It's a long time since I've set off aimlessly on a train, just for the hell of it. These odd days between Christmas and New Year have, traditionally, been an ideal time for this however - peak fares relaxed, trains quiet, and little else to do has meant I've often disappeared around the network on some sort of largely unplanned excursion. On a few occasions I've picked up one of the more local Rover tickets and spent a few days zipping around the local lines which I'd generally neglected in favour of more exotic trips during the year. In short, until I curtailed my rail-borne activities a few years back, this had been a time to escape from the sense of ennui and restriction which the festive season often brought with it.
Times change, and life here certainly has - but this year I found myself with three days off between Christmas and our new year trip. The house was empty save for me and two very sleepy cats, and so somewhere during the first day or so I realised I'd very swiftly finished the run of little jobs I'd assigned for myself and was twiddling my thumbs. Too restless to read, I began to think about a trip - and one immediately suggested itself. I'd wander up to Bristol to have a look at the stock move bringing a short rake of former Virgin 'pretendolino' carriages north to Crewe in preparation for a contractual-obligation run on New Year's Eve, then I'd try to get a first ride on one of the new Class 800 trains operating on the Great Western Main Line. If I could squeeze in a trip on one of the not-even-nearly-new Class 166s which have now been handed down to be used in the West, that would mean I hadn't completed the year without experiencing the changes on the network in my local area at least... I was slipping - my wife had already had one of her commutes on a Class 800 - but maybe I could catch up?
I didn't decide I was definitely heading out until this morning, and I did so in such haste that I set off earlier than needed. My journey to Bristol was on tidy and freshly green-vinyled 150244, which was also rather well refurbished inside with wifi, sockets and USB points throughout. It was a bright, cold morning - a good time to be out and about - and so I settled in for a long, chilly wait at Temple Meads with coffee. It was, in some ways just like the old days. My over-eager start meant quite a considerable fester on the platform, and I began to feel conspicuous as I wandered around to keep warm and see what was happening. There was a time I'd have been confident enough that I was well-known to not care too much, or would at least have felt like I was acting less furtively. I also realised that I'd not brought a proper camera, so the passage of the convoy from Laira to Crewe wouldn't get recorded. As it happened, low winter sun from the south west filled the cutting just before the moment of arrival, and any picture would have been a challenge. A few moments early, 57303 led 37059 rather ponderously through the station with four gleaming silver coaches in tow. I understand that these coaches have yet to be converted electrically for use with the Class 68 locos which will haul them - so anyone who does brave the short 'unadvertised' working between Manchester Airport and Manchester Piccadilly on New Years Eve will be very cold indeed!
During my wait, a pair of Class 800s had silently crept into Platform 13 and waited to form the 13:30 departure. The various published diagrams for these new trains have gone to pot due to the holidays, slow progress in driver training and initial teething troubles - so I hoped this cycle would repeat on the 14:30, which I planned to catch as far as Swindon. I was curious to try the Class 800 for a number of reasons - not least because the Great Western Main Line is one of the few routes I use regularly, and my comfortable and relaxing trips to London have become an essential part of keeping me on the straight and narrow in recent years. I wanted to know how the trip would feel in future, and how to navigate the new trains. I also wanted to acknowledge the beginning of an important transition - the High Speed Train has been such a feature of my travels over the last few decades that I almost can't believe we'll see the end of it here sooner than elsewhere. The Class 800s have earned derision for the Department for Transport, for GWR and for Hitachi due to teething troubles - but how often has any new stock arrived which hasn't struggled at first? I wanted to make my own mind up - from the point of view of a traveller as well as an enthusiast - which is sometimes a challenging shift to achieve.
But, it wasn't to be... I was relieved to get off the wedged HST I took out to Swindon, stepping over students lurking in the vestibule rather than taking seats which meant sitting next to other punters. Perhaps they did this in some sort of tribute to Jeremy Corbyn's own vestibular antics? Swindon station hadn't changed - a long windy platform with a tired and sleepy buffet on the platform and a deserted WH Smiths concession. I crossed to the newer Platform 4 and lurked in the warm of the long waiting room, popping out for each westbound train as it was due. Each one was a HST - with the parade of Class 800s which had passed towards Bristol regularly passing the other platform. I had one more opportunity before I needed to be back at Bristol - and yet again, it was a HST. I settled into the warm seat, put on my headphones and relaxed into the journey - it was good to be out and about as the sun sank behind the rolling Wiltshire scenery. It had been a good day - a reminder that even when I'd meticulously planned things in the past, they'd sometimes not worked out. I reminded myself that it was all a little like fishing - and sometimes you didn't get a bite...
