Nigel Bruce

Reflections from the Road

Read Nigel’s reflections on cycling, history, remembrance and the landscapes of the Western Front, including mental preparation for visiting the horrific battlefields and memorials to the loss of countless young lives. With personal observations and those of a like-minded explorer of Great War history (Tom Isitt), these posts offer further insight into the journey behind The Road of Hope and Sorrow, and Nigel's wider interest in exploring history by bike.

Filter by category

Reflections & Reviews
The Road of Hope and Sorrow
The Great War
Exploring history by bike
The cross on the top of Mount Maggio and the trenches of the Great War (Trentino, Italy).
Reflections & Reviews

Perspectives from a fellow cycle tourist and Great War history enthusiast

Having really enjoyed Tom Isitt’s Riding the Zone Rouge: The Tour of the Battlefields 1919 – Cycling’s Toughest-Ever Stage Race, a fascinating book telling the story of the 1919 cycle race held through the devastated battlefields of the Western Front and Tom’s own ride along the route, I was excited to see and start reading his latest book, Thunder in the Mountains: The First World War on the Italian Front.

I wanted to find out what Tom might make of my adventures along the Western Front and how I had written these up in The Road of Hope and Sorrow. I felt it would be worthwhile sharing what another author with an enduring interest in the Great War, and who is clearly also committed to the concept of exploring history by bike, might have to say.

Here are Tom’s comments:

I’ve read a dozen or so books about travelling the Western Front of the Great War, from an immediate post-war pilgrimage by Henry Williamson to more recent walks by notables such as Sir Anthony Seldon. I even wrote my own book about cycling the Western Front in the wheeltracks of the 1919 Circuit des Champs de Batailles bike race. I’ve visited the Western Front more than 20 times, and feel I know it quite well.

Many of these books follow an established pattern, interspersing a bit of Great War history with a lot of the author’s more or less interesting observations and anecdotes. So, when I received a review copy of The Road of Hope and Sorrow, I was interested, but not hopeful that it would add much to the genre. I was very wrong.

The first surprise was the size of the book, a large-format paperback with 536 pages, weighing 1.27kg. It definitely passes the “drop test” — it makes a hefty thud if you drop it on a coffee table. The next surprise was the sheer quantity and quality of photos, maps, and illustrations: more than two hundred contemporary photos and almost sixty archive images, thirty maps, nine war art reproductions by the likes of Anna Airy, Olive Mudie-Cooke, Paul Nash, Richard Jack and Otto Dix, and ten wonderful line-drawings by the author.

Nigel Bruce is clearly a very accomplished photographer, cartographer, and artist, and the design and layout of the book makes it feel more like a magazine than a book. It’s visually very appealing, and the text is broken up with First World War art, poetry, and tables laying out the progress of various battles in a very clear way.

With regards to the text, I’m not a Western Front expert so am in no position to critique the historical stuff, but I didn’t find any obvious howlers and Bruce’s words are authoritative, but not too dry. The same applies to his cycling narrative, which doesn’t get bogged down with the minutiae of the ride, but gives enough of a flavour to make me want to get back on my bike and head for France and Belgium. But in some ways the cycling is almost incidental, it doesn’t overwhelm the rest of the book, and this book would work equally well as a driving companion.

Another thing I really liked about The Road of Hope and Sorrow is each chapter begins with a sort of list of what’s in the chapter. This was very common in books published at the beginning of the 20th century, and is a nod in the direction of old-style publishing in a very modern-looking book.

It’s been quite a while since I read something that really wowed me, but The Road of Hope and Sorrow did just that. Some of his observations about the benefits of cycling the battlefields, and making maps of those battlefields, really struck a chord with me, and as I read it I felt that we are very like-minded battlefield tourists. The multi-talented Bruce has produced something very engaging, visually appealing, and readable.

Tom Isitt
Historian, explorer, photographer, and author of two recent books themed on exploring the Great War by bike:

  1. Riding the Zone Rouge: Cycling’s Toughest-Ever Stage Race (Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 2019)
  2. Thunder in the Mountains: The First World War on the Italian Front (Helion Books, 2026)

Once I have completed reading Thunder in the Mountains, I’ll add some of my thoughts here on this fascinating book. Perhaps the first thing to say is that Tom Isitt’s book is very welcome, indeed long overdue, as despite the political importance of the Italian Front and the vast human cost of the fighting in some of the most appalling conditions, in comparison with what is available for the Western Front, there is very little out there to inform and guide travellers wishing to explore the mountain battlefields and Great War history of the conflict between Italy and the Austro-Hungarian Empire.

