Bradgate Park to Beacon Hill and back via Ulverscroft Priory

With Harry. Weather a bit grey to begin with, fine drizzle, then muggy, then cleared. Great views but hazy. Muddy in woodland. Just over 10 miles (with our detour!) Just over 1000 feet of climbing - not all at once.



I hope it's crystalline in clarity next time I do this walk!



We parked at Bradgate Park in Newtown Linford, and after a kick-start cup of coffee, went through the main gate to the drive, took a path immediately to the left and headed up hill towards Tyburn Copse. From the right hand side of this copse the obelisk monument to the dead of the two World Wars is visible directly north.

Onward and upward to the memorial obelisk - a hazy, misty start to the walk.

Misty landscape behind Harry

And more mist behind 'big boots'!

We followed the path to the right of the copse and up to Old John, the tankard-shaped 18th century folly at the highest point of the park.

Scaling the heights

There's a toposcope here which claims views as far as Nottingham Castle and Burrough Hill. On a clear day . . .

We left Old John and walked downhill to the north-west corner of the park.

Downhill from Old John

We continued past the toilets, downhill and through the car park, to a road junction. We took Benscliffe Road for a couple of hundred yards, before turning right along a footpath waymarked 'Leicestershire Round'. This goes downhill through Rough Hill Wood, then continues on to a magnificent golf course. The path is clearly marked as it crosses several fairways.

A fine crop of crab apples

The sweep of the greensward

I hope the ducks manage to dodge the golf balls

After the golf course, the path is quite clear as it goes over a field and on to a track. The track joins a road where we turned right and walked downhill toward Woodhouse Eaves.

There are two possible routes from here - I think we chose the one where it's easier to wander off track.



We took the first footpath off to the left. It leads up and along the edge of two fields, before cutting diagonally across a grassy meadow. By one of the hedges I spotted my first serious blackberry pickers of the season. The path comes out at a road and this is where we made our unintended diversion. I blame lack of looking at the map, and being distracted by an obvious gate and continuation of the path just opposite.



We visited the Broombriggs Farm trail, which is well supplied with benches and decent views to the east - and cattle.

Wot? No kitchen sink? Snack break at Broombriggs.

We returned to the entrance and turned along the road (left this time). At the T-junction with beacon Road we crossed the road and a track to join the wide path which leads gradually to the summit.

Trig point on Beacon Hill - great views all round

Another peak conquered

forget the car park 100 yards down hill!

Radcliffe power station in the distance?

Cattle grazing near the summit

Blooming heather adds to the moorland feeling

We went downhill to the car park, and turned right, past the toilet block. The gravelled path forks left and heads downhill through the woods. When we reached a rusty charcoal burner

we walked round behind it and took a narrow short path which comes out at a crossroads.



We crossed over and took the road towards Copt Oak. A few too many cars, but it's a short distance. After 300 hundred yards we turned into a lane just before a wood. There's a remote-operated gate for cars, but a path for walkers at the edge.

When the wooded area ends, the path forks off to the right and heads south-west along the edge of several fields. When we reached Ulverscroft Lodge Farm, we turned left along the path which joins a drive leading past Ulverscroft Pond to the remains of Ulverscroft Priory, with its moat and fishponds.







The drive continues until it reaches a road junction. Here we crossed over into Ulverscroft Lane. This was pleasant walking, as it is quiet and shaded by trees. Continue past the wonderfully named Polly Botts Lane.







After around three-quarters of a mile, there is a footpath sign for Newtown Linford. The path leaves the road on the right hand side, then you take the left hand fork across a field just after a stile. It was very muddy in places, especially through the woods, but easy to follow.



The only slightly tricky part, is just after you pass a ruined building to the left. Here you have to turn left and very soon go over a footbridge then head for Newtown Linford which can be seen ahead. This is an exceptionally attractive, well-kept village. We walked through, past the pubs and back to Bradgate Park and a large pot of tea with cake.







