Summer Holiday 1933

How not to hike along the Pilgrims' Way.

 

Jim's Index

 

A copy of part of Wikipedia's entry on the Pilgrims' Way is probably approriate at this point
"Anyone walking the 'Pilgrims Way' from Winchester would have started along the Roman road east following the route through New Alresford, Alton and Bentley to Farnham. This roughly follows the modern A31.
The ancient main streets of towns along the route from Farnham (where the old trackway converges with the pilgrims' route) through Guildford, Dorking and Reigate (where a pilgrims' chapel, dedicated to St Thomas, was established) - align west to east, strongly suggesting that this was the most important route that passed through them. On modern Ordnance Survey maps, part of the route is shown running east from Farnham, passing to the south of Guildford, north of the village of Gomshall, north of Dorking, Reigate, Merstham, Chaldon, Godstone, Limpsfield and Westerham, through Otford, Kemsing and Wrotham, north of Trottiscliffe, towards Cuxton (where it crossed the River Medway). Along some stretches the pilgrims' route left the ancient trackway to encompass religious sites, an example being at Pewley Down, near Guildford, where the later way passed St Martha's Hill and The Chantries, some 500 metres to the south. The thirteenth-century chapel of St Thomas at Reigate, although not on the route, was built for the pilgrims' use. South of Rochester, the Pilgrims' Way travels through the villages of Burham, Boxley, Detling and continuing in a south-east direction to the north of the villages of Harrietsham and Lenham. The route continues south-east along the top of the Downs past Charing, to Wye and then turns north to follow the valley of the Great Stour through Chilham and on to Canterbury."

I proposed this year to hike along the Pilgrim's Way following Stanley Baron's route as described in the Y.H.A. Rucksack, Vol 1.No 2. For this I wanted a 1" map of the route. No.s 123, 124, 115 & 116 being the Ordnance Survey sheets covering practically the whole way. Having obtained these on paper, I mounted them in sections 4" x 6" into a ring book.

On a dull Sunday afternoon in early September I set out on my bike with a rucksack on my back to cycle to the Youth Hostel at Watlington. My object was Winchester, but by breaking my journey at Watlington I did it comfortably in a day and a half.

The route lay through Towcester, Buckingham and Winslow - here I looked for a previous camping site but it lay further along a by road than I thought, so I went back to the main road and continued on towards Aylesbury.

Between two signposts to Weedon I met C. Witty and his mother out for a spin. On to Thame, Towersy, Emmington, Sydenham, Lewknor, Shirburn and arrived at Watlington about 7 o'clock.

I was informed that a German had already arrived, but when I met him he proved to be an American who had travelled considerably, having hiked across Europe and who was now on his way back to America.

The facilities at the hostel are few & poor. Cooking and washing has to be done at the bottom of the garden while the common room & sleeping quarters are at the top of the house and can only be reached by passing through the Warden's living room.

The first thing was a wash, after which we made a pot of tea. The pot of tea and hot water of course had to be carried up the garden & through the house, and washing up had to be taken down the garden afterwards.

We totalled three for tea and sat round the table talking until ten o'clock. The American amused us when he poured his tea out, - the pot leaked at the spout so that when tipped up the tea had a tendency to drip all over the cloth. The American held his cup and the pot at arms length out of the window to avoid spoiling the cloth. Curiously enough we had no complaints from passers by about hot tea he poured down their necks from two storeys high.

In the course of our chat it evolved that Norris L. Brookens of Topeka, Kansas, a student of physiology had been to Berlin as an exchange student, and after hitch-hiking over Europe was now on his way home to be best man at his brother's wedding. He had come from Stratford on Avon in one day, having walked only 17 miles. His record hike he said was 650 miles in one day with only two lifts, (We knew then that he really was an American!).

On the following morning we both (the American and I) set out for Winchester. He was calling at Shinfield to look round a poultry farm, but he hoped, by getting lifts, to arrive at Winchester soon after me.

