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
Sunday, 7 October 2007
Saturday, 29 September 2007
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
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
Friday, 21 September 2007
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
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
Saturday, 8 September 2007
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
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
Saturday, 1 September 2007
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:
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
Manchester Piccadilly-Airport-Crewe
Birmingham-Redditch
Monday, 27 August 2007
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
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
Wednesday, 4 July 2007
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
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
Sunday, 24 June 2007
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.
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
Saturday, 5 May 2007
Cornwall and Devon branches no.3 4-5 May 2007
If I'd been patient, I'd have waited until the Summer timetable which features a Sunday service on the Par-Newquay branch (as pitiful as the weekday service, but still a service!). But in my drive to get the last south west branches finished, after much trying to work around engineering works and Saturday-only trains, I decided to take Friday 4 May off, and thus give myself a four day weekend, the Monday being a bank holiday anyway. This would involve a breakneck trip on the Gunnislake branch, an overnight stay in Falmouth and a short trip to Newquay, as well as about ten hours on trains up and down the main line to the south west!
So come Friday 4 May, I left for New Beckenham at around 7 to get the train up to town, arriving at Paddington in plenty of time to have a nice breakfast before getting on the 9.05 125 to Plymouth. It's a really pleasant trip down. The run through the empty Somerset countryside is wonderful as everything is starting to bloom. Then there's the lovely skimming along the river Exe estuary and the seafront at Dawlish and Teignmouth that feels as if you're floating on the sea. It's an area that I really must do some walking around once the quest is over. At our destination I get my ticket for the rest of the day then try to find a way to kill an hour before the Gunnislake train. Plymouth is not a city I have happy memories of, I've tried to find something to see there without success in the past so decide to strike out in the opposite direction to the appallingly grim network of subways leading to the town - thank you 60s town planners - and find firstly a pub that is shut, then a student pub. This turns out to be a goldmine - Bombardier at £1 a pint - it's a nice atmosphere and an interesting mixture of customers. It's always handy to know of decent watering holes when waiting for trains, the majority of station places being rubbish, and I commit it to memory for future reference!
The Gunnislake train is a one coach Sprinter (gggrrr! a single coach is a BUS!) but sadly one coach is adequate for the number of passengers. Despite most of the stops being request stop, we stop for at least two people at all of them. All of the Plymouth stops are so close together and so close to the central station, that I can't see that they are of much use really! If the central station wasn't so unpleasantly sited, it would be easier to walk to most of them from the centre I suspect. It's ironic that the railway provides the best way across the Tamar to Saltash station on the other side but because this is on the main line it probably gets a poor service because the long distance trains have priority. The line twists and turns a couple of times before ducking under Brunel's Tamar bridge and heading northwards. The bridge seems to appear out of nowhere and we get a fantastic view of it as it head away once more. After breaking away from the city the line heads through some beautful countryside which manages to have that feel of the south west that I can't quite define. We head across some fantastic viaducts and one magnificent girder bridge over the Tamar once more, before passing a line joining us from the left. This is the remainder of the route to Gunnislake. At Bere Alston we will reverse to head up this line. At Bere Alston the line used to continue to Tavistock, Okehampton and Exeter. I still can't believe that this line could not pay its way, linking various largish towns and providing a diversion for the main line into Plymouth. This is dogged by storms and salt spray washing away the ballast and disabling signalling and the newer trains and Network Rail must curse their predecessors for removing it. It's refreshing to know that a developer is hoping to reinstate it as they build thousands of new houses in the area and hope that it comes to fruition. I can't see how the Gunnislake branch survived at all when it doesn't reach any towns any more! I'd love to get out and look up the line to see how much is left but the driver wastes no time in walking to the other cab and heading off in the opposite direction. At Gunnislake we turn around straight away, so we must be late. I wonder how this will affect my connections at Plymouth for the next trip. The train seems to be carrying a few enthusiasts, snapping station signs and, like myself, not getting off at Gunnislake but just staying on! The conductor is not at all surprised, just saying, "Hello again!" to me. Must be used to the likes of me.
