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
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment