Another brick in the wall

We went to Alston in Cumbria, the southern terminus of the South Tynedale Railway, a narrow gauge line that sits on the formation of the former branch from Haltwhistle, which was opened in 1852 and closed by BR in 1976. It currently runs as far north as Lintley. Such an attractive valley deserves a reinstated, full length, branch line. They are on their way with that, but there is a lot to do before it becomes a reality.

Near Haltwhistle, I reacquainted myself with Hadrian’s Wall. I had first visited it sometime in the late 1960’s when I had rescued a springtime lamb from a snowdrift that had piled up against the wall itself. It would not have been the first such animal to have become inconvenienced in that way, nor will it be the last. It is a bit of a worry that this selfless act sticks in my mind so prominently. I hope it is not because it has had so few similar good turns to keep it company ever since.

The Roman remains on the flood plain and the adjacent upland near Birdoswald, which is off to a fabulous start with its name alone, are quite stunning, and it is even more amazing to read that the whole extent of the wall formerly rose to three or four metres in height. Each remaining stone is dressed, as presumably they must all have been. They didn’t mess about, the Romans. If a wall needed building, it was going to be done properly. No angular “bits and bobs” of dry stone walling for them, just proper oblong stone blocks stuck together with mortar.

At Birdoswald, the Romans built a distinctly impressive bridge across the River Irthing. Although now long gone, it was one of three that were necessary as the barrier marched confidently east-west across the country, on a route roughly parallel to the Newcastle and Carlisle Railway. The railway crossed the wall where we parked our car at Gilsland. Itself no mean feat, the N&CR Company was set up in 1825 and was taken over by the North Eastern Railway in 1862. I note that a certain Thomas Edmondson was a station master on this stretch, at Milton, later renamed Brampton, which turned out to be just the ticket, as he became well-known as the inventor of the ubiquitous Edmondson card ticketing system.

The wall got me thinking about civil engineering structures in general and their part in our railway landscape. Two months before, we had been walking in Yorkshire and spent a day on the fell sides above the village of Dent. From there it was possible to see the Settle and Carlisle line sideways on, and at what looked like a fearsome gradient from that distance, in the approach to Dent station from the south.

Having knocked the mud off our boots and buried them in plastic bags in the back of the car, we drove up to the station. The road sign on the edge of the village claimed it was a mere three miles along the valley then up the hill, and the map showed that the two alternative routes to reach it were roughly equidistant. A good five miles of rather tortuous single track road with a distinct lack of passing places later, I parked the car at the highest main line station in England, at 1,150 feet above sea level. The last time I had set foot here was from a steam special in September 1988 which was hauled by Stanier 2-8-0 No. 48151, that reliable stalwart of the preservation scene. On that occasion, we were treated to a run past at this spot, so that we could take our photographs from the line side.

Dent station, like the others along the line, is now smothered in love and affection, as if it had previously been a neglected or mistreated pet, since rescued and given a new start by the most attentive of owners.

Travelling the Settle and Carlisle, you can marvel at the scenery [on a good day] and admire the efforts of the locomotive [every time]. Most recently for me, this was with Black 5 No. 45305, in July 2011.

What I did not quite appreciate so readily when I was on board the trains were the extraordinary demands that had faced the railway builders and the stupendous and elegant nature of their responses. Everyone knows about the viaduct at Ribblehead, but what about all the other structures that were necessary to keep the gradient within bounds and to cross such an inhospitable landscape, riven with gullies and ravines?

On the way up to the station, my attention was drawn momentarily to the crossings of the Artengill Beck and the minor road at Dent Head, which are visible to the right, soon after the line emerges from the tunnel beneath Blea Moor. It is just one engineering triumph after another throughout its course - a truly magnificent achievement.

[Taken from an article that first appeared in the Railway Antiques Gazette, with thanks to the editor, Tim Petchey]