Leaving Watlington about 10 o'clock I passed through Britwell Salome and Ewelme and came out onto the main Oxford - Reading road, which I followed as far as Nettlebed where I turned right through a wood in which I rested and had lunch.

The day was bright and signs of harvest were all around me, in one field there would be haymakers at work, in another corn reapers, while along the road were wagons loaded with hay far overhanging the sides as if there were much to be moved but little time in which to move it.

Passing through Reading when the school children were all on the way home for dinner and factory workers were just coming out, I left the town by A32, the main Basingstoke Road.

When I arrived at Risley Common, heather covered and open to the road, I could not resist a rest and an apple in the shade of a spreading oak. As I was just within the borders of Hampshire I felt I had time to spare.

It was about three o'clock when I remounted and ambled along to Basingstoke. I was very interested in Messrs Taylor's Apiary on the roadside near Basingstoke, and I stopped again near Kings Worthy to look across to my right where bombing planes were landing and taking off at very frequent intervals. Planes were coming in from all quarters and the air was continuously filled with their hum.

It must have been about half past six when I arrived at the City Mill, where a new Warden was doing her utmost to make it the best hostel in the country. The old warden who kept the shop had gone bankrupt and no longer lived there, but in spite of his absence the hostel was even better than a year ago.

The kettle was just on the boil when in walked our American friend, very pleased with himself for having walked less than six miles since leaving Reading.

Thinking of going to the cinema for an evening's entertainment, I enquired what was to be seen, and hearing that my favourite, Jack Hulbert was playing with Cicely Courtneidge and Lilian Harvey in "Happy Ever After" I found a pal named Bill, a local hiker who spent most of his time at the Mill, and took him along. Arriving back at the hostel after a very happy evening I met Denton Welch ("Curly") and listened to the gramophone. At 11 p.m. we retired leaving the warden to sleep in the "snuggery". This was her only private room where she carried on her office work and slept. She mixed in as much as possible with us all and was a real good sport.

The following day, Tuesday, was very bright and mild, which made rambling in the old town very pleasant. I revisited the Cathedral and went with the guide up the tower and onto the roof. This time I had my camera with me and proceeded to take views of Winchester from various parts of the roof.

It was pleasing to discover that the guide did not repeat his lesson like a parrot, and my second tour of the Cathedral was as interesting as was my first, a year previously. I made such enquiries as I was able about the font of which we have a replica at Weedon in the form of what would seem to be a holy water stoup, taken from the Prison Chapel in the Ordnance depot at its demolition. I discovered, among other things, that St. Nicholas was the Patron Saint of Pawnbrokers, Thieves, Sailors, Merchants and children. His being Patron Saint of thieves may be the reason for the presence of this stoup in the Prison Chapel.

I became friendly with "Curly" Denton Welch, a boy of 18, and went with him across the fields to the Church of St. Cross. It was a very different type of guide who took us round here, it was the same one who took me round a year previously, and his tale was just the same. On our way back we were conducted over the College & War Memorial, which I missed last year. There is a famous picture of Monks fishing for trout called "Tomorrow will be Friday" which the guide told us was painted on the banks of the Itchen where it passes the Hospital of St. Cross and the monks were some of those from the hospital. (Quite possibly the picture was the one painted by the English artist Walter Dendy Sadler (1854-1923). The full title being "Thursday, tomorrow will be Friday" - Jim).

We returned to the mill for tea and found a full house. A band of schoolgirls from Worthing and a crowd of small Scouts took up most of the accommodation and to avoid the atmosphere in the crowded dormitory I leapt at the opportunity to sleep out. Beds were lined down the garden paths for some distance and leaving the common room, the girls took the left path and the boys took the right. There were probably ten or a dozen of us including the warden who slept out on every possible occasion.

On Wednesday I awoke with the dew on my face, as it were, after an excellent night. The tall flowers (sunflowers in particular) hid the occupants of the two paths from each other, but when macintosh clad figures from the other side were seen entering the hostel I decided it was high time to be up and doing. After a real wash in the mill stream and breakfast I paid a last visit to the Cathedral where I spoke to an old lady about the font. I paid the library a visit, hoping to find a timetable for the London district railway, but finding none.

