Mopping up no.3 - 13 October 2007

Two lines left in the north of England are my targets for today, one of which has a low frequency service (Habrough to Barton on Humber) and one has an almost non-existent service (Knottingley to Goole). They've both eluded me on previous trips where it was just impossible to squeeze them in, so the time has come. This one was going to be a long day, rising at 4.30am and getting home at 11.30pm, and I wasn't too well in the week, so could do with a rest. But, the tickets have been bought now, so I have to grin and bear it. Being up that early had an unexpected benefit. The planet Venus was at that time of the morning hanging huge and bright in the sky, more luminous than I've ever seen it before. It seemed to follow me up the road to the station and I could see why it's been reported as a UFO. There were a surprisingly large number of people on the first train out of New Beckenham. Some of them were destined to be disgruntled that morning as at Ladywell a points failure was announced and we were routed up the Lewisham avoiding line, which meant going fast to London Bridge and missing three stations.

I scramble on to the second GNER out, the 7.00 to Edinburgh. Today the 225 train is being diverted due to engineering works, and this may be something to do with the extra stops it makes. This is to my favour today because it means I can get to my first destination, Cleethorpes, about 2 hours earlier than usual, which gives me plenty of recovery time later in the day. I get out at Retford which is one of the extra stops today. Retford is a junction for two lines that cross but are not connected, the platforms being at two levels. In days of yore it would have been called High Level and Low Level but this seems to be too clunky for the modern streamlined world. A year ago I'd wondered if I'd ever get to the Low Level, having soared over the High Level track so many times - and now I'm changing trains there on this mild but very foggy Autumn day. It's quite a walk from one level to the other, and it takes most of the connecting time to do it. It's not long before the single coach Sprinter creaks round the bend. The guard greets the handful of us getting on - back in the friendly North! - and we set off across the vaguely eerie Lincolnshire flats. Ironically I'm now covering the rarely served line from Gainsborough Central to Barnetby again, which gave me so much trouble earlier in the year (see Lincolnshire!) including a tiny new stretch connecting Retford to Gainsborough Central. At Barnetby there are DOZENS of spotters, surely expecting something more interesting than the Sprinters and 185s passing by. It's refreshing to see many of them are teenagers (and tracksuited ones at that) but I can't imagine it's worth sprinting up the platform with a camcorder to shoot our train. Each to their own.

We then head through an empty Grimsby Town station, another train presumably having called just before us, and then I’m into new territory. The line snakes through the sprawl of the docks, today silent as we go fast through the docks halt. In no time at all we’re pulling into the terminus at Cleethorpes. The two towns seem to pretty much run into one another, something I was not expecting. I’m told by a local that Grimbsyites that do well for themselves generally move to Cleethorpes. And I can see why. The fog that is totally obscuring the sea beyond the end of the pier does not help to disguise the fact that the place has its share of seaside tat. But away from this, there are pleasant little coffee shops and second-hand shops. There are decent looking pubs and trendy bars. There are unexpected sights too. Or sounds. I hear a clip clop ahead of me and a line of people on horseback suddenly emerge from a side street - clearly some sort of riding school but it's a rare sight in such an urban environment. And they are going past a corner shop, the windows of which are rammed with salvaged equipment from the Air Force, totally obscuring the interior of the shop. There are cameras watching every inch of the shop front, so I suspect the shop may have something to do with weapons.

I expect I'll come back to the place someday in better weather hopefully, but for the moment the rest of the day's travels await. I approach the station from a different angle and notice it's quite a large building with a clock tower, as well as an inviting-looking pub on the platform. Sadly I must pass on this. The place looks like a Class 153 Gala Day with the one I got off still humming gently and a newly arrived one ready to take me to Barton On Humber. At first the other passengers are no problem, chiefly comprising older people talking about the service on the line - I think they may be from the local line users group. By the time we arrive at New Holland the thing is full of youths who are not quite as bad as the ones on C2C but could certainly give them a run for their money. I'm really sick of them always appearing and turn my I-Pod up full. Thankfully there's not many going into Grimsby on the way back, and it's a peaceful journey back. It's just the stretch between Habrough and Barton that I've not done and the landscape is not unexpected - marshlands! Sadly the view from the south of the Humber Bridge that I have this week is spoiled by the fog and there is little else to see. I contemplate changing at Habrough but it's a long wait and I can see just one faintly unwelcoming hostelry from the train that I already know is the only one there. So I continue to "Great Grimsby" and go to the Wetherspoons that I visited before. It's very full and the food I order takes ages. I'm on the verge of cancelling when it arrives and I foolishly gulp it down.

Next I'm heading back to Doncaster on a three coach 185, a route I've covered before, which affords me the chance to get some sleep, though not before I see a fish shop on the other side of the station's level crossing, which would have been a far better choice for lunch. I wake up when Scunthorpe is announced. Sights of interest include a cement works with piles of raw materials so white they almost dazzle as well as a vast yard of rusting weed-infested tracks, showing that there was significant activity here once. Wonder how long before it's housing?

At Doncaster I am determined to see something other than the station for a change and head out to a pub that has a good write up - The Leopard. This boasts that it can be reached without crossing roads which is significant in the context of the station. Outside the pedestrian is greeted with a road tunnel on one side and no pavement on the other, though there is a direct passage into the Frenchgate shopping centre - great! The Leopard is a live music venue of some repute too and in those one of those coincidences that life throws up I discover the next day that my brother has taken a tour there a few times. I have a pint of something with a daft name from the Glentworth Brewery which is very pleasant and it's good to know that there is life at this most important of railway sites for the future!

Next I'm on another GNER 225 to Leeds. It's rammed. Are there any empty trains left? It's a good thing that demand for rail is high but it's a shame we don't respond to it as we try to in...well, every other sphere of economic life. I realise that I've also not been to many pubs in Leeds so today is the day to put that right. The Scarbrough Hotel (note spelling) is apparently the Leeds CAMRA's pub of the year. I've passed it many a time and not known it was a pub! Inside it's packed, and has been refurbished in a modern style, but retains a large range of beers. Problem is, I'm now so tired that I can't enjoy it at all, especially as it's the second pub I've had to stand in that day, and I really just want to go home! However there's some way to go before the day is over. I leave earlier than intended and have one of the guest beers in the station Wetherspoons instead, watching the tail end of the England-Estonia Euro 2008 qualifier. We win and I head over to get on the packed Pacer which will take me to Goole over the little used route through Knottingley.

Much of this is familiar territory to me, though I have never seen the station at Glasshoughton before, as this opened after my last visit to this line in 2005. To my annoyance it serves an enormous out of town shopping and leisure complex rather than a settlement, and though it's good that it's connected to the network, I can't be the only one who doesn't see these ghastly places as a sign of progress? At Knottingley, nearly everyone gets out and I see a bus marked "Railway Replacement Service." Do they know something I don't? Surely not...I'm so close to finally crossing this line off. To my relief the train roars into life again. With a combination of dozing and the fading light, I don't see much of the ride, not even when we cross the East Coast main line. A few people do get on at the intermediate stations heading for Goole.

Goole used to be a relatively important port on the Humber, and had numerous freight lines connecting it to the rest of the network in the North of England, as well as a direct passenger link to Selby. Now it is chiefly served by Hull to Sheffield trains. The island-style canopy on platform 1 betrays that it had certainly had more platforms in the past. It also has a curious feature - subways on either side of the road for pedestrians to cross the level crossing - usually this is a footbridge if anything. I'm still sleepy and decide I need chips in curry sauce to wake me up rather than another drink. If anyone can explain my reasoning I'd be grateful. Anyway I find a Chinese Takeaway chippy and go in after a struggle with the door. None of the friers are going and the reaction to my order for chips makes me think I've done something wrong. I don't like to ask for the curry sauce too. I settle on a tiny sofa next to another customer and comment on the lack of chip frying apparently going on. He assures me this is the best place for miles around. We have a brief chat. He's a fence erector who lives in a village about ten miles away and is surprised that I've bothered to go to Goole. I just say rather mysteriously that it's a long story, not everyone would understand the quest. I certainly understand his reaction - it would be like something going to London and visiting Penge. I say my farewells as the chips arrive and head for the intriguingly named City and County, Goole's very own Wetherspoons. I start on a pint of John Smiths before realising I have about 7 minutes to drink it. Why can't I just leave them in these situations?

A pint heavier I head back to the station to await the train as Goole's twenty-somethings head for the nightlife of Doncaster, none of them realising that it's a two coach 158 they're travelling on. At Doncaster I can't face a trip to the other pub I was going to visit and get a coffee instead and just sit in the cool night air for an hour and watch the sights. This includes a group of southern football fans being bollocked by the British Transport Police, a man told off for smoking and several trains passing in and out. I listen to the announcements and marvel at how many of these routes I now have under my belt. My train is late but I'm not worried, it's been nice collecting my thoughts and sobering up a bit.

I've booked first class on the 225 back to London for a bit of peace which I certainly get, the coach being pretty empty until a pair of tossers get on at Stevenage and start arguing. A wobbly bloke keeps coming out of second class and returning with cans of cider from his mates in first class, explaining to any member of staff that it's all right, he has a first class ticket, but he's downgraded and is just going to see his friends. He's clearly thought it all through. I decide not to take any of the crockery or antimacassars as souvenirs as we head towards the capital. The conductor announces that we have beaten France 14-9 in the Rugby World Cup semi-final as I realise that this really could be my last trip on GNER...

Itineary:

London King's Cross-Retford
Retford-Gainsborough-Cleethorpes
Cleethorpes-Barton-upon-Humber (new)
Barton-upon-Humber-Grimbsy Town
Grimsby Town-Doncaster
Doncaster-Leeds
Leeds-Knottingley-Goole (K-G new)
Goole-Doncaster
Doncaster-London King's Cross

7 October 2007: London-Hull-Scarborough-York

I've been saving this one up. It's a straightforward bash, forming a giant Yorkshire loop, so it's a sort of reward for doing some of the more difficult ones first. It's also easy to do within a day and have a bit of a look round some of the stops, so it almost feels like a proper day out! An added bonus is that it's not an early start for a change. The first line of the day is to Hull via Selby, and the easiest way to do this is to use a Hull Trains service. The first of these doesn't leave London until 9.30, so I'm pretty much up at my normal time for work. I head into town and decide to find a cafe near Kings Cross to await the train rather than use the appalling facilities at the station. See my earlier rants on railway catering!

Hull Trains is one of the (rare?) success stories of privatisation. BR tended to concentrate their direct London services on the most lucrative established routes, ie, York, Leeds, Manchester, Birmingham etc, so cities off the main lines tended to have scant direct services, Hull being an obvious one. Privatisation has of course massively increased services on the main routes, these being increasingly remunerative, but has allowed niche markets to be exploited also. Open access operators apply to run services on routes they have chosen, rather than bidding for a franchise that compels them to provide a minimum level of service on all routes that form part of it. Hull Trains is such an operator running just between London and Hull and giving other East Yorkshire stops a link to London. Launched in 2000 with 3 trains a day, it now runs 7 with plans for more, using its own Pioneer trains similar to the Virgin Voyagers and Midland Meridians. Other open access operators are gradually coming into being. Grand Central is about to start running direct to Hartlepool and Sunderland, with stops in North Yorkshire largely ignored by GNER. They also want to run to Halifax, Huddersfield and Bradford. Most recently Shropshire and Warwickshire is launching in 2008 and will provide Wrexham and Shrewsbury with London trains again.

