The backlane is, in a way, the road we live on – the chalet is on a small track that leads off it (we don’t even have a road on our address, we have a field – I kid you not). I love travelling down it, it’s one of those narrow high sided Cornish roads that’s only wide enough for a tractor and it’s home to a handful of farms, a pair of buzzards and zillions of rabbits. It runs from the nearest village to the local B road and has a name at one end but seems to lose it halfway along, which I rather like.
The buzzards perch on the telegraph posts and look down on the verges that are teeming with wildlife just big enough for their dinner. Sometimes when we drive down we come across a pheasant who finds it difficult to fly over the hedgerow so waddles along the middle of the road until it finds a gap to disappear into. The handful of farms are all different, one provides us with the most delicious eggs, another has a stables and another is mainly dairy, when you pass by at milking time the farmer hooks a piece of rope across the road to stop you passing whilst the cows meander across to the milking parlour. During the past weeks the farmers have been busy with the harvest and it was quite a surprise when we came across this in the lane, we assume it’s so we don’t drive headlong into the tractor as it crosses from one field to another.
If the B road is closed for any reason then the backlane becomes a diversion route, which slows you down as you have to stop to back up into a passing place for yet another car but for the majority of the time you can drive the couple of miles along it without meeting anyone else, which is just the way I like it.