Friday March 30
At 7.0 a.m. I started out on a short tour of some Youth Hostels. I wanted to renew my acquaintance with Winchester and see one or two new ones.
It was dull and cold when I started out, and it continued so until late in the morning. Passing through Towcester I arrived at Brackley at half past eight. At Weston on the Green there is an old whipping post and stocks, while in the gardens alongside the road there are innumerable apiaries - mostly in very poor repair.
The day became brighter as I went on but it was so chilly that eleven miles before I reached Oxford I had to walk a little way to warm my feet. Having left Oxford behind and reached Dorchester I partook of a light lunch of 2 oranges before carrying on to Shillingford where I turned right and crossed the Thames.
It had become dull again and I pushed on, hoping it would not rain.
At 11.45 I reached Wallingford where the Church bells were tolling for Matins. On through the Goring Gap to Pangbourne where the Thames is very beautiful. Leaving Pangbourne I turned onto the Bath Road from which I turned after a short while to Tadley, and thence to Basingstoke where I arrived at 2.20 p.m. Just out of Basingstoke I stopped by the railway bridge to watch some dirt-tracking carrying on along A33 past the apiary of Taylors of Welwyn. Here a man was selling honey, but I could see no bees about.
When I came to within 6 miles of Winchester I stopped and ate an orange. I arrived at the City Mill at 4.5 p.m. (8527.9) but found to my dismay that the hostel was completely full so it would be necessary to pay a surprise visit to some friends at Southampton.
I met Pat Howard again and after talking with the Warden, left for Southampton at 4.35 p.m. completing the additional 12 miles in exactly an hour. (8540.5)
Arrived at the house, I found they were just having tea. After a wash & brush up I felt much better and joined them in their meal.
My host & hostess went out for the evening while I stayed and read until supper time.
Mileage for first day 110.9.
Saturday March 31
A sea of heather in the New Forest
This morning was as bright as yesterday morning was dull. I did not leave Southampton until 11.20 a.m. but as the weather was favourable to good going and I had not far to go this did not matter. I caught up a couple of cyclists in the Forest before reaching Ringwood and went with them to Wimbourne where our roads diverged. They were going to Wookey Hole, I to Cerne Abbas. At one point in the New Forest he road seems to run through a sea of heather: this was naturally dead so early in the year, but it had an effect all the same.
For dinner I popped over a gate into a field of daisies and dined on bread & honey, after which I cycled on to Bere Regis.
Turning right along A35 I came to Tolpuddle and Puddletown. I now started up the river valley, the road keeping vey close to the Piddle or Trent right up through the gap to Alton Pancras and then down to Buckland Newton.
The way was easy through Piddlehinton, but when I came to Piddletrenthide and turned left up towards Cerne Abbas I had to push the cycle up a very steep road before riding down a perilously steep road into Cerne Abbas.
The Youth Hostel at Cerne Abbas.
I enquired for the Youth Hostel but obtained no information, but when I asked for the old Workhouse I was immediately directed to it.
The hostel was well patronised and has a wireless set, a piano & many games. Unfortunately the wireless didn't work and a girl who couldn't play sat thumping the piano all the evening.
I made pancakes for supper and found afterwards that my fellow diners had had guesses about them. Someone actually guessed right, so I was not as hurt as I might have been.
We sat yarning round the fire until 10.30 when we went upstairs to the Casual Wards. This hostel has not altogether lost its Workhouse atmosphere, but otherwise it is an excellent hostel. (8596 = 55.5m.)
Easter Sunday April 1
Unidentified walkers. Possibly the fellow from Bristol with Joan and another girl.
Arose at 6.15 a.m. and went down into the town for early service as arranged the previous evening. It was High Church and I did not care much for the service, but I was pleased to see a friend from Northampton although I was unable to speak to him. It was Mr. F.J. Birkbeck formerly Assistant Secretary for Education in Northants now in Derbyshire.
On the way back to the hostel I saw my first primroses.
There was a crowd in the kitchen cooking breakfast, and it was sometime before I could get mine. I was unable to get away before 10.10 a.m. on my way to Bishopstone.