So at 9.34 the Hull Trains Pioneer sets off. The layout is better than I remember from the Meridians and much better than the Voyagers. The upholstery, whilst modern, has an old-fashioned look about it that really works - reminds me of original Mk1 carriages on preserved railways! The train is fairly full but I have a peaceful journey and am able to do a bit of reading, though I look up after Peterborough just in time to see a sign marking the spot where the Mallard broke the world steam record on Stoke Bank which still stands at 138mph. How did I miss this before? We go fast to Grantham, and after Doncaster leave the electrified line and head into Selby. Until the 1980s, this was still part of the main line. Due to the discovery of the "super pit" in the Selby area, mining activities were to increase there and this presented stability risks to the line. Hence the lines was diverted between Doncaster and York, and Selby came off the main line and on to a branch. Though the pit was inevitably closed, evidence of the coalfields is still all around us, this being almost a power station belt, the smoke winding up like mini-tornadoes into the grey clouds above. Arrival at Selby ticks off this stretch that I have never travelled before.

I've already travelled along here as far as Brough, so beyond here it's new territory. We cross the marshy flatlands that tend to characterise England's eastern edge, the wide plain of the Humber coming into view at last. We could almost be in south Essex or north Kent and this could be the Thames. There's even a suspension bridge like the QE2 - but the Humber bridge got there first! I'd wanted to see this ever since I heard about its opening from a teacher who knew I was into such oddities, and it doesn't disappoint. In the future I hope to walk across it. It might have been nice to come back by ferry but that's been gone for over 25 years - ie when the bridge opened! Before long we're pulling into Hull.

Hull Paragon is a proper city station, with a great wide arched roof and a spacious concourse. It is currently being transformed into a transport interchange, the bus station bays being part of the north side of the station, a great idea - EXACTLY what was needed at London Victoria instead of the mess we have there now. Shame the new shelter being added at the front is totally out of sympathy with the ornate Victorian station. Hull, like many cities, appears to be receiving a face lift, ie, new shopping centres. I find my way to a pub that I've looked up - The Wellington Arms. It's amazing! Despite being almost next to a horrible ring road, and amongst grilled windows and barbed wire, signs proclaim its pub of the year status. I cautiously go inside. It has a string of ales and ciders on as well as the favourites. It actually boasts a giant shelved cool area at the back of the bar, with glass sides so that you can see what they have, which is packed with bottled beers from all sorts of places. A shelf running around the wall brims with empty bottles of a dazzling variety. The wall space is covered with beer mats. There are copies of local CAMRA newsletters from various parts of the UK. I've never seen anything like it!

Regrettably I've time for just one before heading back via a bakery (love Northern bakeries!) to the waiting 2 coach 158 that will take me to Scarborough. This has been refurbished with nice deep seats - dare I say, almost as good as the old trains! This line spurs off from the main line and heads north. The running is very slow almost as far as Beverley. I'm guessing that the track has recently been relaid. Beverley has a lovely atmospheric station with an overall roof - very rare now - which suits the ambiance of the town as I've heard about it. I snatch a look at the Minster - somewhere I will visit in the future. Then we wind through the countryside to our first coastal stop - Bridlington, one of the famous names along this coast. It has an interesting station with through and terminus platforms. As we leave I see the sea for the first time, a newly emerging sun lighting white cliffs.

After another famous name - Filey - we join the line from York and pull into the most famous name of all along here - Scarborough. The line used to continue along the coast through to Whitby, Saltburn and Middlesbrough in happier times, a sadly missed link. After crossing the road I am plunged into the shopping centre crowds, and nip down a side street to avoid them. I reach the cliff top and take a path down to the front. It reminds me of a much bigger Whitby, with a harbour, a church and castle dominating the cliffs, and a gaggle of pleasant buildings along the foreshore. I am heading for a Sam Smith's pub overlooking the harbour, The Golden Ball. Sadly it's a disappointment - three bars, one closed, one full and the remaining one like an empty common room. I then grab some haddock and chips next door and walk up to the castle walls and look over the North Bay before heading down to the town once more. I head to the Alma pub, a hidden gem near the station that I found on the internet. It's small but very friendly, though there's something of a wait as only one barmaid is on. It also boasts the rare sight of a student drinking bitter! This is in contrast to the grizzled, balding man in his 50s downing a bottle of WDK - not exactly dignified.

I head back to the magnificent station - a beautifully intact town hall like building with a clock tower - and clamber on to a 3 coach 185 Trans Pennine Express to Liverpool to take me to York. We call at Seamer before splitting off the Hull line on to the line to York and on to Malton. This used to be the junction for the line to Whitby. This is a huge loss to my mind. You can now only reach Whitby from Darlington or Middlesbrough, a very long way round compared to the old route from York, which would be so useful today for just about everywhere south of Darlington, given the ease of reaching York from most of the UK. You can still catch a regular bus from York along this more direct route, which almost in recognition of this closure being a mistake, is listed amongst the trains on York's departure board! The North Yorkshire Moors railway has a chunk of the route between Pickering and Grosmont, and it runs more trains through to Whitby than Northern Rail! Let's hope they extend all the way to Malton again.

It's a beautiful evening as we cross the magnificence of North Yorkshire. In less than an hour the houses start to build up around us and we cross the Ouse bridge into the city of York. I have a 90 minute wait here, but I never tire of the place. It's such a beautiful place just to be. I am looking for a pub called The Maltings, but sadly it's so full that I don't even try to get a drink. Instead I head to Ye Olde Star Inn, where I'd been before. The staff are as friendly as ever and there is a good choice of beers. I sit outside, pleasantly chilled by the early Autumn darkness before heading back to the station. There are a good few people collapsing drunk already, the place seems livelier than I've known it before. The station is quite rowdy, though more than I'd realised - our train is held for some minutes as the police remove some presumably drunken passengers. It's a 125, the only time I think I've got one coming back on the East Coast, nicely refurbished. I make full use of the free first class coffee, an antidote to a day of drinking. It's a shame that GNER are going next month. Hopefully National Express won't paint the trains in an undignified colour scheme a la First and Stagecoach. Next week could be my final GNER trip...

Itineary:
London King's Cross-Selby-Hull
Hull-Scarborough
Scarborough-York
York-London King's Cross

29 September 2007: London Tilbury & Southend

Realising that I have managed to leave some of them out, I decided that it was time to cover the rest of the London Tilbury and Southend Lines. Today when you look at the route map for these lines, run by C2C, it looks like a simple enough operation. However its history is relatively complex. The line from Fenchuch Street opened in 1854 and originally ran via Stratford, Barking and Tilbury to Southend. A few years later a more direct route via Upminster and Pitsea was built and the whole thing extended to Shoeburyness. A few decades later a branch from Grays to Romford via Upminster was built. This gives us largely what we have today - except that the latter branch is now operated as a Romford-Upminster shuttle - and Upminster to Grays from Fenchurch Street.

In the early 20th century the line was put up for sale and bought by the Midland Railway. At around the same time the District Railway connected their line and began running trains over Midland metals. Their trains went all the way from Ealing Broadway to Shoeburyness until the outbreak of war in 1939. By this time London Underground had taken over the District Railway and electrified it as far as Upminster. This was now part of the nationalised London Underground.

After the war, the non-underground line became part of British Railways under the London Midland Region - an anomaly that persisted for a few years, until rather more sensibly, the Eastern Region finally got the line! In 1962 BR electrified their tracks east of Upminster. There were now two electrified routes running parallel from Bow to Upminster, one operated by BR and one by LT, and consequently BR withdrew all their trains from all stations bar West Ham, Barking and Upminster, and concentrated on faster services from London through to stations east of Upminster.

By the 1990's the line was in trouble. The electric trains had been running for 30 years and were increasingly unreliable and the infrastructure was crumbling. It became dubbed as the "misery line," the least reliable commuter line in London. The private sector inherited this and bore the brunt of the blame until Railtrack re-signalled it and C2C invested in shiny new Electrostar trains. And this is where I came in...

I set off to Fenchurch Street at around midday, only to be greeted at Tower Hill tube with the news that a signal failure had closed the line as far as Barking. A pain, because now I had to get the District Line all the way to Barking before I could start on the main journey, going SLOWLY through all the ropey places I would have preferred to have sped through on a proper train. At Barking the usual breakdown of communication had happened that seems to occur any time there's a problem on the railway. Hardly any information or announcements. And a tosser on the platform slagging off the passing West Ham fans in surely a drug-induced manner and proclaiming his loyalty to Arsenal. He was asking for a thump from one of the Hammers fans and I don't know how he didn't get one.

Luckily I didn't have to wait long for a train to Leigh. It flies past all the District Line stations before Upminster that used to be served by the railway. You can still see the majority of the old mummified LTS platforms in situ. I wonder why they have been left? Finally at Upminster the tube terminates and LTS is on its own as it crosses where the Essex border has been since 1965. The landscape is chiefly marshy flat lands, as you would expect on the Thames floodplain.

We arrive at Leigh on Sea in decent weather, despite the forecast of rain for that day. The first thing I notice is that the approaches to the station are designed for cars not people, forcing you to take a less pleasant and longer way round than is needed on foot. Oh well. The town is effectively split into two parts, an upper area where the shops and church are, and the lower part by the waterfront. It's the latter I'm heading for.

The street along the waterfront is the High Street even though the shops etc are up the hill. This runs parallel to the railway as it heads east from Leigh on to Southend, and I notice that right up against the line is a very station-like building which is the Sailing Club. However those canopies and the proximity to the track tell me this was once a station. Later research reveals that this was indeed the station until the 1930s, when for reasons that are not clear, it was closed and rebuilt in the far less convenient location I have just had to walk from!

The Leigh waterfront is a delight. There is a small harbour that looks out over Canvey Island, and further away, the south bank of the Thames where the Kent coast and the Isle of Grain can be seen. The tide is high and it's easy now to see how the low lying Canvey was so badly overcome by the 1953 floods. There are several nice pubs and seafood shops clustered along the harbour. I sample three of the pubs, the last one being tied to a seafood stall. The shellfish does look gorgeous but I am a bit funny about shellfish texture, apart from not really knowing how to peel it. I settle for some chips before heading back to the station.

I get a train back that is going back over the same route I came down on. Therefore I had to change at Pitsea, the junction for the original line through Tilbury, which I hadn't travelled yet. I wish I'd done the down journey via this route so I didn't have to do it now. It's everything I imagined the route would be in this part of the world. Dozens of chavs playing music off their mobiles at top volume and smoking dope on the train. And no security or guards where they are really needed. I put my I-Pod on top volume and shut it all out until we get back to London, though most of the scum get off at Grays or Barking.

