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.
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