Returning once more to the hostel, I partook of a light meal in the garden before saying goodbye once more to what I considered England's finest Youth Hostel.

Taking my way along Water Lane at about two o'clock with a rather sad feeling in my heart, for I was loath to leave Winchester, I came into the country to the north of the town. Here ploughing was in progress but it was dust they ploughed. Lack of rain had left the soil very dry and behind the plough rose a cloud of dust which drifted in the feeble wind across the road, embracing me as it did so.

My map had to be frequently consulted and I soon discovered my mistake in making a loose leaf map. I had to refer to a different page every four or five miles and frequent turning of the pages wore the holes so that some leaves were in danger of coming out. I was heading along the banks of the Itchen towards Kings Worthy but turning to the right with the river I came to Easton so passing from page 123Q sect G4 to 123R sect G5.

Past the Church, down to the left, over the river, roadmen laying gas mains gazing curiously at me and my rucksack, I followed the river now on its north bank, leaving it a little later to go up to Martyr Worthy and a main road. Half a mile along the road I turned left under the railway and up to Itchen Down Farm. On my way I cut myself a thumbstick which I thought would be useful.

A long climb brought me to a height of 395' and a magnificent view of the countryside to the east and south. Walking northwards I came to the Grange Park and took a footpath within the wood on its southern side. Bearing round to the left with the road I met, to my surprise, a gate. There was no notice visible however so I walked confidently through and soon came within sight of the Grange itself standing near the edge of a lake. A dog barked and a woman came into sight, but no attempt was made to communicate with me so I carried on. Rounding the house I found that the woman had come round the other side and was now watching my departure. I hurriedly took a photograph and carried on. Turning right over the stream I came to a large gateway. I was now very surprised for I found a second class road and turning round, a notice on the gate, "STRICTLY PRIVATE. NO THOROUGHFARE."! Eastwards through Abbotstone Woods, after resting in a spinney of nut trees, and eating an orange or so, I cut across a field, N.E. towards Lr. Lanham Farm. Another three quarters of a mile and I was at the interesting hostel of Godsfield. An old chapel with small living rooms attached, full of steps and quaint doorways, it is a hostel worth visiting.

Here I found a couple whom I had seen at Winchester and who had arrived at 6.15 p.m. (I arrived at 6.40 p.m.).

We were all cooking eggs when two girl cyclists came in. Stella and Eric and I were having tea in the common room when the cyclists joined us. They were in a hurry to get back to London early in the morning and went straight to bed after tea.

Eric and I walked up the road to get wood for a fire, and the evening was passed before a blazing hearth. It appeared that Eric and Stella had arranged a holiday which had come unstuck at the last minute, so they had joined the Y.H.A. on the spur of the moment. This accounted for their out-of-place appearance, for we had noticed at Winchester that they seemed rather more finely dressed than the average hostel-er, and Stella attracted attention by wearing eardrops.

We were not late retiring, and after a very restful night we set to work in the morning to clear up the hostel. The cyclists had left very early and had only cleared up such mess as they themselves had made.

It was ten or half past when we were able to get away, the three of us going together for the first part of our journey. Hogg's Lodge Farm was our first aim, and thence a footpath took us north of Bighton Wood after which we turned right and then left towards Grove Farm.

Keeping straight on we left the road for a footpath up a hill along a blackberry hedge. Our progress was slow as we stopped to pick blackberries but we reached the top at last. Here, five paths met and we parted, I to go straight on towards Medstead, Stella and Eric to take the path on our right down to Four Marks. Bordon was their destination. Crossing three unfenced roads where they converged at Medstead, I made for Medstead Abbey and Buohy Leaze Wood. I had intended cutting through the wood for a short cut, but after entering a little way I found the track blocked. Returning to the road I went through Beech and came out on to the main road north of Alton.