This particular train returns to London via the latterly opened Grays to Upminster branch rather than the original one through Rainham. This is still single track though I gather doubling it is on the cards, it serving the growing Thames Gateway and enormous Lakeside complex at Chafford Hundred, where a new station was opened in 1995. Why did this open three years AFTER the shopping centre?

I make it alive back to Fenchurch Street, but one problem remains. I now have to complete Barking to Grays via Rainham, having completed the Leigh to Southend section in 2002. Having experienced the south Essex ambience, I'm in some trepidation about pursuing this. Perhaps I should take the approach I took on the Dartford lines and travel with the rush hour commuters? Tune in for the next installment...

Itineary:
Barking-Basildon-Leigh
Leigh-Pitsea-Barking-London Fenchurch Street

Miscellaneous Trips - Various Dates

These are trips that were comprised of just one or two lines or I just travelled them frequently in the course of things. There is little to say about most of them. Or I can't remember the details! Some of them may be expanded if my memory brings back something of note. NB These dates are approximate, and do not necessarily refer to the first trip made over a particular line.



Summer 1992 - Surbiton-Hampton Court
October 1996 - Sittingbourne-Sheerness

Autumn 1996 - London-Lewisham-Hayes

Autumn 1996 - London-Bromley South-Orpington

December 1996 - London Kings Cross-Cambridge

December 1996 - Kings Cross Thameslink-Brighton
Summer 1997 - Raynes Park-Chesssington South
Autumn 1997 - London Victoria-West Norwood-Beckenham Junction

Summer 1998 - Strood-Paddock Wood
Summer 1998 - Ashford-Hastings
Summer 1998 - Oxted-Uckfield

Summer 1998 - Ashford-Canterbury West-Ramsgate

Spring 2000 - Lewisham-Peckham

Spring 2001 - Barnes-Hounslow-Twickenham

Spring 2001 - Twickenham-Kingston-Wimbledon

Spring 2001 - Herne Hill-Tooting-Wimbledon

April 2001 - Heathrow Express

Summer 2001 - London-Sevenoaks-Hastings
Summer 2001 - London-Hasalmere-Portsmouth

Summer 2001 - Portsmouth-Eastleigh

Autumn 2001 - London Victoria-Chatham-Canterbury East-Dover-Walmer

Autumn 2001 - Walmer-Ramsgate-Chatham-London Victoria
Autumn 2001 - London-Richmond-Reading-Oxford

Autumn 2001 - Purley-Caterham

Autumn 2001 - North Woolwich-Richmond
March 2002 - London Liverpool Street-Southend Victoria
March 2002 - Shoeburyness-London Fenchurch Street
Spring 2002 - Watford Junction-Clapham Junction-East Croydon
Spring 2002 - Grove Park-Bromley North

Summer 2002 - Banbury-Oxford
Summer 2002 - London-Woking-Guildford
Summer 2002 - Guildford-Bookham-Epsom-Motspur Park-London
Summer 2002 - London-Tattenham Corner
Summer 2002 - Epsom Downs-West Croydon
Summer 2002 - West Croydon-Epsom-Dorking

Summer 2002 - Horsham-Dorking-London
Autumn 2002 - London Liverpool Street-Southminster
Autumn 2002 - Colchester-Clacton
Autumn 2002 - Thorpe Le Soken-Walton-on-the-Naze

September 2002 - London Victoria-Maidstone East-Ashford
September 2002 - Norwich-Sheringham
14 September 2002 - London-Alton
14 Seotember 2002 - Alton-Guildford
14 September 2002 - Weybridge-Staines
14 September 2002 - Teddington-Shepperton
14 September 2002 - Farnham-Ascot

Spring 2003 - Herne Hill- Sutton-Wimbledon

May 2003 - Cambridge-King's Lynn

Summer 2003 - London-Crawley-Chichester-Southampton
Summer 2003 - Barnham-Bognor Regis
Summer 2003 - Ford-Littlehampton

Summer 2003 - Chichester-Worthing-Brighton
Summer 2003 - Redhill-Gatwick-Guildford-Reading
Summer 2003 - Waterloo-Windsor & Eton Riverside
Summer 2003 - Windsor Central-Slough
Summer 2003 - London-Lewes-Eastbourne-Hastings
Summer 2003 - Lewes-Seaford
Summer 2003 - London Bridge-East Croydon-Redhill-Tonbridge

August 2003 - Marylebone-Aylesbury
August 2003 - Aylesbury-Princes Risborough
October 2003 - Witham-Braintree
October 2003 - London-Harwich
October 2003 - Ryde Pier Head-Shanklin

October 2003 - Lymington Pier-Brockenhurst
Summer 2004 - West Ealing-Greenford
Summer 2004 - Paddington-West Ruislip
Summer 2004 - Maidenhead-Marlow
Summer 2004 - Colchester-Colchester Town
Summer 2004 - Bristol Temple Meads-Westbury-Salisbury-Southampton-Portsmouth
Summer 2004 - Eastleigh-Chandler's Ford

Summer 2004 - Oxted-East Grinstead

31 July 2004 - London-Exeter-Exmouth
31 July 2004 - Exmouth-Barnstaple-Exeter-London
6 October 2004 - Basingstoke-Reading
October 2004 - London-Newton Abott-Paignton-Kingswear
December 2004 - London-Plymouth
May 2003 - Cambridge-Peterborough-Leicester-Birmingham New Street
27 September 2004 - London-Gloucester-Worcester-Kidderminster
27 September 2004 - Kidderminster-Birmingham Snow Hill-London
3 May 2005 - Castleford-Normanton-Wakefield
6 May 2005 - London-Oxford-Evesham-Worcester-Great Malvern-Hereford

Summer 2005 - London Liverpool Street-Tottenham Hale-Cambridge

Summer 2005 - Barking-Gospel Oak

Summer 2005 - Romford-Upminster
Summer 2005 - Clapton-Chingford
Summer 2005 - London Moorgate-Gordon Hill
Summer 2005 - Enfield Town-Hackney Downs

6 August 2005 - Watford Junction-St Albans Abbey
6 August 2005 - Bedford-Bletchley
13 August 2005 - Bristol Temple Meads-Severn Beach
15 August 2005 - Mark's Tey to Sudbury
August 2005 - London-Exeter St Davids-Okehampton-Meldon
Autumn 2005 - Cambridge-Turkey Street-London Liverpool Street
December 2005 - London-Hertford East
December 2005 - Hertford North-Stevenage
December 2005 - Swindon-Melksham-Westbury

Easter 2006 - Gloucester-Chepstow-Newport
Easter 2006 - Newport-Cardiff-Barry Island
Easter 2006 - Cardiff-Newport-Bristol Parkway-London
2 December 2006 - Oxford-Bicester Town
2 December 2006 - Twyford-Henley
2 June 2007 - Stansted Mountfitchet-Stansted Aiport
2 June 2007 - Stansted Airport-Audley End
July 2007 - Brighton-Lewes
21 September 2007 - London Bridge-Hither Green-Dartford
21 September 2007 - Dartford-Kidbrooke-Lewisham
23 November 2007 - London Fenchurch Street-Upminster-Grays-Purfleet-London Fenchurch Street

Mopping Up 2: 8 September 2007

Another week, another mopping up trip. This one began at the same place, Euston, and almost the same time. I boarded the 7.30am Pendolino to Lancaster (didn't know anything from London terminated at Lancaster). Hardly any stops - just Watford and Rugby - and we reached Crewe in just 2 hours, going clean through the Trent Valley with no delays. And the quiet carriage was quiet - perfect!

I'm over familiar with Crewe at the moment. For such an important railway centre, its buffet is miserable. Surely some marketing person could have come up with a decent railway themed bar? It amazes me that as the high street undergoes a renaissance, catering in public places is getting more and more mechanised and sterile. The same dreary names, the same pre-packaged sandwiches, the same mass market beers. And using an exotic-sounding bread or giving the coffee cup a daft name does not help. Nothing inspires in these places. They are just providers of low-grade fuel. Try getting a simple bacon sandwich and a cup of tea and you'll see what I mean.

You'll gather I didn't bother with a drink before getting on the two coach 175 to Chester, the first of many such trains that I will see today. I really don't know why such good trains are wasted on the Chester shuttles. It's not that Chester doesn't warrant them, it's just that for a twenty minute journey, surely something a bit more mundane could be used. Then longer-distance travellers could have the longer faster smoother stock, and be spared the single coach Sprinters that seem to be used on inappropriate routes like the Fishguard boat train or the mid-Wales line.

At Chester I have a few minutes before getting on the three coach 175 going to Holyhead. It's reasonably empty. Serving the ferries to Dublin, I assumed it would be much fuller as the return train was that I had to get back from Bangor last year. Most of the travel seems to be local, either going to Bangor or between the resorts of Rhyl, Prestatyn and Colwyn Bay. It's nice to see the two Ormes once again. I appreciate how large the Great Orme is now I'm getting a second look at it. At one point on the route the two Ormes are lined up and it towers up over the Little Orme, a lump of implacable limestone.

It occurs to me how quickly the time seems to pass, yet it's a two hour trip to Holyhead from Chester. Either I'm so used to going by train that the miles are just eaten up, or I'm getting older and time is passing quicker. The names fly by. We pass the Conwy estuary that impressed me last year, skirt the castle right next to its walls (a unique feature in the UK perhaps?), pass through the tunnel with castle-shaped portals, and then we're full steam ahead for Bangor. Bangor is where I spent such a miserable time on the final leg of last year's Wales trip, and I am pleased to not be getting off this time. And then...disaster.

Last year when stranded in Bangor, I tried to walk to the Menai Straits so that I could see the two impressive bridges there. I got lost with a giant heavy backpack on my...back, and couldn't find a decent pub either. So this is a long-awaited second attempt to see them. And it is at this point, the train comes to a sudden halt in the first of two tunnels that the station sits between. Something must have gone wrong, because the station has just been announced, so the stop must be unexpected. A few minutes later the conductor makes an announcement but the PA in this coach is kaput, so I can't hear it properly. I think he says something about lights going out for a while. They do go out, the train being lit by emergency luminous panels for a while. Two REALLY annoying students keep making unfunny remarks and laughing in a manner that is totally out of proportion. I resist the temptation to go and thump them in the dark, and reflect that fate is stopping me completing this branch, AND seeing the bridges, AND will screw up another leg of the journey if we can't turnaround at Holyhead on time. A few minutes later we limp into Bangor, where we sit for about fifteen minutes. I watch the clock anxiously. I can see the board on the other platform announcing the 13.05 to Chester, which will be us once we have reached the other end and turned back, and note that we have now lost all our turnaround time. If they take the train out of service, I'll never make the next leg.

