I like to ride my bicycle - on the old S&D

On the 8/8/1964 and at the end of our family holiday in Somerset, I rode my green bicycle to Radstock, clocked the 3F 0-6-0 “Jinty” tank No. 47276, parked my bike in the green SR guard’s van and enjoyed my only journey ever on an S&D line train, to Bath Green Park, behind Standard Class 5 4-6-0 No. 73054. I then cycled the short distance to Bath Spa station, where I re-joined Mum, Dad and my sister for the trip home to Merseyside.

3 days’ shy of 52 years later, on 5/8/2016, here I am again, with my wife and our new, white, fold-up bikes and I’m crossing Midford Viaduct for the second time in my life. Just over my shoulder but also looking north, the film crew making the Titfield Thunderbolt were panning right from a shot of the approaching south-bound SR Light Pacific, just in time to focus on the ex-GWR 14XX 0-4-2 tank at the head of the Camerton branch-line train running below the viaduct and heading for Limpley Stoke. They recorded a number of takes before the two trains were positioned well enough for the sequence to flow and then, hey presto, the iconic and instantly recognisable first few frames of the film were safely in the can.

 

We parked the car at Midford, the name itself enough to excite and entice. This recently added Sustrans cycleway [route 244 and part of national route 24] is bound to be a bit hilly, I thought. The S&D was renowned for the challenging nature of its northern section out of Bath. Luckily, my wife has recently been on a cycling proficiency course, where she found out how to mount and dismount properly and how to go up and down hills.

We fought our way up through Combe Down tunnel at 1 in 100 before drifting down the 1 in 50 of Devonshire tunnel and past Bath’s urban fringe. The return journey provided my wife with an opportunity to employ everything she had learnt as we powered up the grade without the need for double-heading or a banker. Coasting through Midford without stopping at the platform, which is still intact, we reached Wellow on time. We dismounted correctly and filled our tanks at the excellent café adjoining the trekking centre, now occupying the track-bed on the edge of the village.

As I sat pondering and enjoying my coffee, I concluded that If it can’t be a railway then a cycleway is probably the next best thing. It felt like my initial brief flirtation with the old S&D had gained me access to membership of a special club. Ever since, when I flick through the pages of an Ivo Peters photo album, or any of the dozens that have followed him, I think, “Yes, and I was there and it was special.”