Back at Bristol, I headed for the Taunton-bound train my wife was catching home from work, shuffling along with the trickle of unfortunate commuters working in these strange days between the holidays. I thought of the trip we were taking in a few days and of the excursions to London I'd already planned - the adventures have changed a little, and now they're ours rather than just mine. When the time comes, I'll be interested to try out the new trains - but I know I'll miss the smell of hot brake pads and the slamming doors of the HSTs...
...and the train home wasn't a Class 166 either!
There was just a little hint of the old days - rising early and heading out in the dark to get to the beginning of a railtour used to be a fairly commonplace happening. But today it felt like something of a rarity - and I surprised myself by being pretty excited about the trip despite the early hour. After a quick walk from Hoxton to Liverpool Street station I boarded a No. 11 bus which soon set out across the dark, quiet City of London. As we snaked between the Bank of England and St. Paul's Cathedral, only the very earliest denizens of the streets were out and about. These days between Christmas and New Year, while technically working days, were clearly not going to see a lot of business transacted and the financial district had more cleaners and dustmen than money-launderers in evidence today. The bus swung south from the Strand onto Whitehall, passing Downing Street and heading for Parliament. I was almost sorry when the impromptu tour of the awakening city ended amidst the building site fronting Victoria Station. I was less sorry to have the chance to get coffee though - and despite a bizarrely misunderstood part of the transaction when I incidentally asked if their was a Post Box nearby, I was happy to be served a large steaming cup of coffee and to sit watching the vast station beginning to bustle with incoming commuters. Among them though, a different crowd was evident: eagerly flitting along the gateline, heads arcing over the crowds for unit numbers, backpacks bursting with nutritionally questionable snacks for the day ahead. The Neds were arriving! Forced to concede that I could pass as normal no longer, I joined the procession to Platform 2 where our train waited. These, after all, were my people.
We were soon underway, emerging into a day which had dawned surprisingly bright but still frosty. The route took us around the familiar loop of the North London Line to Stratford where colleagues joined for a sociable day on the rails. From there we headed out into Essex, using the connection to the London Tilbury and Southend railway at Forest Gate to cross into very familiar territory to me. As we scudded over the flat marshes around Rainham and out into the borderlands of Purfleet I spotted locations from my perambulations alongside the tracks - small, insignificant details to the wholly railway-focused bunch on board, but immensely satisfying to me to see how my wanderings had joined up this territory. From the train I glanced down at the broad green walkway beside the Mayes Brook from my most recent ramble, and wondered if the old gent and his dog were out this fine, frosty morning watching our unusual train speeding east? Peeling away from the mainline west of Stanford-le-Hope our first call was at London Gateway - the vast, and still growing, new container port at Thames Haven. My last visit here was to a largely derelict fuel refinery, sitting close to the estuary waters. While some of this landscape remains extant, the edge of the river is now a vast plain of concrete stacked with containers and presided over by computer-controlled cranes. Our train drew along the arrival line, as far as we could practically travel - while beside us the cranes continued their work. Few other humans could be seen aside from the crew of our train walking back to reverse out of the complex. It was a strange mixture of impressive and oddly creepy here.
Reversing, we headed back to Grays where again I could see locations from my still-to-be-completed A13 walk. Another reversal took us back towards Tilbury Town, then onto the curve towards the former Riverside station. It seemed odd that this somewhat anachronistic location closed to passengers as recently as 1992 - now serving as the terminal for cruise ships, but still providing the boarding point for the ancient Gravesend ferry. This was where the former British Empire washed against the island's shores - bringing subjects looking for a new life to London and beyond. A point of arrival, but of departure too with the shade of Joseph Conrad and Dracula haunting these reaches of the river. Now it was a forlorn spot - the building separated from the tracks, and the rails serving only a small container depot. The Thames lay out of sight, beyond the clock tower bathed in strong winter sunshine - but it could be sensed and smelled too. A further reversal took us back to Tilbury Town, passing alongside it's beleaguered and tired High Street, and then retracing our steps through South Essex. I realised as we passed through the flat marshland, running parallel with the A13 on its low viaduct, that this area had become a place I felt strangely attached to over the past years. I felt oddly comfortable out here in a place which, on my earliest passings by train, had felt strange and bleak.