Once we move off we have to go slowly because the Meani Straits crossing is
single track and we're waiting to clear a Bangor bound train that is now taking precedence because of the delay. Then I see the suspension bridge, the road crossing, the first of the two bridges. It's SO close to the station! I must have missed it by so little last year. Then suddenly I spy the famous lions that guard the entrances from Brunel's original bridge. This was a marvel in its time, the Menai Straits being dogged by strong currents that make doing anything in its waters difficult and dangerous. Getting the materials into place and assembled was torturous. Hence constructing it as several stone pillars with steel tubes hanging between them rather, a more kit-based approach. Unfortunately it was badly damaged by fire in 1970, and was replaced with a more mundane structure with a new road crossing running above it. But the lions and some of the other decorative elements remain. I see the underside of the road crossing soaked in graffiti and combined with the more functional nature of the new bridge, these elements seem a depressing indictment of today.

We're onto Anglesey and I appreciate its raw beauty (despite the hated Expressway beside us). We pass a surprising number of halts before crossing the final embankment and curling into Holyhead of Holy Island. The station is as large as I remember it from 1996, but I the details were scant then as it was rather late and I was rather tired. The conductor has mentioned that the fitter is waiting for the train, so hopefully he can fix the problem (a door and the brakes from what I can gather from straining to overhear a conversation). I don't even have time to get off before we turn back, so I suppose the problem was fixed fast, and we have already lost a lot of time.

We make up most of the time quickly, and the stations come and go even faster than on the way out (and we stop at more places). Then we stop at Flint with a problem - so near and yet so far - my half an hour of flexibility at Chester is now down to 20 minutes. It's one of the doors again. This time they decide that the front carriage is not safe and we are all told to shift into the rear two coaches. At Chester they take the train out of service completely but luckily my journey is over. There is the usual breakdown that follows a problem though as no-one seems to know which train they should be getting on next if they are continuing to Cardiff.

Next I'm on a third rail Merseyrail electric to Hooton, where I change. Hooton is an unusual junction, it has four platforms, but just two lines are in use. And the booking hall is on one of the disused platforms, so everyone has to walk over the bridge after passing through the booking hall to reach the trains. New dot matrix indicators have also been installed but I notice the older ones too, where a different light comes on behind a piece of glass showing the destination according to how the signals are set. Older and simpler, but just as effective - especially since there always seems to be a problem keeping these new real time displays up to date anyway. The train to Ellesmere Port arrives a few minutes later and I'm on my second new line of the day.

As we progress towards the destination, the clientele gets chavier, until we reach a new name to place in the list of hell holes - Ellesmere Port. Not only are there plenty of these useless beings at the station, the place is just so run down. There's no indicator boards here, there is a flyover over the place, under which is rubbish and remains of fires and the inevitable graffiti. One of the most threatening places I've had to wait at. I duck into the pub next door which isn't so bad - no kids allowed and over 21s only, no doubt trying to preserve the convivial atmosphere fostered by the photographs of regulars on the walls. I enjoy a lovely John Smiths, which I've been told is so much better in the North when poured properly - as indeed it is and was.

With some trepidation I return to the station, hoping that I've timed it right so that no waiting is required. Just as my heart sinks on seeing the bunch of tracksuited losers hanging around, I see the train coming in on the other platform. Hurrah! There's a strange arrangement at Ellesmore Port. The Merseyrail electrics come in and terminate on one platform and go no further. Then on the other platform, the diesel occasional Northern services come in and terminate from the other direction. It's on to this Northern two car Pacer I climb gratefully. Myself and the other passenger have a carriage each. The line then plunges through the miles and miles of refineries and chemical works that the area is known for. There are two stops, both in the middle of nowhere, that no-one gets on at. Though maybe if they ran regular trains from Warrington through to Ellesmere Port, somebody might. This is clearly a case of cheaper to run 2 trains a week than close the line. And I should imagine there is freight along here.

Then we arrive at Helsby Junction, joining the line from Chester. It's a beautiful station, the full nature of which I'd only glimpsed during my previous visit. It has 4 platforms. All have gothic style buildings (no longer in use but tastefully boarded up for a change), surrounded by well tended tubs of geraniums. Even the signal box has been looked after and it boasts several totem-sign plaques celebrating prizes that the station has won. Finally it is topped off by a whole garden built into the middle island platform. I have seen gardens at stations before but never as good as this. I take some photographs and nearly miss my train back to Chester, having to hare over the footbridge. It's a very long hoist up to the train I notice, almost like a continental platform.

It doesn't take long to get to Chester, where I have time for a pint of Cains (off the last time I came here!) before clambering on to a full two coach Pacer for the mid-Cheshire Line. This is the last line between Manchester and Merseyside to complete. It's a curious route. Despite linking cities, and being double track almost all the way, it seems mostly rural in feel, with request stops and empty platforms. I don't appreciate all the rural scenery as I doze a bit - these are long days that start early! Eventually it meets the Manchester Metrolink at Altrincham, where that takes the other track for a while, then the line veers away towards Stockport.

I get off at Stockport. Couldn't get a cheap ticket directly back so I share a 3 coach 175 with a load of Stockport County fans back to Crewe; then have a drink while I wait for the London train. The Pendolino is quiet, gently lit and speeds me home rapidly. Dare I say the West Coast is becoming as routine as the East Coast for me now? I've nearly covered England now. What am I going to do then?

Itineary:

London Euston-Crewe
Crewe-Chester
Chester-Holyhead (Bangor to Holyhead new)
Holyhead-Chester
Chester-Hooton
Hooton-Ellesmere Port (new)
Ellesmere Port-Helsby (new)
Helsby-Chester
Chester-Stockport (new)
Stockport-Crewe
Crewe-London Euston

Mopping Up 1: 1 September 2007

This is the first of three trips to mop up those last few lines that I haven't yet covered. This is either because they were included in the plans of previous trips but something went wrong; or because there just wasn't time to fit them in. Each one will include one of those lines that sees very scant services. Today's trip focuses on the North West and the Midlands.

First step is London Euston to Stockport by Pendolino. This is a trip I've now done a few times, so I can grab some sleep en route, it leaving London at 7.45am. Ironically it goes via Stoke without calling at Stafford first, thus using a stretch of line I haven't been on before, but was not concerned about because it is a slightly different route to the same place with no stations. This also gives me my first glimpse of the breathtaking Peak District, which I never tire of seeing. I notice that the Trent Valley four-tracking works are advancing fast, which will allow faster and frequent west coast services from 2009.

We arrive at Stockport just after ten, and I have the best part of an hour and a half before the next leg. I have a look around the city. It has the usual clone shopping centre and bowling alley, chain shops and too much traffic. But it also has a nice market and some pleasant winding car-free streets. After nosing round a couple of charity shops I give in to my base desires and go to Wetherspoons. I will return to the town some day because there is an air raid museum with a mock-up of a shelter there. Also it was reasonably pleasant as towns go.

Back at the station I get the one and only Stockport to Stalybridge train of the week (two coach Sprinter). It runs on Saturdays at 11.28 and calls at Denton and Reddish South, where one person gets on, before a stop at Guide Bridge on the Woodhead Line. I should imagine the token service is for driver route knowledge and to prevent the government closing the line to passengers (which it recently tried to do). It carries a lot of freight and we pass a couple of such trains in the other direction. I just get the feeling that all the other passengers are line bashers too! There are certainly more than I thought there would be and I notice a couple of them are definitely spotters.

At Stalybridge I visit the station pub, established in the 19th century and still going strong. It always has a good selection of beers on, and indeed, is in the CAMRA guide. I discovered it at the end of last year on the Manchester bash, and the memory of the barmaid has not faded. She is the epitome of the friendly Northern barmaid, and she goes up further in my estimation when a couple of track workers whistle at her and she winks at me and suggests it's me they're after! The same track workers express their envy to me that I am sitting on the platform drinking beer while they are yomping up the trackside with heavy equipment! It was quite dark when I last stopped here, and so I didn't realise how high up the station was. In daylight therefore there is a fantastic panorama of the Peak District with churches and houses nestling in its slopes.

So after a very enjoyable interlude I get on one of the many passing Trans Pennine 185 trains to Manchester Piccadilly. This is another journey I'm familiar with, particularly with the degree of overcrowding on the route. TPE are getting fourth carriages for many of their trains, but I wonder whether that will be enough. I've never quite understood why these routes are not part of Inter City anyway (with appropriate decent length trains) as what else would you call a route like Manchester to Newcastle or Liverpool to Hull? Luckily it's only twenty minutes to Manchester, where I grab some lunch from Marks before the next stage.

My next conveyance is a class 323 EMU to Crewe. This takes the route via Manchester Airport rather than Stockport, reversing at the Airport then passing through the famous Cheshire suburbs such as Alderley Edge. This route was actually suspended until recently. It was closed during the main part of the West Coast modernisation, and the points locked out for the Wilmslow to Airport spur. I believe it has been electrified since then and is now running an hourly service. It's a daft silly little bit of line to cover, but it does have one rarely-used station - Styal - and it's on the way to the third line of the day anyway so why not. I grab some more sleep while I get the chance.

I haven't really been to Crewe properly, beyond changing trains there and visiting the Crewe Works a couple of years ago, which are out of town anyway. I don't think I really want to visit it anyway, judging by the short walk I have to find somewhere to find an antacid. It seems to be another post-industrial town still looking for a new raison d'etre. The inevitable giant ASDA has already opened on part of the Railway Works. There are a lot of interesting looking pubs on the station road too, but I've had enough to drink for the moment! Having found a chemist, I head back and have a coffee while watching the trains come and go at this most famous of junctions.

Next call is a Desiro to Birmingham New Street. This is the stopping train run by Central (soon to be London Midland) and there's not much between it and the faster Virgin train at this point of the route, just because there are so few stops in the empty countryside between Crewe, Stafford and the West Midlands. In some ways this section seems like a buffer between the Midlands and the North, and it makes you realise how small Britain is as you cross it quickly.

There's only about 15 minutes to wait at BNS before the 323 EMU for Redditch emerges from the cavernous tunnels surrounding the subterranean station. The full route is from Redditch and Longbridge to Lichfield, and I completed most of it last October, and if it hadn't been for engineering works then, there would have been no need to come back today! Branches are always difficult to work around, so I'm very relieved to pass the couple of stations that finish this one. At Barnt Green the main line continues to Worcester, a route I covered last year, and a single track branch continues to Redditch. It's almost as if someone has thrown a switch on the branch as the landscape seemingly switches to lush green from concrete and canal in an instant.

At the end of the trail I just stay on and go back as it turns round within 5 minutes. There's only a ticket check on the return leg so no explanations needed for the rather short visit to Redditch. I gratefully exit using the Victoria Square exit at New Street and head for Snow Hill station. I have over an hour to the train home, so I'm seeking a pub. I find one almost overlooking the station called The Old Contemptibles. It's so recently refurbished that you can smell the paint. It has a smart interior that is a nice mix of old and new. There is a reasonable selection of beers. The menu tells me that the pub name comes from a specialist regiment formed in the Boer War (ironically specially for fighting overseas) which was labelled "contemptible" by the Kaiser in the First World War.