This map shows the route of my exploration of the Ypres salient, starting and finishing in the city of Ypres.
The Road of Hope and Sorrow

About the maps in The Road of Hope and Sorrow

With this Western Front project, maps were, for me, another very important part of telling the story, and one that I hope will help others planning trips to all or part of the Western Front. Creating these maps (for which I used MapMaker Pro Version 4), brought me much closer to the landscapes I had cycled through. Many hours spent tracing the course of rivers, identifying towns and villages – some of which vanished in the maelstroms of shellfire and exist now only as villages détruits (destroyed villages) – historic features, hills and woodlands, helped me understand the physical and human features of the terrain, and complemented accounts of the battles that were fought across these lands. I have included two of the day-ride maps from my book here by way of example, together with the key that explains the symbols used and information I have sought to provide the reader.

This map shows the route of my exploration of the Ypres salient, starting and finishing in the city of Ypres.
Now, almost at the south-eastern end of the Western Front, this second map shows my ride along the former Great War French military road, known as the Route des Crêtes, which passes the mountain battlefields of Le Linge and Hartmannswillerkopf on the high ridge of the Vosges Mountains in Alsace. The majority of this road lies at an altitude of more than 1100 metres, and it crosses close to the summit of the Vosges’ highest peak, Le Grand Ballon (1424 metres).
Arighi-Bianchi shop in Macclesfield
Exploring history by bike

Cycling Cheshire’s silk roads

Local heroes and European inheritance

Since the 18th Century, Macclesfield and the surrounding towns and villages found wealth through the weaving and printing of silk, an industry that was strongly influenced by European technology and skills, and the vagaries of wars and trade. As Nigel Bruce discovered on a cyle tour of silk industry heritage around Macclesfield, processing of this highly sought-after fabric lives on in the beautiful landscape of East Cheshire, not just in memory at Macclesfield's Silk Museum, but also (just about) through a few remaining local industrial enterprises.

How did silk manufacturing come to Macclesfield?

“It was Charles Roe who really gave the silk industry here a jolt by importing Italian throwing machines, then the most advanced in the world”, explained Tim Lightfoot, a retired police officer now sharing his passion for social history as a guide at Macclesfield’s fascinating Silk Museum. “Just nearby,” he added, “you can see the plaque commemorating Roe’s work and the stream with old sluice gates off Pickford Street that powered his machines.”

The plaque commemorating Charles Roe's investment in ‘state of the art’ Italian silk throwing machines in 1756

The plaque commemorating Charles Roe's investment in ‘state of the art’ Italian silk throwing machines in 1756

The plaque notes how Roe ‘prospered’ from this investment. “Others could see him making serious money”, said Tim “and they moved in; they could also see the real wealth was in weaving, which led to the mills.” And that is when Cheshire’s silk industry really took off.

This is very much a Cheshire story, which started with local entrepreneurs and working people using silk to add a luxurious finish to buttons, the manufacture of which was already well-established in the area. It is also a story of the powerful impact of European technology and expertise on the fortunes of the industry, along with the influences of war and trade across the Continent.

A silk throwing machine on view in the Museum of Silk in Como, Italy which at the time of Charles Roe was (and remains) the centre of European silk manufacture
A silk throwing machine on view in the Museum of Silk in Como, Italy which at the time of Charles Roe was (and remains) the centre of European silk manufacture

I explored Cheshire’s silk heritage by bike, taking two days to get a feel for the landscape, the rivers that powered the machines, and to seek out other traces of this once great industry in old mills, weaver’s cottages and the grand houses of the industrialists.

The Macclesfield Silk Museum – a great starting point for exploring the history of silk in Cheshire

Macclesfield Silk Museum seemed the obvious starting point. Full of remarkable information, stories and artefacts, the jewel in the crown is a guided tour of the extraordinary Paradise Mill, just nearby. Frozen in time when the business closed in 1981, a whole floor houses Europe’s largest collection of Jacquard hand looms in their original location. Their operation is expertly explained and demonstrated by volunteer guides, including Tim and his colleague Trish Halloran.

I might add that cycling the steep lanes of East Cheshire's can be very hard work, but it turned out to be very rewarding.

