Inspection Report: The (Windmill Hill) Welsh Highland Railway
Part Two: Going Round in Circles
Emerging, coughing and spluttering, from the smoky confines of the tunnel, it was a relief to be back in the sunshine once again. Although a primitive vehicle by any standards, the trolley on which I was riding did indeed provide an excellent opportunity to inspect the track – I could feel most acutely every dipped joint and dog-legged curve! I was also able to gain a close-up view of the railway’s fencing, which was most disappointing compared with that I had recently observed on the Elderbery and District line, with wonky and rotten posts and sagging wires.
- Inspection 16.jpg (187.06 KiB) Viewed 7644 times
As I spoke this observation into my phone for later transcription, a voice shouted from the composite’s first class compartment, informing me that this, like the landslip and replacement station building, would all be seen to “next year”. So
that’s where Mr Cox had got to!
The engine was working hard now to heave our little train along the steep and twisting line, through attractive landscape which occasionally became virtually indistinguishable from the track itself – plenty of lineside clearance and weed-killer are required!
- Inspection 17.jpg (303.54 KiB) Viewed 7644 times
As we neared Penlan, the halfway point, a most regrettable incident occurred. As I craned to see around the carriages ahead of us, a sudden jolt from the trolley caught me off-balance. My travelling companions insist that they had reached out to steady me, but the end result of their “help” was that I was flung from the trolley and into the lineside vegetation.
- Inspection 18.jpg (276.7 KiB) Viewed 7644 times
Perhaps the lack of clearance actually worked in my favour, because the lush foliage helped to break my fall, although my head struck something hidden in the bushes – thank goodness for my hard hat!
- Inspection 19.jpg (173.92 KiB) Viewed 7644 times
Brushing myself down and pushing aside the branches I found an incredibly dilapidated carriage body which had apparently once served as a Permanent Way hut. On making my way to Penlan station, where my host awaited me, I told him of my discovery.
“Goodness!” he replied, with a startled look on his face, “I’d completely forgotten that was there!” With facilities (and record keeping) like this, no wonder the track is in such a poor state!
The train I had seen earlier was now making its way back down the line and stood waiting in the loop. There was no platform on this line, but the passengers did not seem to consider this a barrier to disembarking, and travellers from both trains were wandering freely over the tracks, taking photographs and purchasing refreshments through the buffet car window, all highly irregular.
- Inspection 20.jpg (238.55 KiB) Viewed 7644 times
I continued my inspection, considering first the simple corrugated iron structure, which had something of an agricultural look about it. I was puzzled as to why the occupants of the waiting area were bothering to consult the timetable or take a seat, when the activity outside suggested an incredibly frequent service for such a short line. I put this observation to the would-be passengers in question, who informed me that although there were plenty of trains
today, the station could sometimes go for months without any service at all! Perhaps that explained the rather low number of passengers aboard the trains – perhaps 20 in total?
- Inspection 21.jpg (168.07 KiB) Viewed 7644 times
Goods traffic looked more promising. I was told that the siding at Penlan saw both timber and granite traffic. I wondered how efficiently these industries were served, for I saw no sign of any wagons suitable for carrying granite, and just a pair of small bolsters for the carriage of timber.
- Inspection 22.jpg (186.5 KiB) Viewed 7644 times
Closer inspection revealed that these were, in fact, the property of the neighbouring Ffestiniog Railway, a subject which I took up with my host.
“Ah, yes, well, we’ll be building our own timber wagons soon” he informed me.
“Next year, perhaps?” I enquired, not without a hint of irony.
“That’s it”, he replied, without any irony at all, “You’re getting it!”
As far as I could see the new wagons couldn’t come quickly enough, the existing ones being clearly inadequate for the amount of custom on offer.
- Inspection 23.jpg (388.05 KiB) Viewed 7644 times
Despite my best endeavours to secure a more comfortable seat, the Permanent Way gang escorted me firmly back to the trolley, and we continued our way up the line, the engine still climbing hard. Much of this leg of the journey was in cuttings or between tall trees, the leaves of which must play havoc with the punctuality of autumn services. Finally, we emerged into the sunshine once more, and our train wheezed to a halt at another simple gravel platform, home to a solitary and rather rusted hut. I stayed put on the trolley, believing that this must be request halt from which we would soon be on our way, but it gradually became apparent that this was, in fact, the end of the line.