At Snow Hill I get a Chiltern six coach class 171 back to London Marylebone. Snow Hill is now part of an office block. It was originally part of the Great Western route to the Midlands and beyond. It was closed in the early 1970s like so much else, and its services generally diverted into New Street, with the next stop down, Moor Street, becoming a terminus. The skeletal remains of the GW station at Wolverhampton, known as "Low Level," can still be seen next to the station that survived on the main west coast line. The tracks have gone but the building's demise is protracted. The Midland Metro tram system now uses the route between Snow Hill and Wolverhampton. However as demand for rail travel rose, and the lost capacity of the closures was required again, Snow Hill was rebuilt and the through route from Moor Street re-opened in 1987. Journeys across the conurbation were now possible - such as Worcester to Stratford. A new Snow Hill to Marylebone service also began, replacing the remainder of the GW route from Paddington. Since then Chiltern have doubled the track all the way and turned a line threatened with closure not that long ago to a viable second route to the West Midlands . While the engineering works are going on on the main line, it takes little longer than the Pendolinos, and since I got the fare for £5 by buying one of Chiltern's print-at-home tickets, it couldn't be better!

The train is packed, much more than I expected, so it isn't the most peaceful trip I've ever had. But it makes good time and I have a trouble-free trip back across town to home. Three more lines done!

New lines this trip:

Stockport-Stalybridge
Manchester Piccadilly-Airport-Crewe
Birmingham-Redditch

West Wales Branches 25-26 August 2007

This trip was to cover the three branches that split off after Whitland on the South Wales coast line to Fishguard, Milford Haven and Pembroke Dock. It was a tricky one to organise. There are only two trains a day in both directions to Fishguard that link with the ferry to Rosslare, and the first of these does not leave Cardiff until 11am. The latter is an overnight job, and I wanted to see where I was going. There is only one train every two hours on the other two branches, and the connections do not allow travel to one of these first before getting back to Whitland for that rare Fishguard train. Finally, there is such a scant service on these branches on Sundays that even with an overnight stay somewhere in West Wales, any trips on a Sunday had to be carefully planned. Still, that is something I have plenty of practice at now - see the Lincolnshire trip!

Strictly speaking I've done Fishguard to London before. In 1996 I went to Ireland and went London-Holyhead-Dublin out and Rosslare-Fishguard-London back. However both trips were done overnight, and you can't see a thing. And this was pre-quest. The strange thing is I wasn't interested in the method of transport at that time, yet I must have been subconsciously wanting to do those two epic trips, because I could have just flown and chose not to. In fact I was intending to rail-sail out and fly back, but couldn't get a flight back. And somewhere from my childhood I still knew the major rail and sea routes to Ireland, and still had a germ of excitement about doing the trip. In the event I was too tired to enjoy it, but looking back, the return train is now of historical interest because the direct Fishguard to London overnight train was scrapped a couple of years back. You now have to inconveniently change at Swansea in the middle of the night - see my rant in the Wales 2006 post. In fact the direct services from London to all three branches are pretty scant now. In the past there was a nightly sleeper from London to Milford Haven, a Saturday train to Pembroke Dock, and in the Summer, two daily trains out to Fishguard and one overnight train back. Having now seen these branches, it seems weird to think of HSTs stopping at the tiny stations en route. Happy days. Again. Still, there is at least still a Summer Saturday train to Pembroke Dock - chiefly to serve Tenby I suspect.

So I gave in and planned a trip over a Saturday and Sunday with an overnight stay. I knew little of the areas I was going to, but a bit of research suggested Pembroke (NOT Pembroke Dock) would be the best place to find a hotel. Tickets were another matter. I had the perennial problem on such trips of returning from a different destination to that which I was arriving at, so normal returns are usually no good. The last stop that featured on the trip out and the first on the trip back is Llanelli (pronounced "Hla-neff-ee" as I know now). And for once, a return to here was cheaper than the usual cheap singles, even allowing for possible upgrades to first class. Then all I had to buy was returns to each branch to fill the gaps. Buying two tickets to cover one journey is legal if the trains you take stop at the stations that your tickets are booked between. Confused? The conductors sometimes are, so I'm not keen to do this. But on this occasion it will save me a bit and I get much more flexibility for the return trip - something I could have done with a few times before.

Saturday 25 August dawns. I'm up early. As I cross the river it's flatter and more still than I have every seen it before. There is a perfect reflection of Batersea Power Station, almost like the old Thames TV logo! I head for Paddington, where after my usual bacon roll, I get on the 7.45am HST to Swansea. I have no reservation, because of the flexible ticket, and all but one coach is reserved. Even the quiet coach is full, and it won't be quiet because someone has ignored the signs and dragged their young kids in there. I check a few of the seats but many of them are taken from Reading. It's easier to find one that is definitely not in use. I could upgrade, but for a two hour journey it's not worth it. With some trepidation I find a seat. But my fears are not borne out. It's a pleasant peaceful trip as we are sped to Cardiff. I have just over an hour to wait so I head straight to The Great Western which is just outside, and have some Evans Summer Ale. I'm slightly perturbed by the ease of each I can drink at 10am now but don't dwell on it, as I'm certainly not alone.

Back at the station I grab some food for lunch for M&S and clamber on to the three coach Sprinter that will take us to Fishguard. The carriage I'm in is of a different type to the other two and has no air conditioning, but you can open the windows. This is always good on an older diesel train because the noise is enormous with the windows open, and this blocks out music, 'phones and other things I habitually moan about. We're off slightly late but no matter. It's a limited stopping train, calling only at Llanelli and Whitland. This is somewhat surprising because it is missing out several biggish places along the route - notably Swansea and Carmarthen, though there seem to be suitable connections at the two stops. I've since discovered that we used a freight only branch that splits off from the main line before Neath, then dives under the main line, heads inland and joins the main line again via the Heart of Wales line. The view along the coast at this point is magnificent. The line travels along the estuary of the River Lough, and across it you can see the northern coast of the Gower Penisula. The tide is out, revealing incredible golden sands, and with the green hills of the Peninsula and the blue skies in the background, it makes for a scenic trip - another one to add to the likes of the Exe Estuary. I know when we're past the Carmarthen branch because there is a signal box announcing it. There is another at Clarbeston Road, where the driver collects the token from the signalman for the branch to Fishguard, an anomalous sight in the 21st century perhaps, but still one that is curiously endearing.

Fishguard Harbour station is literally a platform under a canopy at the edge of the ferry terminal building. It is firmly in the middle of the port and the pretty looking town itself is on the other side of the harbour, today shrouded in low cloud, seemingly fairly inaccessible on foot from here. There is little inside bar a coffee shop and the check-in desk. I'm glad that I abandoned all ideas of taking the overnight service and hovering around here for the return quite early on in the planning. I have a quick wander, trying to see if I recognise anything from my nocturnal trip eleven years ago. It's vaguely familiar, but all I remember is coming down the ramp from the ship nearly dropping, and being so grateful to see a waiting train on to which I could fall asleep. Then it was an HST so plenty of space and a chance of peace - I suspect sleep would be tricky now. The train fills fast and I head back to ensure I get a seat, enjoying the bustle that accompanies a port before we move off. The guard has changed so I don't get any funny looks, as I will undoubtedly be the only passenger to head to Fishguard and not get on the ferry. Next stop is Camarthen and just in time I notice that the return train is not stopping there - a blip in my carefully prepared itinerary! Luckily it's just a matter of changing at Whitland, where the three branches diverge, and then a seven minute wait. Whitland is one of those boarded up stations that time forgot. While I wait I look longingly at a nearby pub, which has a particular style that I will recognise later, but this is out of the question with the few minutes I have. Instead I look nostalgically at an old BR route diagram that has survived privatisation and think of happier times for this neglected place that only the bright sunshine prevents from being completely moribund.

A four coach Sprinter rattles in from the Pembroke Dock branch which is bound for Swansea ultimately. In around 15 minutes we are in Carmarthen. This is now the terminus of a branch but it used to be a through station on the way to Aberystwyth, one of the more irritating closures, cutting the west coast off from the south as it does. The branch can be entered from both directions on the main line, so continuing trains have to reverse in the station. On the map it looks as if I have to cross a roundabout and the River Towy to reach the town, but there is now a suspension pedestrian bridge that delivers you right from the station to the town centre directly. It only gets 9 out of 10 because it drops you next to a car park exit with no crossing. The town is interesting, reminding me of a larger version of Rye in Sussex. Not only is it "dropped" in the middle of a marshy plain and perched up on a hill, but it is relatively unspoilt and has pleasant winding streets, little pubs etc, and the remains of a castle looming over what would have been the city wall I'm guessing. I have a wander around, visiting a couple of pubs, before returning to the station for the Milford Haven train around 90 minutes later.

The two coach 158 is fairly full. I assumed as these trains come from Manchester, that they were usually longer, though everyone does get a seat. We reverse back down the branch to Whitland then continue all the way back to Clarbeston Road before curving off to the south west. To be honest there is nothing of note on the route once you clear Carmarthen Bay. As people filter off I manage to get a forward-facing seat which I like to get on new lines, shortly before it pretty much empties at Haverfordwest. A plaque declares it to be the best kept station of 1992. That certainly was a long time ago judging by the place now. The line then twists and turns all the way to its run down terminus, and I notice various branches which are presumably for the oil refinery there. Milford Haven is an undistinguished sort of place, though the surrounding countryside and coastline are fairly spectacular, forming part of the Pembrokeshire National Park. I'm actually due to catch a bus to Pembroke in an hour, rail connections back to Whitland and into Pembroke being rather sparse. Up a rather steep hill I find the bus stop, and while I'm checking the times, the previous late service comes up the hill. I decide to eschew my trip to the Haven, as it was chiefly going to be spent in the least scary pub I could find, there being little else as far as I can see. Also I will get to Pembroke an hour earlier this way, and that looks a lot nicer.

It's a pleasant drive over the Haven and through Pembroke Dock. Once out of the town, the landscape is rather more palatable. It's a bit hair-raising in places though. The driver goes round some of those corners on two wheels and pushes through some very narrow gaps. Now I know why I prefer trains. We pass Pembroke Dock station on the way, the end of the third branch of the trip, that I will be covering tomorrow. It appears to be the original sandstone Victorian building, which I did not expect. It also appears to be some distance from the ferry, though as I later learn, this was only introduced in 1979, so the station originally served the town rather than the docks. A few minutes later we cross the River Pembroke and arrive in the town's main street, just outside my hotel which is a bit of luck.