At Plymouth I check the board and fine out that the fast train from London was supposed to be leaving one minute after I arrive from Gunnislake, but it is running over half an hour late. This will not affect my connection to Falmouth as it was the later, stopping train to Penzance that I was supposed to be getting, so this is an unexpected bonus. To distribute the build up of passengers the stopping patterns have been altered. The fast one is stopping only at Bodmin and Truro and the stopping one is covering EVERY stop. I get some lunch and wait for the fast train. This gives me a much better trip to Truro (apart from just about everyone ignoring the no-mobiles rule in the quiet coach - are people SO childish that they can't follow one rule for an hour or two?) and a more certain connection, now giving me twenty minutes grace.
Truro is chaotic, the schools have turned out, there are loads of cabs and cars that have built up because of the delay and it's difficult to get your bearings without getting in someone's way. Luckily the Falmouth train is a two coach 158 so there is room for everyone. It heads off on time, taking no time to head through the countryside to its coastal terminus. I didn't know it at the time, but Penmere is effectively the suburbs of Falmouth. When we slide into Falmouth Town it's much more rural than I think it's going to be, which is a good sign. Unlikely to be another Skegness! Most of the remaining passengers get off here, and I think about joining them as the B&B I'm in is close by. Then I decide to keep going, just in case events prevent me from getting to the Docks station tomorrow, best to do it now while I'm sure of the chance! After the Town station, the line is practically running through grass, the tracks looking almost disused, something I don't think I've seen before. Seemingly seconds later we halt at Falmouth Docks, a one platform station, unusually with a full canopy in place, though the booking office is a shabby closed portakabin. I wonder how it has survived. The sign promotes it as the stop for Pendennis Castle, but there's not much in it in terms of distance from the Town station. It fascinates me, forlorn but alive, designed presumably for goods but still useful to people. I later find that the Docks station was closed, unsurprisingly, in 1970, but re-opened for unknown reasons in 1975. Perhaps they worked on the basis that if it was there it might as well be used, or that as the town station was so small that it was safer to distribute the reasonable passenger traffic over two stations. Some run down stations are depressing places - like Wakefield Kirkgate - but some have a curious romance about them, Falmouth Docks being one of them. It has a Dungeness-like feel about it.
I find my way to the Red Post B&B. It's a really lovely place. Whilst the wallpaper, fitments etc are the standard guest house fare, the owners have skillfully updated it. As well as a clean lick of paint everywhere they have used new mirrors, light fittings, etc, good bedding and towels, and little extras like local toiletries, decent coffee, and dressing gowns in the wardrobe, to create a superior feel to the place. They are also incredibly welcoming, showing me the view of the harbour from the landing window, a raised area with a sofa and books for the guests. I would heartily recommend it to anyone going to Falmouth and you can contact them via their website: http://www.thered-house.com/.
After a coffee I head down to the town. It's a nice town. It has its chain shops, its chavs and its tatty side but aside fom these perennials it combines pleasant houses piled up on the cliffs, a classic Cornish view, splendid pubs and restaurants, and a new Maritime quarter that includes a museum and the inevitable shopping centre. All of this sits happily with the working docks and harbour, and the monument of Pendennis Castle perched up on the point. I go to a couple of pubs selling local beers, one by Skinners of Truro called Keel Over was particuarly pleasant, one of the caramel flavoured beers. The Quayside Arms is full of characters and it's nice to find pubs that have a mixture of ages of types, not threatening on a Friday night, and chav-free! I don't actually make it to the one that I'd found on the internet but since I've resolved to come back for a proper visit, hopefully this year, it can wait. Besides which I'm hungry now. There's a bright clean new chip shop in the high street, clearly knowing exactly how to sell itself, and I have a delicious Plaice and Chips before heading back to the guest house. I get a quiet comfortable night's sleep and look forward to the next day.
Breakfast is predictably pleasant, the dining room providing local honey, home made marmalade, and a Cornish speciality that the landlord suggests I try - Hog's Pudding, a sausagemeat and oatmeal White Pudding. It's old fashioned in that one shares tables with other guests, and I'm joined by someone who is down there for a diving holiday. In fact the whole place seems to be full of middle aged well heeled people dressing slightly too trendily for their age - not uncommon in this area I suspect. I don't think I fall into this category, except for being just about middle-aged!