Thanks to James Rhodes and Walking Britain for info about this walk

14 Months Without a Car

We have been without a car since last December. The "anniversary" of this date was so unremarkable, that it came and went unnoticed. But I've had some requests to post a 1-year report about what it has been like, which made me realise it's already been longer than that. I want to make it clear that being without a car is not a political statement for us and is not wrapped up in our sense of identity. For that reason I do not use words such as "car-free" or "car-light," or any of the related terminology. We simply do not have a car, for the time being.





Living on the border of Somerville and Cambridge, MA, we are lucky to be in a location that happens to be convenient for getting around the Boston Metro area by bike. Before moving here 4 years ago, we lived in rural Northern New England - where we did a great deal of driving and each had a substantial vehicle with off-road and hauling capacity. As soon as we moved to Boston, we sold the larger of the two, because it was clear that keeping both was impractical. The Co-Habitant's car was sold, and mine was to become the shared car. However, what happened instead is that I simply stopped driving at that point entirely, preferring to get around on foot and via public transportation. When later I started riding a bike, that became my main mode of transport. I have not been behind the wheel of a motor vehicle since late 2007, and I even let my driver's license lapse for some time. But I still co-owned our shared car, and rode in it as passenger.





We used the shared car mainly to travel out of town and for trips that involved transporting or purchasing bulky items. The majority of everyday transportation we did by bike, simply because both of us found it more convenient. When the car broke down in late November , we realised that we did not really feel like getting it fixed and preferred to make do without it instead. So that is what we did.





The winter of - was a brutal one, and interestingly getting through it was what cemented our decision. It snowed so much and so frequently, that we often relied on resources close to home - which made us realise that it is possible. If there was too much snow on the roads to cycle, there was a grocery store and pharmacy within walking distance. They may not be our preferred grocery store and pharmacy, but nonetheless they are there for us to simply walk to in case we needed milk at 10pm in a snowstorm. Further afield there are coffee shops, restaurants, a post office, and other destinations that could be reached on foot. The Co-Habitant could evenwalk to work if really necessary, though he had no problem cycling through snow. I could also walk or take public transportation.If anything, we felt that we had it easier that winter than drivers - who constantly complained about having to dig out and defrost their cars, and about the horrible driving conditions. A bike and a pair of winter boots require much less maintenance.






Once that winter was over, everything else was a piece of cake. Owning a car in Boston now seemed like a burden and inconvenience. How did we ever manage with all those fees and maintenance responsibilities? Not owning a car was so much easier, not to mention that we now magically had more money. And that's really all there was to it, as far as everyday stuff was concerned.






That is not to say that we never used a car. We still occasionally needed to travel to remote out of town locations and to transport bulky items. And, ironically, I occasionally had to transport bikes in various states of assembly for Lovely Bicyclerelated projects. But the key word here is "occasionally." Once we got the hang of zipcar and car rental, using these services in addition to the occasional taxi proved to be sufficient for us to not feel that we needed to actually own a car. The main limitation of zipcar, is that you cannot always get one on the spot, and we tend to do things spontaneously rather than plan everything out carefully. But over time we got better at planning and also became more savvy/psychic about zipcar rental. After a couple of initial glitches, it has mostly been okay. I even moved into my art studio with the help of a zipcar pickup truck, which went very well with fairly minimal planning.






Our only frustration so far has been with the public transportation system. Without exaggeration, the T (subway) has gotten stuck between stations most of the times I've taken it over the past year, making me late for appointments. The buses are habitually late by as much as 20 minutes, to the point that the bus timetable is not meaningful. The buses are also very full and taking fragile items on board is not practical. The commuter rail runs infrequently and not at the times we seem to need it, so that going somewhere via commuter rail can mean having to spend an entire day at the destination instead of the 1.5 hours we need to spend there. Also, many of the commuter rail stops are not handicap-accessible - which also means not bike-friendly, since they have these super long and narrow staircases leading down to the platform from overpasses. Whenever I criticise the MBTA, inevitably someone gets angry, as if public transportation is some holy thing no matter how good or bad it is and I should be thankful for it. But with all due respect, having used public transportation successfully in cities where it works, the MBTA is a disgrace in comparison. I cannot pretend to be thankful for the frustration and wasted time it causes me nearly every time I attempt to use it, and I am certain that it is the reason why more people in the greater Boston area do not feel comfortable without a car.






