Back in time

The Golden age of steam train travel

YORK railway station was the perfect setting to greet the steam hauled Waverley as it chugged its way along the distinctively long platform.

The train was primed and prepared to take us on one of the country’s most famous and best engineered tracks from Settle to Carlisle for an authentic trip to recapture the golden age of rail.

My excitement and that of my fellow travellers was tangible and helped create an atmosphere of unconcealed pleasure as we watched crimson heritage carriages moving steadily towards us under the power of the Scots Guardsman 46115.

The evocative smell of the coal driven steam engine filled our senses as it billowed out in dusky clouds before disappearing upwards into a blue sky.

The polished engine resplendent in its BR Brunswick green glinted in the early morning sun as slowly it came to a halt with the sound of rhythmic shunting and a sudden clamping of wheels.

All of us were waiting with great anticipation, for the trip across the Yorkshire countryside in a style long forgotten. We were about to revisit the golden age of rail when train travel was designed not only for swiftness and convenience but for sheer pleasure from start to finish.

The prospect of spectacular views and a landscape only visible from this line of track made it all the more special because we were about to travel across some of the country’s most remote and inaccessible regions.

Our group was made up of all ages with various agility, the young and not so young.  Some  to experience a moment in time, some to reliving their youth and the serious train buffs, there to measure speed, sound and other technical parts of the operation.

This was going to be a day return, not only on an exceptional track that would take us up and over peaks, through dales and across famous viaducts but it would also transport us back to the opulent time of train travel.

Our party was met by our Great Rail Journeys tour manager, Mike Williams who has been working with the company almost since it was formed 25 years ago and whose love of travel, people, long train journeys and hills made him the ideal guide.

This was the first steam train journey that Great Rail Journeys had put on so it was it was also an initiation for Mike who handed out our itineraries and other facts of interest.  He too was enthusiastically looking forward to the day and what was to unfold.

As we boarded carriages that had passed many milestones of their own over the years, we settled into the plush velvet seats taking in the surroundings and interior of carriages that are no longer in standard use.  

I was sitting at a table of four, already set with white tablecloth and cutlery with a flower centrepiece and a table lamp.

From my window seat I watched people working out their own seating arrangements and the excitement was clearly palpable.

We were filling up fast and soon I was joined by a party of three who I was about to share the day with.

Michael, Sheila and Joan were out to celebrate Joan’s first anniversary of her triple heart bypass in her 89th year.

Across the isle a couple were celebrating their 40^th wedding anniversary in a way that had been very much part of their courtship and marriage. He was a train buff from the age of three and she had happily supported his passion, announcing that their first date was sitting at a cold railway station waiting for a steam train to pass by.

In the next booth there was a couple who had recently moved to Yorkshire from Cambridge and wanted to experience the county. They were sitting with a couple who had travelled from Scotland to join the train for an adventure back in time.

The whistle blew and the train slowly pulled out giving us a grand view of the station and in my opinion, the perfect backdrop for the Waverley.

Built just outside the city walls, it has magnificent curved decorative ironwork that dominates the 19^th century architecture. It is reminiscence of long forgotten days and characteristic of a station that that has witnessed much change since it was built in 1877 - then the largest railway station in the world.

Soon the train was picking up speed and making its way towards Leeds.

My fellow passenger, Michael, leaned across to point out some famous landmarks, places that had one time been home to the majestic engines in the once extensive sidings, now a huge housing estate and an original junction which was now the site of a massive supermarket.

Michael, I discovered, was a York City historian, avid cricketer, Yorkshire cricket club fan and also a steam train enthusiast so I had the advantage of getting to know local history along with what was in my itinerary.

Joan was also a York historian and was helping to compile a book about the city and as we travelled, I shared their memories of yesteryears and we also made a few of our own.

All three of my fellow travellers had worked for the chocolate factories, Rowntrees and Terrys and my history lesson on York would not be complete without mention of the chocolate industry created in the 18^th century that had, along with the railways, created the majority of jobs for the people in the city.

As we approached Leeds station, we passed the impressive circular building of the Corn Exchange built in the 1860’s.

This said Michael escaped the redevelopment of the city in the days when buildings were being pulled down rather than renovated.

Here we picked up more passengers and not long after leaving the station, a welcome champagne cocktail was served with which we toasted the day.

I surrendered to a delicious full English breakfast served by the dexterous skill of waiters who could place food on our hot plates and tea and coffee in the breakfast cups, despite the swaying motion of the train.

