28-05-2025
In 1977 we set off on a bike ride to India, but parted ways in Greece – 50 years on we met up
'The search is over – but why did you bother?' So chuckles Brian Parker as he embraces William Spencer – a friend with whom he cycled from Hemel Hempstead to Greece some 48 years ago, and who he hasn't seen since. There are laughs, hugs and hearty pats on the back between the two men – now 69 and 70 respectively – who in their later years have come to bear more than a passing resemblance. It's only a matter of moments before they begin reminiscing beneath the greying bank holiday skies, and deciding whether to head to the pub for lunch – an upgrade, both agree, on the two-franc Brie and bread they subsisted on in France while partway along an epic journey that began on June 11 1977.
The original plan, which the duo hatched during their early 20s, was to cycle all the way from Hemel Hempstead to India. Brian turned back in Greece, but William ended up cycling all the way there, a decision that dramatically changed the course of his life. Almost half a century later, today's reunion only happened because, on May 10th of this year, during a visit over here from the United States where he now lives, William posted an online appeal to find Brian in the Facebook group Friends Reunited (UK). The response was astonishing, with thousands of people commenting and trying to assist in the hunt. Within 48 hours, Brian – alerted to the search via a friend of his wife's – posted a characteristically dry response: 'You've found me Bill. How are you?'
Much has changed since the pair boarded their bikes all that time ago. Today, 'I think we would have passed each other on the street,' William admits. 'The disappearance of the hair changes everything.' The two men nod sagely, and decide not to begin an 'organ recital' of comparing their respective ailments to assess who has aged better.
William is the louder and more open of the two, his accent altered a little by an American twang. Brian is more wry and understated. Both quickly agree that 'there seems to be an easy comfort between us', which has been steadily rebuilding since they spoke over the phone for the first time in so long a few weeks' back. William 'hung up and I was hit by this wave of affection for this person I hadn't seen for decades. Life's kind of amazing in that way, right?'
Today was a pleasant reminder that some relationships are immune to the tests of time. William's first glimpse of that came a few weeks ago, following Brian's response to his post. 'My first reaction was 'Oh yes, that sounds just like Brian',' chuckles William. 'You do feel uncertain about meeting someone again after 48 years. Have they changed? Will we still have things to talk about? Will there be long silences?'
Brian admits he was also apprehensive. 'Who's to say we'll get on? I ummed and ahhed about getting in touch. But once I actually spoke to Bill – sorry, he prefers William now! – and we caught up on work and our families, it felt comfortable.'
'He's the same lovely, soft-spoken guy I remembered,' says William of Brian. 'I'm overly wilful and a little too loud – that's why we went together really well.'
Oddly, given the sheer ambition of that youthful plan, Brian confesses he wasn't actually much of a cyclist. 'I'd had bikes as a child, but riding on busy London roads wasn't particularly pleasant,' he explains. He met William through work after moving to Hemel Hempstead: they were both computer operators for ShellMex-BP. 'I think because he was keen on cycling, I bought a bike and we would go round together,' recalls Brian.
For William, cycling was a sanctuary. 'I grew up in an alcoholic household,' he says. 'There was always a level of uncertainty and madness, so when I got my first bike at 11, it gave me remarkable freedom, and it settled and soothed me. It was the perfect antidote to childhood trauma.'
He combined that love of cycling with a burgeoning wanderlust, cycling to France with his then-girlfriend Sharon. Then he hatched his plan to travel to his dream destination: India. 'When I was five years old, the Queen Mother came to visit our school, and we did projects to put on the wall for her to look at,' remembers William. 'I can still remember the black-and-white photo of a Bengal tiger I had in my project on India. It always intrigued me. In the Seventies, if you were seeking something other than a 9 to 5 job, that was the place to go.'
But how on earth did he persuade Brian? 'I got roped in,' says Brian. 'It was over a few pints at the local pub. I was young, happy to tag along, and William could be very persuasive.' That's a fair assessment, agrees William. 'I may have coaxed him into it.'
This was before the internet and smartphones, so planning wasn't easy. (Unlike today's meeting point near Westminster, chosen by ChatGPT.) 'I had a single large map that folded out showing the overland route to India,' says William. 'You can imagine there wasn't much detail. I also read a guidebook that opened with 'A year spent in India is worth 10 years of formal education in the West'.' Brian thinks they bought a Michelin road map so they could find quieter byroads to take. 'We must have plotted out a route because we told people they could write to us at particular towns,' he adds.
