Ken's 2019 All Lines Rail Rover
Trains
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Stations
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Miles
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Train 1
Service: 1M90 0422 Glasgow Central to Manchester Airport
Operator: TransPennine Express
Class: 350
My journey
Glasgow Central to Manchester Airport
Stats: 224.6 miles, 9 stops in 3:56 (57.1 mph)
Yesterday was fairly relaxed. I didn’t start travelling until nearly 8.00 and I finished just after six. And, at just over 220 miles, I hadn’t covered much ground. Today would be slightly different.
I hadn’t bought a hotel breakfast as I’d be leaving over two hours before they started serving. I didn’t set an alarm (I didn’t at any time on this trip – who cares if I miss a train?) but was still on Central Station in time for the train I was hoping to catch, the first Virgin Trains service of the day to the south, scheduled to leave at 0428. This is early morning by any standards. Despite the hour there were quite a few people on the station. This made me uneasy. The train is due to leave soon, so what are people sitting on the benches for?
Engineering work, that’s why. My train was trapped in Polmadie depot because the work hadn’t been completed on time. It’s one of the hazards of early-morning travel on a Monday. Nobody had a clue just when the lines would open so I considered my options. There was a train in the platform adjacent to the absent Virgin, lights on, engines running and doors unlocked. It was the 04:22 to Manchester Airport. It wasn’t ideal, but if the Virgin turned up before this one left I could always cross the platform.
I took a seat and chatted to the trolley attendant. He’d heard nothing about when we could expect to leave, as the problem preventing the Virgin from reaching Central was also preventing us from leaving. But at least I was on a train. It would mean a change of plans. I was supposed to reach Carlisle at 05:41, giving me 10 minutes to catch the 05:51 to Leeds. This train would pass along the self-styled England’s most scenic railway, the Settle and Carlisle, travelling through some of the wildest parts of the Pennines. I’d have passed Ingleborough and Pen-y-Ghent and crossed the Ribblehead viaduct. But I’ve travelled the line before so could manage without it. Just as well, as the 04:28 should have left 10 minutes ago but hadn’t arrived from the depot yet.
The train I was on was a slower train than the Virgin, capable of only 110 mph rather than 125 mph and lacking the ability to tilt, and in any case was supposed to be overtaken by the Virgin on the journey south.
We left Central Station at 04:45, over 20 minutes late, but my mood was immediately improved by the trolley man giving me a cup of tea. It wasn’t light yet, so I didn’t really appreciate the fact that this very early service, as well as the Virgin that I’d given up on, travels by an unusual route as it leaves Glasgow. Just after Newton it turns off the main line to pass through Uddingston, Bells Hill, Holytown and Wishaw before regaining the normal route at Law Junction, quite close to the junction for the Lanark branch. The trains go this way, I assume, so that drivers can refresh their knowledge of this route, which is useful when diversions are taking place. The unusual route means that this is probably the only TransPennine train on the service not to call at Motherwell. But who in Motherwell would be up at this hour?.
We pulled into the platform at Carstairs. Carstairs sees fairly few passenger trains these days but is the place where the two parts of the Lowland Sleeper split when heading north, and join when heading south. In a siding on my right was an electric locomotive waiting for the northbound sleeper so that it could take its portion to Edinburgh.
Carstairs is the only place between Glasgow and Carlisle where a passenger train can overtake another. We were scheduled to wait here for 8.5 minutes to allow the Virgin to pass us. Of course, we were well behind time due to our late getaway from Glasgow, but we waited at Carstairs in any case and for the same reason. The Virgin service to London, running very late, was now on its way and we were not to impede its progress.
While we were waiting I was surprised to see a (class 68) diesel locomotive pulling passenger coaches pass us on the left and take the sharp curve towards Edinburgh. I looked it up on Realtimetrains and saw that it was running from Mossend to Edinburgh where it would help commuters on the Fife Circle to get to work. This is one of a small number of loco-hauled sets that have been running on the network recently, making up for rolling stock shortages. Those in East Anglia and on the Cumbrian Coast have already ended, whereas one on the Valley Lines in Wales has just been introduced. The stock may be old, but it’s very comfortable. The commuters of Cowdenbeath and Rhymney should enjoy it while it lasts.
