Railways, Again...

                                                       Newcastle Central Station on 18th June 1894.

I've been cogitating on railways again.

Reading about railway journeys reminds me of those of mine from the past.  The thrill of entering a station with a journey planned and wished, ticket paid, hopefully at a reduced rate, and on entering the train finding a seat in a  good place with good, or hopefully no company.  Wonderful!

 

 

Early trips were from the Waverley (though railways insist on calling it 'Edinburgh' now) heading towards Fife.  

This meant dad explaining that the soot covered railway man had been 'under the train.'  In fact he was either the driver or fireman oiling all the required parts before moving off, a normal routine.  Then we would enter the train, always a compartment coach in those days, frightening those already sitting there.  I mean who wishes to have children spoiling the journey?  Many compartments had doors also, and these had windows that were lowered by a complicated system using a leather strap.  This of course attracted a spoilt brat who would attempt to manipulate the brute.  There would be a sudden bump, moving the coach slightly, which meant the engine had connected at the front.  The excitement grew, the despair of other adults also, as we awaited departure with the sound of shouting, slamming doors, and calls from porters as we got ready to leave.  In those far off days we would be started by flurry of hand signals from responsible adults, green flag waving by the guard, and the blowing of a sharp whistle, which would be followed by a responding toot by the engine driver.  Then we would glide away, often accompanied by the slithering sound caused by wheels that did not grip, Edinburgh has a decent amount of rain.      

The run immediately took us through the first tunnel.  Now normal coaches had small windows at the top for air which as soon as we entered the tunnel were slammed shut as steam filled with soot came flowing into the compartment.  We kids loved it, the old people did not!  The followed another slightly twisted tunnel that led to Haymarket station, more shouting, more doors slammed, another whistle and off once again heading west, then north.

 

 

This soon led to us crossing the Forth Bridge.  Opened in 1890 the bridge has become one of Scotland's main attractions.  Designed by Sir John Fowler, 1st Baronet and Sir Benjamin Baker, the actual construction was completed by Sir William Arrol between 1883 and 1890.  Many died while working several hundred feet about the Firth of Forth, including a man in a rowing boat.  His job was to collect the fallen from the sea and one day an object landed on him, then they had to collect his body also.  The exact number who died is difficult to ascertain.

 

 

Kings Cross 1900s

 

Most of my travels have been via Kings Cross and Waverley during the 70s and 80s.  A good time to travel, if you were prepared for it.  In the 70s BR as the railways were known, were being deliberately run down to sell them off.  Travel from Waverley to London took seven or eight hours depending on which train you took and luxury was not what it has become.  Some trains were not cleaned properly, and some passengers were not very clean themselves.  However, being young, I often sat out in the corridor between coaches as I avoided the gossiping women, drunken men, and noisy kids.  The worst part of rail travel is always the other passengers.  

The 125 came into use around that time.  The 'High Speed Train' (HST) raced through some stations north of London at 125 mph.  In the early days the speed was announced by the guard, but that soon fell away.  Today these trains are considered old, and are pushed out into the far reaches, such as Scotland.  The present trains can do at least 140 mph, but drivers are not convinced the safety levels are high enough to actually put these trains into use. 

 

My greatest joy was finding the non advertised slow service arriving in Waverley at 3 am.  I tried this and found it marvellous.  A corridor train with few passengers, brilliant.  Lower the light, shut the door, and watch the night pass by slowly.  A wonderful experience eventually ended by the introduction of the much busier, night service from Euston.  Poor show chaps.  

 

A few years ago I became keen on finding lots of cash and running across the USA by Amtrak rail.  This way the whole of the US can be seen from the comfort of a decent small compartment, with added meals, and awaiting bankruptcy. Most fly across the nation but if you want to actually see it you need to be on the rails.  

Like everyone else the US owes a lot to the railways.  Crossing vast distances today within 24 or 48 hours, while in the past a horse and stagecoach could take weeks, if you survived.  Weather, bandits, travelling through Apache territory unwelcome, and accident could always occur.      