I have a chat with the landlord before going then head down to the beach, on the south side of the point. I walk up and around the point but somehow manage not to see the castle once! Still, it's a beautiful promenade along a lane literally lined with flowers and am already looking forward to a proper visit. Aware that I am already half way though the hour that I have before the train, I keep a rapid pace, but needn't have worried. Before I know it, I am back at the docks. I realise that the giant P&O ferry that I'd seen peeping over the cranes the previous night is not going anywhere. It's in dry dock and is being worked on - repairs presumably. It's the Pride of Dover, which I have certainly seen at the other end of the south coast, possibly I have been on it, but it's a curious feeling, it's something binding me to home. I always feel a curious attachment to Kent and East Sussex that feels home-like; and being down in this extreme sout west corner of England feels like being in another country in some ways. So it's a bizarre reminder of another more familiar place. I have a chance to look around the Docks station as there is fifteen minutes to the train, but there's really little to see. There are some rusting tracks behind the platform that probably used to snake over to the docks, but I'm guessing they don't meet up with the embedded rails I'd seen evocatively snaking over to the dry dock. I decide to have a quick wander around the Maretime Museum area and then make my way to the Town station, which I assume will be bigger. Wrong! Like Docks, it's a tiny one platform affair elevated on an embankment, no displays, no ticket machine, though it does have a car park. As I look at the tracks curving away into what is practically a grassy lane leading to the terminus at the Docks, it strikes me that this line really sums up what I like about trains. Even though the train will eventually carry over 50 people into Truro, its impact will be minimal. Between the two Falmouth stations, the line slips unseen, passing over pleasant brick bridges that seem to grow into the lush embankments, passing unseen behind houses before sliding into the bay platform at Truro. With cars there are acres of grey concrete, constant noise and pollution, drivers frequently risking self and others on a routine basis. Not to mention the car parks, out of town industry and shopping etc etc. Even if the Falmouth line (a typical branch) had dual track and electrification, with half hourly four coach trains in both directions, its impact would still never be as unpleasant as the roads - and a damn sight more poeple would go to Truro by train!
Enough of my perennial wistful lecture. I get on a the single coach Sprinter to Truro, packed by the time we get there. At Truro I have just one minute to wait for the Par train, luckily it's late. At Par I have a quick look around, bearing in mind the hour that I have to wait there on the return trip. There is a pub, but I expected to see the sea a bit closer. There are no useful maps at the station and of course, I forgot to bring one. I decide to look at a map in Newquay. Meanwhile the two coach Sprinter for Newquay is sitting quietly in the bay platform. It appears to be timed to await the connection from Plymouth, so when this is late, so are we. The driver obviously expects the train to be late, because he doesn't even get in the cab and set the controls to forward until some time after it's due to leave! And then we're off. We pass VERY slowly through the greenery, over some extensive viaducts. I see evidence of track replacement, and presume that we're creeping to run it in. There's very little sign of habitation until we get in sight of Newquay. Someone asks the conductor when the return train at around 5pm is. It is EIGHT PM. That is, if you have gone to the coast for the day, you have to come back at 3pm, wait another 5 hours - not much good if you like your kids in bed by 7 - or do what I suspect most people do - drive or get the bus. The conductor is clearly embarrassed and makes a joke of the low quality of service. My own theory about the shocking service on this line - just 4 trains on Saturdays in each direction, and no Sunday service until Summer, providing nothing for Easter or May Day Sundays - is that no-one is really interested in providing a train service for local people on this line. Newquay has become an Ibiza-like resort and most of its trade will come from the rest of the UK and in summer. In summer, there are daily through trains to Newquay from London, Manchester and Edinburgh, something no other branch down there has. So most summer revellers get no inkling of the poor local trains. The remainder, the stag parties, the groups will either come by car or minibus. I'm sure that the line survives to service the through trains, so the local stoppers are non-existent. A great shame. The new looking dual carriage way that we hug for the last few miles while we have to slow to 20mph for unmanned level crossings is a testament to the service, as well as the UK transport policy generally!
Newquay is what I expected. Dodgy looking clubs and pubs, chavs and posers galore. The bay is spectacular but the beach is so full of "lads" that it's quite intimidating. I give up and start to look for the pubs I'd found on the internet. None of them appeal. This is a world away from the rest of Cornwall! I spot the bus station and see if there is an early way out - I'd been planning to get the 3.10pm back. The thought that if it is cancelled I'm here until 8pm and that I'd tried to get a hotel here feels me with horror. Just as I'm reading the timetables a Falmouth via Truro bus comes along. I get on and return to Truro. Luckily we don't hit any jams and the bus is only about a third full. I'm just glad to get away from there. I would really like to learn to surf one day but I think it won't be at Newquay - I just found it too much.