A transformational technology

The invention in 1804 of the Jacquard loom not only revolutionised patterned weaving of silk and other textiles but also stimulated the science of computing.

Frenchman Joseph Marie Jacquard, working for his master-weaver father at the laborious task of manually lifting warp threads (it was these that controlled the pattern woven into the fabric), starting building upon earlier French innovations to create an automated system using punched cards.

The Paradise Mill

Retired policeman and now museum volunteer Tim Lightfoot grapples with the challenges of using a hand loom in the Paradise Mill
Retired policeman and now museum volunteer Tim Lightfoot grapples with the challenges of using a hand loom in the Paradise Mill

Watching this ingenious device in operation on the Paradise Mill looms, it is easy to see the dramatic impact it would have had on the speed at which patterned silk could be woven. Jacquard looms did not have a significant impact on silk weaving in Britain until the 1820s, however, due to the Napoleonic wars of 1803-15.

Human and political influences on the fortunes of silk manufacturing in Cheshire

In addition to the impacts of European technology and wars, there were also important human influences on silk manufacture. French protestant Huguenots, many of whom were expert silk weavers, had settled in London’s Spitalfields as refugees fleeing an upsurge in religious persecution following the revocation of the Edict of Nantes in 1685 by Louis XIV. Their weaving skills, poetically referred to as ‘The Mysteries of The Strangers’, led to the development of a vibrant silk weaving community in East London. Some of these Huguenot weavers moved north to Macclesfield, others to Sudbury in Suffolk which today is the largest centre of silk manufacture in Britain.

One of my favourite items in the Silk Museum was a dress made from the silk emergency maps used by RAF pilots in the Second World War. The rich variety of this collection is also illustrated by the cases of Egyptian artefacts and the story of how they came to be here in Macclesfield. In 1873 Marianne Brocklehurst, whose father was the silk manufacturer John Brocklehurst, set off with her companion Mary Booth (collectively, these two ladies were  referred to as the ‘MBs’), to travel up the Nile, exploring and helping to conserve Egyptian history through their association with Amelia Edwards, founder of the Egyptian Exploration Society.

Day 1 ride: A circuit from Bollington via clues to silk heritage on the borderers of the Peak District

Impressed by what I had seen in the Museum and Paradise Mill, and with some foundation of knowledge about Cheshire’s silk heritage, it was now time to get on the bike and explore the area that saw this fascinating industry develop. I began in Congleton at the former silk mill at Higher Washford. Beside the mill, which retains an impressive 5.5 metre diameter cast-iron waterwheel, the river Dane flows dramatically over a weir, demonstrating the power available to drive the spinning machines and looms.

Day 1 ride: Map of my southern loop ride starting from Bollington. The profile graphic shows the very hilly nature of this part of Cheshire [ recorded in Strava]
Day 1 ride: Map of my southern loop ride starting from Bollington. The profile graphic shows the very hilly nature of this part of Cheshire [ recorded in Strava]

Riding out of the town via the Biddulph Valley Way, I climbed up around The Cloud – that impressive prow of sandstone visible right across the Cheshire plain - and on through quiet, pretty lanes to Danebridge with its own intriguing links to the silk story.

Trish Halloran demonstrates the use of a Jacquard hand loom in Paradise Mill, showing the ‘chain’ of punched cards that control the pattern
Trish Halloran demonstrates the use of a Jacquard hand loom in Paradise Mill, showing (at the top of this photo) the ‘chain’ of punched cards that control the pattern

Landscape – so easily appreciated from the saddle - holds many clues, some quite subtle. It was through a passing comment from Tim Lightfoot as he wove and talked, that my attention settled on the verdant moss adorning the stone walls following the sinuous contours of the Peak District’s western flank. “Another reason for silk being here is the climate,” said Tim. “It is damp, and that helped to keep the thread pliable, avoiding breaks.”

Just before Danebridge, I passed Swythamley Hall, once home to the silk manufacturer, banker and Liberal MP John Brocklehurst, whose daughter was the Egyptologist Marianne.

Higher Washford Mill beside the River Dane in Buglawton, Congleton, which has at various times been a corn, silk and flint mill, drawing ample power from the fast-flowing river fed from the local hills 

A Ship Inn many miles from a navigable river or the sea?

