Something Completely Different

Network Rail’s measurement train was out on the Castle line yesterday, running from Derby to Doncaster via Cleethorpes. Topped and tailed by Class 37s in Direct Rail Services livery, it is seen here passing Fiskerton, headed by No. 37069, with No. 37059 bringing up the rear of the formation. It added a bit of variety to the usual traffic types, dominated by DMUs and Class 60s on this stretch.

Miles Away

I free-wheeled down the lane and rested my bike against the rustic trellis fence. The sun shone brightly between the fluffy white clouds. That sweet fragrance of jasmine filled the air, so typical of the Italian lakes at this time of year.

However, this was Fiskerton station and I was just in time for Class 60 No. 60024 Clitheroe Castle on the 13.56 oil tanker empties from Kingsbury sidings to the Humber refinery - and it was a cop.

Keeping Britain Tidy

Tending the lineside has always been an important part of the job. In the days of steam, vegetation growth that helped to bind the slopes on embankments and cuttings and aided drainage was also controlled to reduce the risk of lineside fires and improve visibility for footplate crews. This was hard manual work for a substantial number of railway company employees, who looked after station gardens, removed weeds and often took individual responsibility for the upkeep of their own particular stretch of the permanent way. In doing so, they also enhanced the view of the landscape for the travelling public.

Trees now appear to encroach much closer to the trackside than they did in the past. It’s tempting to conclude that the criteria for action these days is to take notice only when passing trains start to whack prominent branches with some force, thus prompting some sort of flailing machinery into action. These sometimes maim and dismember even sizeable limbs, leaving gaping wounds of pale, stripped timber some recovery time until the next assault on them is due to take place.

Management of the lineside is a complicated and critical business. Leaves on the line is rather more than a cliché to periodically beat the railways with. Changing weather patterns, increased flash flooding, reductions in the level of ground water and changes to the soil contribute ongoing challenges.  

As I mulled this over during a recent meander on two wheels, thoughts turned closer to home and to those who have really taken our rural landscape to heart. How indebted we all are, for example, to those fast-food consumers who go to the trouble of packing all their discarded waste into a shopping bag prior to disposal on the grass verge. It makes life so much easier for the litter pickers and refuse collectors than if the contents are just strewn everywhere. Nor must we forget the local fly tippers, who - if they were selfish and thoughtless - could quite easily dump their building rubble in the middle of the carriageway, but always ensure that it’s neatly piled up in a rarely-used field gateway. Finally, a word for the farmers who don’t want to farm animals or crops any more but are now growing aggregate. They’ve imaginatively used the weight of some heavy goods vehicles to break up the tarmac with some impromptu crazy paving edging - plus a veneer of terracotta clay for extra effect. Assuming that the natural contours of the land were insufficiently lumpy, further relief has been added in the form of multi-coloured hillocks - using a blend of natural stone, piles of top soil and the recycled remains of old brick walls. How reassuring to know that our countryside is in such good hands.

  

Stainless Pioneer

Modern locomotive nameplates can sometimes seem a little obscure at first sight. Stainless Pioneer was named in 2013 at Tinsley, Sheffield, to celebrate the centenary of the discovery of stainless steel. Class 60 No. 60062 is seen heading Monday lunchtime’s Kingsbury to Humber refinery between Rolleston and Staythorpe. It passed by shortly after a stoat had wandered across the tracks. The tip of its tail looked like it had been dipped in black ink.  

Sporting her DB Cargo red livery, Stainless Pioneer is one of the class taken from storage and restored at Toton as part of the Super Sixty Project - an overhaul programme designed to improve reliability and give those examples selected an extra fifteen years working life.

No. 60062 has also been chosen by Hornby Railways as an “00” scale model representative of the class. Talking of centenaries, Frank Hornby produced his first clockwork train in 1920, the company, itself, having made Meccano sets in Liverpool from 1901.

Stanier Class Five

This blog photo selection features ten Black Fives that were still busy at work in the north west of England and North Wales - on both passenger and freight duties - between 1962 and 1965. These pictures are all from John Dyer’s photographic archive and, as always, I’m grateful to John for permission to use his collection for this purpose.

The locomotives shown are: Nos. 44714 at Chester General in 1964, 44765 at Wigan North Western in 1965, 45004 at Chester in 1965, 45147 at Wrexham General in 1962, 45156 at Wigan in 1965, 45220 at Chester in 1964, 45285 at Wigan in 1965, 45298 at Chester in 1964, 45318 at Preston in 1964 and 45388 at Liverpool Central High Level in 1965.

The Mickeys

To be honest, we were not all that chuffed to see Mickeys at the time. Every passenger train hauled by a Mickey was a slight disappointment because it could easily have been something more exotic, like a Jubilee.

Mickeys were everywhere and there were probably too many of them for us to get round to spotting the whole class. There were lots in Scotland, for a start, so we had little chance with them, including two of the four namers. On the other hand, we seemed to bump into Ayrshire Yeomanry all the time. Mickeys were dead ordinary.

This prevalent view of the order of things gradually began to change as, one by one, the other classes of steam locomotives disappeared to the scrapyards until we were left with the surviving Mickeys, Stanier 2-8-0s and a few Standards. Then we took a bit more notice. I decided that they were not such a bad thing, after all.

They are, of course, a well-balanced and harmonious design, which is very easy on the eye. They were also versatile, dependable and generally well-liked by the railwaymen who operated them. We went to see No. 45110 leave Lime Street on the last day of steam on BR, 11^th August 1968. It was quite a fitting aspect of the finale, that Stanier’s Black Fives should feature so strongly on the day. 

   

The Midland Region’s Old 0-6-0s

If there was ever a group of locos that failed to attract our interest, relatively speaking, it was probably this lot. Many examples were still creaking and shuffling around during the early 60s. They simply appeared to us as grubby and unkempt workhorses that had probably seen better days.

