Great British Railway Journeys

by Charlie Bunce

  For the repairing of the Ribblehead Viaduct modern machinery was used. Back in 1869, when work on the viaduct began, the technology available didn’t extend much beyond pickaxes and dynamite. The navvies who built it travelled with their families, and ill-equipped shanty towns appeared along the route.

  Many lost their lives to smallpox and starvation. At the tiny church of St Leonard’s in the hamlet of Chapel-le-Dale, historian Gerald Tyler revealed that 201 people were buried there within five years and, of those, 110 were aged below 13. So many people lost their lives that the railway company paid for the graveyard to be extended. Even that wasn’t enough and, at the far end of the graveyard, dozens of bodies lie in unmarked graves.

  As the highest station in England, dent is subject to catastrophic snowfall. After a blizzard in 1947 one line was cleared so the service could continue.

  SSPL/Getty Images

  Even when the railway was complete, there was the job of keeping it open in severe weather. At Dent, which has the highest station in England at 1,150 feet above sea level, maintaining the line proved almost as difficult as building it. Fifteen men lived beside Dent station in winter, with the job of trying to keep the line free from snow. Workers came for six weeks at a time, isolated and packed like sardines into the small snow huts built in 1885.

  The huts are still there today, but have been converted into luxury accommodation for tourists, reflecting the evolving fortunes linked to the railway. Dent station – some distance from the village – was closed in 1970. However, the campaign to keep the line open re-ignited the tourist trade. With more frequent trains, Dent and other stations re-opened in 1986 and are thriving today.

  Boat travel is the obvious option in the lake district.

  © 2010 Cumbria Image Bank

  After the Settle to Carlisle detour, we rejoined the West Coast Main Line heading into the Lake District. Bradshaw was so enamoured of the area that he suggested a variety of different tours according to how much time one had.

  ALL BUT GONE ARE THE DAYS WHEN YOU COULD DIP A KETTLE INTO CRYSTAL CLEAR LAKE WATERS TO BREW A CUPPA

  In the early nineteenth century poets including William Wordsworth (1770–1850) and Samuel Coleridge (1772–1834) lived in the Lake District and made it popular amongst the educated elite through their writings. Wordsworth, however, didn’t welcome tourists to his paradise, believing the poor and ill-educated would not benefit ‘mentally or morally’ from a visit. So the arrival of the railways in 1847 was hugely controversial among those like him who wanted to maintain the area’s isolation. And there’s no doubt the onslaught of visitors was in some ways costly.

  For the traveller arriving by train Bradshaw promised an immediate delight: ‘From Windermere station the lake appears in view, with its beautiful islands and grassy well wooded fells around its borders.’ These days it has become so built up that you struggle to even get a glimpse of the lake. To attract more visitors the railway company had changed the name of the station from Birthwaite to Windermere, and the station is still there – only these days it houses a supermarket.

  Bradshaw next suggests a trip out on to the lake, and that at least is one of the original delights still available to trippers. All but gone are the days when you could dip a kettle into crystal-clear lake waters to brew a cuppa. One of the major downsides of mass tourism has been the rising levels of pollution in the lake, caused by sewage overflow. Things are better at the north end, where the lake is fed by freshwater tributaries.

  John Pinder, from the Environment Agency, monitors the water quality, particularly the level of phosphates found in sewage and fertilisers that stimulate massive growths of algae. As the algae blooms die, they take oxygen out of the water, reducing its quality. For the last two years John has been working with the whole community on trying to clean up the lakes.

  Although it was the trains that brought the huge numbers of people to the lakes, all armed with their Bradshaw, he wasn’t the first person to promote the area. Ironically, the reluctant Wordsworth – who was Poet Laureate from 1843 and a vigorous campaigner against the railways – has inadvertently done more to attract visitors than anyone else. Now his grave, in St Oswald’s Church at Grasmere, is a tourist attraction in its own right.

  Grazing in the shadow of a lakeland fell, Herdwick sheep are native to Cumbria where they thrive on rich grasslands watered by frequent rain.