Swythamley Hall near Danebridge, former home of silk business owner Sir John Brocklehurst
Swythamley Hall near Danebridge, former home of silk business owner Sir John Brocklehurst

Needing refreshment, I headed to The Ship Inn at Wincle, one of my family’s favourite stops on walks in the surrounding hills. This time, I was determined to solve the mystery of its name and the painted sign illustrating a late 19th Century vessel held fast in a frozen landscape (see photo caption for the answer to this mystery).

The Ship Inn, Wincle; the ship illustrated on the pub sign at Wincle is the Nimrod, the transport for Ernest Shackleton’s 1907-09 Antarctic expedition, which counted among its members and funders Philip Brocklehurst, born at Swythamley Hall and grandson of silk manufacturer John Brocklehurst.
The Ship Inn, Wincle; the ship illustrated on the pub sign at Wincle is the Nimrod, the transport for Ernest Shackleton’s 1907-09 Antarctic expedition, which counted among its members and funders Philip Brocklehurst, born at nearby Swythamley Hall and grandson of silk manufacturer John Brocklehurst. 

A solid, comfortable looking house, known as ‘Bagstones’, set in a pretty, mature garden on a lane not far above the Ship Inn, was once the home of the ‘MBs’. Finding this house completed my silk trail around this prettiest of stone-built villages, nestling among steep wooded hillsides that run down to the rushing waters of the river Dane.

Wincle’s setting beside that river means that the cyclist cannot escape from this little haven without tackling one or another very steep hill.  Selecting a low gear and a positive mental attitude, I headed slowly north, crossed the A54 road from Leek to Buxton, then rode along the dramatic ridge of Barlow Hill, exposed to the full and exhilarating force of a vicious spring storm.

Beyond Haddon, and much as I love storms, I was by then very relieved that my route descended rapidly into the sheltered Bollin valley at Sutton Lane Ends. From here, my route back to Congleton took me through Gawsworth, famed for its beautiful 15th Century Elizabethan Hall. But it was the early 18th Century Gawsworth New Hall that I particularly wanted to see, as this was once the home of William Birchenough, another of the Macclesfield silk company owners.

Gawsworth New Hall, the 18th Century home of silk owner William Birchenough
Gawsworth New Hall, the 18th Century home of silk owner William Birchenough

Construction of this Grade II* listed stately home was started in 1707 by Lord Charles Mohun, an indebted, gambling landowner and Whig politician. His fondness for fighting duels led to his demise when he was killed in November 1712 in a famous contest with James Douglas, 4th Duke of Hamilton with whom he had a long-running dispute over the estate. While estate ownership was ostensibly the pretext for an encounter that proved fatal for both contestants, the real story may lie with an attempt to silence Mohun’s opposition to efforts by Hamilton, at that time a special envoy to Paris, to secure peace in the War of the Spanish Succession, although exactly why that should have justified a duel has remained elusive.

Day 2: Weavers homes and silk manufacturers in Cheshire

Former weaver's homes in Paradise Street, Macclesfield with their large attic windows providing good light for their work
Former weaver's homes in Paradise Street, Macclesfield with their large attic windows providing good light for their work

Inspired by how much I had already discovered on the bike, I stayed over in Macclesfield and the next day set out on a second ride that took me north out of Macclesfield, through Bollington, and back into the hills. Early in this ride, I climbed the aptly named Blaze Hill, a truly beastly challenge that ascends 180 metres over 2.5 km with a maximum gradient of 14.5%.

This brought me to Rainow, and then over to Langley where weaver’s cottages, like those in Paradise Street in Macclesfield, demonstrate the large attic windows designed to provide good light for the throwing machines and looms. Langley is also home to Adamley, a high-quality silk printing enterprise using silk screen and digital printing and housing a large archive of historic print designs https://adamley.co.uk/

Map of my Day 2 ride, starting from Macclesfield, and another very hilly itinerary, quite hard work on the bike but a great way to appreciate the nature of the landscape
Map of my Day 2 ride, starting from Macclesfield, and another very hilly itinerary, quite hard work on the bike but a great way to appreciate the nature of the landscape

On my tour, I visited another one of the Cheshire’s (at that time) thriving textile companies, RA Smart Holdings of Bollington, which specialised in patterned weaving and printing of silk and other fabrics. It is fittingly situated beside the old Adelphi Silk Mill, the Macclesfield Canal and the former railway which is now the Middlewood Way.