Eventually the Virgin Pendolino passed and, once it was clear, off we set. The train, a TransPennine Express class 350 electric multiple unit (EMU), accelerated smartly after the Pendolino, but the driver was fooling nobody. We were outclassed in the speed stakes. We were also calling at more stations than the Virgin. The first was Lockerbie, at which we were booked to wait 13 minutes. I don’t know why as there’s no ability for a faster train to pass here. As we were already late we made just a token stop before carrying on south, calling at Carlisle before passing between the Pennines and the Lake District in beautiful scenery to Penrith and Oxenholme. We continued south, picking up increasingly large numbers of Manchester commuters as we called at Lancaster and Preston. As we approached Salford we’d made up all of the lost time, so I fully expected us to reach Manchester Piccadilly punctually.
But no. Upgrade work had closed part of the West Coast Main Line. Some of the displaced trains were being diverted via Manchester Piccadilly. Piccadilly is an odd station consisting of (at least) two parts. There’s the terminus, with 12 platforms, then there are two through platforms, 13 and 14. These are very, very busy, and we had to queue in the notorious Castlefield corridor for the south-bound platform. Progress was slow as we merged with traffic from Liverpool and from Manchester Victoria via the new Ordsall Curve. But we arrived eventually, 15 minutes late.
Now I had a problem. I wanted a train that left at 08:47. It was now 08:43. There were huge numbers of commuters everywhere and I had to get from platform 13 to platform 1, the furthest platform of all in the main station. I followed the signs and found myself in a long walkway leading to the main concourse. I had to cut across the flow of Mancunian wage slaves to find someone to let me through the barrier, run the length of the concourse, then find someone else to let me through another barrier onto the platform to my train. Which was, of course, ‘the train furthest from the ticket barrier’.
Note that I let England down again, with my undignified scramble at Piccadilly.
Train 2
Service: 1K11 08:47 Manchester Piccadilly to Hull
Operator: TransPennine Express
Class: 185
My journey
Whole route
Stats: 94.5 miles, 9 stops in 2:05 (45.3 mph)
The guard had his finger on the ‘close door’ button as I puffed my way on board and we were moving before I’d even sat down. Tea was served very promptly – thank you, TransPennine Express. Yes, I was on another of their trains, this time a class 185 diesel multiple unit (DMU), recently refurbished. Apart from the inevitable engine noise, it’s fine, at least if you’re in first class and have a seat. The main problem that TransPennine passengers face is overcrowding, which has been chronic. TransPennine are about to replace all their electric trains and most of their diesels with newer, longer ones. About time, too, although there’s still plenty of life left in the old units. I hope they’ll be made good use of elsewhere, but there are so many new trains entering service over the next year that many perfectly decent trains will end up in store.
I was about the travel the width of England, all the way to Hull. I like travelling across the Pennines. There’s pleasant scenery, old stone towns, a few remaining factory chimneys and narrow canals. We stopped at Stalybridge then Huddersfield. This is another of Simon Jenkin’s 100 Great Railway Stations, with its vast classical façade. I couldn’t see that aspect from the train but I find the station a little overpowering and pompous. It’s not the kind of building you can imagine having a laugh up the pub. Give me Wemyss Bay or Margate any day.
We continued our journey east via Leeds, Selby, Brough and finally Hull. Despite the punctual departure from Manchester we arrived eight minutes late, due to trespassers on the line near Leeds. I’m not doing very well today. On my past trips there has been minimal disruption, but this week is beginning ominously.
So far today I’ve been on two trains and covered over 300 miles.
Train 3
Service: 2F88 1150 Barton on Humber to Cleethorpes
Operator: Northern
Class: 153 (153331)
My journey
Whole route
Stats: 23.4 miles, 13 stops in 0:52 (27 mph)
My next target is the branch from Barton-on-Humber. The National Rail journey planner claims that the fastest way to this station is to go to Hull and catch a bus over the Humber Bridge. The bus service, which replaced the old New Holland ferry, meets the trains at Barton-on-Humber and is included in National Rail timetables and on Realtimetrains.
