Hog's Back

Today

I am not a person who enjoys living in the past. You might think that the existence of this blog rather contradicts this statement. But this blog is intended to shine a light on how I have lived my life; I don't spend my days trying to recreate it.

However, last weekend, recreate the past is just what we did. Paul and I participated in the London to Brighton Classic Car Run, driving his Humber Imperial. We meet lots of people, all enjoying this little dipping of the toe into the 30's or 50's and many passers-by say things like "they don't make them like that any more!" (Which may be a good thing.) The run always starts from a location in Surrey - this year from Brooklands near Weybridge.

We drove up the evening before and decided to eschew the M25 and cut across country via Farnham. We took the A31 across the Hog's Back, skirted Guildford to pick up the A3.

"I used to cycle these roads", I said to Paul "But the A3 wasn't this terrifying 3-lane dual carriageway in those days. I wouldn't do it now."

In My Day

I was given a bike when I was about 12. Not being naturally sporty, I took a little time to learn and can remember the moment when I managed to "do it by mineself". The boys and, later on, Beatrice had bikes . We frequently took ourselves off cycling the North Downs and I can't remember Mamma or Daddy expressing any anxiety; probably they charged the boys with keeping an eye, but I was blissfully unaware of this.

We were all capable map-readers and I quickly learnt how to recognise road numbers and names. Roads south took us through Croydon, almost inevitably. East - through Addiscombe to cycle into Kent and that long curving road (not really changed today) into Sevenoaks.

West, maybe through Waddon with its chocolatey Paynes Poppets factory. South along the Purley Way. A favourite route took the A25 via Leatherhead (where David went to school) and along the A3 and the A31 Hog's Back Road. The Hog's Back is one of those amazing roads which travel along the edge of the North Downs - the slopes north to London and the escarpment down to Godalming and the Devil's Punchbowl to the south.

Of course there were lorries on the road in those days, but far fewer and certainly not the huge continental artics seen today. The roads, even the A31 dual carriageway, were far less busy and didn't seem at all terrifying. So the rides were enjoyable challenges; struggle up the hilly bits, ride through the "jelly-leg" that would set in after about 10 miles or so and enjoy stopping at a beauty spot somewhere or other. And the A3 was just an ordinary road; 20 years later, which was the next time I drove along it, I was astonished by this high-powered arterial road, driving straight into London.

It was quite normal for us to cycle twenty five or thirty miles, arriving home, dusty and tired, with an enormous appetite.

It does seem ironic, with our current anxiety and using up our energy resources and encouragement to get our our bikes, that the roads are so much less easy on the cyclist than they used to be.