From Cerne Abbas I took the main road along the valley to Minterne Magna, overtaki ng two walkers who had stayed at Cerne Abbas the previous night, one of whom wrote short stories. He told us one round the fire about Santa Claus in a German town stabbing children because he became so annoyed with them for hanging round him asking for presents. (It was at the time of the Jack-the-Ripper incidents)
My memory of that Sunday is very poor. It was a pleasant day, though chilly. It must have been Holnest where I saw the church with the curious building over the pathway from the road. (Interestingly, when I came to check on the location of Holnest, I discovered that 1 mile east of the village is Boys Hill - Jim) During the afternoon I climbed a steep hill up onto a plateau. - This must have been after leaving Mere. For the rest, I can only give the following places I went through:- Minterne Magna - Long Burton - Sherborne - Charlton Hawthorne - Wincanton - Zeals - Mere - Long Bridge Deverill - Warminster - Westbury. I had just passed Westbury at 4.30 p.m. and was wondering how much longer I should be getting to Bishopstone when I overtook two walkers. I enquired if they were Youth Hostellers - they were. I asked if they expected to get to Bishopstone that evening - they replied that Staple Ashton was their aim.
The Hill and church at Holnest, whatever was that strange building?
Staple Ashton was only opened on 24th March and I had not heard of it, but I quickly altered my course and arrived at the hostel at 5.0 p.m. (8643)
The Hostel is a converted carpenters shop and is very light & airy. The warden, Mr Whiting, is a dealer in horses and has a son about 18 years old and a daughter of about thirteen.
There is no heating apparatus in the hostel and the warden invited us all into the house to sit round his fire. We talked until 11.0 p.m. that is, the warden, his wife and daughter, the two walkers whom I overtook, the couple with the tandem whom I met at Canterbury last September and myself. After cocoa & biscuits we all retired. Mileage for third day 47 miles.
Easter Monday April 2
After breakfasting and washing up I went along to the Church with a cyclist from Bristol. It is a very interesting old Church, reminding me rather of Winchester Cathedral. There is an old door with a tremendous lock, a font cover that hangs from a pulley with a compensating weight, and some interesting stained glass that escaped the Reformation. The large parts of the window have been replaced by plain glass showing up those sheltered portions of glass that the stones thrown by Cromwell's soldiers missed.
The roadside cell at Staple Ashton.
There is one other item of interest, that is the lock-up. A small bare cell on the roadside where offenders waited to be taken to Trowbridge gaol.
Returning from the Church I photographed the Bristolian and Joan, and then walked round the village with them to see some very old houses.
Leaving the hostel at 11.30 a.m. I missed my way owing to my sense of direction being upset and landed at Tinhead, so I turned from the main road through Marston & Baulshott, crossed main road to Devizes, went through Rowde and came to Calne, which as Lamb's birthplace I had wanted to see for several years. Ever since in fact, I read his "Christ's Hospital Five & twenty Years Ago" in which he says he often lay awake pining to be back at "sweet Calne in Wiltshire".
Becoming lost and losing time in Calne and finding myself in the slums I thought it anything but sweet, however, I came at last at 1.55 p.m. onto the Swindon Rd, and from then on I did not get lost anymore.
Old, timbered houses in Staple Ashton.
Going through Lyneham I came to Wootton Bassett, after which I stopped for dinner. I arrived at Swindon at 4 p.m. and got quite definitely worried about the time at which I should get home.
I pushed on to Highworth against a north-easter that blew straight up my sleeves. Now and then I was obliged to dismount and walk for a while to warm my feet. At Highworth, knowing what I was in for, I bought a new cycle battery. At Cricklade there were many notices and much preparation in progress for the Point-to-Point races to be held on 4th April.
At 5 p.m. I had reached Lechlade. I struggled on to Burford. Here I ate my last piece of food - a Mars bar.
I came to Shipton under Wychwood where there was a Youth Hostel of which I was ignorant, and where I could well have passed the night.
Just before I came to Chipping Norton I noticed in the dusk a row of about a dozen bee hives behind the hedge. I had to stop and look at them for they were so very much like my own new one.
It was dark when I arrived at the town and I was forced to light up before entering.
There followed twelve horrible miles to Banbury. My fingers and toes were numb. There was an inky blackness all round, nothing to see, vague noises sometimes, but for the most part there was silence. I might have been sitting in space with only my thoughts - and two pedals that had to be revolved.
Somewhere, after what seemed hours I overtook two cyclists who told me that it was twelve miles to Badby.
Byfield and Charwelton barely broke the monotony, but at last I came to Badby. Here I left that interminable main road for the country lanes. I did not realise what a long way Newnham was from the Daventry road, but even that well known stretch came at length, and then I was soon home.
It was 11.25 p.m. when I arrived. I did not know whether to faint or vomit. I wanted to go along to our Old Fashioned Dance at the schools, but I decided I was only fit for bed, so after a ham sandwich and some milk I retired, hoping I should never experience another cold night-ride.
Finally here are three pictures of the Hostel at Staple Ashton for which there was not really room in the flow of the text.
The Staple Ashton Hostel and its horse riding Warden.
The light and airy common room at Staple Ashton Hostel.
A bedroom in the Hostel at Staple Ashton.