MBTA frustrations aside, we did manage to go on a 2-week vacation via bike plus commuter rail over the summer, and it was a lot more fun than renting a car would have been. No traffic jams, no gas station stops, no looking for parking - just the freedom of bikes. We brought all the stuff we would normally have taken with us too, including two weeks worth of clothing, books, laptops, and basic camera equipment. It's amazing how much you can stuff into heavy-duty bicycle luggage if you try.






When we first discussed the idea of giving up the car, it was important for both of us not to feel as if being without it would be a struggle, or would limit our freedom. And over a year later, I can say that at no point did we feel that way. At this stage of our lives not having a car gives us more freedom, not less. We do not miss the responsibilities and the spendings that come with owning, parking, fueling and maintaining a vehicle in the Boston Metro area. We also simply never talk about it anymore. We neither lament our carless state, nor do we congratulate ourselves for it; it's just become one less issue to worry about.





By no means is this narrative intended to be an "if I can do it, you can!" sort of thing. Our circumstances happen to be conducive to getting along without a car, but others' circumstances might not be. There is also no question in my mind that at some point in the future we will have a car again, and I will even drive it - since my ideal place to live is in the countryside in the middle of nowhere. In the end, it's not about fixating on the car as an object - be it an object of desire or an object of evil - but about deciding what works best for improving your quality of life. Car ownership for its own sake has become such a given, that it may simply not occur to some people that there are circumstances under which they might be better off (i.e. waste less time, be in a better mood, have more disposable income, feel better) without a private vehicle. When I lived in Vienna, I once asked an elderly socialite - the wife of a wealthy politician - whether she and her husband owned a car. She cringed and fanned herself. "Goodness no dear, sitting in traffic is so undignified! I take the trolley and I love to walk. For me, these are life's luxuries." The concept of luxury is, after all, relative.

A Cruel Transition

Particularly in New England, November has always struck me as a cruel month. At the beginning, the fiery foliage and the azure skies carry over from October.



The crisp, but still warm air is charged with just the right amount of electricity to gently stir our emotions. And we are lulledinto a state of self-willed denial that soon it will all be yanked away from us in one fell swoop - replaced with desolate landscapes, freezing temperatures and perilous road conditions... for the next 4 months.



As far as cycling goes, I must admit the memories ofhow difficult last winter was fill me with dread. I am trying not to panic, but to be prepared instead. And part of that is just being mentally prepared for what's to come.



My biggest disappointment last winter was discovering that any kind of sporty cycling was out of the question after temperatures dropped below freezing, because I had trouble breathing at speeds over 10-12 mph. The science of that is still a mystery to me, especially since I can cross-country ski in the winter without experiencing the same problem. And I know that other cyclists havetroublewith this as well - it might just be a genetic difference in how our lungs are structured, whereby for some it is a problem and for others not. This year I will try some tricks that have been suggested to deal with the breathing issue, but if it doesn't work I am prepared to accept things as they are and hang up my roadbikes until spring. Or so I tell myself.



But as far as transportation cycling goes, I do not anticipate any great changes in my routine. Last winter I was able to get anywhere I needed to go on my Pashley, taking it slowly and enjoying its stability and winter-proofness (wide tires, internally geared hub, full chaincase). This winter I am looking forward to seeing how the Gazelle and Bella Ciao perform in comparison. Most likely I will ride the Gazelle for local trips, and the Bella Ciao (after I get a rack and lights for it) for more hilly, long-distance trips. And the rest of my bicycles will be put away, including my custom mixte - which I just cannot bring myself to ride in the winter, yet.



But all this is still in the future. For now November has been good, and the increasingly desolate landscape has a romantic charm to it that I hope it will retain for at least another few weeks. It's a cruel transition, but a trusty bicycle is a good ally to have.

