1943

THE EPIC JOURNEY

It has always been known as "The Epic Journey" of which Dad and I are justly proud,

The wartime holidays were limited to just one week and by chance we were both having the same week off. Some weeks before, Dad had said that he would like to spend half the week with me and the second half with Mother, my brother and young sister. He proposed that we would go off on a cycling holiday and do a tour. The proposal of the route however brought a strong protest from Mum. He fancied going along the South Coast to Dover and then going from there to London and then back home. I personally was not too concerned about the tour he was planning but there was the risk of raids. At this time the doodle-bugs were increasing in number and were dropping all along Dad's intended route. Mum put her foot down and said that we could go anywhere except for the Kent area and London where the bugs were landing. As an alternative I suggested going west. Bath, Bristol and maybe Lands End, but Dad did not seem too keen on that area. The matter was left undecided until the week before the holiday, when Dad came home from work to state that we were going to Blackpool. My immediate reaction was that we could not possibly get there and back in half a week. He obviously had given the subject some detailed thought because immediately he came forward with a time table.

Friday. Leave work at 5-00 pm come home and get to bed and rest. Rise at 9-30 pm and set off, riding Friday night and Saturday by which time he anticipated we could be well over half way there. Get bed and breakfast.

Sunday. Spend most of the day getting there and get bed and breakfast in Blackpool.

Monday. Spend day sight seeing and then setting out on the return journey that evening and Tuesday getting bed and breakfast somewhere.

Wednesday. Complete the journey home. He thought we could do this easily and he would be ready for the second part of the holiday with Mum and the family.

Mum's reaction to this new proposal was that he must be mad to suggest it but if that is what he wanted to do then that was fine, and he would not be near London. Having given the proposal some thought I agreed to go along with it although I doubted whether we would see Blackpool. We were probably fit enough and did plenty of bike rides together but this seemed a bit more than that. Dad was now aged forty-one and working on power boats as a fitter’s mate. I was seventeen and in my second year as an aeronautical apprentice fitting battery trays into Spitfire fuselages in Hendy's Garage...

Wednesday night it was agreed that the trip was on and work started immediately to prepare the bicycles for the journey of a lifetime. We then studied the route information that we had available. One map which covered the Youth Hostels of England. This would be our only guide as there were no sign posts on any roads due to the wartime restrictions.

FRIDAY NIGHT START

Having come home from work and had some sleep we got up and had a supper/breakfast then got out the bikes, said our farewells and rode into the night heading for Winchester. We got on the by-pass and started to head for Newbury. Fortunately the weather was fine and skies clear and we were making reasonable progress. As we knew this part of the country there was little chance of getting lost. We then moved on towards Oxford via Abingdon. Almost immediately Dad started to complain that he wasn't feeling so good. I took up the leading and Dad tucked in behind and tried to maintain our steady pace. We carried on for some while like this when we were stopped for our identity cards. A bit further on Dad called a halt saying that he could not go on. He had spotted a ditch along side the road and said that an hour or two of rest might help. We put on our oilskins and made ourselves as comfortable as possible. Later as dawn was breaking Dad said he was better and we should move on. Getting on the bikes it was not long before we were asked again for our identity cards and we rode on towards Oxford and finding the station with an all night cafe got some food into us. Dad then felt much better. We talked about the identity card calls and the ditch along side the road. The conclusion we reached was that the stretch of road we were on could have been part of an airfield, and this was why we had to produce our cards.

SATURDAY

We then set off towards Stratford-upon-Avon and then the weather decided to interrupt our progress. It was one of those days when the rain looked as though it was set in for the day and we were going to get a soaking. Dad having already given up the prospect of getting to Blackpool said that we should go back into Oxford and find bed and breakfast for the night. Having done that and stored the bikes at the railway station the weather cleared and it was a bright and sunny day. Dad then said we should go to the pictures as we could then sit down and rest. This we did and I don't think either of us saw much of the film. I know I asked him some days later the name of the film and he did not know. We went back to our room and sat and planned the next day's route. He proposed that we went to Birmingham as already planned and then went on to Coventry and then from there the following day down to London and from there home. I reminded him of Mother's words"no going to London". " We", he said, "Will have been there before she can protest". I was not too keen on his idea but could not provide an alternative.

