Scottish Steam's Final Fling E-Book

Keith Widdowson

• Herausgeber: The History Press
• Kategorie: Lebensstil
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Seitenzahl: 233

Beschreibung

In May 1967, Scotland became the third of the six British Railways regions to dispense with the steam locomotive, bringing an iconic era of Britain's transport heritage closer to its demise. Residing over 300 miles away, then teenaged Keith Widdowson's pilgrimages north of the border were marathon undertakings. Abysmal overnight time keeping, missed connections, trains allegedly booked as steam but turning up as diesel – each journey could have been a disaster, but those setbacks were easily forgotten after many successes, such as in catching runs with LNER A2s, A4s, V2s and B1s, as well as BR Clans. Accompanied with brief historical data of routes and stations – many no longer extant – visited, alongside photographs from the author's archives, this book is a collection of reminiscences from the final two years of steam that anyone with a penchant for railways will enjoy.

Leseprobe

System map extract from BR’s Scottish Region 1966 timetable.

Every effort has been made to source and contact all copyright holders of illustrated material. In case of any omission, please contact the publishers.

First published in 2017

The History Press The Mill, Brimscombe Port Stroud, Gloucestershire, GL5 2QGwww.thehistorypress.co.uk

This ebook edition first published in 2017

All rights reserved © Keith Widdowson, 2017

The right of Keith Widdowson to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

EPUB ISBN 978 0 7509 8311 2

Original typesetting by The History Press

eBook converted by Geethik Technologies

CONTENTS

About the Author

Acknowledgements

Introduction

1 For the Love of Steam

2 First Impressions, May 1965

3 The Main Players, May 1965

4 The Fife Coast Visit, July 1965

5 Steam Hauled Over the Firths, August 1965

6 Mixed Fortunes, August 1965

7 Scottish Visitors Down South, March 1966

8 Carlisle Calling, March 1966

9 The Quintinshill Visit, June 1966

10 Brief Encounters, July–August 1966

11 Granite City Bound, July 1966

12 Caught at Last, August 1966

13 The Ayrshire Attack, September 1966

14 The Evening Carlisle–Perth, 1966–67

15 The Final Weekend, May 1967

16 And Still They Come, 1967

17 Many Happy Returns

An Afterthought

Appendix 1 Steam Locomotive Wheel Arrangements

Appendix 2 Index of All Steam Journeys Made on Scottish Region Metals

Appendix 3 Steam Sheds Within the Scottish Region of BR

Appendix 4 Steam Allocations Within the Scottish Region of BR

Appendix 5 Lines or Stations Closed (to Passengers) Travelled Over

Appendix 6 Preserved Railways in Scotland

Glossary of Terms

Sources

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Keith Widdowson was born, to his pharmacist father and secretarial mother, during the calamitous winter of 1947 at St Mary Cray, Kent, and attended the nearby schools of Poverest and Charterhouse. He joined British Railways in June 1962 as an enquiry clerk at the Waterloo telephone bureau – ‘because his mother had noted his obsession with collecting timetables’.

Thus began a forty-five-year career within various train planning departments throughout BR, the bulk of which was at Waterloo but also included locations at Cannon Street, Wimbledon, Crewe, Euston, Blackfriars, Paddington and finally Croydon – specialising in dealing with train crew arrangements. After spending several years during the 1970s and ’80s in Cheshire, London and Sittingbourne, he returned to his roots in 1985 where he finally met the steadying influence in his life, Joan, with whom he had a daughter, Victoria. In addition to membership of the local residents’ association (St Pauls Cray), the Sittingbourne & Kemsley Light Railway and the U3A organisation, he keeps busy writing articles for railway magazines and gardening.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This book is dedicated to my ever-understanding wife Joan. Prior to meeting me many years ago the steam locomotive was an unknown subject to her. Having met many of my like-minded chasing friends when visiting preserved railways on their gala days, together with accompanying me on book signings, she has become resigned to the ‘different’ world I inhabit.