Hairy Beastie

Time to brush the horses. First I did the bay mare, Nita, then on to the old paint, Sunny. But Nita really likes to be brushed and tells me she wants more by shoving her nose in against Sunny. But Sunny is the worst of my Hairy Beasties so he gets the most. The hair comes off in swirls that almost look like big hairy worms. then it is all in a pile at his feet. Hate to say it but I know I will have to do it all over in a day or so.

Welding and Brazing: a Visual

When I wrote about fillet brazing (a lugless form of brazing) earlier, some wanted to know what was the difference between that process and welding. The quick and simplified answer is like this: welding involves heating up and joining two pieces of metal to one another directly; brazing involves using another material (one with a lower melting point) to join them, sort of like a hot glue. Last week I photographed an unpainted frame made for Josh of Bike Safe Boston that shows the two methods alongside.






Here is a shot of the underside of the frame, by the bottom bracket area. On the right is a welded kickstand plate, and next to it on the left are two little braze-ons that are (I think) cable guides. Notice the pools of golden liquid (melted brass) that surround the braze-ons, but not the welded plate. Instead, the welded plate and the chainstays it is attached to are a sort of rainbow colour, from the weld pool that is formed when joining the two pieces.






Similarly, here you can see that the seat cluster joint is welded (weld pool rainbow), but the little rack attachment point on the chainstay is brazed on (brassy border).






My description is simplistic and leaves a great deal out, but it's an easy visual for a layperson to identify brazing vs welding on a "raw" or unpainted frame. I love the colourful look the juxtaposition of both techniques creates on this one - built by Ted Wojcik and designed by DBC City Bikes. More pictures here.

The Body Speaks Bike

Those who've spoken more than one language over the course of their life will sometimes notice a curious phenomenon: They will remember events and conversations from their past not in the original language, but in the language that is currently dominant for them. It is as if our mind auto-translates the dialogue. I will remember conversations in English that couldn't have possibly happened in English. And then I must struggle to reconstruct the real dialogue, the actual words used, in order for my mind let go of the auto-translate and restore the "correct" memory. It's just one of those weird, fascinating, disturbing things that the human brain does. And it isn't limited to language.




Last weekend I went berry picking at a nearby farm. Blackberries are in season now, and with a small green basket I headed out to the rows of bushes. Pulling the plump bubbly things off the prickly branches in the afternoon sun, I remembered the last time I'd done this: It was in my 20s and I lived in England. Our small university town was surrounded by miles and miles of meadows, a riverside path winding through them. I remembered in vivid detail cycling through the meadows in the exquisite afternoon light and stopping to pick blackberries along the way. Sometimes I'd be alone, other times with my friend. In summer the blackberries were everywhere and, excited by this discovery, we gorged on them shamelessly - staining our clothing in the process, drunk on the countryside smells and the sheer beauty of our surroundings. In my mind's eye Iseeit all so clearly: The river. The farm gates. Climbing over nettles to get to the berries. And, of course, riding my bike along the path. Except, wait... rewind. I could not have been on a bike. I did not own a bike at the time; I did not cycle when I lived in England.




And so there I stood now, dismantling this incredibly real-seeming memory of myself riding a rusty 3-speed through the East Anglia countryside. And its companion memory of riding together with my friend - both of us astride such machines, summer dresses fluttering in the breeze. In fact we did not cycle side by side. We did not dismount our bikes and toss them onto the grass upon spotting the berries. I suppose we must have walked. But the visceral recollection of walking is vague, buried somewhere in there like the true dialogue of those auto-translated conversations I struggle to remember in their original language. I guess my body speaks bike now.

Ice Piles at Whitecaps Bay

Even with last week's warm temperatures, we still have some really awesome piles of ice built up along the Grand Portage shoreline. This photo was taken the evening of February 26th. Incredibly calm conditions that evening made for a surreal experience of exploring and photographing these ice piles. The intense blue color of the ice was breathtaking. Temperatures are forecast to be a little cooler for the next week, so this ice should hang around for a while yet!