A strange week, and a quiet weekend. Seemed like a sensible idea to take advantage of events on my doorstep. Walked to Springfield Road Crossing, and exercised my right to use the public right of way. No harassment this time, happily!
After a very comfortable night at the Alexandra, I felt fully prepared for the day's journey. However things almost got off to a bad start when the hotel staff refused to let me check out! The Night Porter had explained that their computers weren't on yet, and was about to take my details when the Shift Manager arrived. She took a much dimmer view of my attempt to leave and simply said "check out isn't until 7:30". I pointed out that the Hotel might review this since one of the few trains serving Fort William left at 07:40. Still no response. Eventually a younger member of staff arrived who seemed to be able to provoke the computer into action earlier than scheduled. The Manager bustled off somewhere huffily, and the receptionist apologised graciously for the delay. It wouldn't stop me visiting again though - the hotel was comfortable and perfectly situated, and the restaurant is fantastic!
It was good to do the trip back to Glasgow in daylight, and once again the Far North was blessed by fine weather. Had a message from my uncle in the Midlands saying that train services had been suspended due to flooding. Unsure whether this was a product of his strange sense of humour, so went back to windowgazing my way along this amazing stretch of line once again. Having been in relatively calm and peaceful surroundings yesterday, Glasgow came as a shock. Walked to Central Station and found myself irritated by the lunchtime queues in all of the shops and coffee stalls. Stalked about the concourse feeling miserable about leaving Glasgow and Scotland in general, but consoled myself with the Heartland tour tomorrow which would see me back if only for a couple of hours. Boarded my Voyager and settled in for the run to Carlisle.
A little before reaching Kingmoor my 'phone buzzed to say I'd missed a call. Sure enough, my uncle was right - Bescot was washed out and the Heartland tour was off tomorrow! Some rapid re-planning to do, including staying only one night in Birmingham and trying to sort out my ticket home, which was booked for Sunday. Disembarked at a damp Carlisle station with lots to think about - therefore completely missed the opportunity to get a photograph of the log train from Crianlarich which passed seconds after our arrival, to much interest from the local cranks. I seem to have missed this train all week somehow, despite stalking it's route endlessly! Stuck to my itinerary and boarded the slightly delayed Stranraer-Newcastle service for a trip via the Tyne Valley. It always rains there, so I thought nothing of the torrent which seemed to be falling on us. During the couple of stretches of mobile 'phone coverage, managed to sort the hotel out with no problems, and planned to fix the ticket at New Street. Relaxed a little and enjoyed the rest of the trip into Newcastle.
The plan here had been to wait for the 16:27 departure for Birmingham which went via the High Level Bridge. Unfortunately, southbound services were in disarray. Opted to just head south on the next one out. That was cancelled - the balancing working hadn't run because of floods in the Midlands. The following train from Edinburgh was late, but running. The 16:27 - my original plan - was cancelled, but then appeared to be reinstated but delayed. Didn't chance it. Experienced a moment of sudden self-knowledge - here I was, a 34 year old corpulent and balding man, standing on a freezing and windy station miles from home in his shirtsleeves - like all the other frustrated passengers I should have been concerned about getting home on time, getting to a meeting or even how much compensation I could claim for the delay....
...Instead I wondered whether this would mean any interesting diversions!
In the event, my journey on 9M58 was one of the most eventful parts of the entire trip. It also showed the old-fashioned railway ethic of 'lets just get things moving' hasn't disappeared completely. Before privatisation, a problem like this would mean lots of quick decisions to keep people moving. Now, with Network Rail's structured and inflexible approach to advance planning, problems tend not to produce many surprises. It wasn't necessarily better back then - just different. Nowadays passengers get more advance information, but on balance services seem more likely to be cancelled or bustituted rather than diverted. Our trip south began relatively calmly. Via the East Coast Main Line to York, then into a very wet Leeds where a fair number of passengers squeezed on - but First Class remained quiet. No at seat service, because crews had been displaced all over the country by the cancellations - but that was a minor gripe. At least we were moving. Or were we? We sat for some time at Leeds, a station I'd seen quite a bit of already this month. Eventually we were told that flooding and damage to signalling near Adwick was preventing our routing to Wakefield Westgate. Eventually staff were located and a decision was made to run via Methley Junction, Normanton and Wakefield Kirkgate, reversing to regain our booked route at Westgate. Not required track - but an unexpected variation which was welcomed. We took the route fairly slowly, and crossing the River Calder near Turners Lane Junction the first effects of the torrential rain could be seen in its swollen waters. Wakefield Westgate appeared to be in chaos, with both platforms full of people. At least one unlucky passenger boarded our coach and settled into his seat only to spring out once again as we reversed out of the station in the same direction we'd arrived. He was last seen at Sheffield, staring intently at the departure board.