William's mother, who was French, was a keen traveller too. 'She met my dad in Australia,' he explains. 'So she was all for it. She bought me a little hand trowel to use to bury my poo.' It sounds pretty courageous to me, but William puts their lack of fear down to 'youthful naïveté'.
However, Brian's parents were horrified, he recalls. 'I hadn't been in my job for long, so they thought 'What the hell is he doing quitting now?' But after a while they realised that if I was going to have an adventure, it was better to do it at that age. Nowadays most kids take a gap year.' The local newspaper printed a picture of him and William with the heading: 'It's Bombay or Bust for Two Easy Riders'.
Neither of them had fancy Lycra gear. 'When we left home, I was wearing jeans and a denim jacket,' says Brian. 'As it warmed up, we changed into jean shorts and T-shirts – there was nothing professional about it.' As the less-experienced cyclist, he found the first week hard going. 'We'd done a few 'practice runs', but the longest was cycling about 20 miles to Stevenage, and we didn't have our panniers loaded up with all the gear, like our tents.'
To begin with, every time they came across a steep hill, they would get off and push, until they realised that was harder, says Brian. 'It was best just to put your head down and try not to wobble into traffic.' They set a rough target of 50 miles a day, explains William, but the weather didn't help their initial progress. 'The heavens opened. We arrived at Dover like drowned rats.'
However, they soon got into their stride, and their friendship developed too. 'I realised how fond I'd become of Brian when I thought I'd lost him,' says William. 'We sometimes got separated and we'd then meet up at an agreed point. But near Amiens an ambulance came rushing past me, siren blaring, and I panicked that it was Brian. I'd tightened his wheel that morning – maybe I hadn't done it properly? Thankfully he turned up two hours later, to my happiness. We shared a bar of chocolate to celebrate.'
They were on a tight budget, so existed mainly on fruit and those cheese sandwiches, remembers Brian. But his favourite memory is from Venice: they met a friendly group and went out for a meal. 'I had no idea that pizzas got cooked in a proper pizza oven, so I couldn't understand why they came out so slowly. It was the best thing I'd ever eaten.'
The journey took them through Italy, Yugoslavia and into Greece, arriving in early August. Brian had always known he probably wouldn't go further, he says: 'I'd told William 'Let's wait and see if we're still talking to each other by then', just to mollify his persistence.'
Fortunately they met a Dutch traveller, Rudy, who wanted to cycle to Israel; he and William decided to travel on together, while Brian returned home. It was back to normality, explains Brian. 'I got a job as a computer programmer for the Open University, and moved to Milton Keynes. I met my wife Alison – she was a university administrator.' The couple, now retired, live in East Sussex.
But he never forgot his adventure. 'It became my party piece,' says Brian. 'If I was at the pub or a dinner party, and everyone was telling stories, I could say: 'I remember sleeping in a watermelon field in Greece – at least I had breakfast on hand.' And people would say 'What a load of rubbish!' So I always carried that newspaper cutting about our trip in my wallet as proof.'
When William finally reached India, he lived in an ashram for three years. He joined the foundation which ran that ashram, and one in the Catskills in New York State, meeting his wife, Chaya, in the process. 'We travelled round the world living out of suitcases, until she became pregnant with our son,' he says. The couple now live in New Jersey and have two children: Dan, 32, and Sophia, 29.
William had kept detailed diaries of his cycling exploits, and during Covid he used them to write a book, Far Sweeter Than Honey. He began trying to find Brian 'so that he could read what I'd written before I published'. But it proved an almost impossible task.
They had reconnected briefly in 1981, speaking on the phone, but they never actually met up. William blames Brian's then-girlfriend, 'who wanted him to forget his past. She forbade him from seeing me. In those days, it was easy to then lose touch.'
He's not much of a social media user, and is bewildered by the enormous public response. 'It's absolutely crazy,' says Brian. 'I've never been involved with anything like this – I've never gone viral.' William's initial post now has more than 2,000 likes, and there are numerous comments from people touched by the happy ending to their story. William says: 'Seeing the reaction has made me realise it's actually quite heart-warming. Two people said: 'Oh, this has brought me to tears.''
Speaking to William has brought back all sorts of memories, says Brian. 'I've gone back and dug out my old passport and photographs.' After the initial phone call, he was excited about meeting up in person, especially after chatting on the phone and filling in all those gaps. 'It's not like we're strangers. I knew William was the sort of guy who would make his life happen – he had such drive. It's great to hear what he's been up to.'
However, William says he owes much of his happiness to Brian. 'I never would have done the journey if it hadn't been for him, and then I never would have met my wife and had my two kids. All these years, I just wanted to thank him.'