I missed the greater part of Alton, passing to the south of the town, leaving Chawton on my right. After a couple of miles weary walking I turned left to West Worldham. Passing a gipsy encampment just before reaching East Worldham I had the good fortune to obtain a lift from a farmer in an old Morris Cowley four seater. He was going to Bordon Camp and gave me a lift along Green Lane through Kingsley, across Boxhead Common to Lindford. From here I walked along the main road to Headley. A gentleman wearing a clerical collar gave me a lift as far as Headley Common (about a mile) which it would have been a pity to pass by hurriedly.

Walking along the main road towards Grayshott, Ludshott Common stretched away as far as the eye could see to the right (i.e. South). It was one undulating mass of heather with bracken and blackberry intermingled in the purple haze of a late Summer evening. Fir trees fringed the road and Headley Common (to the left) was partially hidden by trees.

It was a tedious climb through Grayshott, the pavement being unpleasant for my tired feet and visions of my bed still seven miles away driving visions of natural beauty almost from my mind.

I laid in a considerable stock of provisions at Grayshott which fate decreed I should carry for two whole days in its entirety.

Leaving Grayshott behind I suddenly realised from the quantity of traffic that London's half-holiday makers were returning from their Thursday afternoon in the country. I soon procured a lift by which I arrived at Thuraley at about 7.30 p.m. The hostel was another mile from the main road, and when I arrived I discovered there were no cooking facilities. The Warden was a pleasant woman, but inclined to be happy-go-lucky and the hostel was all mixed up with the guest house. She told us that recently she made some tea which seemed weak and tasted unpleasant. Concluding that the water had not been hot enough, she made some more, which unfortunately appeared and tasted the same. She now made a careful investigation and discovered that the tea caddy contained nasturtium seeds!

After a pleasant and substantial breakfast I set out the following morning at 9.30 a.m. with another walker who was making for Guildford. My feet were tired and I was secretly hoping we should soon part as I wanted to get a lift. We walked through Godalming where we left the road to walk along the towing path of the river Wey, which we followed together for about three miles, stopping once to bathe our feet. We parted at Broadford (124C, B6), he to carry on along the river, I to make eastwards for Godstone. My route lay along a main road through Chilworth and Albury where I got on to the main Reigate road. Finding my thumbstick more hindrance than help I laid it gently to rest over a fence near Chilworth. The walk along through Shere, Gomshall and Abinger Hammer was pleasant except for the traffic. The afternoon was calm and sunny and the white chalk of Hackhurst Downs seemed to keep the sunlight shut in the valley wherein I walked.

At Abinger Hammer the children were running home to tea after school, so I relised that I must get a lift, for the hostel was still distant.

A commercial traveller picked me up outside Abinger Hammer and gave me a lift as far as Dorking. He had passed me once but had stopped for some reason, and I caught up with him and asked for a lift as he was preparing to continue his journey. At Dorking he turned north for London, which did not suit me, so I walked two miles more to Boxhill or thereabouts where a luxurious Hillman saloon (EI 2076 I think) picked me up and carried me into Godstone. This saved me the bother of finding my way through Reigate and Redhill. I knew my destination lay north of Godstone, and finding the road to Caterham to be the wrong one, crossed some fields, at the direction of an R.A.C. man, to North Park Lane and a long climb brought me to my journey's end, Surrey Crest, where I was welcomed by 40 London schoolboys under a Leader, 15 of whom were in St. Bart's choir. There were no cooking facilities here and my pack was only lightened by my sorting out a few unnecessaries to send home. These I carried about until I reached Canterbury.

Owing to lack of space 5 of us slept in the tool shed, leaving the whole hostel accommodation to the school boys. We were well repaid for any incovenience by the free musical entertainment we received at the hands of the sons of the house, one of whom was a gold medallist cellist and the boys. We all went to bed at 10.45 p.m.

