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| The Exe estuary at dawn. |
The ride to school along the Exe Trail must be one of he nicest commutes to work anywhere. Despite the headwind, I cannot help but smile. On these early commutes there are precious few other people around so I simply relax into a rhythm and look at the view.
The Dawlish coastline is spectacularly resplendent in its crimson red sandstone clothing. The sea, still looking cold and uninviting, rises and falls slowly as the gentle swell comes ashore in rounded and regular waves with no great height. Last week the sea hammered this coast violently in complete contrast to the serenity that now abounded. How quickly things change?
There were few decisions to be made once away from the hullabaloo of the main road. Even the worlds cyclists and dog walkers were still tucked up in bed, leaving me to drown in the silence. It was wonderful.
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| Just prior to where the madness begins |
How different things are when the world wakes. the noise of thousands of vehicles attacks you involuntarily, stealing those precious moments and throwing you back into the 21st century whether you wish to be or not. The traffic trying to access Exeter astounds me. Most vehicles have one occupant, who sits looking bored and uninterested, trying desperately to wake up and face another day at work before they arrive. I'm now wide awake, heart beating out a strong rhythm. I continue to watch the traffic queueing for the Countess Weir Roundabout until the lights change and it's my tun o move again. Carefully crossing,
The commute now changes. Droves of cyclists, walkers and runners are all working hard, pushing their limits as they overtake this old bloke. They often approach in silence and without warning. That's okay because they are working out and time taken to complete Strava sectors is far more important than people!. I remember being like that too and look back wondering why I used to do that. Life is too precious to rush through as I once did. Better take it slowly, watch that duckling swim and the sun disappear behind a cloud than force yourself on to beat your best time to work, as if that compensates for working in an office or unsatisfactory job each and every day.
I carry on gently, only occasionally pulled from my peaceful zone by those cycling assassins that think its uncool to have a bell and cool to buzz you without warning while remaining totally silent in their Rapha shorts and with 120 PSI in their tyres. They all wear dark glasses and the latest lycra fashion and barely shift their cold-stare as they pass us mere mortals who are chugging along peacefully while minding our own business.
I prefer to monitor the cycle jostling quietly in my own bubble with no desire to join in. I just keep left, something I believe should be a rule for all users of shared paths, and let them whizz by. How can so many commuters be seemingly allergic to having a bicycle bell to warn others they are approaching? Even worse, how can they pass people so fast and close, even though they themselves are aware that the person in question doesn't know they are there? Yes, shared cycle lanes are getting to be like roads. they don't work once you get to a certain level of traffic. Many think they are most important person on the road and unsurprisingly they demonstrate the same kind of behaviours as the drivers of the vehicles they so deride.
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| Work paraphanalia |
My thoughts turn one last time to what I've seen during this mornings commute. The tranquility on an all-but-empty path by the estuary has filled me with joy but other things also make me smile. The Grey Heron, whose wings beat so slowly you feel it might fall from the sky at any moment. The two pairs of Goldfinches, surely the most colourful birds in the UK, as they flash past in the completely opposite manner to the Heron. Beautiful, bright red and gold, almost blurred images, enjoying the early morning sun. At Cockwood, an Egret sat quietly fishing, motionless and ever patient. What we could learn from these creatures if we took the time to look and think about how we affect them with our ever-more, grabbing lifestyles.
Back in the real world I am now on the road. I take up the correct position in my lane as I start to pass parked cars on my right, the opposite lane. A black car coming towards pulls out, despite it being my priority and I refuse to move. When he stops, he waves his arms around and calls me a fucking idiot out of the window, adding that I should learn to ride!! I've only been back at work for a week and his is the third incident of his kind.
The worst incident involved an RAC van overtaking me on a Toucan crossing after I had clearly signalled I was turning right and taken up my priority position, designed to say 'please don't overtake me!' The life-saver check saved my life as his van with it's screaming engine roared past me in violation of all the rules in the Highway Code by exceeding he 20mph speed limit across the zig-zags and crossing. He was clearly furious that I slowed his journey for all of ten to fifteen seconds. My mind, unlike his, pondered the what-ifs for a few miles after that. I was physically and mentally shaken even though I heard him accelerate and knew exactly what would happen next.
Today, the road where this incident occurred was quiet, as was the road where my priority road positioning was seen as blocking somebody's progress deliberately. Another cycle lane took me towards School. This one has a blind entrance that nobody can see into or out of, As I cautiously approach, taking a wider line, a man on a bike zooms around the corner with no expectation of anybody being there. I am ready for his thankfully, but what if I were inexperienced?
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| A cyclist in primary position at lights. Why is this such a threat to drivers? |
What began as a serene and beautiful ride to work ends in a melee of bad parking in restricted areas and people standing, vehicle doors open, in the road getting their various progeny to school. These are the same children I have to attempt to teach the good knowledge, road craft and behaviour that will keep them safe and riding on the road for years to come.
Out on the road now, this time acting shepherd to six anxious children in hi-vis vests, drivers of other vehicles, people on bikes and pedestrians all pretend we are not there in their bullying approach to road sharing. I am their eyes and ears. My role is to protect them as they learn. I get shouted at again for getting in somebody's way as I take the lane, our priority, blocking their progress. I say nothing, just check around and move on. How can you act that way when confronted with six small children learning to cycle on the road? It's beyond me to know.
At the end of he day I cycle home, tired from being outside and tired from looking after children's well being as they attempt to learn a skill that could change their lives for the better, forever. I leave the madness behind as I recross the Countess Weir bridge to pick up the Exe Estuary Trail once again. from here to home will be gentler, My mind can start to heal from the bombardment of road bullies and idiots that I have to deal with since leaving home. I say heal because riding in the city every day leaves me feeling damaged and vulnerable. I choose to do it because I want to encourage people to change to a different lifestyle, rather than the grab and run attitude we are living with now.
Other than being busier than in the morning, the trail works it's magic. I'm soon feeling alive again as the responsibility I have chosen as my work drops away. The Goldfinches are still there and nesting Swans also. I hear what I think might be a Reed Warbler which brings a smile to my face and I get gently lost in the hypnotic sensation of pedalling my bike gently home as the sea whispers in my ear
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Until next time................................