Retracing our loop around London, we passed under the line we'd used to depart from Victoria and into the complex network of lines serving North Kent. A recent inspection of the allegedly temporary bridge which had been swiftly installed by the British Army following the disastrous Lewisham Rail Crash in 1957 had left it impassable by locomotive hauled trains, and while it looked like urgent work over Christmas may have remedied this it was too late for this trip which had been replanned to work out to Swanley and effect a complex reversal between two closely-spaced signals. This was managed professionally and we were soon heading east again to Hoo Junction via the rather uncommon Lee Spur. The afternoon shadows were growing long, and the desolate Hoo peninsula was bathed in a golden light as we took the now freight-only line towards the Isle of Grain. The landscape was flat and marshy, riven with creeks and inlets. The tiny settlements on the island were out of sight entirely, only the cranes of the now quiet Thamesport on the horizon. We halted for a road crossing before passing the site of the former branch to Allhallows and creeping forward towards Grain Old Station where we halted for the Fire Brigade to top up our water tanks as the sun finally began to set. Looking south, the tall bridge connecting the Isle of Sheppey with the mainland could be seen catching the last golden flecks of daylight as we prepared to reverse and head back to London.
It's been good to get back out on the rails this year - but this trip was rather special with it's traversal of territory so close to my area of interest and so connected to my reading, writing and thinking in recent times. With good company, a well-planned itinerary and trip which actually pulled off all it set out to cover, it turned out to be fantastic day. I even managed to avoid waxing too lyrically about the estuary and the territory we covered I think, but perhaps my tour colleagues should be the judges of that!
Had it been the usual Saturday or Sunday trip, today should really have qualified as one of the 'Lost Weekend' series where I replace some cancelled event by my own wanderings, utilising whatever accommodation or advance tickets have been booked in the process. It should have been a spin up to Carlisle in the company of Pathfinder but instead it turned into an attempt to salvage something sensible at a time of year when advance purchase tickets had been snapped up long ago. As Mr Spinks was also due to be making a rare railtour experience and had also booked a night in Bristol based on the published timings, we ended up selecting a trip he'd never done and one I'll never tire of repeating - a journey along the North Wales coast to Holyhead.
Taking advantage of being in Bristol, started out on the 06:15 Voyager to Birmingham. Using Off-Peak rather than Advance tickets meant a choice of route, and we opted for a brief wait for the 08:24 Arriva service for Aberystwyth. Found seats on a surprisingly busy train, presumably with Wolverhampton bound commuters unfortunate enough to be working between the holidays. These Class 158s haven't seen any sort of refurbishment since they worked local services around the South West many years ago - and seemed to be in both aesthetically and mechanically poor shape on the journey to Shrewsbury. With heavy in snow predicted in mid-Wales, I didn't relish putting my trust in one of these all the way to Holyhead. Also our route had us tackling a five minute same-platform connection at Shrewsbury, and we were dropping minutes here and there as we chugged west via Telford.
Eventually, the unit sluggishly drew in to platform 4a at Shrewsbury. It wasn't clear what would happen here. I know there are a variety of joining and parting moves to provide a roughly hourly service to Wales from Birmingham, with alternate services going West or North. In the event this wasn't one of the trains which joined here, and we walked swiftly down the platform to where a pair of 175s were waiting, with only the set at the extreme north open and ready to leave. Settled in to thankfully warm seats and we soon departed for points North. Despite having their own reliability issues when new, this unit was making a far more convincing sound than the last - and we were soon making stops along the line to Wrexham General. The threatened snow hadn't materialised, but the sky was a purple-grey haze and the landscape hadn't brightened a bit since sunrise. Steeled myself for a cold, grey day - and in Holyhead that always seems so much worse. Tried to mentally prepare Mr Spinks for this with tales of my previous forays and attempts to 'get away from it all' here on the coast, but he was much more concerned with the new track he was scoring! Reversed in Chester, with most of the passengers emptying out here to shop, but with a few extras for the ferry joining the train too. Still looking bleak out, and the filthy state of a 507 working to Liverpool showed that conditions weren't much better further north. Underway again, and once we'd passed the racecourse, into Wales again. As we headed west into deepening gloom, the coast took on a surprising quality. The grey sky suited it rather well, and with a silvery reflection from the sea, the stations were little oases of warmth and light in the gloom. The huge, desolate looking banks of slate and the expanses of rocky country somehow made a lot of sense in the equally hostile conditions.