  Stewart Smith/Alamy

  There was another, less obvious spin-off from the arrival of the railways. Farms that used to supply only their local markets suddenly became national enterprises as their produce was whisked away by rail. In the nineteenth century railway companies not only transported animals but owned the markets where the cattle and farm produce were sold.

  Peter Gott’s family has been farming Herdwick sheep, which are native to Cumbria, since the seventeenth century. As demand for fresh food grew, farms became bigger, and by the middle of the twentieth century the land was being farmed on an industrial scale. But farmers like Peter became conscious of having to compromise on quality. Now he is part of the slow food movement, which advocates small-scale, sustainable farming involving fewer food miles and resulting in more flavour on the plate.

  The border between England and Scotland did not hold firm until after the Battle of Culloden when the largely Scottish force led by Bonnie Prince Charlie was slain.

  Photolibrary

  Nowhere outside the Lake District will you find this type of sheep, with its own distinct flavour, raised on old-fashioned herbage in the fells. It is nonetheless very tough to run a small farm, so Peter has had to diversify to keep afloat, producing pies and 30 varieties of his own speciality sausages.

  From the lakes, our journey took us further north via Penrith into the Border country and to Carlisle. When the railways arrived in 1847, passengers had to change trains there, making Carlisle one of the busiest stations in the country. Most, though, were simply passing through and never got to see the town itself. Those who did would have been struck by its degree of fortification.

  Perhaps it’s not surprising. The English and Scots battled for control of Carlisle and its castle for more than 700 years, until the last Scottish uprising led by Bonnie Prince Charlie came to an end at the Battle of Culloden in 1745. But that still left the marauding moss troopers, or Border reivers as they’re known locally, for Carlisle to contend with.

  Artist Gordon Young is a descendant of this forgotten people. He explained how, 400 years ago, the frontier between the English and Scots shifted constantly. Marching armies from north and south repeatedly laid waste to the area, making it difficult to govern. And the reivers operated within this no man’s land, taking full advantage of its lawless state. They were skilled rustlers but often ended up taking anything they could carry. In 1525, in an attempt to bring the troublesome reivers to heel, the Archbishop of Glasgow laid a 1,069-word curse on them, which was read out by priests in every parish.

  In those days men gave their allegiance not to their country but to their clan or family. And it wasn’t just a case of the Scots raiding the English and vice versa. Feuding families brought bitter disputes to the same neighbourhood. Gordon explained that emerging from this tough, bloody place were dynasties whose names are now known the world over, including Irvine, Carmichael, Johnston, Dixon and Young. There have even been some famous reiver sons such as Richard Nixon and Neil Armstrong.

  ‘IT HAS FOR MORE THAN 80 YEARS BEEN THE PLACE OF CELEBRATION OF MARRIAGES OF FUGITIVE LOVERS FROM ENGLAND’

  From Carlisle, the train crossed the River Eden and then the Esk on its way north-west to the Scottish border and, just beyond it, one of Scotland’s most famous towns – Gretna Green. Even in Bradshaw’s day Gretna was known for one thing. ‘It has for more than 80 years been the place of celebration of marriages of fugitive lovers from England.’

  The marriage laws in Scotland have always been more liberal than those in England and, when the railways reached Gretna in 1848, the steady stream
of runaway lovers turned into a flood. According to Bradshaw, more than 300 marriages took place annually here and in the neighbouring village of Springfield, and the fees varied from 1 to 40 guineas.

  INSIDE WE DISCOVERED A STRANGE LANDSCAPE OF BUNKERS AND HILLS BUILT SPECIFICALLY TO HANDLE HIGH EXPLOSIVES

  But Bradshaw was convinced the practice was coming to an end. ‘An Act of Parliament has since come into operation which requires a residence in Scotland of too long a duration to suit the purpose of fugitive lovers and the blacksmith of Gretna Green, like Othello, will now find his “occupation gone”.’

  Of course, marriage is still big business for Gretna Green, with more than 5,000 couples a year tying the knot there. That’s one in six of all weddings in Scotland, and a quick wander around the town makes it clear that it’s something that keeps many people in work.