However, the US came together by rail, this played a major part in the civil war (how is any war civil?), and caused industry to expand and greedy men like Andrew Carnegie to become billionaire's before Musk.  The same in the UK.  People could now travel a thousand miles in a day, industry profited by incoming material and outgoing products, both at home and broad.  Small coastal villages suddenly became holiday spots for those enjoying their one-day off every few months, Blackpool was a mere spot on the map before the railways came, now a major tourists spot.  Many coastal areas developed quickly during the late Victorian era.  Even Victoria liked trains, but she and Albert did not trust them over 40 mph, at that time they were probably right!

 

Daily rail travellers do exceed 40 mph these days, mostly between 70-90 I suggest.  Of course signal problems, jammed doors, people jumping in front, trees on the line and pedestrians making their way home along the tracks can cause hold-ups.  However, in spite of the recent accident, rail travel remains the safest way to move around.  I just wish I was doing that now instead of sitting here.

 

Night Trip in the 80s

Reading a book on rail travel my mind returned to the days of long ago when I regularly caught a late night train from Kings Cross Station to Edinburgh.  I canny mind who informed me of this train, especially as it did not stop in Edinburgh, but I boarded the thing anyway.  When I say it did not stop, what I mean is that it was not meant to stop there officially, this stop did not appear on the timetable, yet stop there it did, at 3 am in the morning.

Once I knew about it I made for it.  I am sure it left about 10 in the evening, but memory says it was 8 pm, however, it was a slow train, not an express, and the luxury about it was the fact that all the coaches were aged corridor coaches.  Indeed, these had long been pushed aside for the open plan coaches normal today, and being made up of small compartments, with very few passengers travelling late at night, it was very comfortable.  The lighting in the compartment could be dimmed, most important for night travel, and once aboard and settled in there was nothing to do but enjoy the dark view of the world outside passing slowly by.  Some things did pass by quickly of course, express passenger trains full of express passengers, goods trains, which we now refer to as 'freight' for some reason, and often we would slow to a dark halt in a loop and wait while something flew past in a hurry.

This was a great experience for young me.  I was never disturbed, except by a man in a peaked cab looking for tickets, and once a group of young soldiers looked in, growled and made their way to the far end and exercising in the Cairngorms.  Good luck to them!  

Travelling at off-peak times was my preference, and this train was off-peak.  The night view from a dimmed compartment gave a differing outlook from the dreary day.  Lights appeared here and there, pausing near a block of houses, some were lit up, most in darkness, an occasion pair of green eyes watching from beneath a hedge, red flashing lights high up in the distance, and passing movements in the opposite direction, lit passenger trains, dark bulky goods ones.  Stations were not quite bare of people.  Well lit, a railwayman walking about here and there, at least in the larger stations such as York.  Anoraks,  sorry, enthusiasts, two far from young men at York in the middle of the night, eagerly recognising a number on one of the coaches.  This appeared to I to be one step too far with train watching.  Travelling at low speed watching the houses in the distance, traffic flowing on major highways, occasional cars on lesser roads.  Shops signs lit up, industrial units with steam from vents and chimneys, with obscure dark shapes looming up and passing by  silently.  

We would arrive at the Waverley on time almost exactly, and once I was confident the train would actually stop and not drop me at Dundee or Aberdeen, I would 'alight' as they say into a near empty station.  Usually two or three at most taxi's would sit there hopefully, a knock on the window, a sleeping driver awake, muttering "Three O'clock," and coming back to life, I would be driven home in style.    

I enjoyed those journeys, soon to be amended with the introduction of a new service, via the west coast for some reason, in open coaches with far too bright lighting.  On one occasion this broke down, almost all passengers were grateful and slumbered happily, none complaining to the guard when he informed us of the problem.  On another trip I was met by an elderly (to me then) Pakistani man who chatted happily about his business in Aberdeen.  He was pleasant, kind and good company, and I did not wish to tell him to leave me alone so I could sleep.  He drifted of somewhere about the midlands and we snoozed uneasily into an Edinburgh dawn.

It is time I got back on a train!

