Despite a lazy, holiday feeling over the last few days I woke on time and stumbled up the steps to a quiet and chilly Wolverhampton station. The plan was to get a London train down to Birmingham International in order to start todays tour a little earlier and maximise my mileage. Picked up the surprisingly busy 0615 for a quick run down, and arrived to find 87002 at the head of a rake of pristine blue and grey stock, with photographers fussing all over it. Decided that in the pitch black of the early morning I didn't stand a chance at getting a decent shot in the crowd, so went in search of coffee, getting stuck in the queue behind a particularly uncommunicative bald brummy fellow who hadn't grasped the basics of commerce yet. Once I'd stocked up with caffeine, joined the train and settled in for a very slackly timed run up to Wolverhampton via Stetchford and Aston.
Once off Wolverhampton we started to make some excellent progress, and the locomotive performed perfectly. Today's route saw the Electric Scot take it's traditional path along the West Coast mainline, which meant pick-ups at familiar spots along the way. Preston reminded me of the last time I'd caught an electric loco hauled service to Scotland - which seemed an awfully long time ago now. On that occasion I'd been on one of my ill-fated jaunts to Glasgow to introduce someone to the attractions of the dear green place, which never seem to go well. Today though, I had no clear plan for my time in the city. A late retiming had given a full five hours, which felt too short to immerse myself in the place, but too long to lounge around the station in the railtour tradition. The climbs and curves of the line testing 87002, we headed north into Cumbria and some of my favourite parts of the railway network. A signal check and some engineering work meant a standing start for the climb up to Shap which showed that these locomotives were far from life expired. Passing three of them kitted out and painted for their export to Bulgaria on the way through Crewe was a sobering moment, and reminded everyone just how lucky we were to be able to make this trip today.
On arrival, joined the slightly temperamental crowd of passengers and locals clamouring for pictures of the loco, before heading to my first, familiar stop for coffee on Renfield Street to wait for the rain to stoip. After getting my bearings, and genuinely thrilled to be back here again so soon, set out to walk. Normally I wander, but the idea of needing to be back at the station in a few hours to head home was strangely pressing. Thus, I made quick progress, winding myself in the ascent of the hill and plunging into the Strathclyde University campus. With the sun now shining a wintry silver, the pathways were strangely glowing as I trudged on towards the Cathedral, before swinging south again in search of Rottonrow. The plan was to find out what had been done with the former Maternity Hospital site - once a sombre, rather forbidding building with a few tales to tell and not all happy. Now obstetric services had been transferred to the larger general hospitals the site had been given to the University, on condition that parts were preserved. I confess I'd not followed the story closely, and I'd meant to make this wander into the knot of halls of residence and university departments for some time. On the corner of Rottonrow East - the street now being divided by more halls - I spied a sofa, abandoned at the back of a residential block since the summer, now growing a covering of moss. Intended to investigate, but an employee of the university having lunch in his truck was taking a little more interest in my activities than I was comfortable with. Pressed on, using stairs and walkways between buildings to follow the route of the ancient street as far as possible.
Finally found my target, and with some dismay I noted that very little had been preserved at all. A single entrance arch stood forlornly on the corner of the steep site, with a rather pointless stepped garden falling away to the city. A humourous, but ultimately rather unlovely sculpture reminded the passer-by of the sites heritage: a giant, gleaming nappy pin. Unable to get a picture of the arch due to the glaring winter sun, walked the perimeter of the site and found another part of the building retained, a small group of arches now deputising as a shelter, their tiled ceilings now falling. I didn't like what had happened here, and felt uncomfortable with the way the site's heritage had been treated in such a haphazard and foolish way. Time to press on into the city to complete my circuit. Soon found myself back at the station, with provisions for my onward journey and looking forward to the run back.
The crowd was growing rather restless adjacent to platform 11 - from which tours almost inevitably depart, as the clock ticket past 1820 and no stock had arrived. The arrival of an Ayr train in the platform made things even more uncomfortable. Being a midweek tour there was a fair mix of cranks, normal folk on a day out and older people who were perhaps less familiar with the way these things had a habit of becoming farcical. This made what happened next even more confusing and difficult... In short, word began to circulate that 87002 was on fire. This was swiftly followed by a message that everyone should go to Motherwell where the train would start. No official word though, and it was an uncomfortable few minutes with the next likely service down on the Low Level platforms getting closer to departure. Finally the cancellation was announced and the entire contents of our tour plunged down the stairs and attempted to board 318267. Squeezed in, and watched with some dismay as the doors were held to allow even more passengers on, with the train staff becoming more and more unhappy. Eventually we were off for a very uncomfortable spin around the Hamilton Circle. To add insult to injury, as we ran onto the mainline at Rutherglen our stock passed at speed heading for Motherwell. A cheer went up, and the party atmosphere continued all the way to Airbles!
Once on the train, the inevitable dissection started. A battery charger on 87002 had reportedly failed and caused lots of smoke without fire as such, and there was no serious damage. 57601 which had been supplied to perform the stock move to Polmadie - and as insurance for just such an event, was to haul us back to a retimed plan. In effect, this loco which I've always somehow avoided travelling behind did pretty well, and we rolled into Wolverhampton just under an hour late which isn't bad given the scale of this farce! Can a railtour be cursed? It's an interesting question and one which unforuntately Spitfire seem to be destined to explore where this and the original tour in December 2007 are concerned. The important thing is that mainline runs continue for this fine old locomotive.
Lost::MikeGTN
I've had a home on the web for more years than I care to remember, and a few kind souls persuade me it's worth persisting with keeping it updated. This current incarnation of the site is centred around the blog posts which began back in 1999 as 'the daylog' and continued through my travels and tribulations during the following years.
I don't get out and about nearly as much these days, but I do try to record significant events and trips for posterity. You may also have arrived here by following the trail to my former music blog Songs Heard On Fast Trains. That content is preserved here too.