After traversing the majestic bridge over the Menai Strait and speeding non-stop over Anglesey we were soon curving into Holyhead's impressively large but mostly abandoned station. A far cry from some of my previous visits, which I explained as we ascended the ramp from the station towards town. As soon as we reached the road, the sharp, freezing wind from the Irish Sea whipped by, carrying dashes of icy rain. We turned into the wind and headed for the town centre. Perhaps now Mr Spinks understood why I'd been talking a lot about wrapping up warm and the shortcomings of the place. A quick wander through the small town showed that many places were closed - either for the holidays, or perhaps permanently? A couple of pubs were still doing business, but they were ones which I'd either experienced before or been warned away from in the past. Today wasn't one for brave new discoveries - so despite the bonecracking cold which seemed to seep between buttons and find it's way inside your body - we walked on. After making some purchases we headed back over the new bridge to the station. This innovation has arrived since my last visit, and manages to bring the station - always a little out on a limb - into the town centre. It was a long cold walk over road, railway sidings and water to get to the spiralling ramp down to the station. Also noted that our next unit had arrived on platform 1 in the form of a four-car voyager. It was going to be very busy, so after queuing for a while for coffee in the ferry terminal, we found some pleasant extra-legroom seats and settled in for the ride back to Crewe. The train filled pretty quickly, and with the reservations system out of use things got fairly heated around us at times. However we were soon speeding east again, and the sky was darkening, having not really managed to achieve daylight at all since we set out this morning.
At Chester we were relieved by the addition of another Voyager, but even this managed to go badly for Virgin, with platform staff not explaining things to waiting passengers who joined the four coaches which we arrived on and began a series of pitched battles for seats. Eventually things settled down and we made the dash to Crewe. Good to wander about and stretch my legs a little before heading over the bridge for our next working - a 350 to Birmingham. We could just have made a connection with an earlier 220 heading for the Midlands, but the thought of so many Voyager trips in a day wasn't encouraging. Opted instead for the clean, light interior of the Desiro, which performed impeccably on route via Stafford and Wolverhampton. However, this had the slight drawback of a longer, colder walk from platform 4c at New Street towards civilisation. Realised we could manage comfortably an earlier train than planned, due to it being somewhat delayed. Found the platform busy but not totally wedged. Tried and failed to predict the right end for a couple of seats in the quiet coach, but still managed to find a pair - however I suspect they were empty because somehow the heating in the coach has been wedged on and the whole vehicle was sweltering. At first it didn't bother me, as I was still aching with cold from Holyhead - however I soon warmed up and joined the choruses to get it turned down. As a result, snoozed a fair bit of the way back to Bristol. After a short wait, dragged my weary and achingly cold bones onto a unit bound for home, realising that the poor light meant not a single chance to get my camera out during the day. It had been a long, cold and grey final trip of the year - but as ever the coast had provided a little spectacle and Holyhead, in its faded and drab, quiet way had reminded me of the fun of visiting old haunts and why I still made these excursions. It's been a long, busy year of travels - indeed, the travels have been the things which kept me relatively sane throughout troubled times. Despite feeling much too sleepy to drag myself up for work tomorrow, there is a whole new year of these often odd, always interesting journeys to plan.
NB: The title of course is a nod to The Wedding Present's Christmas-themed song of a similar name.
Swindon does not look it's best at 5am. Checked out of the hotel and struggled up a windswept street littered with the remains of what seemed to have been hundreds of kebabs. There was evidence of petty vandalism everywhere, including a telephone box entirely stripped of its glass. Turned the corner onto Station Street and met a keen wind full in my face. There is little glamour in my hobby, and on mornings like this even I struggle to see the attraction! Things on the station were just beginning to get ready for the day ahead, so no hope of early coffee or any kind of breakfast. A couple of familiar faces had already arrived, and soon afterwards the stock trundled quietly in from Old Oak Common behind 66120.
The first part of the tour saw us getting fairly close to home, travelling via Bath Spa and around the Rhubarb Curve to avoid Bristol Temple Meads. I haven't done this curve for years, and the recently cut First Great Western service from Bath to Filton Abbey Wood runs at times guaranteed to see it stuffed with people - so despite being on my doorstep, this isn't a bit of track I cover often. From here, up to Bristol Parkway. I'd considered boarding the tour here, but it was still an ungodly hour with no rail connections from home, and I didn't feel cheeky enough to try to get anyone to give me a lift out here during the holiday season! Familiar track now to Birmingham via Camp Hill, and a chance to snooze between frequent and almost futile attempts to mop condensation from the windows of one of Riviera's 'flagship' coaches!