The bus dumps me in the town at Truro and there are no signs or maps pointing me to the station. I know that it's at the top of a hill though, so I strike out in roughly the right direction, climbing higher and higher until I see the viaduct. Eventually I emerge in the station road just above it. I've been stuck here before and never found a decent pub close to the station - wouldn't fancy walking up from the town after a drink - and today is no exception. I check the times and disocver that I can get the next train down to Penzance, where it will form the last up train to London, ie, the one I am booked on at Par. I buy the right combination of tickets to enable me just to stay on the train and gratefully climb aboard. At Penzance two ladies going to catch the Scilly Isles helicopter give me some unwanted cans of orange which is nice of them, and then I have a quick wander around the town, as the train is returning in just over half an hour.
Next to the station there's a pub that proclaims that it doesn't sell junk food, only locally sourced home made meals. On this basis the beer is bound to be good so in I go. Not a bit of it! They sell 5 lagers - all the usual suspects and certainly not local - and Guinness - yawn. They've already seen by the time I'm near the bar so I don't like to turn around and leave. When I sit at the table and look at the infamous menu, I notice the Wine List. Every wine is from the New World - not even Europe! And Cornwall has plenty of local brewers AND that rarest of things in England - a vineyward. They are obviously just jumping on a gimmicky bandwagon - a BIG disappointment.
It's been a disappointing day, I really should have just stayed on the Newquay train when it turned round, gone to Par, and found something useful to do there. Now it's cost me extra in tickets and wound me up. I'm pleased to get on the London train. One thing to be salvaged from starting at Penzance is that this will be the longest train journey I've ever done awake (the sleeper doesn't count for obvious reasons). So I will see the whole Great Western line from start to finish in one go - pointless but curiously satisfying. A pointless record for a pointless quest I guess. Through the stages we go - Cornwall, then the Tamar Bridge and Plymouth, then Teignmouth, Dawlish, the River Exe and Exeter, Somerset's greenery with Taunton nestling in the middle, overtake the cars on the M5 without trying, the White Horse of Westbury, then suddenly we're at Pewsey - commuter land once more, then it's a quick run back to Paddington. I make full use of my complimentary refreshments and allow myself a short snooze, but I do feel that I've been travelling for a day when I get off. I shall miss the HST when it goes - it'll be interesting to see how many get preserved. It's a bit big for the average rural steam railway. It's a trouble free trip back on the tube and train to home, and I'm certainly pleased to be back there.
New Lines covered:
Plymouth-Gunnislake
Truro - Falmouth Docks
Par - Newquay
So come Friday 4 May, I left for New Beckenham at around 7 to get the train up to town, arriving at Paddington in plenty of time to have a nice breakfast before getting on the 9.05 125 to Plymouth. It's a really pleasant trip down. The run through the empty Somerset countryside is wonderful as everything is starting to bloom. Then there's the lovely skimming along the river Exe estuary and the seafront at Dawlish and Teignmouth that feels as if you're floating on the sea. It's an area that I really must do some walking around once the quest is over. At our destination I get my ticket for the rest of the day then try to find a way to kill an hour before the Gunnislake train. Plymouth is not a city I have happy memories of, I've tried to find something to see there without success in the past so decide to strike out in the opposite direction to the appallingly grim network of subways leading to the town - thank you 60s town planners - and find firstly a pub that is shut, then a student pub. This turns out to be a goldmine - Bombardier at £1 a pint - it's a nice atmosphere and an interesting mixture of customers. It's always handy to know of decent watering holes when waiting for trains, the majority of station places being rubbish, and I commit it to memory for future reference!