I disembarked and looked about in vain for the reason why my fellow passengers had paid good money to be dragged up here, but I must confess I was at something of a loss – there was simply nothing here!
- Inspection 24.jpg (161.81 KiB) Viewed 7644 times
All of this was quite beyond me, so I turned my attention instead to something I do understand – inspection. The object of my attention this time was a rake of slate wagons standing in a siding, presumably awaiting loading at the nearby quarry. I find that a railway’s treatment of its good rolling stock can reveal much about its overall attitude and approach, and so set about a detailed examination of wheels, axleboxes, couplings and so forth. Unsurprisingly, by now, I discovered that these wagons too were on loan from the Ffestiniog Railway. No doubt, had I enquired, I would have been told that the line had its own versions on the drawing board and scheduled for completion “next year”…
- Inspection 25.jpg (192.48 KiB) Viewed 7644 times
I will freely admit that I can get deeply engrossed in my work, but nonetheless I was very surprised to find that the train which had brough me up to this somewhat bleak location had been prepared for its return journey with an efficiency quite uncharacteristic of the line and was already making its way back into the trees. I had been abandoned!
- Inspection 26.jpg (191.33 KiB) Viewed 7644 times
I considered my options. I
could commandeer one of the slate wagons and descend by gravity, but quickly discounted this approach for I was lacking the most basic necessities, namely head and tail lamps, wheel chocks, detonators, a copy of the rule book and a first aid kit. No, there was nothing else for it but to await the arrival of the afternoon goods, and so I resumed my inspection.
Looking back down the line I saw what appeared to be a large drop from the back of the platform, unprotected by either fencing or warning signs, and so I hurried in that direction, clipboard at the ready. I must confess that what I found left me so utterly lost for words that even health and safety considerations were momentarily forgotten - we were but a few hundred yards from where we had started! There below me was the signal box cum aviary, and beyond that I could glimpse the carriages of Russell’s train standing in the platform at Trefechan. What
was the point of this curious operation?!
- Inspection 27.jpg (173.84 KiB) Viewed 7644 times
This state of affairs was clearly ridiculous, but my discovery also opened up exciting opportunities, to which I was eager to draw the railway management’s attention. Within minutes I had scrambled down the embankment and was back at Trefechan once more, where I retrieved my easel and pens from my case and began to draw up plans.
- Inspection 28.jpg (191.89 KiB) Viewed 7644 times
- Inspection 29.jpg (124.49 KiB) Viewed 7644 times
Why bother with that lengthy run to the slate quarry when a simple incline could be used to retrieve loaded slate wagons? Why bother with passenger services when so few are carried? In which case, why bother with station buildings and signalboxes and steam engines? Why bother with any service at all beyond Penlan? So many possibilities for pruning and streamlining! I scribbled away furiously at my easel.
What happened next remains a mystery. The driver swore that he had blown his whistle and kept an adequate look out, and while I admit that I was rather engrossed in my work and standing in the middle of the track, surely my hi-visibility jacket rendered me, well, highly visible? Either way, I glanced up just in time to see
Russell bearing down on me with the aforementioned afternoon goods. I just managed to jump clear, and for the second time that day found myself making a close-up inspection of the lineside flora, while
Russell steamed off into the tunnel, taking my easel and plans with it.
- Inspection 30.jpg (196.98 KiB) Viewed 7644 times
Naturally, I was furious. Storming back to the station I made straight for my wooden box – this ungrateful little line would have to make do without my insight and ingenuity! Mr Cox appeared beside me, and the stress of the situation had clearly got to him too, for once again he was speaking Welsh.
“Canolfan celf!” he babbled, “gardd fotaneg genedlaethol!”. Although, I was sure, he was apologising profusely, I slammed the lid of my box closed in his face. Enough was enough!
- Inspection 31.jpg (154.72 KiB) Viewed 7644 times
As I felt the box begin to move back towards the present day, sure enough, my phone came alive once more. I opened my preferred translation software and duly entered my host’s remarks – maybe, just maybe, I’d be able to look a
little more kindly on this curious anachronism of a railway if I could understand what he had told me?
Nothing could have been further from the truth – the fool had been speaking in road signs! About cattle grids and botanical gardens, and how smoking and dogs were prohibited! All designed, no doubt, to put me off the scent!
“I’ll be back!” I roared, as my box carried me away. And somewhere in the distance I could swear I heard the faint reply,
“Next year?”