Turf Zone – PoltonWar
Every morning, I logon to the computer and check if there are any new zones locally, and this morning fortune had favoured Midlothian and a new zone had appeared only a mile or so away from the house, down by the River North Esk in Polton. It was called PoltonWar, also a monument zone. So, I thought I’ll have that one before the turf hordes descend from the wild lands to the west, in other words Penicuik. But before we go any further, a question for you. When is a puddle not just a puddle? Answer at the end of the post.
So, off we go, that’s me and Mr Orange my trusty new Brompton folding bicycle, up the railway path, doon the hill to Polton and in fast order, the zone is taken. Quick photo, no hassle, no fuss and no other turfers. The weather had also made a turn for the better with temperatures even reaching double figures, a far cry from the sub-zero frostiness of a few days ago. And best of all no snow or ice. Lovely, but appearances can be deceptive, as I was about to find out.
Now, I was a bit confused about the zones down in Polton. There used to be one just before the bridge across the river but that was gone. Relocated, as it turned out, further into what was once the site of Springfield paper mill, now long demolished. Might as well get that one while I’m here, I say to myself. A fateful decision.
Off we go, under the car park gate, past the professional doggy walkers, a grey squirrel on a post and grannies with the screaming wains on leashes. The path forms a loop here, the surface hardpacked gravel and a few innocent looking puddles. Anyway, I take the zone just after the path loops back towards the road. All fine so far. Then I notice a large puddle, not too deep and not too long, so we pedal through without issue. It had some white stuff at the bottom. Then another puddle, much longer and deeper this time.
Now, I should have stopped here, taken stock and cycled across the grass. But no, off we go straight across the puddle. We are fine at first, then I’m wondering what that white stuff is below the surface of the puddle. Initially I thought that’s just silt or sand from the gravel, washed out by the snow thaw or recent rains. Then, a millisecond after the front wheel wobbles I realise my mistake. That white stuff is neither silt nor sand but sheet ice.
The first wobble of the front wheel does next to nothing but the next one does and over I go onto my left side, ending up lying full length in 3 inches of freezing water and sliding along for a couple of meters. It’s amazing how quickly these events occur and also how noisy that can be. Birds rose in panic from the trees, dogs barked and local residents closed their windows and locked their doors. Its also amazing how quickly cold water soaks you to the skin and fills your boots, the left one anyway.
My left boot was full of water, left trouser leg soaked from ankle to waist, even my underwear was soaked. Add to that a considerable covering of dirt from head to toe and a high degree of embarrassment when I see the dog walker watching from afar. Better get a move on before they come across. So, we pick ourselves up and beat a hasty retreat. Once out of sight a quick check over, no damage to self but I suspect that will show itself tomorrow morning when I wake up. Mr Orange was fine, other than sone water and dirt and I was almost convinced I heard a metallic chuckle from him.
I was going to take a few more zones but when you are dripping wet, your left boot is squelching at every step and one half of you is soaked to the bone, it was time to head for home. So, next time you came across a puddle a day or so after freezing weather, stop and check that puddle is actually only a puddle and not a budding ice rink. Bye for now.
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