A couple of weeks ago I set out to try to find the grave of John Gillespie Magee Jr., poet and pilot in the RCAF. He’s best known for the poem ‘High Flight’, which expresses the exhilaration experienced by pilots. Unfortunately, I looked for the grave in the churchyard of Holy Cross Scopwick, instead of in the cemetery not far away around a corner. I might have used Google and found it, but I’ve never been fond of fiddling with my smart-phone. I have learned to use the directions facility in Google Maps, which is how I got to Scopwick in the first place. Anyway, having discovered the existence of the cemetery, I planned and undertook a return run; instead of diverting on my way to an air museum, it was to be the main objective of the ride. In the process of planning, I noticed several other places, not too far away, which looked to be worth a visit.

Saturday morning, 08.00. I wheeled Oscar – my 2015, Royal Enfield Bullet B5 EFI – out of the garage, checked him over, donned my helmet, and set off. At that time on a Saturday morning, the traffic hadn’t time to build and I only had a couple of brief pauses for traffic lights. It was enjoyable to ride at the speed limit without having to worry much about other drivers, and made very good time; through Gleadless, Carnock, High Lane, Mosborough, Renishaw, and over the M1 motorway at Barlborough. Through Clowne, Cuckney and Budby, hardly delayed by any other traffic, until I reached the Ollerton Crossroads after only fifty minutes riding. I would normally expect to take over an hour for the twenty-eight miles. The Green Hut at the crossroads is a favourite haunt of bikers, and I was greeted pleasantly as I ordered coffee and a sausage sandwich.

My main criteria these days for a pause when riding is ‘is there a toilet?’ At the Green Hut, there is. Less than thirty minutes after arriving, I was back in the saddle, now guided by the lady on Google Maps. She took me through Wellow, Ompton and Kneesall, to join the A46 at Newark, then almost immediately, the A17. The A17, though only two lanes, is quite a busy road, and for the first time I was slowed by lines of traffic. Overtaking was difficult, as there was a steady stream of oncoming vehicles. Past Beckingham, where there is an Army camp and firing range, She directed me off the main road, and I was riding through the RAF College Cranwell and Cranwell Village, to pick up the A15 for a few miles, before turning off again, onto the B1191 through Ashby de la Launde and RAF Digby. Digby is no longer an active airfield, and there’s little evidence it ever was one on Satellite View, but it is a military site.

The narrow roads, from Cranwell to Scopwick are fun to ride, and I was a happy biker when I turned in to Vicarage Lane and parked Oscar just past the lych-gate, next to a line of cars parked across the firm grassy verge.

The cemetery is a quiet, serene place. It’s not large, and the military headstones are easy to identify. Some had been replaced, I assume by the families of the dead.

I walked among the stones, pausing to read the inscriptions. Most of the Second World War graves were RCAF, with no regard for rank or role, fittingly. I found Pilot Officer J.G. Magee without difficulty. I also found a line of five stones bearing German names, four of them bearing the same date of death, and wondered about their story.