Happy 9 Month Anniversary!

After passing my test last October I was determined to get a car, I had money set aside and I knew the foray into a new purchasing experience would be fun, or at least challenging. To be frank, it was more or less terrifying. I should have known that the owner of a Peugot 106 that had grown an exhaust the size of a prison arsehole wasn't my perfect car when he mentioned it was 'sure to impress the ladies when you're cruising past Fattie's on a Saturday night'. I definitely shouldn't have mentioned my theory about the relationship between loud cars and small penises, at least not while sitting in the car.

I spent many hours trawling Gumtree and eBay, making new friends and laughing uncontrollably at some of the choice descriptions that flitted across my screen. Eventually I made contact with a Spanish chap who was selling his ten-year-old Astra for a decent price. He had a cool name and I met him in Lidl car park after work and took the car for a test drive in the dark. Instantly I couldn't put the car into reverse. Being a few months since my test and not a single mile driven I was somewhat nervous, I had no idea what to be feeling for but I was just gonna wing it. Once out of the car park everything went quite smoothly and I'm sure I didn't hear any bangs or clunks, I was very happy, and he was offering to agree to a price that day! After a short deliberation I decided to bite the bullet and just a few weeks later I was the proud owner of a beautiful blue Astra.

We went to Lunan Bay. I drove all over the place getting used to how different it was to the car I learnt in. Eventually I found I didn't think anything of jumping in the car and going exploring, and frequently I would get home from work and just want to drive. So across the Tay I went and sat, enjoying the lights and the view looking back home.

After only a week in my possession we set out on our first long journey together down to High Houses near Ireby in Cumbria, a decent long trip that took me through Glasgow and Carlisle before venturing out into country roads and up dirt tracks. The weather was predictably horrendous but, unfazed, I got used to torrential rain on the motorway, found the ins and outs of the radio, heating and picnicking in the car!

Considering the state of the weather (monsoon level downpours) I was quite proud of our teamwork and just how comfortable my four hour journey south was. The return trip was even less eventful although I feel the suspension may have at this point begun to protest the rough tracks of farmland Cumbria.

After Christmas I took advantage of my time off and the bad weather to explore Glenshee. Taking the scenic (read longer) route up I charged along some fantastic country roads, pausing to enjoy the gorgeous and desolate countryside that can be found just North of Dundee. Finding the resort was surprisingly easy and to my joy I purchased a dirt-cheap lift-pass and exhausted myself on new pistes and fairly good snow. As darkness began to fall I set off for home. My first excursion on pitch-black country roads was not necessarily and enjoyable one: I didn't know the roads and I  constantly felt like I was travelling too slow, the anger building in the cars behind me causing several grumpy outbursts aimed completely at my lack of experience. Home safe, car parked, I sat behind the wheel a little longer, I opened the window to let a little tension out and laughed somewhat hysterically at the challenge I had stumbled upon and cruised through, albeit profanity-laden.

While Edward... ahem, yes, myself and a few work colleagues deemed that a suitable name. While my faithful steed continued to do shopping duties and visits to St Andrews, another long trip was planned and soon we set of for Dalbeattie. This time our group numbered three, Mariel playing DJ and map reader, a fantastic combination if a Dundonian club would ever see one. We travelled South with few issues except the price of motorway service coffees. Extortion! Madness! And following some more exciting excursions through flood water and complicated one-way systems we toasted our success with yet more over-priced coffee.

My second trip out to Glenshee left me bewildered and heading for Perth but it was worth it's weight in petrol (just a tenner!) The day was incredible, horrendous weather and powder like porridge but when the slope steepened the feeling of leaning in, smoothing the board left and right, and slashing just made my whole winter. The fact I had only driven an hour and spent well under fifty quid made the fact that I was shredding all the sweeter. The sun brightened as it threatened to drop over the horizon and I grab a few sweet shots, only to pull out of my craterous layby and hear a thundering scrape come from the car... 

'Ah shit! What have I done?! 

Wait, is that a fighter jet? Thank god!'

Cars cost money though, and with the suspension clunks and the junkies who liberated my favourite pair of gloves the total cost for a ten-year-old Astra is looking closer to a grand than I had hoped.

While the cost may be rising, without Edward I would not have had the fantastic and exciting experiences of driving south for Christmas (and bringing back all the left-over food), joining my sister and the Doonham Derby Dolls in the Spiegeltent for a fantastic, funky and wheely good night, snowboarded in Scotland for the first time and worn out at least two pens describing my best drives so far!

My hope is that he comes out of the garage much healthier than my wallet and continues to join me on some fantastic explorations.

Get yourself a car, and go explore, you never know what's just around the corner.

Wormit and Beyond

Following my previous jaunt out to Links Wood with just my film camera, I took the little digital out to capture my exploration. Once again the weather played along nicely.