After breakfast the following morning I set out alone at 9.15 to carry on up the hill, through Godstone quarry on to the main road and down to Godstone, where I turned left at the corner where the R.A.C. man was on duty. After walking for a mile and a half including a chat with an A.A. patrol I received a lift to Oxted. After walking nearly to Limpsfield a woman picked me up in a two seater Morris Cowley. I put my rucksack in the dicky and settled down. Conversation soon showed that my companion was a school teacher who had travelled considerably. The car was open and the wind had risen, causing conversation to become difficult. It was a glorious drive through wooded country with several steep hills. Arrived at Wrotham I alighted at the Bye-pass and walked three miles by which time I was on the main Sevenoaks to Maidstone road, having traversed 2 sides of a triangle, (riding one and walking one) each of 2 miles length, to travel 2 miles on my way. A commercial traveller gave me a lift from here to Lenham in a rickety saloon, the door of which was held to by string. He was a traveller in groceries it appeared.

Getting out at a garage near Lenham (Dickly Wood) I had hardly gone 800 yards, when a young fellow in a two seater Morris who was going to Ashford picked me up and took me as far as Chaning.

He drove off and I had not gone 50 yds before a stoutish man in a saloon overtook me. He passed me by, but stopped further on and waited for me, explaining that he thought hikers invariably refused lifts. His manner was rather brusque and I felt rather ashamed of my method of hiking when he asked me about my holiday. He dropped me in Canterbury at 10 minutes to 2 p.m. at the cross roads in High Street. All Saints Lane was handy, and after rousing the Warden who is a good soul in every way except that she keeps strictly to hostel hours (as she is quite entitled to). I deposited my load, took my parcel to the Post Office and went to view the Cathedral. I was struck by the statues round the West Porch which are well preserved and labelled. Pausing inside I found two members of the family in marble, and went round with the verger, returning to the hostel at 5 p.m. for tea where I was soon joined by 6 girls under a leader. A couple of cyclists arrived later from London.

It came out during our talk that the hostel was usually full of foreigners, but I was to be disappointed for there were only ten of us all together.

Sunday was spent in seeing the town and Cathedral.Food was getting short and I looked like running short of money. I eat very little little all day, but felt better after a pot of tea at 5 o'clock.

Later on I was joined by two cyclists who had just come up from Dover after a holiday in Switzerland and France on a tandem. After working and saving this young man was now giving himself a university education. He was on vacation at the time which he was spending with his girl.

I had arranged for any communications to be sent to Canterbury so waited next day for post. After reading the letter that came I set out to walk to Bexley. It would be impossible to walk all the way, so I knew I should have to get a lift. It was a glorious day and only the distance and my shortage of cash existed to depress me. I knew I could get a lift and should be home the following day, so it was with a light heart that I left Canterbury through the Northgate (or Westgate?) and walked through Harbledown.

I was picked up by a commercial traveller and given a lift to Faversham. He did not know how long he would be, it might be ten minutes or half an hour, but if he overtook me again on his way to Sittingbourne he offered to give me another lift.

I walked about a mile to the other side of Ospringe, and was watching the hop pickers at work (and being called after by their children) when a car stopped and waited for me. It was my commercial friend who had been quicker than he expected. We stopped in the middle of Sittingbourne and I walked on about a mile when I was picked up and taken to Gillingham.

A ghastly half hour followed, walking through Gillingham & Chatham on the slippery pavements which not only sloped steeply down hill towards the river Medway but downwards towards the road, and I was many times in peril of finding myself in a heap in the gutter. The bridge at the bottom of the hill gave me a good view of the river towards the south west, but there was no active traffic, two anchored yachts being the only items of interest besides the view. After climbing through Rochester and Strood I had gone a mile or so when a chap in an oldish car gave me a lift towards Dartford. He was going to Gravesend and when he put me down I walked two or three miles before being picked up by a jolly young fellow who gave me a lift because "he would appreciate it if he were in my position". We had now left the fruit growing and hop-picking district and were obviously much nearer London.