Hull Station (no longer called Paragon, sadly) has a modern concourse that stretches along past the bus stops. It has the usual shops, so I was able to grab a coffee before boarding a comfortable double decker for the estuary crossing.
I’ve driven across the Humber Bridge before, and seen it from trains in the past, but a double decker is a very good way of seeing it in all its glory. In my front seat on top I had views to the front, left and right, and the bridge really is very impressive. The bus driver, however, was a nutter.
Not long after we crossed the bridge the bus reached Barton-on-Humber station. It’s one of those very basic end of the line stations, with a single platform and a bus shelter. I was pleased to see that there were quite a few people already on the platform. Soon the train arrived. It was my first journey this week on Northern Railways and my first on a single car class 153 ‘Dogbox’. They weren’t always single car trains. They’re a member of the Sprinter family and used to be class 155 units, with two carriages, but a shortage of trains caused most of the class 155s to be converted into pairs of class 153s. Of course, the carriage ends that used to face each other in the middle of the train needed to have driving cabs added. These cabs are smaller and more claustrophobic than the original cabs and soon were being referred to as dog boxes, a name that was soon attached to the trains themselves.
Northern, like TransPennine Express, has a major capacity problem. They’re a large operator serving about 550 stations but are unglamorous and unloved, operating commuter and rural services across the north. Many of their trains are old and some are the dreaded Pacers, a train type that should have been consigned to history a long time ago. Like several other operators Northern are currently taking advantage of the very low cost of money and are introducing 101 brand new trains, some of which are already in service.
My Dogbox wasn’t one of them, but it was far from uncomfortable. The train headed off along the Lincolnshire coast. The first stop was Barrow Haven, which seems to serve a tiny community, and then New Holland where the line becomes double track. The train stopped at Oxmarsh Crossing for the driver to hand the single-line token back to the signaller. The scene, with traditional wood-framed level crossing gates, a small clapperboard signal box and semaphore signals can have changed little for 50 years. Except for the large industrial sheds alongside the line.
We passed through fields and small towns until we reached the relatively large and industrial town of Grimsby, then passed huge, disused and decaying dock buildings as we continued to our terminus, Cleethorpes.
I knew nothing about Cleethorpes, but the sun was shining and people were enjoying their visit to the seaside. I walked along the prom. I was arrested by the sight of – well, I didn’t knew what. It turned out to be a man with the largest beer belly I’ve ever seen, shirtless, curled up on his side in the foetal position on the beach right up against the sea wall. I passed by, stopping only when I found a stall that would sell me mussels and whelks. I could be that man in a few years.
I’d noticed an attractive building next to the station that was mostly windows. It was a fish and chip shop called The Cleethorpes Mermaid. A sign says that it once formed part of the station, and I think it’s listed. I’d had my shellfish but that wasn’t much fuel, considering I’d been up since four, so I went in. The staff were friendly and my haddock and chips was simply fantastic. Hot fish cooked perfectly with wonderful batter and perfect, crisp chips. And a decent cup of tea, all for £7.10.
Train 4
Service: 1B81 1333 Cleethorpes to Manchester Airport
Operator: TransPennine Express
Class: 185 (185130?)
My journey
Cleethorpes to Grimsby Town
Stats: 3.3 miles, 1 stop in 0:07 (28 mph)
Train 5
Service: 2T48 1349 Grimsby Town to Newark Northgate
Operator: East Midlands
Class: 153 (153308)
My journey
Grimsby Town to Lincoln
Stats: 34.9 miles, 4 stops in 0:52 (50.6 mph)
I walked the few yards required to get back onto the platform and boarded another busy TransPennine Express 185. The train was heading back to Manchester, but I was hopping off after only 7 minutes, at Grimsby Town. From there I caught another Dogbox, this one operated by East Midlands Trains. It looked smart in their bright blue and red livery. This took me back the way I’d come as far as Habrough, then on to Barnetby. Until a couple of years ago this was a very impressive place if you’re into traditional signalling, but no more. If you want to see what it used to be like there’s a cab-view video on YouTube.
After Barnetby it was on to Market Rasen and Lincoln, where I’d change trains again.