I do like my fish-eye

And I do like the Tay Bridge. Especially when the tide is low.

Still life beneath the bridge.

It's good to capture this from the opposite end of the bridge

Crazy angles makes me smile

Low tide, big skies.

The path into the wood starts on old tarmac, the trees leaning over, as you climb the short hill you reach doorways of vegetation that open out onto the next section, a little different and steadily more secluded.

The moss is taking the road back over. Its slick surface all the more exciting.

In the midst of another 'doorway'.

The next section is covered with pine needles and the dense 'green' smell fills my nostrils.

Eventually the moss has overthrown the tarmac. Steadily the road is replaced by dirt.

The entry into the single-track. Pleasure awaits the explorer.

Above the quarry you wind between trees, the wind carrying the noise of birds into the woods.

Rusted buckets catch my eye.

My obsession with rust continues.

Decaying brambles fascinate me too.

A lonely tyre, cracking in the sun,

Lunch, and a view to fit.

Wormit Why Thank You!

A short while ago I visited you out of impulse to discover you had some wonderful sights to see...

You gave me architecture beyond the industrial brutality of Dundee...

And you gave me my favourite shot of it too.

The details of your parks excite my photographer's organ...

And you made me want to buy my own little castle.

You fed my rust obsession...

And made me want all streets to look like this.

You took me far from Dundee.

Dundee was certainly given a different shine from the other side of the Tay.

Today's journey was again borne almost out of whim. My less than favourable stress levels and resultant chaotic episodes necessitated a return to my old excercising self in order to quell the manic level of RLA, or Real-Life-Anxiety that I presumed was the basis for my desire to drink and perpetuate my less than ameniable attitude to myself and life in general.

My sense of exploration looked out of my kitchen window and across the Tay Bridge. Wormit shall be my destination and beyond that, I have heard rumours of pastoral and woodland, meandering trails seen from the train as you are swiftly swept between the big cities of Scotland.

A late start to the day seemed to have scuppered my chances but following an afternoon coffee I threw on my shorts grabbed a bag and leapt into the road. Instantly I was excited to be back on a proper (ish) ride, running out of Perth Rd I cut right, onto the little trail that I thought remained beside Grouchos, there's nothing left of it and by misjudging the hedge-gap at the end I ensured it was a proper ride.

Colliding with the fence allowed the big cog up front to make itself known on the back of my calf. Embarrassing injury aside I cranked onwards up the lift onto the bridge, my trackstand skills pitifully out of practise.

Once upon the bridge I drew in the view, I quickly recognised the suffering of returning from long exercise-free periods, this was good, I knew I could push on through it and relish in my smoke-free lungs. I cruised through Wormit, enjoying the sites I'd first seen, noticing new ones but willing myself to keep the rhythm up until I had made good distance. Passing out of Wormit I found myself spotting farms and the tracks that wound up the hills around them, all I had to do was find my way up them and the route down would sort itself out.

Continuing along the main road I recognised some of what I had seen from the train and shot out in that direction before getting distracted by a cosy, moss covered road heading up a hill I had espied before.

Instantly I felt enclosed by the countryside, the noise of the A92 dulled and the comforting green mass of nature cushioned my senses. A short and simple climb was topped by the gorgeous Sandford House, the grand window causing an exclamation to escape my lips. Stopping for a drink and to peruse the view I was approached by one of the residents who very kindly pointed out the path to Gauldry, a discreet route that would take me over the hill itself, I thanked her, somewhat bemused by her friendliness.

As I grabbed a photo of the window that had caught my eye on the way up I was approached by the owner of Sandford House itself, doing a little afternoon gardening. She told a short history and the plans for creating self-catered holiday homes, take note, it's certainly a gorgeous place to stay. She also mentioned that the area I had seen from the train had a good network of paths, bloody excellent news! I decided to head for my initial goal and save the Gauldy route for another day, unsure of its difficulty and distance I had photo opportunities on my mind

With the mentality I had inhabited for the past few weeks I had completely forgotten about the places where strangers say hello as they pass. Being on the bike changed that; most cyclists greet each other anyway but being approached with smiles and not scowls was something that had thrown me into confusion for a good minute or so. It felt different out here and I was so happy for that.

Onwards! I pushed off and sped down the slick driveway, throwing a couple of sketchy skids into the mix as the grin grew across my face. I popped out onto the road, zipped past the Moffat and Williamson bus garage and was instantly atop more mossy tarmac, the old main road forging a path for me towards the woods. Once more nature encroached upon the old work of industrious mankind, I wasn't going to be exploring abandoned industries today though. What I found instead was a gorgeous bit of singletrack, overgrown, rooty and just a little bit technical, it was the perfect warm up for my rusty skills. What's more, it appeared to be just a small section of a larger network. My exclamations grew into the double digits as I rode out into an opening, this lake-view revealed beneath me.