I am staying in the Old Kings Arms, slap bang in the middle of the town and with a bar and restaurant which is handy. It's a nice hotel, a bit rough round the edges but comfortable, reasonably priced and clean. The food is also gorgeous, boasting one of the best cooked breakfasts I've ever had and a superb slow roast lamb. There is also an a la carte menu and the full restaurant is testament to its quality. Unfortunately this also means there is little space and I opt to eat in my room. I venture out for a walk around the town and unfortunately an opaque mist has descended over the whole place. Without a coat, as this had just not been needed earlier in the day, the place is chilly and I concentrate on finding the station and getting back. The station is a depressing single platform place, lonely and suffering modest vandalism like so many. Sadly no-one seems to care about this. The town is faintly threatening, with way too much speeding traffic, and boasting lots of mid-terrace pubs that are not especially welcoming, though this is not helped by the frozen air that has enveloped the place. I feel very English and out of place suddenly.

Morning lifts my spirits as the sky is blue once more. I visit the castle, which though being a ruin, still has seven towers that can be climbed. This is a historic place, being established by the Normans after 1066. They also founded the Pembroke Yeomanry that would ironically go on to repel a French invasion in 1797 at the Battle of Fishguard. This makes them the only regiment to fight and win a battle on British soil in modern times, and to this day, the members are entitled to wear a badge commemorating this victory. Last but not least it was also the birthplace of Henry Tudor who would unite Britain after the Wars of the Roses and turn it into a world power, the echoes of which still shape our society today. From the main tower I spy some nice riverside pubs that were lost in the fog the night before and am faintly peeved that I missed the chance to get out of the hotel for the evening. I did wonder where the other tourists went! It's when walking back to the station that I realise why the place is familiar. It's just like Ireland. In fact Pembroke reminds me very much of Cashel, Tipperary, where I stayed in 1996, with its ancient monument dominating, and its smallish streets dotted with pubs. My mind also goes back to the pub next to Whitland station which sparked the idea that I had seen a place like this before.

I am cursed with negative thoughts as I dodge the ridiculous amount of traffic, and contemplate why there is an empty railway station and hardly any trains while cars defile what was once a small town. My mood is not improved by the fine array of litter dumped on the station platform and I wonder what happened to people's pride before hoisting myself up on to the two coach Sprinter. It rattles down to the last stop on the branch, Pembroke Dock, where we have a 20 minute wait before it turns round. I investigate the station to discover that it has been converted to a pub, and it's a CAMRA pub too. I decide not to explore but just have a quick drink instead. It's an interesting pub, more like a community hall, and I'd love to stay to sample more of the guest beers they have on. Maybe another day!

Back we go up to Pembroke, where there is a poignant tableau of a mother and a boy clutching a bucket and spade waiting on the platform. It's nice to know such scenes still occur! This route proves to be a much more rural route than the Milford Haven branch, heading through road-free lush countryside and hugging the coast at the golden sands of Tenby. The train fills steadily, particular busy spots being at Llaneffi and Carmarthen, where we have to reverse, before winding along the narrow Tawe estuary to its destination at Swansea, or Abertawe, literally, "Mouth of the Tawe". This time we use the main line. With childish glee I realise that I have now covered the three branches, as well as the avoiding lines and double branches at Swansea and Carmarthen.

I head into Swansea and find it to be a city in transition. A very run down street leads to the inevitable Millennium Square, what remains of the castle, and the ubiquitous Nandos and Pitcher & Piano. Then I follow the road through a very unpleasant subway, town regeneration never really being for pedestrians, into what was the docks. Whilst much of the work has already been completed, space-age offices and blocks of flats rearing over the new suspension bridge, there is also a lot to be done. It reminds me of London's docks twenty odd years ago, seeing the part derelict, part shining skyline. And now the moan. Though it's better for them to be regenerated than lie rotting, I can't help but think about the rich and powerful wanting nothing to do with these usually rough and ready places during their prime. Then as soon as they've decided we can't afford docks, factories, mines, etc, and thrown all the workers on the scrapheap, they want their marinas, posh flats, riverside restaurants that no-one can else afford. Hmmm.

After a quick drink in a very busy pub, I return to the station. I'm ready to go and happily there is a train waiting, ironically one of the few direct Carmarthen to London trains. It's one of the new refurbished HSTs and I sit in the first leather seat I've sat in on a train! I don't actually pay for the first class upgrade until after Bristol Parkway, but it's worth it because at Cardiff the Millenium Stadium has just emptied and the train is rammed. As the fans get on almost universally decked out in shirts bearing the sponsors, Brains Brewery, I wonder how many of them actually drink anything from Brains! Ah well. In a nice touch, Great Western now stock a local bitter from the Wiltshire Arkells Brewery, something the other operators could take note of in these times of the local food fad. Shepherd Neame on South Eastern, Harveys on Southern and Gales on South West?

As usual I find it hard to be back in London, it seemingly more noisy, dirty and brutal every time I return. It's a relief to get out of town again and back to the relative peace of home.

New lines this trip:

Bridgend-Llanelli-Fishguard Harbour
Carmarthen-Whitland-Milford Haven
Pembroke Dock-Llanelli-Swansea

Cardiff 4 July 2007

I've been meaning to go to Cardiff Bay for ages. The tiny branch lines that reach either side of it from Cardiff Central seem like curiosities in an age of culled branches. Also I love maritime landscapes. Finally thanks to Dr Who and Torchwood, the bay has been getting a lot of free publicity on the television, and it looks an interesting place to visit. Despite the frequent trains and the short journeys, these branches had somehow eluded me in past trips to Wales. So with a few days off whilst changing jobs, the chance to tie a visit and some line-bashing together in one day presented itself.

Some days are just destined to go wrong from the word go. This was to be one of them! I was quite pleased as I'd managed to get two singles for around £30, pretty good at a couple of days' notice. When I turn up at Paddington there are no fast ticket references on the print out from the online booking site, and when I ask FGW to check my credit card against bookings, they confirm that nothing has been booked! Having got this far I decide to continue. Luckily the turn up fare is £54 return, so it's not an unfeasible amount more. Also I can come back on any train - something, with hindsight resonates with irony.

I get the 9.45am 125 to Cardiff, arriving at around 11.45am. I buy a Valley Rover and go for a wander around the city before the first connection, taking in snippets of the Castle and the Millennium Stadium. Then it's off to Maestag and back on a two coach 158. This is the last of the Valleys Lines for me. Party because it has no links with the other four, it always seemed as if it was more remote, yet it's probably the same distance and time to do the round trip. Before the 1970s, Maestag and Treherbert were joined by a massive loop, but now you just have to go out from Cardiff and back again. I'd only read in the last couple of weeks that most of the population of Wales is in the south, and having done today's trip I can believe it. There is not much truly open countryside even once we get out of Cardiff, and indeed there is continual urbanisation along much of the line. The conductor doesn't say anything when he sees I am on the same train back, another one who must be used to the line bashers!

Back at Cardiff Central I get an "Oggy" a pasty with leeks in it, before getting on the Pacer/Sprinter combination to Penarth. This is a shortish trip, Penarth and Dingle Road practically touching platform ends, such is the tiny gap between them! I head down to the beach, my idea being to follow the coast round to the barrage, an artificial embankment built across the bay mouth in order to provide a harbour for water pursuits, before crossing it to the eastern side. My first obstacle is that there is no path along the beach, only the cliffs. The second is that even though you have reached the opposite side of the bay, the walkway ends at the gates of the port itself. Great. I have walked across in a howling gale and driving rain and am not best pleased. There is not a soul to ask about if there is any way through. It is somewhat ridiculous, as I can almost touch the Assembly, Norwegian Church etc. Ggrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!! Back I go to Penarth station to get the train. A middle aged man strikes up a conversation with me, something that only seems to happen outside London and is always pleasant.

I get the train back to Cardiff Queen Street where the Cardiff Bay shuttle runs from. This is an interesting one, an original DMU "bubble car" with slam doors and the noise of a bus, even down to the changing gears. The sight that greets me at the terminus, a short ride away, is disappointing. The bay is another car-ridden traffic system. The Millenium Centre and the Basin are behind a roundabout. Even the "Torchwood Fountain" is switched off. Never mind, once I get away from the cars, it's quite pleasant. I'm determined to drink some Brains Beer before I leave and to my delight one of the new trendy bars there is a Brains pub, with four different beers, three of which I try. When I sit down and look out of the window, they are filming Torchwood just outside - a not entirely surprising coincidence. TV appears to suffer from British Leyland style overmanning, about 30 people are needed to get a shot of a girl walking along in a trance.

Arriving back at Cardiff for the 20.25 train home, I discover that it has been cancelled. And my final nightmare begins. It's also a demonstration of what is wrong with the railways. When there is a problem, everything falls apart. There are no explanations given and no instructions on what to do and no staff around to ask. I am in the privileged position of knowing that I can get the train to Portsmouth and change at Bristol Temple Meads, but not everyone will know that. Oh, but surely privatisation ended such poor practice? At Bristol the London train is running half an hour late. As a consequence my chances of getting my onward connection home from Paddington are very small. Again there are no announcements apologising, explaining or instructing. The train staff don't even announce the new ETA for London, and are not remotely interested in my dilemma as to how I am going to get home. It's past midnight when we reach London, an hour later than I should have arrived, and I am forced to pay £15 for a cab to Victoria for the 12.35am train, just to avoid missing it and having to pay £35 for a cab all the way home. I arrive home in a very bad mood indeed.

New lines this trip:

Cardiff-Maestag
Cardiff-Penarth
Queen Street-Cardiff Bay

21-24 June 2007 - North West England

Unfortunately I have left it a while to write up this most epic of trips; to cover the North West of England - Cheshire, Lancashire and Cumbria, broadly speaking, as well as the clusters of lines in the Manchester to Liverpool sprawl. Originally it was going to be an All Line Rover, but I worked out that I could do it in four days with a 4 days in 7 Freedom of the North West ticket, way cheaper and a bargain at £58. I'd have to arrange hotels also, whereas the All Line Rover would have allowed me to return home every night or travel on some of Trans Pennine Express's overnight trains, but neither option is that great. Challenges this time would be the scant services between Ellesmere Port and Helsby; Morecambe and Hellifield; the full Cumbrian Coast line; and Ormskirk to Preston. Several days of planning finally netted me a schedule that managed almost everything - so here we go.

On Thursday 21 June 2007, the longest day of the year, I set off for Liverpool, where I would buy the rover and let the proceedings begin. The journey up involved a Pendolino to Crewe, a short wait (and a FOUL coffee) then a Desiro to Liverpool Lime Street. I've only been here once before, and remember not being overly impressed with the place. It's now being refurbished, resembling a building site like so much of the UK at the moment! The booking clerk needs a bit of help to locate the Rover ticket, I suspect they may not sell many, and with it clutched in my grubby mitt, I descend into the Mersey Undergound. These are the third rail electric services that are an amalgamation of the old Liverpool Overhead Railway and various other local lines. In the mid-1970s they were reorganised to run as a system, largely centred around a single-track clockwise loop under the city, calling at all the major stations, using a combination of new and old tunnels. They've recently been refurbished and are run as a self-contained company in conjunction with the PTE, running an increasingly reliable service. When I arrive on the platform it is very much like the tube, as the lines are organised into particular routes - Wirral Line, City Line, Chester Line etc, and as you wait on the platform, the sights, sounds and smells are the same. You watch the displays ticking down to arrival, hear the rumbling as the train gets closer, and smell that dank tunnel smell!