Then there is John Bird of Railway Images without whom the photographs accompanying this book would not have been of publishable quality. He has taken the negatives from all those years ago, squirrelled away in boxes and envelopes, and performed minor miracles. Thanks also to The History Press team without whom books, such as this, detailing my steam age travels, might never have seen the light of day.

Finally, many thanks to my lifelong friend and fellow traveller Graham ‘Jock’ Aitken who proofread this book.

INTRODUCTION

This, the fourth tome on my steam train travels during the mid 1960s, unlike two of its predecessors, cannot contain the word ‘chase’ in its title. Residing in Kent, I was never going to blitz Scotland to travel with as many different steam locomotives as was my self-imposed mission elsewhere in Britain – distance alone precluded such an activity. This book therefore is a personal travelogue of observations and experiences gained while undertaking my forays over the border during the final two years of Scottish steam (1965–67). Having said that, taking into consideration each visit started and finished with overnight services from England, at least I made full use of the hours there, undertaking the search-and-find pursuit necessary in order to track down the increasingly elusive steam passenger services.

Had I left it too late? What, steam wise, remained to be witnessed and travelled behind? Most of the express services over the WCML, so long the preserve of LMS Princess, Duchess, Patriot, Scot and Jubilee classes, were now in the hands of diesels. Likewise, the express services over the ECML, so long monopolised by Peppercorn’s A1 and A2s together with Gresley’s A3 and A4s, had also become devoid of steam. Admittedly a few of those LNER Pacifics had survived and, as I will recount in this book, were able to be caught working internal services within Scotland. As for tank locomotives, all the Fowler, Stanier, Johnson and former Caley representatives had long gone. Elsewhere the Great North of Scotland and West Highland lines had dispensed with steam many years earlier.

My interest in railway travels did not manifest itself within me until 1964. I was a 17-year-old junior BR clerk at the Waterloo-based Telephone Enquiry Bureau of the Southern Region, and with the restricted funds available it was easier and financially cheaper to concentrate initially on travelling the routes throughout southern Britain threatened by the Beeching axe. Gradually my horizons expanded and with the ever-growing confidence associated with youth I embarked on my first Scottish trip in May 1965. The catalyst for this adventure was the imminent closure of the line between Dumfries and Stranraer – known colloquially as the Port Road. This was all new territory to a wide-eyed teenager and after having undertaken this initial jaunt over the border I vowed, when finances permitted, to return again. I was unaware of the paucity of steam on offer. There was no Internet-sourced information available to me – you had to go by word of mouth amongst fellow enthusiasts or retrospective reports from the pages of the office copy of The Railway World magazine.

What was to be seen? The answer to that question (fully detailed in Chapter 3) is that by the time of my first visit there were still twenty-four sheds retaining 473 working steam locomotives. There was, if I was to catch any runs with them, little time left – their date with the cutter’s torch was fast approaching! With that in mind I made three further visits north of the border during the following July and August. Into 1966, and taking into consideration it was now a race against time, I increased my incursions to seven. Although the home allocation was annihilated in May 1967, courtesy of Kingmoor TMD’s foreman’s predilection for dispatching his iron horses into the steam desert Scotland had become, a further twelve border crossings were undertaken.

This then is my story of those visits. This book recounts the twenty-seven months of my life during which I managed to accumulate over 4,000 steam miles in Scotland behind sixty-one different locomotives from twelve classes resourced from fifteen different sheds. The abortive journeys, long waits, the joys and euphoria when successes materialised, the disappointments when they didn’t. In a never-to-be-repeated scenario, please join me on my search for steam in Scotland.

1

FOR THE LOVE OF STEAM

I AM SOMETIMES asked what prompted me to document my railway travels while on my extensive steam-chasing travels during the 1960s. My response would have been, at the time, that one day in the dim distant future I might have the time to throw it all together into a book which might interest like-minded enthusiasts hankering after the steam age railway scene encountered back then. Fast-forward half a century and during 2002–03 I had a health-imposed sabbatical period from modern-day living during which a non-railway-orientated friend asked what interests I had. My reply was my one-time all-consuming hobby of ‘chasing steam’. He then suggested that it might be therapeutic to document my activities for others to read about and enjoy – perhaps bringing back memories of those days. Initially doubting his reasoning, I compiled an article detailing my visits to the West Country during 1964 and forwarded it to Steam Days magazine whose editor, Rex Kennedy, published it. I will forever be grateful to him because that ‘success’ has subsequently spawned three books (so far) and over forty articles!

