".

White toast and coffee seems a small price to pay for this view and an extra hour in bed.

Footnote, I was only 6 minutes late for my morning meeting.
Afterthought: Why do golf clubs get in the way of a good circular route?  Ho Hum, 3 more miles of soft sand.

When Shit Comes up with a Really Nice Thing

24 months ago I asked a friend if I could get some poo from her horse - to put on my plants in the Mead.

She said she couldn't guarantee it would be from her horse - the rather royally named William - but probably from a mixture of fine Wiltshire ponies.

The result was one of the most enjoyable after-work evenings of my adult life culminating in a bare back ride on William which left me happy as a 5 year old for days and a bag of steaming shit carried home in a bag in the back of the vanu which didn't even spill or leak, much to my relief.

Sadly William is no longer with us but on Sunday we decided to pay him the homage of using some of his poo on the newly laid lawn and some of the plants we'd planted in the garden including TSK's plum tree that's about to bear its first fruit and could do with a nutritional boost.

TSK peered into the bag first and summoned me quietly. There were baby mice in the bag. Tiny, blinky baby mice.

I rushed carefully through the pile of brambles to look but they were long gone, hidden in the now-perfect flaky manure but as I held the edge of the bag, a sweet, dun brown mammy mouse with wide, staring chestnut eyes stood on the edge of the bag. Her tiny claws held the edge of the bag like the hands of a tree frog cling to a stem. She thrust her soft gossamer whiskers forward in the summer breeze to investigate our presence and observed us like she'd never seen a human before.

We stared back at her like we'd never been so close to nature in all our lives.

We were in her house (not the other way around for once) so we left her to her shit and declared that William's poo would get another year to rot down and quite likely go up for sale with the house and the rest of the garden.