All the Merseyrail trains are class 507 or 508 EMUs. My first trip is on the Chester Line to its terminus, an uneventful trip. It still amazes me how quickly you leave the city and head into the countryside in other big cities. The service is fairly well used by a cross-section of the public. At Chester I have a shortish wait for the next trip - on a three class 175 - to Manchester Piccadilly via Warrington. This has come from Holyhead and thus is fairly full. At Manchester I have time to grab some lunch from M&S, the pub being somewhat disappointing there, and then climb on board a Sprinter to Southport. This goes via Bolton and Wigan, cities I've never seen before. Bolton reminds me of Huddersfield, the skyline being dominated by older buildings. The station seems huge as well, though I don't suppose it gets particularly long trains calling any more.

I have no chance to visit the Victorian resort of Southport, as I have to clamber back on a Merseyrail to Hunts Cross. The lines diverge out of the town in two different directions. This line passes through Bootle and gives a view of the Liverpool Docks, what's left of them. At Hunts Cross the Merseyrail train terminates in a third platform next to the through platforms on the world's first public railway between Liverpool and Manchester. On this occasion I just get the return Merseyrail to Liverpool Moorfields, then travel the loop again down to New Brighton on the Wirral. By this time manky kids are getting on and with them come security staff with head cameras. I gather they also have DNA kits for when people spit at them, there are some really charming people about. At New Brighton I stay on and return to Hamilton Square, crossing platforms and getting the next Wirral train to West Kirby. After that it's a return trip round the loop to Liverpool Central. I stop and have a drink in a classically stereotypical Liverpool pub where Irish music is on the jukebox and the punters are singing along. Central station has been rebuilt as part of a shopping centre, and the pub commemorates the fact with railway memorabilia. It also turns out to be the founding pub for the local CAMRA branch which is nice.

Having completed the Wirral I clamber on to the City Line train to Kirkby, a place about which I have heard little good. Rush hour is in full swing now and there are plenty of people standing. At Kirkby I see the first of the two weird junctions they have on Merseyrail. The Merseyrail service terminates at the buffers, half-way along the platform. The third rail stops. Then there is a tiny break in the track, and in the same trackbed, another set of buffers facing the other way, and the start of another line, as Northern takes over the remainder of the line to Manchester. How this came about I can't imagine, presumably something to do with electrification. The same set up exists at Ormskirk which I will cover tomorrow. Myself and a few of the others have to simply walk along the platform to a waiting facing Sprinter to continue our journey onwards.

Back to Manchester I go, this time to Victoria, via Wigan, Swinton and Salford, which helpfully crosses off another of the lines into Manchester. The train starts to fill as it nears the city. I like Victoria. It's an interesting mix of the original building and new additions, with trains, trams and road vehicles sprawling across its site. You can still see the remnants of the record-breaking platform ten that actually stretched all the way down the line to the now-closed Exchange station. This was in 1969, and at the same time, the magnificent Manchester Central was closed. Originally this was the city's major terminus. It later became the G-Mex centre, and at the same time, the city's services were rationalised. Broadly speaking, local services go from Victoria, and inter-city services go from Piccadilly, now chiefly a terminus though it still has very busy through platforms. I find my way to the Grand Hotel, though I didn't realise how grand it was, and I feel rather out of place. I have a nice meal in my room and observe the Lights Out London gesture of turning out the lights for an hour, before realising it's only London that is doing this. Oh well. Day one over with all lines covered.

Friday 22 June 2007 starts with a manic breakfast that is nowhere as good as the evening meal. I should have left earlier and found a cafe. I should have learnt my lesson from previous unpleasant breakfasts! Anyway, I head to the tram stop and buy a ticket, feeling almost like a native as I commute to Manchester Victoria with the rest of the city. I don't have long to wait for the first train of the day - the 2 coach Sprinter to Clitheroe, though I am actually heading for Colne, so I have to change at Blackburn. Firstly we head along the line to Bolton that I covered yesterday, but then spur off in a gentle north-west direction towards Blackburn. I'm struck by now pretty this stretch is, all the more amazing given that it is stuck between two cities. Blackburn starts to build up around us in the form of Darwen, which appears to be growing into the city. It's a busyish station, a junction as well as a major stop on this particular route that links Yorkshire and Lancashire. There are five such routes, of which this is the fourth I've been on. Later in this trip I will complete the fifth. While various services rattle in and out, I stock up for lunch at the shop there as I do like bakeries in the north.

Shortly the Colne train arrives, having come from Blackpool. The rest of the trip. This is not a nice landscape, post-industrial and still looking for a new purpose. Burnley Central looks particularly run down. No shiny new offices and flats here. We're at our destination before I know it, the journey having seemed rather like a trip through the suburbs. Colne was a through station until 1970, when BR closed the line between here and Skipton in Yorkshire. Needless to say there is a campaign to re-open it, as locals are keen to improve links into the booming Leeds. I hope it succeeds though it will be a tall order, given that it is over ten miles of line to rebuild. Recently the campaign ran a special train from Colne to Skipton via Blackburn, Halifax, Bradford and Leeds to make the point that residents are forced to do this ridiculous detour if they want to reach parts of Yorkshire by rail that are no distance at all. Colne could do with the help of such a project judging by the general appearance of the place, and I am happy to get the return service down the branch. I backtrack the route I've just travelled, past Blackburn, but then continue to Preston. There I grab a cup of tea before getting on a Voyager service from Glasgow to Manchester Piccadilly, crammed full as usual, which completes another section for me - Preston to Bolton via Chorley.

Back in Manchester I eat while I await a Liverpool train. There are two direct routes between the two cities but today I want the main line. This is significant in railway history as the first public passenger carrying rail service in the world, opening in 1830. It was also the first inter city route, the impetus for which was carrying cotton from Liverpool Docks to the Lancashire cotton mills. Track and rolling stock were designed by the giant of engineering, George Stephenson. The line was a masterpiece, passing through several tunnels and viaducts, a major achievement for its time, as well as across a vast bog, Chat Moss, that was deemed impossible to drain. Stephenson floated the tracks on wooden and heather, weighted by earth and stones that were sunk into the bog continuously until a solid foundation was created. Today the double track route still crosses these same constructions, and now here I am on a three coach class 170 diesel venturing across it.

At Liverpool Lime Street, I find a curious pub that seems to be part of the station but part of a bigger, separate complex of pub and club. The part that is open has a fantastic high ceiling and a dusty gothic feel. This is slightly tainted by a series of arguing loonies who seem intent on spoiling the atmosphere whom I suspect have come in to shelter from the sheet rain that is now pounding down outside. Trouble is now, I can't remember what the place is called! I enjoy a local beer while watching the rain before heading for the next train. It's at this point that things start to go awry. I'm now supposed to be heading for Ellesmere Port then on to the little-used link between there and Helsby (on the line between Chester and Warrington that I travelled on yesterday). Unfortunately I've read my itinerary the wrong way round. I get on a Pacer that is going to Warrington, that I think is reaching Ellesmere Port from the east, but I should have got on the Merseyrail underground train to approach it from the west. I only realise my mistake when I get to Warrington and the train doesn't actually go any further (it's not unusual for routes that incorporate unusual ways of reaching a station to not advertise all the stops). I have now therefore missed the rare train I was aiming to get and there are only a couple of trains a day. I stop for a drink in the hotel next to the station and consult my timetables to see what I can salvage. All I can do is take the return train back to Liverpool via St Helens, the route I've just been on, and pick it up from there.

Next stage is to get a Merseyrail service to Ormskirk, granting me a view of the docks. At Ormskirk there is the same junction arrangement as at Kirkby, diesel and electric tracks meeting on the same platform with two sets of buffers in between. Only Ormskirk seems more pleasant than Kirkby and has a reasonable pub not far away, the inevitable Railway Arms. I have half while waiting for the Preston train (of which there are not many), then we're off and the next stage of the journey is underway, on a one coach Sprinter. This is a very pleasant rural line, though I'm surprised it has never been upgraded, seemingly being a more direct route from Liverpool to Preston.

At Preston things go seriously wrong. Remember that rain earlier? Well further down the line at Crewe, it had submerged the tracks and delayed all trains on the West Coast Main Line for hours. Including the northbound train I am trying to get to Lancaster. As usual when something goes wrong, there is no information, the whole thing falls apart and the staff seem to be absent. Seeing that there may be a train in half an hour, I head out and find a Railway Arms close by. It's got quite a friendly atmosphere, a mixed crowd, karaoke and a decent couple of beers on tap. However when I return, the train is delayed for another half an hour. I realise that the Trans Pennine trains from Manchester will be relatively unaffected. I see one going to Grange Over Sands and head over to the platform to wait for it. I don't see the display on the front as it comes in, a mistake as it turns out. On board the three coach 185 I try to ignore a gang of manky Scouse teenagers quizzing some bemused Blackpool-bound Poles as to whether they have any skunk. Suddenly I realise we have left the main line because the overhead lines have vanished. We are on the Blackpool branch, hence the Poles. I jump off at the first stop, Kirkham and Westham, to see the return train about to set off on the other platform. There are too many people getting off to get to it in time. The next train back is another hour, after nine, and I still have to get to Lancaster somehow. This is a horrible boarded-up dump of a place as well, and I feel thoroughly miserable. I can see a couple of reasonable pubs in the near distance, but I don't fancy anything else to drink. I spy someone with chips and try to find their source. It's not far, and as I go in, they lock up behind me. So close! The chips and curry sauce will keep my spirits up until the next train comes. A couple of middle aged blokes, slightly drunken, ask me when the next train is and where I got the chips. They groan in just the way that I would have done had I arrived at a shuttered chippy.

Another 185 takes me back to Preston, then I get a local Sprinter going to Barrow on Furness to take me to Lancaster. The countryside is starting to get a more remote feel now, as we pass away from the very populated parts of the UK. The station is a beautiful sandstone construction, with buildings on both sides of the tracks intact. I walk up a steep hill to the guest house which is on the other side of the town centre, past the famous John Of Gaunt pub, which I would like to try out now, but am too knackered. I should have been here two hours ago and it is past ten now. I hear a clock striking the hour as I approach the guest house and call the owners quickly, as they have told me that they lock up at this time to prevent revellers coming out of the nearby club wandering in. The owners are perfect hosts, making me a coffee when I arrive, and I hope to maybe come here for a longer stay next time, as despite the club, it's a peaceful night, and much needed. Day two done, and almost all the day's lines done.