Everyone should have a hobby. Rather than the more usual ones such as following a favourite football team, fishing or golf, mine was and still is the steam locomotive. Although generalised as trainspotting, upon fervent defence of my hobby I often point out that the time spent travelling to see a football team lose or lazing hours away on a riverbank without a bite or walking miles in inclement weather putting a ball down a hole are no different to my hobby. If you achieve satisfaction through it then so be it!

The steam locomotive is an awe-inspiring, living, breathing machine without which the transport of both passengers and freight through the nineteenth and the first half of the twentieth century would have been severely impaired. For sure the emissions produced by them are frowned upon by today’s environmental activists but are small in comparison to the fumes from thousands of road vehicles trawling the country’s motorways. The sense of anticipation of the journey ahead when a steam locomotive is being prepared to work a train is somehow missing with today’s turn up and switch on scenario. The smell of steam and oil, the simmering potent power ready to be released, the crew going about their duties all add to an atmosphere that has long since disappeared. Just seconds from departure the driver, and quite often the fireman as well, could often be observed looking back along the platform for the guard’s ‘right away’. Doors slammed, the whistle blew and the green flag waved as the locomotive’s safety valves lifted, filling the station’s train shed roof and surrounding area with steam. Then to rid the locomotive of excess steam or water the injectors were operated – often thwarting any platform-end photographer’s hopes of a decent departure shot. The driver opened the regulator with the first beat, shooting smoke and cinders into the air only to shut it down to avoid damage to locomotive and track upon a wheel spin on the greasy rail. Then having gained momentum to get the train on its way, and only then, can the entry in your Ian Allan ABC be red-lined as having been hauled by that particular locomotive – a moody, unpredictable, often aesthetically handsome beast which could, later in the journey, ride like a bucking bronco or run as sweet as a sewing machine. It would be down to the skill of the crew to tame her and get all who rely on her to their destinations. Personally, since first viewing them at Waterloo in the early 1960s, I have had an ongoing love affair with them. They have been a predominant mistress in my life for over half a century and, being the basis of this book, I defy the reader not to comprehend the reasoning as to why I spent my formative years in pursuit of them.

Not initially an enthusiast when joining BR, it wasn’t until mid 1963 the disappearing steam and line closures finally fired sufficient interest to propel me out to places I had often directed prospective customers to with my job at London’s Waterloo as telephone enquiry clerk. During my lunch break the 13.30 departure for Weymouth and Bournemouth West was often viewed from the end of Platform 11 and perhaps it was the sheer majesty of the 8P Merchant Navy class locomotive with its safety valves lifting and the fireman fuelling the fire in readiness for the 143-mile journey ahead that became the catalyst which sowed the seeds of a lifetime hobby. As I stood there camera, poised in readiness for the platform staff’s whistle and the guard’s ‘right away’, the power subsequently unleashed with the Pacific initially slipping (an inherent Bulleid weakness) on the greasy rail before finally finding her feet and powering the train into the distance must have sunk deep into the memory bank of an impressionable teenager. At the rear of the train ably assisting with an almighty shove was the tank engine that had brought the stock in from Clapham Yard. Within the cavernous station train shed the ear-splitting cacophony of its thunderous exhaust sent the pigeons into orbit and made any conversation nigh on impossible. It all lasted for less than a minute before the tank engine driver slammed on the brakes to bring him to a standstill alongside the ever-present gaggle of enthusiasts always resident at the country end of Platform 11. How anyone fails to be impressed with the sight and sound of a steam locomotive in full flight is still is beyond my comprehension.