The owner, Ron Smart, whom I met and who kindly showed me around the factory, brought a silk screen printing concern here from northern Italy after working there for a several years, and developed this through the 1980s. He had developed sophisticated silk screen, acid dye and digital printing facilities and was running four Jacquard looms producing, among other designs, the sought-after ‘Macclesfield Neats’, so favoured for ties.

Ron Smart casts an experienced eye over one of his four Italian SMIT Textile silk looms with computer-controlled Jacquard heads
Ron Smart casts an experienced eye over one of his four Italian SMIT Textile silk looms with computer-controlled Jacquard heads

Glancing up at the portrait of Joseph Jacquard in his office, he explained that he still values his links with Italy; “I have taught the staff, all of whom are local, but my source of knowledge is from Como, my mentors are in Como”.

Watching the high-speed looms in operation was an impressive sight, especially as I reflected that the Jacquard ‘heads’ were simply an up-to-date version of an early 19th Century invention, controlled by software and computers rather than punched cards. The looms and most of the other technology that Ron Smart uses are all European, with the exception of the digital printers which are Japanese.

“The British technology is long gone, long gone”, he mused. “I chose the Italian Jacquards and looms so I could always ring them and say what do you think ...”. 

While China remains the source of Ron Smart’s raw silk, the thread is processed in Italy; “I use an Italian supplier because of the quality”, he said, adding that “this is particularly important for the warp threads - the looms run so much better”.

Like Adamley, Ron Smart’s textile business seemed to be thriving at the time of my rides and visit to the factory , reaching markets in Europe, Asia and the US, and he felt that his personal links were strong enough to protect him against future changes in trade relationships with Europe (i.e. from Brexit). Sadly, however, in April 2026, RA Smart (Holdings) became insolvent and is currently in administration, with the industrial units and machinery up for sale, so this silk weaving and printing business has finally closed down and joined the long list of local silk enterprises that eventually fell victim to economic and political forces. I recently met with Ron Smart again at his office where he is managing all the affairs of wrapping up the business. “ We lost business during the Covid pandemic,” he said, “ and sadly it never properly recovered, “So with fixed costs rising, it has not been possible to maintain a sustainable business, and our closure will leave a big hole as there is no one else in the country doing the weaving and printing (especially the acid dye printing of fabrics such as cashmere wool) that we were able to produce”. I asked exactly which among these ‘fixed costs’ were the culprits, to which he replied “Well, the usual … it’s increasing labour costs, with higher national insurance and pension contributions, and energy – we pay far more for energy here in the UK than they do in Europe and it’s not easy there either.” The portrait of Joseph Jacquard, I noted, still hangs above the desk in Ron’ Smart’s office.

Historically, the fortunes of Macclesfield’s silk industry have fluctuated greatly with events across the Channel. Huguenot (French protestant) refugees brought their silk weaving skills, and Charles Roe kick-started the industry with Italian technology. The 18th and 19th Century wars with France reduced access to the French silk desired by wealthy English women, so promoting the local manufacturing; at the same time, these conflicts delayed the adoption of Jacquard’s transformational technology in England. Business then boomed, until the late 1820’s when European free trade agreements reduced tariffs on imported French silk. There were further ups and downs, with production of parachutes in WW2 (until the use of nylon started in 1942), then decline once more as textile manufacture moved to Asia.

The memorial window to Martha  Brocklehurst in St Michael's church, Macclesfield

The memorial window to Martha Brocklehurst in St Michael's church, Macclesfield

 

Cycling back into Macclesfield, the traces of silk are everywhere in the street names and buildings. Among the highlights are the weaver's houses in Paradise Street, Charles Roe House (now a wellbeing centre and cafe), and the Sunday School for the silk workers’ children. Among the churches are St Michael's with its memorial window to the Brocklehurst family, and Christ’s Church which was built by Charles Roe and is where he is buried.

Opposite the Travel Lodge, itself converted from the former Royal Silk Warehouse, is the extraordinary Grade II* listed Arighi Bianchi building.

This architectural delight [illustrated in the header photo], best appreciated in the evening light, is another reminder, as if one were needed, of Macclesfield's links to the world of European silk and the impact of refugees fleeing conflict.

Antonio Arighi and his nephew Antonio Bianchi originally came from the silk village of Casnate on the shores of Lake Como in 1854 to escape the Italian civil war and established themselves as cabinet makers.

Macclesfield is looking to promote its links with China, building on its past and current industrial heritage, and on the idea of being located at the western end of ‘The Silk Road’ stretching from the Far East to Europe.