As the train swallowed up the miles the urban city gave way to open countryside, my attention was taken by the couple celebrating their 40^th anniversary, despite my neighbour Michael’s enthusiasm about a disused mill that we were passing and his account of the demise of the industry.

Over the isle, the anniversary husband had looked up from the books and charts in front of him, to point out how we were climbing and to notice the sound of the engine.

I wanted to listen, to this quiet man who could probably write his own book on the railway.

As he studied the books in front of him, his wife smiled over and then turned back to staring out of the window, lost in her own reveries.

She looked as though she was recalling days gone by and dreams.

Suddenly she looked up:

“My husband has been mad about trains since he was three years old, his mother would have to take him off the window ledge because he  would sit there all day watching them.

“This trip is an anniversary gift from our children,” she smiled fondly.

The train was heading for the Aire Valley and into the Yorkshire Dales, calling at the historic railways stations,  Shipley, Keighley and Skipton then at Appleby where we were to stop to take on water.

We rolled on through rugged countryside that opened out into vast areas of unspoilt and untouched lands.

Along the track people lined the roads, bridges and grouped together at junctions to wave, men dipping their flat caps in respect.  We waved back feeling like royalty but it was the grand and regal engine and its flamboyant approach that was drawing the admiration.

Photographers were out in their hoards, they were along the tracks, in the fields, on rooftops all seeking a timely moment to capture a shot of history in motion.

We travelled on and upwards on one of the country’s most arduous climbs from Settle junction which is a gradient of one in 100.

Someone walking down the isle stopped to ask us if we heard how hard the engine was working to carry its freight towards England’s highest station, Dent.

There was great excitement in the carriages as people took their places by the   windows to watch for the Ribblehead viaduct.

Looming up ahead was the famous 440 yard long structure which has 24 arches, some up to 165 feet tall that took four years to construct using the local limestone – a most spectacular bridge that spanned the foot of the Pennines.

Directly in front was the 2414 ft high peak of Whernside and then passing into a cutting we entered the 2629 yard long Blea Moor tunnel.

Once out of the tunnel, spoil heaps were our first sighting as we curved towards the 100 ft tall ten arch Dent Head viaduct and then an imposing 11 arch Arten Gill viaduct which is 117 feet above the water and then on to Dent, 1,150 feet above sea level and the highest mainline station in England.

At Appleby where the train was to take on water, we had 20 minutes to stretch our legs and decide whether we wanted to spend the afternoon there or continue to Carlisle.

I was invited onto the footplate of the steam engine and met engine driver Mick and fireman, John,  who had both worked on the railways in the early days before steam engines were  disbanded and thrown on the scrap heap in favour of the diesel.

Faces spotted with black soot from the engine’s funnel, they had both been working with steam again since the engine’s restoration and triumphant return and, said Mick:

“It’s like being lads again!”

I elected to continue on to Carlisle and enjoy the scenery yet to be discovered.

The train departed, waved off by another band of smiling loyal supporters and again, along the track people lined the roadside, waving and dipping their hats and we infectiously smiled back.

All of this created a brilliant atmosphere, feeling of cohesiveness and strangely a sense of national pride.

As we pulled into Carlisle having had a light lunch served by the same immaculate waiters we all went off in search of the city.

I had never been to Carlisle before so wasn’t sure what to expect and on that particular day they had a continental market with interesting smells that unfortunately lured me in because I then spent too long exploring the market to see much of the City.

It was the stall that boasted olives from Belfast that won my curiosity because I just had to know how olives were related to Ireland

Carlisle is one of Britain’s oldest cities which dominates the borderlands between England and Scotland.

It has a stirring past linked to Celts, Romans, King Arthur and Bonnie Prince Charlie who have all left their mark.

There is an ancient castle and cathedral quite close together and I popped into the cathedral briefly to hear  the choir rehearsing.

My time was moving swiftly on so I had to head back to the station.

Our homeward bound journey was relaxed and our tables set for a four course silver service dinner.

Once again I was impressed by the way our waiters could get the food on our plates, it was a topic of conversation for most of us whose eyes were riveted to the spoons that could hold slippery vegetables in their grip while waiters stood steely against the rolling track.

The sun was still quite high in the sky as we left for York and as it slowly lowered it created a changing light across the escarpment. Beams of sunlight hit various points on the hillsides and cast shadows and reflections in the valleys which brought to mind  the expression ‘God’s own county’.

It was verified with a broad and colourful rainbow that crossed from one side of the track to the other.

“A perfect ending to a perfect day” toasted my fellow passengers as we all raised our glasses.