   

The Fast and the Slow

Royal Highland Fusilier

I was perusing a 'Cab Ride' video while I awaited the plumber to check the one year old boiler.  This brought to mind those days of long ago when travelling by train to Edinburgh was part of my life.   The video that is, not the plumber.
Escaping work to sit looking at the world passing, sun shining, happy quiet coach, provisions in front of you, and hours of enjoyment ahead was always a delight.  In those days it was the 'Deltic' type '55's' which pulled the dark maroon British Rail coaches, the sun as we left meandering slowly into the Kings Cross tunnels a sharp comparison to the rather dark and somewhat dreary Kings Cross shed as I remember it.  The station, built in 1852 on the edge of London, stood on what had been land used for a smallpox and fever hospital, where did they go after that I wonder?  A wooden station had been erected at York Road in 1850 by the Great Northern Railway while the navvies built the gasworks tunnel under the Regents canal and allowed entrance to the new station.  Kings Cross was never in my view an attractive station, functional yes, but not one to set the heart racing.  It did its job and still does very well but then it appeared dull and as I waited for trains pretty crowded also.  Trains to Leeds and Newcastle, local trains round the corner and smoky diesels heading for elsewhere polluted the air.  So did the people I suppose.  Once the 'ding dong' and the garbled announcements concerning what the train was and where we were going had passed we knew a new world was about to open for us.

I wish I could say I was there in the days when Gresley's giant 'Pacific' engines made their way north, steam belching, noise waking the dead amongst much admiration from all around.  While the 'Deltic's' could produce enough blue smoke to also fill the huge shed the image was somewhat less romantic.  The aroma of railway stations filled with belching engines remains with me today, there is nothing like it.  There is no doubt today's electric engines are the way forward, no doubt they are cheaper, easier to operate and do not require the foreman to shift half a coal mine on each trip, however, we all prefer to see a steam engine pass rather than a diesel no matter how efficient.

   
During the late 70's the HST's took over.  These 'High Speed Trains' regularly reaching 125 miles an hour on the long straight lines in the south.  For the first month or two the guard, remember guards and not conductors, the guard would announce "We are not travelling at 125 Miles per hour."  This would produce murmurs of appreciation as we sped through stations watching to see if anyone was daft enough to stand ahead of the bright yellow line on the platform.  It was naturally difficult to know which station we were passing through, the only name board that could be read was 'Gentlemen!'

 Global Railway Review

I find sitting in a railway carriage while the world passes by a terrific manner in which to see the real world.  There is little to see or keep you awake driving down a motorway, what scenery exists is hidden behind embankments and if there is a view it soon leads into a city bypass which as you know are delightfully attractive places.  The view from the train takes you past fields with crops or animals at various times of the year, the very colour of the ploughed ground speaks volumes re history, geography and life as it is lived.  One noteable sight is the Black Earth seen around Peterborough.  Once 'The Wash' came all the way up to here, now long drained and shrunk the black earth is a result of what was washed in many years ago.  The land has to be monitored daily as the shrinking earth affects the height of the railway track.  One day it might sink in!
Once passed the flat lands around York we see changes in the line itself.  The further north we go the less straight the line as the land slowly begins to rise around us.  While crops are still seen, sheep and cattle will appear, especially if you can see the far off hills from your seat.
Buildings appear different, the brick that abounds in London is changed to stone way up north.  The design of houses built in the far past reflects local architects while more recent housing follows a general pattern of the day.  One housing estate is much like another now.

The latest 'Scotch Express' is formed by a Hitachi class 800 Azuma.  This will be somewhat faster than the aged diesels that once pulled the 20:00 hours to Aberdeen, not stopping at Edinburgh where it actually stopped at 3 am and where I left the train and the sleeping soldiers on their way to die of exposure in the Cairngorms.  That aged train had aged compartment coaches and as it was quite empty I always had one to myself, lights dimmed, feet up and joy all the slow way home.  As the Azuma does a non stop journey in 4 and a half hours Kings Cross to Waverley at least once a day I suspect it will also have a few more home comforts than the late night slow train.

A Wee Run North

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