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