Having initially joined British Rail(ways) ‘because my parents noted my interest in local timetables’ (albeit bus!), I soon realised that the majority of the, certainly clerical, workforce saw their employment not only as a means to pay the mortgage but as an extension of their hobby – enhanced perhaps by the free and reduced rate travel facilities available! One particular friend, Bill – with whom I was to subsequently travel throughout Europe – often arrived in the office on a Monday morning with tales of his travels, photographs and timetables from all over the country. ‘Get out there – use your travel facilities. It’s all disappearing,’ he often said. He was referring to the seemingly relentless number of routes closing as a consequence of Dr Beeching’s axe (‘The Reshaping of British Railways’ – 1963) together with increasing dieselisation (‘Modernisation and Re-Equipment of the British Railways’ – 1955), the consequential outcome inevitably leading to the wholesale slaughter of the steam locomotive. During the latter part of 1963 curiosity began to get the better of me and I tentatively started to venture further afield, away from the mundane commuting suburban journeys undertaken so far, to routes (in the south of England) threatened with closure. From March 1964, however, having had a birthday present from my parents of a Kodak Colorsnap 35 and now always travelling with a notebook, the addiction was taking hold of me. This camera was equipped with the latest technology! It had a lens you could change to whatever the weather was doing, i.e. bright sunshine, black-lined cloud or rain – not quite up to present-day technology but adequate enough for my needs. Over the years, having been dropped, lost and cursed at (when the film jammed), it has provided me with over 1,000 images, some of which have found their way into the railway press.

As the months counted down towards the end of steam throughout Britain, an ever-increasing number of enthusiasts could be witnessed on the scene. My interests became focused on travelling behind as many different steam locomotives as possible: rather than ‘copping’ a locomotive we ‘haulage bashers’ had to travel behind our quarry in order to red-line the entry in our Ian Allan Locoshed books. With the scarcity of steam-hauled passenger services on offer in Scotland, this particular aspect of my hobby was, for the day visits I embarked upon, temporarily abandoned – obtaining any run with steam was difficult enough! Regrettably photography took second place, with monies being directed more at travel costs. Memories, however, remain and whenever espying a photograph in a magazine or book of a train I might have travelled on out come the notebooks and if indeed I was aboard the depicted train the relevant page gets extracted, scanned, copied and stowed away in my ‘I was there’ folder. It was a mad, frenetic period: the camaraderie, the sense of urgency – knowing it would all end one day. Steam was disappearing at an extraordinarily fast rate: that fact alone provided the impetus to attempt to catch every potential movement. Capitalising on this aspect, Colin Gifford’s popular Decline of Steam book became a best seller amongst us ferroequinologists.

I sometimes wonder, if the steam locomotive’s decline hadn’t been so quick would such enthusiasm, such a fanatical chase, have occurred? While appreciating the run-down condition and constant failures – such frequent occurrences towards the end – I still feel privileged to have witnessed the scene and participated in the pursuit with all its attendant emotional excitement and sadness. One of my friends from that period recently contacted me in connection with a previous book and, within the communication, highlighted how lucky we were to have enjoyed the scenario, stating they were ‘the best days of my life’ – to which I concur. Whereas it was fun, exciting and joyful for us enthusiasts to follow steam locomotives as a hobby, for the railway employees working with such run-down machines in depots surrounded by dereliction and filth it was no joke. Their own employment was in doubt as steam sheds were closed down and I take my hat off to them for the chivalrous attitude they had towards us ‘puffer nutters’.

