The Trial Run

I purchased an electric bike during lockdown and on the trial trip I couldn’t believe how pleasant it made cycling once again. No hill was a problem and I could buzz around, up and down, and around Bath without ‘pushing’ or breaking out into a sweat. Sadly this bike was stolen 4 days later. Clinging to some Buddhist mantras around the impermanence of material things and claiming on my insurance policy meant I was able to buy another. I now needed to conduct a test as I had no real idea in reality how far the bike would take me before its superpower was depleted. I also wouldn’t know what 40 miles would feel like or how long it would take. My research around the 18th century route suggested that the preferred way into and out of Bath using the Great Bath Road had been via Kingsdown, Chapel Plaister, Neston and Gastard so I set off on a trial run.

Fun Times in the Jockey Inn

Initially I could have taken the more historic A4 to Batheaston and then Kingsdown but as I had decided I would take the scenic and safest route to each of my most important destinations I went to Batheaston by the A36 and the canal path. Once I had turned left off the road to Bradford on Avon (at the Crown) I began to climb Kingsdown. It was on this stretch of road that queen Anne very nearly came a cropper. The story goes that Anne was in ‘considerable danger’ and the coachmen had to use their muscle power to prevent the coach sliding back down the hill. I’m sure the whole story was probably exaggerated but as I pedalled uphill this story connected me to the past and I literally could imagine that somewhere on this actual road 300 years ago the liveried servants saved our monach’s life. As Kingsdown flattened out by the gold course at the end of this straight road I found my first toll house. There it was standing in the middle of nowhere as if by magic and as a confirmation that this trip would directly bring the history I’d read about alive. (see photo of the tollhouse in previous chapter) I really could hardly believe it. Here was a standing monument, a living vestige of our past. It was still occupied and now called Turnpike cottage. I nosily peered inside the window and to my delight saw it had not changed. The seat where the pikeman sat as he looked through the 3 windows was still there! One window faced west for a view of the coaches travelling from Bath. One faced east to survey the eastern road from London. The central window was probably where the tolls were collected and no doubt the hard working fellow faced the customer as they declared their number of passengers. There was a sliding scale of fees. More was charged for certain types of vehicles, width of wheels, number of personages etc. Mail coaches were free and on hearing the bugle as the coach approached meant the gate had to be opened so there was no delay. This small inconspicuous building made sense of my project as it had become a living history tour. A little further down the road I was in for another historical surprise. There stood on a sharp corner a beautiful Georgian building. In its day it used to be a famous coaching inn called the Jockey.

Although now a private house it was not hard to imagine it as luxury accommodation where many a ‘merry supper’ would have been enjoyed. If those walls could speak I’m sure they would enthusiastically tell many tales of convivial gatherings, raucous behaviour, exited banter, flirtatious assignations and the whole range of life as described by Fielding and Dickens. The vivacious life as described by Sam Wheller in Pickwick Papers would have taken place here at this very spot. So within 500 yards of each other these two buildings offered a slice of coaching history that had not materially changed for 250 years. Continuing past the Jockey leaving the raucous laughter behind I wended my way to the next destination on the Georgian itinerary.

Chapel Plaister was often mentioned although I’m not quite sure why. It is a very small hamlet with a tiny chapel in the grounds of a private house. It had possibly been a port of call on a pilgrim’s way as these routes had been around for hundreds of years and still played a part in the road network. I have a suspicion that the Jockey Inn was the real destination and that one happened to pass the old chapel on the way to a roaring fire and a good dinner. Sadly neither of these Georgian’s pleasures were available to the modern traveller so I pushed on to Neston. The Sustrans coaching map is short on detail so switched to the OS map number 156 The peculiarity of these publications is that although ideal for illustrating footpaths and byways and indeed all roads they very rarely give the name of the minor B roads so I am unable to pass on this valuable information. I can only help by noting that the yellow road via Wadswick, Bakers Corner and the Ridge is the one I took. A sharp left towards Corsham via Monks Park took me took on an ‘orange road’. I turned right to Gastard not left to Corsham and at the Whitley crossroads I came to the end of my test excursion. You could say I was at a crossroads and therefore needed to make some important decisions. On the OS map this test run had looked reasonably ambitious in terms of distance. In fact I only covered 13 miles. However it is true, I must have ‘dawdled’ as the round trip took me 4 hours! How so slow you might cheekily ask. Well I actually rather like slow (as any of my friends will confirm). I am of a lugubrious nature apparently, but I actually like what one sees when you slow down. There were videos and pictures to take as I stopped to admire my first toll house and coaching Inn. I had dwelt there to imagine this quintessentially Georgian scene. I ‘saw’ the gate straddling the road, the pikeman sitting in his little booth bad temperedly asking for fees and pocketing what he thought was fair and his by rights. Across the road not 200 yards away the gentry and the so called ‘well to do’ were nestling down for the night before their last day’s journey into Bath. Cards might be played after dinner, flirtations and even seductions progressed to their happy or disastrous conclusions.

Whatever those walls witnessed in the rooms of the Jockey Inn you can be sure that they were essentially the same as took place in any public space throughout the ages. The Georgians were no different to their Celtic, Saxon, Roman, Viking ancestors whose appetites were ‘natural’ and the expression of which covered the full range of possible human behaviour. Still this test had been a success and was appropriately enough an important psychological milestone akin to leaving the secure nest for the first time. I had set out into the great wide yonder. The unknown perhaps where dragons or many headed google eyed monsters ate cyclists or mammals for tea. I saw none of these insecure projections, not one google eye or any flying lizard with halitosis. This was a relief indeed and the test confirmed this adventure was going to be an absolute pleasure as the lanes, villages and countryside towards Gastard were beautiful, well tended and safe.

Chapter 6. Further Planning Needed!