  What’s less well known about Gretna is that just a few miles down the track are the remains of a secret factory that played a crucial role in the First World War. No one had ever filmed before at what is still an MoD site. Inside we discovered a strange landscape of bunkers and hills built specifically to handle high explosives that were made and stored here.

  Today David Watt manages the munitions factory, which came into existence after the Battle of Loos in 1915, when the army found itself critically low on shells. So low, David said, that Britain might have lost the war. As a result this huge facility covering hundreds of acres was built. Shells were made and packed round the clock by women mixing ‘Devil’s Porridge’ – a paste of nitroglycerine and gun cotton that went inside armaments. At its peak the factory was producing 800 tons of it a week. Good wages were paid to the women workers, many drawn from domestic service, but there were multiple hazards from fire, explosions and the noxious chemicals being used. The women were uniformed and wore some protective clothing. The factory even had its own internal railway to carry the munitions around the vast site and the workers from their army-style barracks.

  Our next train was substantially larger than the narrow-gauge MoD railway and whisked us swiftly past Lockerbie, Moffat and Lanark towards Glasgow. Even in Bradshaw’s day Glasgow was famous for its rivalry with Edinburgh. ‘The ancient city of Glasgow,’ he asserts, ‘is one of the most splendid in Europe and is not surpassed for beauty of architecture in its public and private buildings, the length, breadth and elegance of its streets, squares and crescents, even by Edinburgh itself.’

  During the first world war women munitions workers produced shells and other armaments at Gretna’s secret base.

  Getty Images

  Today the city centre still attracts the tourists, but Bradshaw used to encourage them to venture further afield. ‘Glasgow itself is supposed to offer few attractions to the tourist but this is a mistake. Old Glasgow with all its dirt and discomfort ... is well worth a visit.’ In a Victorian version of poverty tourism, he directed them to Calton, which was and is one of the city’s most deprived areas.

  In the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, Calton – the weavers’ quarter – was a wretched place. Cholera was a permanent threat, killing thousands every year. Several families were crammed into each small house. Today living conditions are better, but the area still has troubling social problems, including sectarianism rooted in Irish immigration during past centuries. Despite attempts to improve life here, such as the mass rebuilding of the 1980s, the life expectancy for an adult male is 55, decades below the national average.

  Solid oak poles are an architectural feature of the new Scottish parliament building at Holyrood.

  Photolibrary

  Elsewhere the city is enjoying a renaissance. Sleek contemporary museums line the old dock. Grand Victorian buildings in the West End have been restored. Glasgow is a city that retains its civic pride, and that’s reflected in how it has become a top tourist destination, welcoming 4 million people each year.

  On the 45-mile journey towards Edinburgh through the Clyde Valley the scenery is less dramatic than that of Highland Scotland, but the farms are more abundant. Bradshaw was enthusiastic: ‘A district of country rich in mineral wealth, beautiful scenery, celebrated far and near as the Orchard of Scotland and famous for its fine fruit.’

  Scotland’s cooler weather meant that fruit ripened there long after the season had finished further south. As the railways extended, there was wide demand for fruit from the lush orchards of the Clyde Valley. Picking was organised around the clock and the fruit would be sent on the early freight trains. Today, many of the orchards are neglected and overgrown, but there is a small group of people trying to revive the area’s heritage varieties that might otherwise disappear.

  It is difficult to see Clyde Valley orchards ever approaching their Victorian peak again, but they are beginning to rekindle their fortunes, offering fruit and juice which growers sell locally.

  Soon we are at Scotland’s grand capital, Edinburgh. The railway snakes through a ravine to Waverley station, with Edinburgh Castle looming above on an enormous rock that dominates the city.

  Among its other claims to fame, Edinburgh boasts the biggest lost property office in Britain, receiving about 600 items a year. As well as the ordinary bags and umbrellas, people lose some bizarre items. Everything from a suitcase containing an octopus to a bag full of live eels has turned up on the shelves of lost property at Edinburgh station.

  Edinburgh’s first railway was not the line to Glasgow, surprisingly, but went instead to Dalkeith, about five miles to the south-east. On this line, which passed round the edge of Holyrood Park, the trains were horse-drawn, except for a steep incline inside a tunnel, where a stationary steam engine was used to haul the carriages.