The Gunnislake train is a one coach Sprinter (gggrrr! a single coach is a BUS!) but sadly one coach is adequate for the number of passengers. Despite most of the stops being request stop, we stop for at least two people at all of them. All of the Plymouth stops are so close together and so close to the central station, that I can't see that they are of much use really! If the central station wasn't so unpleasantly sited, it would be easier to walk to most of them from the centre I suspect. It's ironic that the railway provides the best way across the Tamar to Saltash station on the other side but because this is on the main line it probably gets a poor service because the long distance trains have priority. The line twists and turns a couple of times before ducking under Brunel's Tamar bridge and heading northwards. The bridge seems to appear out of nowhere and we get a fantastic view of it as it head away once more. After breaking away from the city the line heads through some beautful countryside which manages to have that feel of the south west that I can't quite define. We head across some fantastic viaducts and one magnificent girder bridge over the Tamar once more, before passing a line joining us from the left. This is the remainder of the route to Gunnislake. At Bere Alston we will reverse to head up this line. At Bere Alston the line used to continue to Tavistock, Okehampton and Exeter. I still can't believe that this line could not pay its way, linking various largish towns and providing a diversion for the main line into Plymouth. This is dogged by storms and salt spray washing away the ballast and disabling signalling and the newer trains and Network Rail must curse their predecessors for removing it. It's refreshing to know that a developer is hoping to reinstate it as they build thousands of new houses in the area and hope that it comes to fruition. I can't see how the Gunnislake branch survived at all when it doesn't reach any towns any more! I'd love to get out and look up the line to see how much is left but the driver wastes no time in walking to the other cab and heading off in the opposite direction. At Gunnislake we turn around straight away, so we must be late. I wonder how this will affect my connections at Plymouth for the next trip. The train seems to be carrying a few enthusiasts, snapping station signs and, like myself, not getting off at Gunnislake but just staying on! The conductor is not at all surprised, just saying, "Hello again!" to me. Must be used to the likes of me.
At Plymouth I check the board and fine out that the fast train from London was supposed to be leaving one minute after I arrive from Gunnislake, but it is running over half an hour late. This will not affect my connection to Falmouth as it was the later, stopping train to Penzance that I was supposed to be getting, so this is an unexpected bonus. To distribute the build up of passengers the stopping patterns have been altered. The fast one is stopping only at Bodmin and Truro and the stopping one is covering EVERY stop. I get some lunch and wait for the fast train. This gives me a much better trip to Truro (apart from just about everyone ignoring the no-mobiles rule in the quiet coach - are people SO childish that they can't follow one rule for an hour or two?) and a more certain connection, now giving me twenty minutes grace.
Truro is chaotic, the schools have turned out, there are loads of cabs and cars that have built up because of the delay and it's difficult to get your bearings without getting in someone's way. Luckily the Falmouth train is a two coach 158 so there is room for everyone. It heads off on time, taking no time to head through the countryside to its coastal terminus. I didn't know it at the time, but Penmere is effectively the suburbs of Falmouth. When we slide into Falmouth Town it's much more rural than I think it's going to be, which is a good sign. Unlikely to be another Skegness! Most of the remaining passengers get off here, and I think about joining them as the B&B I'm in is close by. Then I decide to keep going, just in case events prevent me from getting to the Docks station tomorrow, best to do it now while I'm sure of the chance! After the Town station, the line is practically running through grass, the tracks looking almost disused, something I don't think I've seen before. Seemingly seconds later we halt at Falmouth Docks, a one platform station, unusually with a full canopy in place, though the booking office is a shabby closed portakabin. I wonder how it has survived. The sign promotes it as the stop for Pendennis Castle, but there's not much in it in terms of distance from the Town station. It fascinates me, forlorn but alive, designed presumably for goods but still useful to people. I later find that the Docks station was closed, unsurprisingly, in 1970, but re-opened for unknown reasons in 1975. Perhaps they worked on the basis that if it was there it might as well be used, or that as the town station was so small that it was safer to distribute the reasonable passenger traffic over two stations. Some run down stations are depressing places - like Wakefield Kirkgate - but some have a curious romance about them, Falmouth Docks being one of them. It has a Dungeness-like feel about it.
I find my way to the Red Post B&B. It's a really lovely place. Whilst the wallpaper, fitments etc are the standard guest house fare, the owners have skillfully updated it. As well as a clean lick of paint everywhere they have used new mirrors, light fittings, etc, good bedding and towels, and little extras like local toiletries, decent coffee, and dressing gowns in the wardrobe, to create a superior feel to the place. They are also incredibly welcoming, showing me the view of the harbour from the landing window, a raised area with a sofa and books for the guests. I would heartily recommend it to anyone going to Falmouth and you can contact them via their website: http://www.thered-house.com/.