Through all the travels contained within this volume my small attaché case (16in x 10in x 4in) went with me. All necessary requirements were contained within it – timetables, camera, Ian Allan books, notebooks, Lyons pies, Club biscuits, pens, flannel, handkerchief, stopwatch, cartons of orange drinks, sandwiches and of course a BR1 carriage key, for use in emergencies! Sturdy enough to sit on in crowded corridors of packed trains and doubling up as a pillow (albeit hard!) on overnight services, my case was in regular use through the final years of BR steam and even travelled with me throughout Europe. Having survived many domestic upheavals over the years, it now enjoys a comfortable retirement at the bottom of my ‘railway’ cupboard at home – containing all the documented travel information without which I could never have contemplated writing a book such as this. As for apparel, the anorak was not in existence then – to the best of my knowledge it was either a raincoat or a duffle coat with its attendant toggle fasteners. Usually having commenced weekend travels directly after a day’s work at the office, the obligatory tie (modern and straight edged) was always worn – albeit at peculiar angles after an overnight trip. The followers were classless. They came from all walks of life including vicars, MPs (such as Robert Adley of Winchester who has become a leading opponent to privatisation) and persons from many a varied employment. I often wondered how those who did not obtain cheap travel as an employment perk could afford it all – but then again ticket checks on trains were infrequent and there were no automatic barriers back then!

My case and ‘equipment’ – a constant companion in my years of steam chasing.

Upon returning home after each escapade, or within a few days if very late back, all the necessary details collected were transferred into legibility within large A4-sized desk diaries. Separate small books kept individual locomotive mileages, shed visits and timed trains. I lost the pre-June 1965 notebooks from which I extracted the information but have retained all the rest. There was much to do. Each ‘capture’ was red-lined in my dog-eared and soot-stained Ian Allan Locoshed book, often amongst many entries that had been blacked out, indicating it had been withdrawn. These books were reissued quite regularly and, what with the continuous transferring (information updated courtesy of The Railway World magazine) of locomotives resulting from line or depot closures, much midnight oil was burnt in just attempting to keep it all current. Luckily the detailing of such minutiae came easily to me through my work as a BR train planner, where precise and accurate documentation was a necessary requirement. Then there was a surprising educational benefit in regard to the named locomotives, some of which were, to my teenage mind, unpronounceable. References to library books or encyclopaedias were often made as to who Miles Beevor or Tennyson were, where the Solway Firth was or what Sayajirao was. It was that much more difficult back then – not having the ability to type in the search box on your smartphone! So off we go …

Front cover of the autumn 1964 Ian Allan Combined Volume.

Front cover of Part 2 of an Ian Allan ABC.

The Locoshed books issued by Ian Allan were essential tools in keeping up to date with the whereabouts and numbers of steam locomotives. Here are the front covers of two issues: autumn 1965 (left) and autumn 1966 (right).

2

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

WITH THE TRAVELS depicted in this book commencing in 1965, perhaps it is wise to highlight a few headline-grabbing events from that year thus setting the scene. In January, arguably the most prestigious steam train ever run by BR, that conveying Sir Winston Churchill’s body from London’s Waterloo to Oxfordshire, received worldwide media coverage. The following month a second Beeching report was published, ‘The Development of Major Trunk Routes’, which recommended financial investment in just 50 per cent of the remaining 7,500 route miles. In other non-railway news that spring, Goldie, a London Zoo golden eagle, was recaptured after thirteen days of freedom, the Greater London Council (GLC) came into being and Kathy Kirby’s ‘I Belong’ just missed out, by coming second, in the annual Eurovision Song Contest. Football wise: south of the border Manchester United won the Football League First Division title whilst Liverpool, for the first time in their history, won the FA Cup at Wembley – beating Leeds United 2-1. In Scotland Kilmarnock topped League Division One whilst Stirling Albion triumphed in Division Two.

So on Friday 28 May 1965, with recent news of Sandie Shaw having secured the top spot for a three-week run with ‘Long Live Love’ and Muhammad Ali having knocked out Sonny Liston with his ‘Phantom Punch’ in a rematch at Maine, I set forth out of the demolition site of Euston (it was being rebuilt in connection with the WCML electrification, the main casualty being the historic Doric Arch) on the 19.30 ‘Northern Irishman’ departure for the Scottish port of Stranraer. This 406-mile 10-hour journey was my longest to date – superseding the 260-mile 6¾-hour Waterloo to Padstow made the previous July. The only section of the WCML that had been electrified by then was that between Rugby Midland and Crewe, the power either side of those locations being provided by English Electric Type 4 DLs. Although I was the sole occupant of my compartment north of Wigan, upon returning to it at Carlisle, having ascertained which locomotive had come on the front (it was Kingmoor’s Black 5MT 45012), I discovered most seats were now taken.