Making up four different classes, all with 0-6-0 wheel arrangements, and classified as 3F and 4F, their Midland pedigree was attributed to Johnson, Deeley and Fowler. They were introduced between 1885 and 1924 and those members built for the Somerset and Dorset Joint Railway were also taken into LMS stock eventually.

It looks like I didn’t bother trying to photograph any of them, myself. Luckily, John Dyer was not so short-sighted and he found working examples in a number of locations, including No. 43240 at Carlisle Kingmoor in 1960, No. 43954 at Westhouses in 1962, No. 44081 at Carlisle in 1960, No. 44545 at Buxton in 1962 and No. 44595 at Hope and Pen-y-fford in 1962.  

       

Best Laid Plans

How can I make my photo of the Class 60 on oil tanks through Fiskerton a little bit different this time? I know, I thought, I’ll use the zoom lens to cunningly place the 60-m.p.h. speed limit sign next to the Class 60. Imagine my surprise then, when for the first time since I’ve been going down there with any regularity, a Class 66 comes into view round the bend and between the trees.

Nothing wrong with a bit of variety, of course, and No. 66137 looked very smart and colourful in her DB red uniform and I prefer this design to the 60s anyway. My little book tells me that the DB Cargo Class 66s are fitted with “stop start technology”, which I expect comes in quite useful from time to time, as well.

Bridge Parapets Two

This one is very close to home. It crosses the Southwell Trail at the site of the former Farnsfield station on Cockett Lane, at the corner of Station Lane. There is a nice display of wild flowers growing along the grass verge at this point.

Probably the most boring railway photo in the world

- though, I realise that there is already some competition in that category within my own collection. This one shows a bridge parapet on the road leading into Rainworth from the White Post roundabout. It is disappearing beneath vegetation and on the other side of the road its twin has vanished long ago. I nearly failed to notice it in passing, myself, and I had to double back to take my photo, having suddenly realised that it represented a gap in my mental map of the old colliery lines in the area.

This was the bridge over the spur connecting the Blidworth colliery branch to the Mansfield to Southwell line. It looped round to join that route in a south to east connection at Blidworth Junction, allowing coal from the pit to be taken straight towards Nottingham, via Fiskerton Junction. Moving on, I turned towards Blidworth and came across Nightjar Way, close to the former colliery site. Though nightjars are still regular summer visitors to the area, they will be giving this particular venue a miss since all these new houses have been built on their patch.

Groundhog Day

Back to Rolleston for yesterday’s lunchtime oil empties from Kingsbury to Humber refinery. Class 60 No. 60039 Dove Holes was in charge this time. The moments waiting for the train - just listening to bird song and the breeze rustling the leaves on the trees whilst looking out for warblers and raptors - has become quite an important part of the experience.

Amazingly, I also still get a bit of a buzz when any locomotive-hauled train first pulls into view. At least no one told me to “Fall off” my bike this time, as happened last time out, after I had pulled onto the verge to allow him to pass me in a narrow lane. I thought I was doing him a favour. Perhaps he took it as indicative of my irritation at having him right behind me. White van man rushing to judgement - say no more.  

Rambling Again

Online chats have been one of the pluses of this extra time at home. Numbers can get a bit unwieldy if you want to make sure that you get your “half-pen’orth” in, though, while trying not be rude by simply shouting the loudest. Andy and I went off on one recently, remembering the many visits we made to the sheds  - especially Birkenhead - in the early and mid-60s. I could see that the girls’ eyes were starting to glaze over, but we were on a roll by then and there was no stopping us.

Most sheds were in solidly working-class areas and typically surrounded by rows of small Victorian terraced houses. No front gardens, and the front doors opened straight out onto the pavement. We were generally out of our comfort zone. In some cases, we were part of an organised visit and possibly even in school uniform, which I suppose afforded us some safety in numbers.

Usually, we were in smaller groups, at weekends and during holidays. Cycling also provided some security. Once into Birkenhead, my guess is that we upped the pace in a Pavlovian response to the change of location demarcated by the bridges over the docks. We were in and out of Mollington Street on a Sunday morning like a dose of salts - weaving in and out of any small knots of kids playing in the cul-de-sac and too fast to attract comment from the somewhat dazed middle-aged men propped up against their front doors in their vests, smoking a fag, recovering from a trip to the pub the night before and maybe planning to squeeze in another quick half while their nearest and dearest saw to the Sunday roast.

Where we were more vulnerable was away from home in areas we didn’t know. We were tentatively finding our way, guided by Aidan Fuller’s shed directory. Gangs of lads of our age were exactly what we needed to avoid. I fancy that the local youths would probably have noticed that we were different - strangers with a different accent, maybe looking a bit on the clean side [in the morning, anyway] and dressed by Marks and Spencer’s.

The surprising thing is that, by and large, we got away with it. As Andy reminded me, the folk who lived near to the sheds must have been used to this procession of kids from all sorts of backgrounds wandering through their home turf. They probably didn’t even bat an eyelid. The only two such confrontations I can remember were both when cycling. The only time we were seriously apprehended, at all, was by the shed foreman at Shrewsbury. Even that did not deter us from returning the next morning after a night at the local youth hostel.

Once in the sheds, of course, the only other lads were like-minded and part of our tribe. We understood each other and there was never any bother. We led a charmed life. More than ever, now, that is just how it seems. 

Crab No. 42942 was a Birkenhead engine and we saw her many times. She was one of two Crabs still at work at the beginning of 1967. Here she is in March of that year, dead as a dodo at the side of the sheds in the company of a 2-10-0. By November 1967 steam had finished operating out of Mollington Street.