One other active silk business (supplying high quality silk, and patterned fabrics that were being printed by RA Smart’s company in Bollington) in this part of Cheshire is Bennett Silks based a little further north in Stockport. Established in 1904 by William Henry Bennett in Manchester, it is according to the company’s website, still entirely in the Bennett family's hands, run by William Henry Bennett's great grandson Mike and his wife Joyce, who are leading the company through further expansion with the establishment of substantial silk weaving interests in Europe, India & China.

The company web site goes on to describe their contemporary European partnership, and how in 2016, ‘a fifty percent shareholding was purchased in French weaving mill FCN Textiles, giving Bennett Silks its own European production facility in the heart of the French silk area in Fourneaux, a town to the northwest of Lyon. This acquisition proved even more beneficial in 2021, enabling the creation of Bennett Silks Europe to counter the extra charges and complications inflicted on EU customers since Brexit. Bennett Silks' EU customers can continue to order safe in the knowledge that their goods will be delivered exactly as they always have been with no extra charges or delays.’

All of which further emphasises the importance of connections of our island nation with the continent of Europe, and not just for silk.

Information and links

All photos © Nigel Bruce 2019

The recently restored bunker close to the site of Kilometre Zero on the Swiss border
The Road of Hope and Sorrow

A surreal setting for the southeastern end of the Western Front on the Swiss frontier

An excerpt from Chapter 24: The Forest of War and Peace

Less than 100 metres from the Swiss border stood a gun emplacement which marked the first German fortification of the Western Front. Or the last, depending on which way you are facing. This featured a revolving cannon, an illustration of which is provided on the information panel nearby (see photo).

I was now past the muddy section and able to ride my bike again. Many years ago, before the outbreak of the Great War, a farm and grocery known as the Petit Largin stood near here on the Swiss side of the border. Around 1890, the owner built an inn opposite his property, but this was just inside Alsace, which at the time was part of the German Empire. The authorities placed a frontier marker stone, one of several along this section of the path, to show that different customs and excise rules applied to the Swiss grocery and the German inn.

Although the farm disappeared around 1900 and the inn was destroyed by German shellfire in 1914, this border crossing was to play an important role in the Second World War. When Gauleiter Robert Wagner announced in 1942 that Alsatian men would have to enlist in the German army, many sought to escape. The salient of Swiss territory provided a well-used route, and on just one day in February 1943, a total of 183 men made it out of Alsace and into neutral Switzerland.

The first (or last for me) German position of the Western Front.

The first (or last for me) German position of the Western Front.

On the far side of the river, in the corner of a field, stands the Largin Farm. It looks somewhat dilapidated now, but peering at it through the trees I could imagine those Alsatian men, desperate to avoid conscription, scrambling across the stream in the depths of a freezing winter night, racing across the field to the sanctuary of the farm, and on to freedom.

It is said that, as they made their escape, they sang ‘Vous n’aurez pas l’Alsace et la Lorraine’ (You will not have Alsace and Lorraine).

The Largin Farm just inside the Swiss border by Nigel Bruce

The Largin Farm just inside the Swiss border

by Nigel Bruce

A timber footbridge constructed by Swiss army engineers in 2012 took me over the Largue river and into Switzerland where I found Marker Stone 111.

Placed in 1743, it carries the marks of episodes in the turbulent history of Alsace. Carved on the southern facet is the bear of Berne, signifying the moment in 1815 when the Episcopality of Basel (which includes the nearby community of Bonfol) was incorporated into the Canton of Berne. On the reverse side, the date 1793 recalls the year when the short-lived Rauracian Republic, created in 1792 from part of the Holy Roman Empire located in what is now the Swiss Jura, was annexed by France. The date 1817 on the western side of the marker was added when officials confirmed the border in that year, while other markings on the French side attest to changes of sovereignty.

Marker stone 111, placed on the Franco-Swiss border in 1743, its carved sides a witness to the turbulent history of this region and the location of Kilometre Zero

Marker stone 111, placed on the Franco-Swiss border in 1743, its carved sides a witness to the turbulent history of this region and the location of Kilometre Zero

This modest stone held a very special significance for my journey along the Western Front. Planted on the Swiss border between the French and German lines, and watched over by the neutral Swiss, it marks the strange but very real point known as Kilometre Zero.