After a coffee I head down to the town. It's a nice town. It has its chain shops, its chavs and its tatty side but aside fom these perennials it combines pleasant houses piled up on the cliffs, a classic Cornish view, splendid pubs and restaurants, and a new Maritime quarter that includes a museum and the inevitable shopping centre. All of this sits happily with the working docks and harbour, and the monument of Pendennis Castle perched up on the point. I go to a couple of pubs selling local beers, one by Skinners of Truro called Keel Over was particuarly pleasant, one of the caramel flavoured beers. The Quayside Arms is full of characters and it's nice to find pubs that have a mixture of ages of types, not threatening on a Friday night, and chav-free! I don't actually make it to the one that I'd found on the internet but since I've resolved to come back for a proper visit, hopefully this year, it can wait. Besides which I'm hungry now. There's a bright clean new chip shop in the high street, clearly knowing exactly how to sell itself, and I have a delicious Plaice and Chips before heading back to the guest house. I get a quiet comfortable night's sleep and look forward to the next day.
Breakfast is predictably pleasant, the dining room providing local honey, home made marmalade, and a Cornish speciality that the landlord suggests I try - Hog's Pudding, a sausagemeat and oatmeal White Pudding. It's old fashioned in that one shares tables with other guests, and I'm joined by someone who is down there for a diving holiday. In fact the whole place seems to be full of middle aged well heeled people dressing slightly too trendily for their age - not uncommon in this area I suspect. I don't think I fall into this category, except for being just about middle-aged!
I have a chat with the landlord before going then head down to the beach, on the south side of the point. I walk up and around the point but somehow manage not to see the castle once! Still, it's a beautiful promenade along a lane literally lined with flowers and am already looking forward to a proper visit. Aware that I am already half way though the hour that I have before the train, I keep a rapid pace, but needn't have worried. Before I know it, I am back at the docks. I realise that the giant P&O ferry that I'd seen peeping over the cranes the previous night is not going anywhere. It's in dry dock and is being worked on - repairs presumably. It's the Pride of Dover, which I have certainly seen at the other end of the south coast, possibly I have been on it, but it's a curious feeling, it's something binding me to home. I always feel a curious attachment to Kent and East Sussex that feels home-like; and being down in this extreme sout west corner of England feels like being in another country in some ways. So it's a bizarre reminder of another more familiar place. I have a chance to look around the Docks station as there is fifteen minutes to the train, but there's really little to see. There are some rusting tracks behind the platform that probably used to snake over to the docks, but I'm guessing they don't meet up with the embedded rails I'd seen evocatively snaking over to the dry dock. I decide to have a quick wander around the Maretime Museum area and then make my way to the Town station, which I assume will be bigger. Wrong! Like Docks, it's a tiny one platform affair elevated on an embankment, no displays, no ticket machine, though it does have a car park. As I look at the tracks curving away into what is practically a grassy lane leading to the terminus at the Docks, it strikes me that this line really sums up what I like about trains. Even though the train will eventually carry over 50 people into Truro, its impact will be minimal. Between the two Falmouth stations, the line slips unseen, passing over pleasant brick bridges that seem to grow into the lush embankments, passing unseen behind houses before sliding into the bay platform at Truro. With cars there are acres of grey concrete, constant noise and pollution, drivers frequently risking self and others on a routine basis. Not to mention the car parks, out of town industry and shopping etc etc. Even if the Falmouth line (a typical branch) had dual track and electrification, with half hourly four coach trains in both directions, its impact would still never be as unpleasant as the roads - and a damn sight more poeple would go to Truro by train!