The weather was certainly appalling, and as we headed south things worsened considerably. Very slow running into Sheffield, and more confusion as the powers that be debated whether we should call additionally at Chesterfield. An SSO was finally produced and we set off once again. The journey from Chesterfield to Birmingham took a very long time. I actually lost track somewhere, so strange were the scenes trackside. As we approached Kingsbury we appeared to be crawling slowly along a causeway between two huge lakes. The flooding was surprisingly deep too. I saw a woman trying to persuade two clearly distressed horses to leave a flooded field. The animals were belly-deep and her Land Rover and horsebox were already perilously part-submerged. Felt a bit powerless and realised that this was actually quite serious stuff. Soon after we diverged and took the road via Whitacre Junction - a first for me Southbound in fact. Everything appeared to be going this way, and we ended up in a jam of trains which seemed to stretch as far as New Street. Water Orton lived up to its name in being exceedingly wet, and it took at least 45 minutes to complete this last leg of the trip.
Finally emerged in a very damp, very busy and rather chaotic Birmingham New Street - and here, rather miserably, my All Line Rover officially ended. Stocked up on provisions because I didn't intend going out once I'd checked into my hotel, and had a stab at changing my ticket from Sunday to tomorrow - no chance, they wanted me to apply for a refund online. They assured me I'd get a refund, so I'm not sure why I couldn't sort it out at the station. With none of my intended trips for tomorrow running and my return to Glasgow postponed I trudged out of the station with a heavy heart to seek the quiet of my familiar hotel. I arrived having spent seven days travelling, and at least the last twelve hours at a stretch covering nearly 500 miles. The receptionist, ever polite remarked "Gosh sir! You look fresh. Everyone else is running around like drowned rats today!". There are still lots of good reasons to take the train, it seems!
A couple of years back I arrived at Fort William, and having travelled for hours without a break somehow lost my nerve. The remainder of the trip to Mallaig seemed to take me impossibly far out of civilisation, and the sight of shops and supermarkets and the silent class 37 awaiting is journey back to the known world persuaded me to abandon my plan. I've regretted this decision ever since, and particularly as I've crossed off more and more Scottish railway, this short but inaccessible length of track has become a very obvious omission. Today I planned to correct that.
My plans changed early - waking to the same sheets of rain which had been falling over Bradford last night, I eschewed the walk to Interchange station, and made the quick dash to Forster Square for the single GNER service which starts here. Not many passengers, but plenty reserved from Leeds it seems. A quick run, with a pick-up only stop at Shipley our single call - a few more takers here for this convenient service into London, and the chance for the guard to argue with an errant cyclist for loading his bicycle into the wrong carriage. Off at Leeds and over the bridge for the 0710 HST to Edinburgh. Again, fairly lightly loaded - but since this called almost everywhere up the East Coast Main Line, we were sure to get busier. Settled in for some familiar ground this week, as we headed for York, Newcastle and then Edinburgh. Breakfast served, and working wifi made for a rather more luxurious trip than I'd experienced over the past couple of days. Most importantly, my changed plans meant an earlier arrival in Glasgow Queen Street as I'd have a fairly good choice of trains from Waverley. This took the pressure off for the connection into the West Highland Line too.