  In Bradshaw’s description Edinburgh is labelled, not for the first time, a ‘modern Athens’. But the book also mentions something altogether more mysterious. Bradshaw insists that, opposite the seventeenth-century Tron Kirk, lies a cellar where the momentous Treaty of the Union was signed. This key event, which in 1707 joined England and Scotland together under one parliament, seemed to have taken place in what is now the ladies’ loo in an Italian restaurant. The restaurant gets a steady flow of visitors asking the same question about the political history of the toilets, though probably not all thanks to a 170-year-old guidebook.

  The forth bridge under construction, with its distinctive diamonds standing in splendid isolation.

  Topfoto

  Michael Portillo ascended the forth bridge to take on a new perspective of the famous steel structure.

  Ross Aitkin

  Dr John Young from Strathclyde University explained that Scottish politicians who wanted a union with England were jostled and attacked on a regular basis, so there was a possibility that Unionist politicians sought refuge in the cellars of what was then a house. Rumours soon circulated about the surreptitious signing of the treaty in this cellar, and these were repeated in various publications, including Bradshaw’s, over the next 50 years. The truth, unfortunately, is far less compelling. The treaty was in fact ratified in the old Scottish parliament buildings on Parliament Square – and nowhere near the Bella Pasta ladies’ loo.

  IT COULD BE AS LONG AS 40 YEARS BEFORE A TEAM NEEDS ONCE AGAIN TO PERFORM THE LEGENDARY, HERCULEAN TASK OF ‘PAINTING THE FORTH BRIDGE’

  The last part of the journey was a sentimental trip for Michael, following a route he had taken many times with his family that used to take him across the Firth of Forth. This was such an exciting journey for Michael and his brothers as children that they couldn’t sleep as they waited in anticipation to cross the magnificent Forth Bridge.

  As a boy in the 1880s, Michael’s grandfather had rowed out to watch the building of this striking piece of engineering, Britain’s first major structure in steel. The bridge took seven years to build and cost 75 lives. A mighty 55,000 tons of steel were used to build the bridge, and 8 million rivets bolted the sections together as it was assembled part by part before its completion in 1890.

  It looks every bit as magnificent 1
20 years on. George Bradshaw didn’t live long enough to see it built, but if he had he would have marvelled at the achievement.

  Michael has seen the bridge from many angles, but one commanding view he had not enjoyed until now was from its very top. Ian Heigh, the man in charge of repairing and repainting the bridge, took Michael 367 feet above water level to look out from the top of one of the bridge’s three great diamonds.

  Ian is currently overseeing the massive job of blasting off all the old paint added to the bridge during its lifetime – the first time it’s ever been done. The bridge will then be recoated using a modern paint with a much longer life. Afterwards it could be as long as 40 years before a team needs once again to perform the legendary, Herculean task of ‘painting the Forth Bridge’.

  JOURNEY 5

  THE MAIL TRAIN

  From Ledbury to Holyhead

  Many of the lines we travel on today were built to carry goods around the country, but the one heading out to Holyhead on the northern tip of Wales was created for a special kind of freight. It was to carry the Irish mail. After the Acts of Union in 1800, which created the United Kingdom, it was incumbent on the British government to improve links with Ireland. The shortest sea crossing is between Holyhead, on the island of Anglesey, and Dublin. Clearly, Holyhead would be a pivotal part of any plans. Initially Thomas Telford (1757–1834) came to the rescue with the construction of the post road from London to the port there.

  Despite the opening in 1826 of Telford’s wrought-iron and stone suspension bridge linking Anglesey with mainland Britain, across the treacherous Menai Strait, the journey remained slow going. There was a golden opportunity here for the railway to prove its worth. The Chester to Holyhead line, built by Robert Stephenson to his father George’s coast-hugging design, began construction on 1 March 1845. Chester station opened on 1 August 1848, the same day the first mail train reached Holyhead. The new and lofty Britannia Bridge took trains across the water to Anglesey. A journey that previously would have taken more than a day was cut to a matter of hours.