Jack Riegen's London to Salisbury and back cycle ride - 1920
After the First World War money was scarce, but we had our bicycles! What better way to visit Salisbury. So one summer Saturday morning in 1920 we set out from West London, and headed west through Brentford and Hounslow, father pulling my sister in a wicker trailer, mother on her single, and me on my junior machine. It was a dry day, but there was a strong westerly wind, so it was quite hard going. Near Hartley Whitney we had a picnic lunch on the roadside, with our primus stove, and I was sent to a nearby cottage to request a refill in our army-surplus water bottle. We struggled with the wind as far as Andover and father didn't fancy the idea of attempting to cross the Salisbury Plain in the evening, so we put up for the night at the Angel Inn. It was a wise decision. I was tired, but the chiming of the church clock kept me awake most of the night. Sunday dawned fine, and the wind had abated as we set off on the last stage of our journey. Beyond Middle Wallop there was a landscape that was entirely new to me, for the gravel road went up and down over open downland, and the verges were bright with scabious, knapweed, bird's-foot-trefoil, and many other flowers. The only building between Middle Wallop and Salisbury was the Pheasant Inn, and Lobscombe Corner was indeed a bleak spot in those days. (Why ever did they change the name to the less euphonic Lopcombe?) This was well illustrated in one of Frank Patterson's amusing sketches. It showed two cyclists arriving at the Corner on a very hot day. As they mopped their brows they discussed which road they should take. One said, "I vote we go to the left: at least we shall have the shade from the telegraph poles!".
Ah! yes: those telegraph poles. If you were cycling across the Plain at night, as I did on several occasions, you could mark your progress by counting them. There were about thirty to the mile.
To return to 1920. We had got about half a mile beyond the Pheasant when the ball-race ring on the head of dad's machine cracked, and the ball bearings scattered across the road. There was nothing else for it; mother and I rode on, and dad walked the rest of the way!
When it was time to return home we were blessed with very pleasant weather, and we completed the 78 miles comfortably in the day. Note: all this was done on single gears ...and without sponsorship!!
Sadly, my grandparents died the following winter, so that was my one and only boyhood ride to Salisbury.
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