Arrived at Edinburgh and after getting my bearings in the changing station, did some shopping and headed for one of the few terminal platforms at the west end of the station which wasn't still a building site. Quick, easy run into Queen Street via Falkirk in much brighter conditions than further south. With a longer stopover in Queen Street than originally planned, popped into Avalanche Records and purchased a couple of CDs I'd been reading about in the 13th Note just the other night. Strange buying music in a real live record shop again after a very long time! The assistant also gave me a tip on how to 'unlock' the PIN on one of my cards I'd stupidly entered the wrong number for in Crewe earlier in the week, so a fruitful visit all round! Back to the platform to find a total of three units making up the Oban/Mallaig train today - one would split off at Crianlarich and head for Oban as usual, and the other two would part at Fort William with the rear cars heading on to Mallaig. Found a comfortable seat in the through portion for Mallaig and settled in for the epic trek into the Highlands.
I've known people who have travelled all over the planet seeking the greatest sights and most stunning vistas who say that there is nothing here in the UK to compare, but I can truly say when I first made this trip I was awestruck by the scale and remote beauty of this line. I thought that a second visit and some familiarity would diminish my view, but it didn't at all - and interestingly on the trip I spoke to a number of people who said they repeatedly made the journey because they never tired of the experience. After the climb from Helensburgh Upper through fiercely guarded MOD territory around Gareloch, and then rounding the northern tip of Loch Lomond, paused for the customary leg-stretch at Crianlarich whilst the Oban train was detached and made its way west. Too early for the log train, operated strangely by a Virgin Class 57, which arrives here in the evening and travels south to Chirk overnight. Back on board, and as we rounded the Horseshoe Curve at Tyndrum Upper, while crossing Glen Coralan, caught sight of the Oban train glinting in the sunlight in the valley below.
Once over the vast emptiness of Rannoch Moor and having skirted the Monessie Gorge, we arrived at Fort William. The return to civilisation always seems sudden and unexpected here. Noted 67004 awaiting sleeper duties, and sitting in the sidings was 33029 which has followed me around Scotland this week. A brief wait here for our unit to be uncoupled and a school party and a fair few locals to board. Realised that this was a commuter train of sorts! On departure, we turned west once again, over the Lochy Viaduct and passed Banavie where the Radio Signalling Centre controls trains over much of the remote north of Scotland. The line was a bit of a surprise - less of the awe-inspiring emptiness and more stops at little villages which seemed to be busy in their own small way. It reminds me of how the Kyle line changes as it nears the coast, where I suppose life was a little less harsh and resources more plentiful in times gone by. Naturally a stunning feature of the trip is the majestic sweep of Glenfinnan Viaduct - which has been in all sorts of films I've not seen! The train paused briefly mid-crossing with one of the school party exclaiming "Aw! I dinna lake et!" at the top of her voice! The descent into Mallaig in early evening sunshine will surely become one of my favourite memories of this trip. Wandered the small harbour village for a while in the brief layover. A number of fellow passengers seemed to be returning too, stopping only for fish and chips which are naturally a local delicacy.
The return trip to Fort William was a little quieter, but equally pleasant. Spent some of it speaking with a lady whose nephew travels the world in pursuit of his railway enthusiasm. On arrival, made the short walk to the Alexandra Hotel finding my room had a stunning view. Down to the restaurant where I'd stopped in on my last trip to sample to local food and beer. I'd love people who don't understand why I travel by train to have been here today - it was full of perfect examples.
Slept incredibly well as usual at The Crewe Arms, and despite still feeling under the weather managed an energetic early start. Had planned for the 0635 stopping service to Manchester, but since it was in the platform and pleasantly empty, stepped onto the 175 forming the 0627 non-stop service. An easy run into the city via Wilmslow, depositing me in Piccadilly much earlier than planned. This gave me time at least to get my bearings, drink plenty of coffee and generally just watch the world go by which is by far one of my favourite occupations. Today's itinerary was a strange and rather shorter than usual one in terms of distance covered - a run out to Whitby on the east coast before doubling back into West Yorkshire to cover more little branches.
