Dawlish 2 August 2003

Dawlish. It's one of those places that is synonymous with railways, like Crewe, or Doncaster. The Great Western main line to Plymouth and Penzance runs along the sea wall for a few miles at this point, providing the enthusiast with an excellent location for photography and spotting. It's also part of the myth of old-fashioned seaside holidays by rail, where the train literally delivers you to the beach, and the children still wave at travellers as they speed past above the sandcastles. Inspired by Nicholas Whitaker's "Platform Souls," I decide that it's time I visited this toffee tin lid of a town.

I get myself booked on to a direct train from Paddington for the following Saturday. At this time not well versed in the routes and timetables outside London, I'm not surprised when it takes what I know now is the long way round, via Swindon and Bristol. It's actually a Summer special that is going to Paignton, hence picking up from as many places as possible. Later I discover that the direct route is via Newbury, and most London trains DON'T stop at Dawlish. I remember being pleased to re-discover that there are these two routes to the West Country after all.

I enjoy the trip on the 125 immensely, as I've hardly been anywhere at this point in the quest. Finally seeing the sudden urban burst of Bristol, the sad ruined goods depot at Taunton and the distant cathedral at Exeter means a lot to me. These have all been mere words on a map or timetable until now, and suddenly, here I am, they exist! But it is the trip along the River Exe estuary that really impresses me. The tide is in, and it seems as if we are travelling over the water's surface. Apparently the line was built on the bank itself, but the ground began to move and was built up to strengthen it.

Eventually we veer away from the estuary as it pours into the sea, past a large camp site at Dawlish Warren. Camp sites by stations are rare, and I make a note of it as a possible future place to stay. Then we're on the sea front itself. The famous red cliffs start to appear, I spot a palm tree, and we're there. The station is underwhelming, but then many are, and I feel as if I've missed something. It's only when I get on to the beach that I realise what. It's chiefly the line to the west of Dawlish that has the legendary status. I can see the red cliffs curving into the distance, the line hugging the curves and poking in and out of tunnels. The train does indeed practically run on the beach, and yes - the kids still wave as they go past! It does feel faintly exhilarating to walk along the sea wall and have a train racing past a couple of feet away. I spot plenty of spotters, and there is plenty to spot. A refreshingly large number of services run along here.

I have a wander around the town, having a brief look around the town. There's not much to see to be honest, but I do go in the local museum and learn something about this fascinating seaside railway line. I already knew that the line is in an extremely hazardous place, the lineside equipment, the trains and even the ballast all being adversely affected by bad weather as the sea spray batters it continually. But I didn't know why such an unlikely location was chosen. Apparently Brunel wanted to build it as a showcase to show how nature could be conquered. It was originally broad gauge, vacuum powered and single track. Another line to Plymouth was built inland, via Tavistock, but good old BR severed the line at both ends, so now when the sea does its worst, Cornwall is cut off.

Eventually I decide that I will go to Newton Abbot, a couple of stops down, so that I can see the full sea wall, then stop at Exeter on the way back to see the cathedral. It's worth the change of plan. I get to travel through all the sandstone tunnels, see the lovely old fashioned sign welcoming us to Teignmouth just outside the station there, then along the estuary of the River Teign. Not as breathtaking as the Exe, but probably wider. Newton Abbot itself is unremarkable but I'm not here for sightseeing. I get on a Voyager to Exeter (new then!) which has Dot Matrix displays for reservations and personal stereos built into the seat arms, which even in 2003 seems terribly futuristic!

Exeter is a pleasant city, with a nice mix of old and new buildings, smart shops and cafes and a waterfront redevelopment that seems more natural than many I've seen. I'm surprised to learn that it has been voted the most clone-like city in the UK since, as it certainly didn't seem like that to me. The cathedral is one of the most impressive I've seen, with a fascinating clock that takes a while to work out how to read.

Not realising at this time that there is a faster route back to London than I one I come down on, I enquire about returning via the West of England line to Waterloo instead. I know this will not be quicker, but the bashing mentality is already kicking in, and I just see the chance to tick off a line. Little do I realise that the route back would have been new anyway, but I'll cover it a fair few times in years to come! The booking clerk very kindly alters the validity of my ticket to allow me to use it on a different route back for no extra cash.

The West of England line is single track all the way to Salisbury, and non-electrified west of Baskingstoke, so it's a three coach class 158 that conveys me home. It's a pretty trip along the south coast of Devon but I look with most interest as we arrive at Yeovil Junction. This is as far as I've been before on this route when I visited a friend in 1986 who moved here from school. He was a trainspotter and that was my one go at spotting as I waited for my train home. In those days it was a "proper" train hauled by a locomotive. Little did we know they would pretty much all be replaced by "units." Chard is a particularly irritating stop. There is no station there any more, yet we halt for about ten minutes to allow trains to cross. Err, surely that ten minutes could be used for a station stop? Welcome to the 21st century transport policy!

The journey back to London takes most of four hours, but I enjoy it. Finally seeing all these places I've known of for years come to life is daftly satisfying. I intend to do more of these trips...