I alighted 2 1/2 miles from Bexley, near Bexleyheath and walked across the heath where there had been an extensive fire, and found my way after questioning a boy who seemed rather afraid of me, into Bexley itself. Two women, after arguing between themselves directed me further. I had nearly arrived at the hostel when I was startled by a chow which rushed at me from a newly built house. I saw it coming and slammed the gate in its face which, I think, rather annoyed it. When I arrived at the gate of the hostel I was greeted by a dozen Kerry-blues and it was with some trepidation that I opened the gate and went in. The dogs soon showed the truth of the old proverb about barking dogs and we were soon friends. The result was a crowd of dogs following me about wanting to be petted.

There were no cooking facilities but the warden said he would let me have some water for tea. It was just warm, but after stirring the tea in well became coloured. I then opened a tin of galantine which a dog collared as soon as my back was turned. The warden made no apology, but told me to wash it and it would be alright! I did and it was!! I could not have fancied it had I not been so hungry, but all thoughts of hydrophobia were driven away by that void in my stomach.

After tea I walked down to the station to find the times of trains to Whaddon. The fare was 3s. 0d. so I was then no longer interested in the times, but returned to the hostel to get to bed early so as to be up early in the morning.

When I awoke on the morrow, Tuesday, it was fine but had been raining. I had a hurried breakfast and set out about 7 a.m.

Walking through North Croy, round through Frognal, turning left for Chislehurst, I met a District Commissioner for Beds. with whom I walked to Bromley. He gave me his card and asked me to write to him when I got back. His name was Powell and his address was Crawley, N Pagnell.

I lost my way in Bromley but got right again after finding the station. I soon arrived at West Wickham and took a bus into Croydon. It had come on to rain and was becoming quite miserable. I alighted at Waddon and found my way to Malabar where the Grandmother told me that I was not expected and no bike had arrived. I told her I would be back at 7 p.m. & went to the free library in Croydon where I devoured two or three magazines of blood curdling stories, an apple and a little chocolate. At 6.30 I set out for Malabar again. This time a note informed why I had not been expected. A.B. Howard had been unable to bring it owing to a cold, and was waiting for instructions to send it to Waterloo or Weedon. Back to the Post Office I went with a card, asking him to send it to Waterloo. In the Post Office I met one of the fellows I met at Thursby.

I returned to Malabar once more where after an excellent supper I slept soundly on a camp bed in the front room.

The following morning, Wednesday, was wet. We breakfasted at 7.30 and I set off for Croydon at 9.30. I stayed in the library again until 10.30 a.m., the time at which fares became cheaper. With a little assistance I found a tram bound for Waterloo where I arrived at 11.30 (about) after a wait at Kennington Gate.

I asked about my bike on the off chance of its already having ariven and to my surprise it had. I loaded as much onto the bike as possible, carrying but little in the rucksack, and then set off in the rain at exactly midday. I was told that there was no rain northwards and once out of London I should be in the dry.

I had some difficulty in getting out of Barnet as I did no know whether to make for Watford or St. Albans. At last I got on the road to St. Albans and thought it would be plain sailing for the rest of the way.

I passed an apiary of Messrs. R. Lee of Uxbridge but there was no sign of bees or beemaster. I had remounted and gone about 50 yards when I found a swallow writhing in the gutter. I could not find anything the matter with it and after about ten minutes trying to diagnose its complaint I put it out of its misery. Lifting both wings well up I could then see a little blood high up under the right wing but could still find no fracture.

I went straight through St. Albans and found I was making for Bedford. I cut across at my first opportunity and got back onto the Watling Street the other side of Dunstable. The road so far had been very hilly, but now it became more level and I reached Dunstable at ten minutes to five o'clock. Passing through Fenny Stratford and Stony Stratford I came to Towcester after which the road was quite familiar and I arrived home at half past eight, having polished off all my food at Dunstable and having threepence left in my pocket.

In spite of the most glorious weather this holiday was not the success it should have been because I missed the country tearing along main roads in cars. I looked back to that first day's walk from Winchester to Godsfield with a realisation that that was hiking in its true sense.

To conclude here are the costs and distances travelled taken directly from Jimmy's account.

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