Quiet Woods

Tom’s been laid low the last week, and he’s had some quiet days with plenty of honey and lemon and aspirin. A good time for a trip to the woods: a place where talking is positively discouraged. With late afternoon sun calling we took an easy amble around Firestone Copse and said very little.

Layers of sound build the farther you walk without talking: A few birds, then your step scuffing sandy ground, or snapping twigs on untrod paths. Farther on, more birds with different rhythms, persistent or tuneful. Then the almost-groan of trunks or low beams as a gust blows through. Climb one of the gnarled trees by the estuary and listen to how the wind changes in its boughs. Or walk below the pines and listen to the silver-tip icy sound of the wind through their needles.

If you are quiet for long enough, and remember to look up, you might hear leaves in top branches brushing against each other, or a skittering sound against bark. The red squirrels leap so confidently across the canopy, reckless and graceful. happy to stop and stare from a safe height.

Take stock on a sturdy root, and stop for a snack. (I recommend coffee and popcorn cookies) and sit in companionable quiet while the sounds wrap around you. And then go home and read this quote. Heck, read the whole book.

Ride Round The Block

Nothing beats coming home from a hectic day at work and heading straight back out the door for some fresh air time. A single hour outside sorts my head out, especially with all of this just round the corner.

Whist I have an easy two-wheeled pootle, Tom runs hard and takes shortcuts across the fields.

Give me two wheels, salty air, and this guy to share it with and I’m forever happy.

100k on a Sunny Day

Tom and I had some new additions to Team Prust this year, for our usual spin around the Island (previously, and previously again). We joined the other 2000 riders for a day of perfect sunshine, dry roads, and spinning spokes. Riders arrive in their droves from the mainland to join in this relaxed cycling allsorts ride, and it’s always a treat to hear unfamiliar visitors raving about the beautiful and varied Island roads.

Our North coast route took us up and down (and up again) through damp shady woodland, before rounding the corner to a fabulous view of St Helen’s Bay, and a flat spin along Bembridge Harbour. After topping up on tea and cake we headed through the narrow lanes beyond Brading and out on to the South coast road above Ventnor. Bicycles littered the road at the Whitwell pit stop, where we grinned at the drivers in their hot tin boxes. A long steady climb up to St Catherine’s Point, a steep descent down to the breadbasket of Atherfield, and out on to the coast above Compton. Riders less fearful of a puncture than I took the gravelly trainline path past the estuary to Yarmouth, before the final eastward push back to Cowes, with the wind at their backs. We didn’t escape the puncture fate, and the four of us spread out at our different paces. But regardless of how closely your team sticks together, on this ride you’re rarely out of sight of another friendly rider.

With events like this, and next week’s Walk the Wight, we delight in showing off this fabulous dot in the Solent. I only wish every day the bikes would outnumber the cars so dramatically.

Easy Rolling

The sun has been out all weekend and I’ve been in the saddle making the most of it. I love cycling my local roads; so familiar that the route takes shape by itself, and always includes a decent coffee stop along the way. I’ve finally succumbed to Strava and, with it, my competitive streak. I’ve been pedalling hard, racking up the miles and some speedy stretches. But I’m sure the novelty will soon wear off. I’ll be back to my natural state of pootling and enjoying life in the hedgerow before too long. Regardless whether you’re fast or slow, the main thing is to be out on the open road!

A Week Unplugged

We arrived at our clifftop barn in the late afternoon sunshine, took in the sweeping views, had a cup of tea and raced down to the beach (after all, in Cornwall in Spring, who knows when you’ll next see the sun?!)

We took a deep breath and enjoyed the last light. Perfectly peaceful, and we’d only been there two hours. Our open plan barn conversion had all one requires for a proper country retreat, including no phone reception. We took one look at the TV operating instructions and gladly decided we’d be better off without. So, without the usual time-traps, our days fell in to an easy pattern of lazy mornings, with coffee in bed looking out across the Atlantic, discussing how we should make the most of the great outdoors.

We had wind and rain, but it only added to the adventure. I could happily spend much more of my life unplugged from the everyday distractions that stop me doing my favourite thing: playing around in the fresh air.