Excuse the phone quality. Classy film photos coming soon.

A quick drink, and relax before I was back on my way. Taking the downhill path back the way I came was the most fun I have had in so many months it is hard to describe. I missed almost every smooth line, I almost threw myself off the bike on the only jump and I barely pumped a depression. It did not matter a jot because just being there, for those sixty or ninety seconds, on the edge of control and flashing past trees I forgot everything, absolutely everything that bothered me since the last time I lost myself to the two-wheeled demon. This is one reason why I love cycling.

I tested the slickness of mossy tarmac. Verdict - I do enjoy a good drift on a bike, keeps the heart racing!

I almost achieved my goal of riding across the Tay Road Bridge no-handed, a goal I only realised today. Old-Man-Finger-Dancing was definitely surplus to requirements, and probably very embarassing.

Yup. I totally took that while cycling...

The final climb home stung the thighs but now I'm here I couldn't be happier.

Crank On and Enjoy Life.


Next time on Crank Chronicles... My bike got stolen... again.

Denise

14th March 2013 - A Thursday

I open my eyes to view the beauty that is dust sparkling in sunlight, a ray formed between my blind and the windowsill. The easterly orientation of the window lets me know that it is morning. My mind turns to today's tasks, no doubt something academic, what else?

As I un-fold myself upright my bookshelf of developed negatives passes through my periphery on my way to the bathroom. A checklist of photo ideas scrolls past my eyes as I note the sunshine and distinct lack of clouds as I look west. Flushing the toilet I turn on the shower and wish the water would fill my head with essays. All I'm thinking about is that my trusty SLR is too temperamental to use anymore...

Today's goal has been realised.

Belt buckled, laces tied, jacket zipped, door locked - I step energetically forth into the chill sunlight and head townwards.

Full of trepidatious anticipation I push open the door, the blue and yellow logo passing through my periphery. Down the alley lined with vacuum cleaners, towards the forest of musical instruments. My eyes are focussed behind the glass. One, two, three, camera bodies, blind and decapitated without their lenses.

My enquiries leave me disheartened, not a single lens in the shop that would mate with these bodies, nor one at home. I go to leave and search out the other Pawnlands, but wait! I hear the call and return to the desk where she awaits me.

As my eyes follow every curve I know I've seen her before, dreamt about her, longed to feel her tender grip, the sweet sound of her release...

'Denise...' I whisper ecstatically under my breath.

'Sorry?' The assistant looks at me out of the corner of her eye.

'...uh, nothing.'

Shit, they'd have a field day if they knew I already had a name for her... Denise Sloane Lolita-Reagan, our beautiful partnership has begun...

_________________________________________________________________________________

And now just a week short of our Quarter-Year Anniversary I'm going to re-cap some of our greatest moments.

March

I bought her a lens-cap, gotta keep those eyes pretty.

Dundee has some real contrast to it.

She went drinking with me.

Old signage, always pretty.

How quaint, this spray can is in love.

Magdalen Green. Finally some sun. I like the bandstand, you'll see.

April

Also got her a screen protector - safe-screen is fun screen.

All things placed in our streets should be this pretty.

I always think the night adds something to the character of a city.

Alien Grass. It's a potent illuminator.

I like that it's slightly dutch-angle, adds to the horror. Is that a person on the roof?

Phwoar! How's that for April showers!?

Our memories of WWII crumble like dragon's teeth, soon just another grain of sand.

A lonely Tentsmuir resident. Light rain is refreshing on a bike ride.

The view from my bedroom. The flare on the right hand side was a full moon and I spent hours trying to get different shots.

  

Some light sunbathing, pretending to be lost in Tentsmuir

Exercising my manly fire-making expertise. Warming beer like a numpty though.

May

Introduced her to Mr Man Frotto, sturdy chap, bit on the heavy side though. They got on like a chain and anchor, swimmingly.

It can be blue in Dundee sometimes. (Maybe I should remember to change my white balance after shooting long exposures.)

Seymour Lodge. Project Horror incomplete as of today.

I love wrought iron. Daffodils and quiet nights wandering the city.

'Hello? Why yes I did see an odd fellow wandering around with a large stick and a blue jacket.'

The jacket took on a decidedly luminescent characteristic.

Pier 23 - Home to Mr Bright-Buttocks.

Tesco and Riverside from up high. Project incomplete.

I really love light-painting.

Went on a double date with Frotto and his new partner Reme Oat. He's a very patient and quiet guy but I'm getting a sneaking suspicion that he and Denise have a strong connection, they get on very well, they even finish each other's exposures and I'm starting to think they have a passing resemblance to a certain Parks and Recreation character.

Watch this space, more to come...