Boarded the Middlesbrough service, realising that the track between Manchester and York would be some of the most travelled this week. Always a relaxing journey though, and since I was feeling pretty rough, I decided to just sit back and enjoy the scenery. Our train picked up a lot of business around Huddersfield and we were full even in First by Leeds, but the journey from there on was much quieter and beyond York seemed quite lonely. We seemed to lose a few minutes around here somehow, and I suddenly realised that my eight minute connection into a very infrequent service to the coast was in jeopardy. Lost concentration around Thornaby - but did note a couple of decaying class 56s in the yard. Recalled a previous heroic leap at Middlesbrough station - which still seems to have a quite badly planned interface between Northern and Transpennine services - and just hoped for the best.
In the event, all was well. A failure in the information screens and some late running was causing enough confusion to delay things generally, and there was time to buy some lunch whilst waiting for the chaos to subside! Northern finally decided that the externally shiny but internally rather tattered 156 on the platform was going to Whitby, and a fair sized crowd of us soon departed for the rather stately plod into the moors and out to the sea - just about on time despite the confusion at Middlesbrough. Regular readers and old friends will know that I'm fascinated by seaside resorts. Having spent most of my life in two of them in the South West - sadly at the tail-end of their terminal decline - I'm always interested to see how others have fared. The journey to Whitby in itself is an attraction - the moorland scenery and village stations certainly evoke times gone by, and the steaming locomotive awaiting connecting passengers from our train at Grosmont added to this feeling. No time for a trip down the North Yorkshire Moors Railway (made famous by TV's permanently 1960s-trapped Heartbeat) today, but interested to note they are expanding their operations on the infrequently used Whitby branch during the summer. Almost something of a relief to return to civilisation as we entered Whitby, with just over a half-hour break in the town before heading back.
Still feeling pretty grim and finding swallowing painfully difficult now, didn't sample any of the locally caught fish delicacies. Instead wandered the harbour area of the town and avoided a light shower of rain which didn't seem to deter the tourists at all. Whitby deserves a better visit at some point, and I noted that it still hosts a popular Gothic Weekend which I confess I had a vague memory of reading about somewhere before.
Too soon, back to the station and the meander back to industrial Middlesbrough which presented such a contrast to this. A local youth stared intently at me for the entire journey back as far as Gypsy Lane, which was as much irritating as unnerving. Otherwise an uneventful trip and a simple enough connection at Middlesbrough into a Darlington service which covered a little more new track, leaving the rest of this area's more obscure highlights for a tour coming up during July if all goes to plan. At Darlington, stumbled off the train feeling possibly worse than at any point so far with this stupid and persistant cold. Pottered up and down the platforms trying to make myself feel better with coffee. Watched the service for Leeds (again, 9O26 which I'd caught from Edinburgh yesterday) get later and later. Relieved to finally see it arriving, and soon curled up in my seat trying to figure out how much of a pain my next set of wanderings would be during rush hour if I couldn't make the connection.
In the event, appeared in Leeds with about four minutes to spare and amazed myself with my high-speed dash over to the Ilkley train just in time for it to leave. Surprisingly busy, so parked myself in a vestibule for the first bit of the the journey. First ride on a 333 and pleasant enough for commuting. Got a seat after Guiseley and enjoyed the rest of the trip, envying the facilities available to travellers in PTE areas. Far too exhausted to wander much in Ilkley, but noted that the station was a shadow of what appeared to be its former glory. A few youngster hanging around making a nuisance of themselves made exploring thoroughly fairly difficult. Straight onto the Bradford Forster Square train when it arrived for another bit of track and my first proper visit to the city. Found the Midland Hotel at the top of the ramp down to the station and noted reception was a little swankier than perhaps I'm used to! The room was fairly spartan though - but comfortable enough considering how exhausted I was feeling. A brief wander into the confusing heart of Bradford which was perhaps not at its best in its damp and rainy darkness. There appeared to be some fairly attractive Victorian buildings likely related to the industrial links in the area, but this was no weather for tourists. Off to sleep, thinking about tomorrows itinerary.
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.