SUNDAY

We arose to see a beautiful day and soon got to the station and collected the bikes. It was a good day for riding with a following wind and plenty of sunshine. Soon we were heading for Stratford-upon-Avon and eating up the miles. Dad was now fully recovered and just like his old self. We stopped in Stratford and saw the Memorial Theatre and then went on towards Birmingham. I was surprised how well we were now going and could foresee us being in Birmingham in mid afternoon. On this assumption I started to think of alternative routes that we could make. Dad too I think was surprised when we stopped in Deritend for tea and cakes by three o'clock. It was then I put forward my alternative plan. We should carry on riding today up to say nine o'clock by which time we should be in Stafford. We could get bed and breakfast and then on Monday reach Blackpool. We could have a look around and then get b and b again. Tuesday we should set off back. We could have a kip under a hedge and then arrive home on Wednesday having achieved our objective. Dad thought a bit and said that we were looking to do much in the two days. My reaction was that it was similar to what he originally proposed and the thought of achieving our objective was the deciding point. He agreed and we pressed on. We were well north of Birmingham when we spotted a cafe for an evening meal. Looking at the map he could see that we would make Stafford before we needed to stop. I finally convinced him to continue by telling him that we had two distinct advantages on the return journey, one was that we knew and could identify the road instead of having to stop and look and think and perhaps ask for help. Secondly as he could see from the map it is all down hill going back. His spirits soared and as we approached Stafford there was a pub on a corner and he said, "Right we have earned ourselves a drink". It wasn't until he had bought us both a drink and we were about to mount our bikes that he suddenly said, "I forgot you are not old enough to drink!". It was too late by then and it set the drinking pattern for the rest of the trip. We got into Stafford and found our accommodation with no problem and turned in knowing that tomorrow we would reach our goal.

MONDAY

We set off in good weather and made excellent progress and managed to get a late lunch near Preston. We actually had fresh ham, something that we had not seen for quite a while. I said that it must be in our honour in getting here. We crossed Preston and went on our way when Dad noticed a pub that was open and proposed that we celebrate our success. When we went into the pub it had the longest bar counter that I have ever seen either then or now. We enjoyed our drink and then decided to make our grand entry into Blackpool. Grand it was because Dad was leading at the time and he spotted an ice-cream parlour that was actually open and serving wartime ersatz wafers. He didn't even stop to get off his bike but rode straight into the parlour and bought two wafers. Having enjoyed them we went on our way into Blackpool and the beach. My! What a place and what a lot of people, mainly troops on leave. Having soaked up the sun for a while we then went to look for some digs. Everywhere we looked were notices "No Vacancies". In the end we were back on the front and a policeman was nearby. "I'll ask him", said Dad, "If he can tell us where we can get a bed for the night, especially as it will be the last we shall see before we get home". I can remember the reply he got most clearly. "Certainly", he said, "You may have the benefit of sharing the largest bed in Blackpool, here on the front. You will find about 1500 people joining you. The one good thing is that breakfast can be got at six-thirty am right here on the front. I would recommend that you look for a vacant bench in the shelters on the promenade and I wish you a good night's sleep". We walked about for a bit viewing the promenade and at the same time looking at the shelters which all seemed to be already taken. Eventually we found one, just the job for us, enabling two to sleep in one end and the remainder for soldiers and some sailors who were on leave. Dressing in our oil skins we were soon nodding off.

TUESDAY

Daylight soon came and Dad was ready to go but I reminded him of the possibility of breakfast. First we washed in one of the local toilets and then could see the way most people were moving towards a junction in the promenade. Sure enough there was a barrow selling drinks, tea and coffee and another alongside selling hot rolls and doughnuts. After we had had our share we again got in the saddle. We set off with the intention of getting to Southampton by the following evening. Soon we were in Preston and stopped at the same cafe we went to yesterday. There was one difference however. Shift workers were changing over and the noise was deafening as they clattered about in their wooden clogs on the cobble stones. The weather was again being kind to us and we started to make good time however there was a change from the previous days of cycling. Whereas we had seen little to no traffic before we were now accompanied by convoys of military vehicles. The going got a bit harder due to the traffic, which tended to break our rhythm. Stafford eventually came into view and we stopped for refreshments. Once again in the saddle we made for the outskirts of Birmingham. The traffic now was quieter and we made good progress, supper time was taken on the outskirts and we passed across the Bull Ring exactly on midnight. We decided to head on towards Stratford-upon-Avon as there were still quite a few miles to cover before we got back home. Just north of Stratford we stopped and had some sleep having found a cosy spot just off the road. Sleep was very brief and as soon as it was light we were off again.

WEDNESDAY

Moving on towards Oxford we were looking for breakfast and a wash up. We found a roadside cafe, which had just opened for business but did not have any washing facilities. However he invited us to use the rain water butt at the back of the place. Gosh it was very cold and brought us fully awake for the day. As we were due to arrive home that night we decided to shave even though it was cold. Inside the breakfast was excellent and set us up for the ride to Oxford. Once again the weather was good to us and we made good time, arriving just outside Oxford at Woodstock where we found a National Restaurant. These were a national institution and you could get an excellent meal at a low price. Suitably refreshed we then went through Oxford and then on to Newbury and Winchester but we never saw the check points where we had to show our identity cards on the outgoing journey.. We could only assume that we had lost our way somewhere and then got back on the right road somehow on the previous occasion. Arriving at Winchester we had tea and then Dad decided that we should go via Eastleigh to get home. I very soon found out why as we visited one of his favourite pubs. Eventually we entered the bottom of our road at about nine o'clock, having accomplished our objective and kept our promise to be back on Wednesday evening. It had been a most memorable journey and Dad’s milometer told us we had done 653 miles.

Harry Batchelor.