Enough of my perennial wistful lecture. I get on a the single coach Sprinter to Truro, packed by the time we get there. At Truro I have just one minute to wait for the Par train, luckily it's late. At Par I have a quick look around, bearing in mind the hour that I have to wait there on the return trip. There is a pub, but I expected to see the sea a bit closer. There are no useful maps at the station and of course, I forgot to bring one. I decide to look at a map in Newquay. Meanwhile the two coach Sprinter for Newquay is sitting quietly in the bay platform. It appears to be timed to await the connection from Plymouth, so when this is late, so are we. The driver obviously expects the train to be late, because he doesn't even get in the cab and set the controls to forward until some time after it's due to leave! And then we're off. We pass VERY slowly through the greenery, over some extensive viaducts. I see evidence of track replacement, and presume that we're creeping to run it in. There's very little sign of habitation until we get in sight of Newquay. Someone asks the conductor when the return train at around 5pm is. It is EIGHT PM. That is, if you have gone to the coast for the day, you have to come back at 3pm, wait another 5 hours - not much good if you like your kids in bed by 7 - or do what I suspect most people do - drive or get the bus. The conductor is clearly embarrassed and makes a joke of the low quality of service. My own theory about the shocking service on this line - just 4 trains on Saturdays in each direction, and no Sunday service until Summer, providing nothing for Easter or May Day Sundays - is that no-one is really interested in providing a train service for local people on this line. Newquay has become an Ibiza-like resort and most of its trade will come from the rest of the UK and in summer. In summer, there are daily through trains to Newquay from London, Manchester and Edinburgh, something no other branch down there has. So most summer revellers get no inkling of the poor local trains. The remainder, the stag parties, the groups will either come by car or minibus. I'm sure that the line survives to service the through trains, so the local stoppers are non-existent. A great shame. The new looking dual carriage way that we hug for the last few miles while we have to slow to 20mph for unmanned level crossings is a testament to the service, as well as the UK transport policy generally!
Newquay is what I expected. Dodgy looking clubs and pubs, chavs and posers galore. The bay is spectacular but the beach is so full of "lads" that it's quite intimidating. I give up and start to look for the pubs I'd found on the internet. None of them appeal. This is a world away from the rest of Cornwall! I spot the bus station and see if there is an early way out - I'd been planning to get the 3.10pm back. The thought that if it is cancelled I'm here until 8pm and that I'd tried to get a hotel here feels me with horror. Just as I'm reading the timetables a Falmouth via Truro bus comes along. I get on and return to Truro. Luckily we don't hit any jams and the bus is only about a third full. I'm just glad to get away from there. I would really like to learn to surf one day but I think it won't be at Newquay - I just found it too much.
The bus dumps me in the town at Truro and there are no signs or maps pointing me to the station. I know that it's at the top of a hill though, so I strike out in roughly the right direction, climbing higher and higher until I see the viaduct. Eventually I emerge in the station road just above it. I've been stuck here before and never found a decent pub close to the station - wouldn't fancy walking up from the town after a drink - and today is no exception. I check the times and disocver that I can get the next train down to Penzance, where it will form the last up train to London, ie, the one I am booked on at Par. I buy the right combination of tickets to enable me just to stay on the train and gratefully climb aboard. At Penzance two ladies going to catch the Scilly Isles helicopter give me some unwanted cans of orange which is nice of them, and then I have a quick wander around the town, as the train is returning in just over half an hour.
Next to the station there's a pub that proclaims that it doesn't sell junk food, only locally sourced home made meals. On this basis the beer is bound to be good so in I go. Not a bit of it! They sell 5 lagers - all the usual suspects and certainly not local - and Guinness - yawn. They've already seen by the time I'm near the bar so I don't like to turn around and leave. When I sit at the table and look at the infamous menu, I notice the Wine List. Every wine is from the New World - not even Europe! And Cornwall has plenty of local brewers AND that rarest of things in England - a vineyward. They are obviously just jumping on a gimmicky bandwagon - a BIG disappointment.
It's been a disappointing day, I really should have just stayed on the Newquay train when it turned round, gone to Par, and found something useful to do there. Now it's cost me extra in tickets and wound me up. I'm pleased to get on the London train. One thing to be salvaged from starting at Penzance is that this will be the longest train journey I've ever done awake (the sleeper doesn't count for obvious reasons). So I will see the whole Great Western line from start to finish in one go - pointless but curiously satisfying. A pointless record for a pointless quest I guess. Through the stages we go - Cornwall, then the Tamar Bridge and Plymouth, then Teignmouth, Dawlish, the River Exe and Exeter, Somerset's greenery with Taunton nestling in the middle, overtake the cars on the M5 without trying, the White Horse of Westbury, then suddenly we're at Pewsey - commuter land once more, then it's a quick run back to Paddington. I make full use of my complimentary refreshments and allow myself a short snooze, but I do feel that I've been travelling for a day when I get off. I shall miss the HST when it goes - it'll be interesting to see how many get preserved. It's a bit big for the average rural steam railway. It's a trouble free trip back on the tube and train to home, and I'm certainly pleased to be back there.
New Lines covered:
Plymouth-Gunnislake
Truro - Falmouth Docks
Par - Newquay
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