Dawn broke much earlier in Scotland than I was used to in southern England and, although initially opting to sit in a three-a-side scenario, upon realising at Dumfries that an assisting locomotive was being attached up front, I was perfectly content to ‘window hang’ (a popular move by steam train aficionados!) for the remaining 2-hour journey. The assisting locomotive, sister 45467, was Dumfries (67E) allocated. The shed, which was located just a 5-minute walk to the south of the station, had an allocation of seventeen steam locomotives that May, comprising eleven Black 5s, two 76xxx, one 78xxx and three Standard 4MT tanks. The stopping services along the Port Road to Castle Douglas, together with the Kirkcudbright branch, had been withdrawn earlier that month and at the end of that year the stopping services along the former G&SWR route to Glasgow St Enoch suffered a similar fate. With the shed’s workload inevitably decreasing, it lost its allocation altogether in June 1966, retaining servicing facilities until its complete closure five months later.

Dumfries, a town at which Scottish poet and lyricist Robert Burns, who left behind a magnificent legacy of poems and songs which helped define Scotland’s place in the world, spent his final years, is bisected by the Nith; this river is famous for its trout and salmon, and eventually disgorges into the Solway Firth. Two other more recent residents are actor John Laurie, best known as Private ‘we’re all doomed’ Frazer of Dad’s Army fame, and singer-songwriter, DJ and record producer Adam Wiles (aka Calvin Harris). The town’s football club, well remembered by myself from those far-off days when my father insisted on quietness when the pools results were broadcast on Saturday afternoons, is Queen of the South – founded in 1919 and just missing out on promotion out of League Division Two by coming third in the 1964–65 season.

The entire route of this 73-mile railway across the then south-west Scottish counties of Dumfries-shire, Kirkcudbrightshire and Wigtownshire was opened throughout in 1861, the objective being to offer a connection from England into a shorter sea crossing from the mainland to Belfast than the existing one via Liverpool. While indeed serving that purpose, over the intervening years, because it passed through beautiful but alas sparsely populated terrain, little local traffic was generated. Inevitably it came to the attention of Dr Beeching’s accountants and, with the ability to divert the through trains via an alternative, albeit lengthier (43 miles longer) route via Mauchline and Ayr, his axe was to fall on it the following month. The politics of that decision were far from my mind that morning. The sound and sight of the two Black 5s, having passed over the River Nith, hammering away up the 1 in 73 incline to Lochanhead only confirmed, to my mind, that there can be no greater thrill in the world than being in the presence of a steam locomotive being worked hard against the gradient.

The first 20 miles of this line, part of which has now been converted to a cycle path, was double tracked. Essential window-hanging duties from the first coach became a precondition, and after having been deafened by the thunderous exhaust from both locomotives for nigh on 15 minutes upon conquering the summit at Lochanhead, the noise suddenly abated. Now, the opportunity to look back was taken, and the mesmerising sight of this lengthy train snaking its way through the early morning sunshine-swathed countryside was beheld.

The gradient profile of the Dumfries to Dunragit section of the Port Road, a line that closed in June 1965.

All too soon, at the former junction station of the recently deceased 10-mile-long Kirkcudbright branch of Castle Douglas, the assisting locomotive was detached. This left 45012 to struggle on alone with her heavy train, which included at least two sleeping cars, up the 1 in 80 incline to the remote Loch Skerrow signal box before easing over the impressive Little and Big Fleet viaducts prior to making one final assault up the 1 in 76 incline to the line’s summit at Gatehouse of Fleet. Although not booked to call at the intermediate stations west of Castle Douglas as they were crossing places on the now single-tracked line, we had to slow for token exchange with the signalman. Speed was therefore never great and after each slowing 45012 was once again opened up, sending nearby grazing sheep running.