Cycled from Dusk into Twighlight (21st May 2010)
Rode towards Tundry Pond via Basingstoke Canal, just as the Sun was setting. Looked amazing as it set above rolling fields bordered by rustling trees and singing birds. Sun was fully below the horizon as I headed back. Saw a deer, possibly a fox and several bats along the way.
Took the roads through Crookham Village, turning left to Crookham Wharf. A few cars had their headlights on.
Realised this was the wrong rode to reach Tundry Pond, so headed back to the village.
Towards Barley Mow, then Turn Left
Cycled through the village and out the other side, along what turned out to be quite a long route. Got to the triangular junction on the way to the Barley Mow. Turned left here, instead of my usual straight on. Had an inkling that left took me back towards the canal, on a long road to a canal bridge near Tundry Pond.
This road was longer than I thought. To the left there was an open field, previously grazed by Fresian cows. Looked like the archetypal illustrated packaging for milk or possibly butter. On the other side, a little further along, saw a smallish, reddish, four-legged creature moving slightly in a field. Could only think it was a fox.
This road has a long, gentle climb which starts at the triangle and seems to go on for ages. Eventually it levels out, then becomes a gentle downhill. Popps up a final time to reach the top of the bridge. It was the one I had expected to reach, where Dad and I had cycled to last weekend.
“Now, who would live in a house like this?”
Light was fading quite markedly but I could just about see the big manor house on the hill. This looks out over some large private fields towards the pond. So I knew I as in the right loop of the canal.
Opposite the bridge is a storybook dream house. Generously sized but traditionally domestic rural architecture, with a couple of horses grazing behind in a small pasture with a larger paddock and another grassy area beyond.
I wonder what people do to afford such a place? Pretty sure it was built since I’ve been living here. Maybe even during the past decade.
A youngish couple were sat on a bench looking across the canal towards the sunset. Were they the occupants of the house? Had they build the bench? They were on foot and it was dark, so I reckon so.
Very soon I arrived at the bridge to Tundry Pond. Rode over it and hauled my bike over the style. Freewheeled down the track to the pond.
Quickly noticed a pair of tents and some fishing stools. Then noticed a little, squareish, wooden dingy being awkwardly paddled a little way out into the water. Seem to recall some signs that it’s for private fishing only, so these may have been residents or guests.
Stayed for a short while to watch the purple sky and white swans. Then noticed a hoarde of small, hovering flies were gradually lowering towards me, like planes in a stacking pattern waiting to land at an airport. Swatted at them a couple of times but they were determined to get near my face, so I decided to head home.
Insects are one thing I often forget about Summer and the great outdoors. Of course, they are an essential tier to the food cycle and whatnot. But still…could they maybe try to be less annoying about it?
Got an acute cramp in my left foot as I started pedalling up the narrow track. Last experienced this some months ago, not sure what the cause or cure is. Eventually it went away by itself and stayed away. Something to do with a nerve?
The couple were still near their bench, now standing at the edge of the canal. They had picked some plain white flowers from a nearby hedge and were sharing them. Quite a touching scene to cycle past.
A little further along, the Heron was by the bridge at the end of the long road. It flew up, somewhat ungainly, like a large helicopter taking off. To avoid flying all the way up over the tress, it settled for loping along the canal. In the direction I was heading.
At least 3 other times it took off as I approached. Maybe it doesn’t mind. Maybe the intelligence of a Heron is too low (or the shyness too high?) to fly a bit higher and go over me, back the way I had been.
My bicycle needed oiling and the transmission was starting to make a faint but continouos sound, halfway between a squeak and a whine. As the sun had now set I thought I saw some very fast, black shapes flitting across in front of me.
Was I attracting bats?!
At one point something brushed past the back of my hair, startling me. As if it were a horror movie! This incident may have been a large moth because subsequent bat sightings were far more aware and agile in turning away from my path.
Had a couple of pretty gruelling weeks at work. Along with the idea to go for an evening cycle, my decision to head straight home on Friday was pretty simple.
Laughter, shrieking and Hallowe’en-style chase sounds were coming from a field behind another picture-postcard house. Either a family, a slumber party with chaperones or a get-together of neighbours from the Zebon Copse area are my suspicions.
Reminded me of the activity and excitement from my junior school days. Also, to a lesser extent, senior school and 6th form. Relatively carefree, just as we’re always told but unable to believe at that age.
Much nearer to home and another party was getting into full swing. Was just down the road from me and was taking place outside, in the large garden of a bungalow at the end of a road. Seemed like a smaller gathering of young adults from the pitch of the voices. But still there was shrieking and laughter’I miss that.
Home for a Late Dinner
It was about 10pm when I got home. There was still plenty of light to see in the open but a few places of the towpath had been very dark. Slight differences in colour and the sound of my wheels on the worn surface guided me along the towpath.
Had dinner near quarter past ten, thoroughly glad I’d gone out. Albeit by myself.