Beside this stone, I was standing in the midst of a forest of war and peace. Across just a few metres of woodland, political circumstances determined that while French and German citizens would be ordered to kill each other, both could meet, talk and laugh with their Swiss counterparts – as illustrated so poignantly in the information panel at the site. All of the blood, shells, bullets, gas, pain and death just stopped here, on an ill-defined line beside a small stream in the woods of Southern Alsace. Try explaining that to a child.

And to emphasise this extraordinary reality, just across from Marker 111 is Swiss Observation Bunker No. 2. There is nothing left of the original, as it was built from timber and earth since the Swiss needed protection only from stray bullets and the occasional deliberate shot, presumably from a frustrated German or French soldier.

The grave of an unknown (inconnu) French soldier, whose remains were lost somewhere on the battlefield of the Somme, and who is remembered in the cemetery below the Memorial to the Missing of the Somme at Thiepval.
The Road of Hope and Sorrow

Mental preparation for a ride along the Western Front

An excerpt from Chapter 2: Alone with the Poet's Ghost

On a bike you sense every turn, rise, and fall of the land, and feel the vagaries of the weather which warm or chill you, push you on, or beat you back. Cycle touring, apart from being a very practical way of visiting the many sites while carrying the kit needed for the journey, is perfectly suited to an exploration of the Western Front. For you feel, as well as see, the landscape and terrain. The effort of climbing up to higher ground, for example, does not pass unnoticed and offers pointers to military strategy, and the settings, aims, and outcomes of battles, trench systems and fortifications.

Cycling is also an ‘intimate’ means of travel, as it allows appreciation of people going about their daily lives, the roadside flowers, birdsong, architecture, and much else, for the senses are always alert and it is easy to stop a while when something catches your attention. This is all no doubt true of walking too, but on a bike one can cover enough ground each day to see striking changes in the landscape, and if not too hilly it’s possible to rack up the kilometres when time is short.

On my bike, I would be very close to the memory of what took place on the Western Front. Among many other details of these events, my IGN map of the Grande Guerre showed just how many battles played out across Belgium and France over the years 1914 to 1918. Some are well known, such as Passchendaele, the Somme, Chemin des Dames, Verdun, to name but a few. But many others are rather distant in popular memory, for example the Battles of Yser, Fromelles, Neuve Chapelle, Argonne Forest, Flirey-Remenauville, Grand Couronné, Trouée de Charmes, and Hartmannswillerkopf.

Even this list of lesser-known battles, which could easily be very much longer, does not include the multitude of smaller engagements, the wire-clearing and other operations, that left men just as badly wounded and just as dead. My ride would run through one terrible battlefield after another, each furnished with poignant memorials to those who lost their lives, or lived on scarred in mind and body.

Graves at Thiepval marking the last resting place of French soldiers whose names are unknown (Inconnu)

Graves at Thiepval marking the last resting place of French soldiers whose names are unknown (Inconnu)

I think it reasonable to assert that the Western Front is defined more than anything else by the deaths of millions of young men, the lasting mental and physical injury of millions more, and the destruction of countless homes and communities.

That grim reality would of itself, even if there were no other challenges, make this journey very different from my previous long-distance bike rides. The traveller cannot avoid some level of engagement with this consequence of exploring the Western Front, and I had been wondering how being immersed in such a uniquely challenging milieu for the best part of a month would affect my own state of mind. It was an important question to address, not just for my own mental health, but also because I would be a war tourist and needed to reflect on my attitude to visiting serial killing fields, memorials and other evidence of this carnage.

Would I, after a few days, become too numb to understand any more, or to show the respect that was due? Or would I perhaps become so upset and sickened that I might turn my back on the adventure and go home, or maybe use the time I had set aside to head off somewhere else promising a less emotionally draining adventure?

Such reactions will vary from one person to another, reflecting the vulnerabilities and resilience that each of us possess. I recognise in myself a heightened sensitivity to loss, easily brought to tears by situations, stories, poetry, music and films that convey this theme in one form or another. I know there are reasons for this lurking in the depths of my early years and family life. A brief account of those times will provide some context, and maybe strike a chord with others who make this journey with similar sensibilities. I’ll start with a few words about my parents.

Get in Touch

Whether you have a question about The Road of Hope and Sorrow, would like to discuss Nigel Bruce’s journey along the Western Front, or are interested in inviting him to speak at an event, please use the form below to get in touch.