Saturday 23 June dawns as gloomily as the previous day finishes. I desperately hope that the west coast is back to normal as I don't really know what else to do if I can't keep to the schedule. According to the indicator boards all is fine. Certainly the 3-coach 185 that arrives to take me to Windermere is on time. It's busy with walkers and tourists as expected, not put off by the threatening clouds. I suppose it's hard for this landscape to be bowed by mere grey skies. Oxenholme looms up, a place that's only ever been a name on a map to me, and as we pass out of the town on to the branch, it's clear that it is a suburb of Kendal. It doesn't take long to wind down to Windermere. There is a new station, basic but pleasant, the original building now part of Booths, a northern supermarket chain. I'm not sure if this was the case when I came here in the 1990s. Anyway, I have time for a wander down to the lake then a cup of tea before joining the American tourists on the next 185 back to Oxenholme. Here it becomes clear that the supposedly real-time displays work as well here as at my local station, ie, as soon as there is a problem, they just carry on showing the expected schedule and not informing you of any delays or problems. The rain-invoked problems of the previous evening are still causing delays, and as usual nobody is giving out information as to what to do. Luckily the next Carlisle-bound train has not from London, and thus is not affected as badly as the London trains. It's a Voyager, and remarkably, sparsely loaded, the only time I've ever experienced such a thing! We rush through the starkly beautiful landscape of Cumbria, making an untimetabled stop at Penrith, before heading for Carlisle. Carlisle is an amazing castle of a station, indeed, it was known as Carlisle Citadel once upon a time. There are plenty of London stations that would benefit from being such a size. Anyway I head to the large pub on the corner of the road outside the station for a couple of pints of Piddle on Holiday from the Wyre Brewery, and notice as I did last time, that cities such as Carlisle are the nearest we have to continental-style border towns where accents from different regions start to meet and merge. Then it's back for the Cambrian Coast train that will take me back to Lancaster.

Sadly it's a one-coach Sprinter when at least two might be better, though it does MOSTLY provide enough capacity for the number of passengers. This is possibly because I am the only one doing the full journey, whereas most people are doing a short journey. Indeed, trains that do the full length of the line are rare. Usually they run from Carlisle to Whitehaven, or Lancaster to Barrow, and the like. The line skirts the coast line of the Lake District, so the scenery in both directions is pretty spectacular. Whitehaven hosts a major employer, where nuclear subs are maintained, one of the major reasons that the line survives, and we pass another one - the infamous Sellafield Processing Plant. At the other end of the line the line twists and turns to follow the jagged coastline here. By some miracle about a thousand people manage to cram on at Grange Over Sands, a group of walkers returning to Lancaster. Just before joining the main line we call at Carnforth, which was once a junction between the two lines. It now only has platforms on the branch. Its claim to fame is posing as Milford Junction in the film, "Brief Encounter," and I hope for a closer look tomorrow. We cross the River Lune just before arriving back in Lancaster, where I get on a southbound Voyager to Preston. I head back to the pub I visited yesterday then get on to a packed Pacer going to Blackpool South.

Blackpool South is a miserable skeleton of a station, the North branch being the main one now, and this reflects the part of the town that I have arrived in. It's full of run-down buildings and people and cars with loud stereos, all bad signs. I keep my head down and make for the front and the tram stop. I've always wanted to go on the Blackpool Trams, and didn't get the chance when I came here before. It's a thoroughly enjoyable experience. The staff are incredibly friendly and helpful - nice to see conductors. It's a great way to see the long sea front. And all the trams are of a different design - old and new - which must give them a maintenance headache, though being of interest to the eye. Finally, it saves me quite a long walk to my B&B in the north of the town. The north is much smarter, with rows of B&BS. Given the sheer number of hotels, it's hardly surprising that my room is so cheap. It's a tiny double room, reminding me of a caravan, but is perfectly good. It has everything you need, including TV, tea and coffee, and a brand new ensuite bathroom with shower. I go for a wander to get some fish n chips, and to make sure I know where Blackpool North is for the morning. Unfortunately the rest of the place is about as nice as the bit I saw near the South station. It's full of drunken crowds, chiefly stag and hen parties, which is famous for, but this does make for a threatening town if you're not part of it. The station is also colonised by yobs and I wonder what the security guards there are for. I'm happy to get back to my hotel and have a pleasant night in watching the television. The day is rounded off by a quiet night's sleep. On Sunday 24 June, the B&B owner is happy to give me an early breakfast as I have to be at Blackpool North for 8.40, which is pretty good of him on a Sunday. I shall certainly seek this place out when I do a proper trip to Blackpool. I enjoy a walk along the front in the rain; the place is so much nicer in the morning when everyone else there is still snoring in strange beds. Also before the binmen have been you get to see sights such as seagulls fighting over discarded fish n chips and wonder how different to them we really are. I head inland to the North station - clear of yobs given the early hour, and hop on to a special train to Carlisle. This 4-car Sprinter is run by Northern for a local walking group though it is open to all. It only runs on Summer Sundays. There are two trains. The first does Blackpool-Preston-Blackburn-Clitheroe-Settle-Carlisle and the second starts later from Preston and follows the same route. They then do the two respective return trips in the evening. The idea is to open the area to a wider area for walkers from Lancashire. I'm on it for four reasons. One and two, it does the Blackpool North and Clitheroe branches. Three, it travels the freight-only section between Clitheroe and Hellifield. Four, that gives me easy access to another unconquered line, the Leeds to Morecambe route, which has only a handful of trains a day. This bumper journey is uneventful until we reach Preston. Then a gaggle of walkers get on and start sticking signs up on the windows to indicate that certain seats are for Group Officials only. I get the impression that they may normally reside in the bay of seats that I'm in and don't like this intruder on their train one little bit. I keep getting sideways glances! At Blackburn the feeling that this is "their" train is heightened by the catering trolley being hoisted on by two group members rather than Northern Trains staff. Also, a woman of about 60 makes a big point of wanting to sit right next to me even though the seat opposite is free, as if she always sits there and can't change for anything. I've never been part of one of these little groups, but I've known other people who have been, and they always seem to be like this. Self-important, full of internal power struggles and generally hostile to outsiders. Why can't they just get on with enjoying what they form to do and not get dragged into the other stuff?

I've covered the majority of this trans-Pennine route previously between this weekend and the Settle-Carlisle trip, so am familiar with the scenery. On the Clitheroe branch it's surprisingly urban. Clitheroe station itself has an amazing display of planters and hanging baskets, and it's beyond here that is of particular interest. Usually only freight uses this section that eventually joins the Settle-Carlisle line just before Hellifield. The line speed is faster than I expected and the scenery is predictably impressive. By now we've crossed into Yorkshire, a place with which I am more familiar and feel curiously more at home. I admire the spectacular Hellifield station, once of the many that the Friends of Settle-Carlisle have restored, then head off for a walk around this small town. There's a couple of pubs, already serving, but not much else, except so much traffic! What happened to the day of rest? A three coach Pacer bumps over the junction into Hellifield to take me to Morecambe. There's hardly anyone on it, which is a bit dispiriting for a Summer Sunday, though the weather is not brilliant. This is another scenic line, passing through empty countryside, aside from the interestingly named town of Giggleswick. It then crosses the west coast line, heads south into Carnforth (where I have time to take some photographs of the famous clock, recently retrieved and restored) then into Lancaster. This arrangement was originally designed in the early 1980s, to provide a link from West Yorkshire to the West Coast Line, as a replacement for the Settle-Carlisle link that was then scheduled for closure. However as it didn't close we now have two lines that serve as scenic tours! At Lancaster we reverse and head up the branch to Morecambe, the only stop but not quite the terminus. By now the rain is tipping down and I get drenched in seconds. Sadly I can neither appreciate the great sweeping sandy bay or the statue of Eric Morecambe. The rain also distracts me from the general chavdom that is supposed to haunt the place. I kill the remaining wet minutes until the next leg of the trip. This is down another branch on a two coach Sprinter that heads out of Morecambe to Heysham Port. There are just two trains there and back a day, to meet the Isle of Man ferry. It's also a freight line, though perhaps not that busy as I notice the guard has to get out of the train at the junction with the line to Lancaster to set the points himself. There is not even a running in board at the port station, and just a couple of people get off. No-one gets on and we head back to Morecambe, then reverse out to Lancaster once more. By this time I am getting tired and look forward to going home. The trains are also up to their Sunday best too. There are noticeably fewer of them and they are more prone to lateness. I head into Lancaster where I have promised to get some tea from a specialist shop for a friend who used to live there. Also I want to go to the famous John O'Gaunt pub. But the former is closed and the latter is too busy for me to have any hope of being served before having to return for the next train. In the event I could have stayed as the train to Preston is late and getting later and later. Eventually the perennially packed Voyager comes in. I have time to look round Preston and snatch a very cheap beer before the next and final new line of the trip. It's the very full Preston to Liverpool via St Helens two coach Sprinter. At Liverpool I get some food for the journey home and get the return Preston train. This time I get off at Wigan North Western, and head for the Swan and Railway. This is a magnificent old Victorian pub with a big central bar and two saloons. There's lots of railway memorabilia as the place lurks in the shadow of a bridge carrying the main west coast line. It has a good selection of beers, and that phrase, I plan to return some day, is appropriate yet again. Final steps...the Pendolino to London followed by the journey across town. The busiest trip I've done so far, and I suspect there will not be another quite like it. Unless I cover Scotland in a week. Now there's an idea.

Full itinerary

Thursday 21 June 2007
London Euston-Crewe
Crewe-Liverpool Lime Street
Liverpool Lime Street-Chester
Chester-Warrington-Manchester Piccadilly
Manchester Piccadilly-Bolton-Wigan-Southport
Southport-Hunts Cross
Hunts Cross-Liverpool Central
Liverpool Central-New Brighton
New Brighton-Liverpool Central
Liverpool Central-West Kirby
West Kirby-Liverpool Central
Liverpool Central-Kirkby-Wigan-Manchester Victoria

Friday 22 June 2007
Manchester Victoria-Bolton-Blackburn
Blackburn-Colne
Colne-Blackburn-Preston
Preston-Chorley-Bolton-Manchester Piccadilly
Manchester Piccadilly-Warrington-Liverpool Lime Street
Liverpool Lime Street-St Helens-Warrington
Warrington-St Helens-Liverpool Lime Street
Liverpool Lime Street-Ormskirk-Preston
Preston-Kirkham-Preston (unscheduled!)
Preston-Lancaster

Saturday 23 June 2007
Lancaster-Oxenholme
Oxenholme-Windermere
Windermere-Oxenholme
Oxenholme-Carlisle
Carlisle-Barrow in Furnesss-Lancaster
Lancaster-Preston-Blackpool South

Sunday 24 June 2007
Blackpool North-Preston-Blackburn-Clitheroe-Hellifield
Hellifield-Lancaster-Morecambe-Heysham Port
Heysham Port-Morecambe-Lancaster
Lancaster-Preston
Preston-St Helens-Liverpool Lime Street
Liverpool Lime Street-St Helens-Wigan North Western
Wigan North Western-London Euston