Train 6
Service: 1L72 1520 Lincoln to Leeds
Operator: Northern
Class: 158 (158790)
My journey
Lincoln to Sheffield
Stats: 48.4 miles, 5 stops in 1:18 (37.2 mph)
I had quite a long wait, but not really time to see Lincoln. I certainly didn’t have the time or energy to climb the aptly named Steep Hill to the cathedral, so I just sat in the bright sunshine. My train, which turned round at Lincoln, arrived very early but I didn’t get on until it was almost time for it to leave. I could have sat there for hours soaking up rays. It’s odd. I’d hate to sit on a Mediterranean beach, or the sundeck of a liner, but I was perfectly happy sitting on a sunny British railway station close to a noisy diesel train.
Northern was the operator of that train. I hadn’t really looked it while it idled in the platform at Lincoln. But during the journey I thought how comfortable and pleasant it was. What is it? A class 150? It seemed much too, well, nice. It turned out to be a class 158, or Super Sprinter. It took me west past Gainsborough Lea Road, Retford and Worksop. I saw a train going the other way with Gainsborough Central on the front. This confused me, as I thought that the station was only served on Saturdays. But it turns out that from this year there’s a regular hourly service on weekdays as far as Gainsborough Central. The station beyond Gainsborough Central, Brigg, still has to make do with three trains every Saturday, and nothing else. It’s been like that since 1993 and it’s to maintain capacity for freight.
My train was going to Leeds but I was only going as far as Sheffield. It’s a city I’ve spent a lot of time in, including a stint working there in the 1980s. I had no real plans but vaguely thought I’d grab a ride on their shiny new tram-train out to Rotherham, and perhaps ride on the Penistone line. But all I was thinking of as we passed semaphores near Kiveton on the approach to Sheffield was finding my hotel then heading out to find a pint and bite to eat. Easier said than done, as it turned out.
I found my hotel, the Ibis, easily, even though a wrong turning just outside the station had fortuitously taken me to the bar of the Sheffield Tap. From there it was a short walk passing through Ponds Forge bus station, a place that is now far smarter than it was when I was working up here. But then the bus fares are 20 times more expensive because Mrs. Thatcher made cheap local authority buses illegal.
Ibis hotel bedrooms are functional and basic, the shower/toilet/wetroom apparently being a prefabricated unit just dropped in. Everything’s ok except there’s air cooling but no air conditioning. I’d survive. But what about food?
By the time I set out it was getting on, and Sheffield City Centre on a Monday night isn’t exactly buzzing. I aimed for a place that made fresh pizzas and sold craft beer. It was on Campo Lane, a road I knew. Well, they were far from welcoming. They told me that they despite Google claiming there were open until 11 they actually shut at 9.30 (it was now 9.40) so I should jog on. I wandered a little aimlessly and realised I was close to my old workplace, Griffin House, then the headquarters of the Midland Bank. And there was a pub I recognised! The Three Tuns, almost in its shadow.
This was never a pub we used regularly, but it always seemed a decent enough place. I walked in, and it had changed. They say that whenever you visit a building you last visited when young it’s always smaller than you thought. That’s wrong when it comes to pubs. They’ve all expanded somehow, it seems, even when on restricted city centre plots.
It was bright and welcoming. The range of beers was good, although they no longer seemed to sell Wards, so I ordered something else local. I sat down to nurse it when the barman asked me if I’d like a sausage roll, as it would be thrown away otherwise. I never, ever buy sausage rolls. But I was hungry. It was large, hot, greasy and delicious.
The barman went to the other end of the bar to talk to a chap. The three of us were the sum total of people in the place. They were discussing Love Island, so I was unable to contribute.
I decided to have a second pint. As I stood at the bar the other customer thrust a newspaper in front of me and asked if I was any good at crosswords. This was only the i’s quick crossword, which he normally found easy, but today’s had proved challenging. After a few minutes it was complete, and I was now part of a three-way conversation. I was assured that they were not Love Island fans but had caught the last couple of episodes and did not intend to watch the next series. I wonder.
I left at about 10.30, letting the barman lock up. It had been a pleasant hour, and reminded me once again why I love pubs, and hate pretend pubs like Wetherspons. Walking back to the hotel I saw there was a pub almost next to it. The last customers were leaving, long before 11. Whatever happened to Sheffield?