Out of Birmingham to Bescot for our first locomotive change. DRS's 37194 and 37229 were suspected to be our traction yesterday, and indeed both of these fine locomotives produced. As a couple of the planned locos were not available (namely the DRS 47 and 66) this was one of the day's highlights. Off Bescot with impressive ease, and via Wolverhampton to Shrewsbury for a brief crew change. Took the Wrexham line from here, and made impressive progress, remaining bang on time most of the way despite a pointless check at a level crossing at Gobowen. First bit of new track for me next - after joining the Chester-Holyhead line at Saltney Junction, we swung left onto the Chester South Junction to Chester North Junction curve. OK, it was mere yards, but it matters to me! A short thrash along the southern reaches of the Merseyrail network, and into the impossibly long siding at Hooton where 66551 was waiting to join the rear of our train.
The next part of our itinerary was a bit of an oddity - more new track for me, including the poorly served Ellesmere Port to Helsby line, but then a rather tiresome trudge down the Kirby branch and back. True, this is unusual territory for loco hauled trains, but there was a feeling that the time might have been better spent elsewhere or on a photostop during the precious daylight hours available. I wasn't too concerned, despite visiting Kirby early in the year. The route produced some interesting movements including Parkside Junction to Golborne Junction near Newton-le-Willows, the goods lines under the WCML at Bamfurlong and the connection between the WCML and Wigan Wallgate to name a few. A long 'operational stop' at Rainford to let the hourly unit leave the token section to Kirby, with the DMU driver hooting repeatedly as he passed - not entirely sure if he was saluting the presence of real traction on the branch, or desperately trying to persuade a train full of impatient bashers to get their heads back in the window. A very brief stop at Kirby to revese, with the 37s now leading again back to Wigan South Junction, where we took the line through platform 1 at Wigan North Western, then crossed onto the fast for a quick run into Preston behind 66551 again.
Tried to get a few shots at Preston, but on a very grim December afternoon with failing light, didn't have much success. Went in search of food instead and watched the parade of Transpennine 185s passing by. Also noted pet Duff 47826 thundering through northwards. Watched 66551 disappear Crewe-wards with the 37s in tow, and saw 60030 backing onto the train. All my 60 haulage during the year has been fun, and this was no exception as the driver notched up the power in rapid explosive jerks making coffee drinking near impossible! Branched towards Bolton, and got rather bogged down in some slow running as far as a booked operational stop at Moses Gate Up Loop. Away on time though, with a slow and noisy thrash under Manchester Victoria and as far as Ashton Moss North where things started to get very slow indeed. Crawled onwards to Denton Junction, and then made fairly good progress to Stockport. Only a couple of minutes down through Wilmslow, with no sign of the usual hour or so of late running which railtours seem to produce! Things took a turn for the silly at Crewe however, where an earlier fire had led to delays and congestion. Sat outside the station for what seemed like ages before being allowed into platform 5. At least our occupation of the main North-South platform meant that our loco change here was accomplished very quickly, and we were soon off carrying around a 27 minute delay.
Any hope of catching this up was dashed by following a unit via Alsager to Stoke. Where he could, the driver used 86614 to its best abilities and we were making impressive progress. The need to take the slow link to the Grand Junction line at Bushbury slowed us further, and we arrived at New Street around 35 late with another locomotive change to be completed. Debated whether to bail out here or enjoy a few minutes behind the last loco of the day to Barnt Green. With the time a little after 2100 and the loco change taking what seemed like ages, I was in a quandry. I needed to get the 2115 to Redditch - either here, or at 2139 from Barnt Green. There was also the question of a Bristol train due out at 2110 - would the signaller be brave enough to send the tour out first? A kind soul pointed out that the Redditch was 10 late, so I'd likely make the connection at Barnt Green. Stayed on, and with 66120 ready to go, surprisingly the signaller let us go ahead of the Voyager. Enjoyed a last few minutes of haulage before wandering down the train to a coach which would be on the short platform at my destination.
Disembarked at a very wet and windy Barnt Green about sixteen hours after I set out from Swindon. Whilst crossing the bridge, noted with some satisfaction the lights of the Voyager stopped at a signal behind our train. Need not have worried about the connection as I ended up waiting for 15 minutes in the rain for the Redditch train. Much needed beer and food provided on my arrival in my home town, courtesy of my uncle who uses my visits as his excuse to spend an evening in the pub, waiting for me to finally arrive. Overall, another cracking day out - all the better for being my first journey of any significant length for a very long time. The only improvement would have been more photo stops and more daylight - but that in fairness is a little beyond Pathfinder's control!
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.
