My first cycle touring holiday started at Weston Super Mare railway station. I remember the sulphurous smell and the hiss of the engine of as the guards van was opened to reveal my fathers black ‘Hercules’ bike and my small red ‘Raleigh’. We were to pedal distance of sixteen to twenty miles between youth hostels. I think we spent the first night at Crowcombe Youth Hostel. I was eight years old.
In Weston I had stood on a broken glass bottle in the sea. In Minehead we went to the hospital to get stitches removed from my heel. I remember the discomfort of of my heel when pushing the bike up hill. It was on a hot August day that we pushed our bikes up Porlock Hill. Ever since I have been proud I got to the top.
That night we stayed in Knaplock Youth Hostel: described in the youth hostel book as ‘basic’ it only offered self catering. It was an ancient building building featuring unpainted timber doors and windows, entered up some stone steps from a farmyard. A cockerel moved off the steps for us. We occupied the top floor, and through cracks between the floorboards I could see the cows and pigs occupying the ground floor. We were the only people staying there.
In the kitchen are there was a wooden table and three wooden chairs. My father sat on one. To my childish amusement it collapsed beneath him. There was a Calor gas stove and a tin kettle. One of us filled the kettle from the tap. Tadpoles came out! I was delighted!
The holiday went on for another week, but Knaplock youth hostel kitchen and its tadpoles was the best ever!