Homage to the Torbay Express

Growing up in South Devon, I appreciated how lucky I was to be able to walk around the coast and through country lanes, lined by deep hedges, to woods and meadows with abundant wild flowers. Solitary walks were a source of solace from unhappy times and they also enabled me to recognise the importance of the natural world; something that has stayed with me ever since. It influenced my choice of subjects to study in the Sixth Form at school and then at university, and, although I could be called a scientist, I prefer to think of myself as a natural historian, as physical sciences are still a bit of a mystery to me and the study of biosciences is now dominated by one animal, rather than the wide range of animals, plants and micro-organisms that make up most of the natural world.

My other passion as a boy was trainspotting [1] and we were lucky in having a large number of trains bringing visitors to Torbay, especially on summer Saturdays. One train stood out: this was the Torbay Express that ran daily from Paddington to Kingswear and I looked on it with both admiration and envy; the former coming from the condition of whichever Castle Class locomotive pulled the train in the 1950s, and envy because I felt that there was no chance of me travelling on anything so prestigious. The Torbay Express was second only to the Cornish Riviera Express (called the Reveera by us) that didn’t come along our line and, as its name suggests, went to Plymouth and then on to Cornwall. Like “The Torbay”, it was not a train used much by holidaymakers; more by those in business and similar occupations, or by those who preferred smart, and rapid, travel.

The Torbay Express was originally called the Torbay Limited and ran on the GWR’s direct line through Berkshire, Wiltshire and Somerset, rather than on the earlier main line through Bristol. After Taunton, the line climbed to Whiteball tunnel and then entered Devonshire (an image of the express at this point is shown below, together with one of the train entering Exeter, where it made its first stop in the 1950s).

 

O.S.Nock [2] describes the journey on to Torbay: 

Emerging from the western end of Parsons Tunnel [see image below] the coastwise prospect is completely changed and extends to the rocky islets at the entrance to Tor Bay that we shall see at closer range later. The red cliffs are higher than ever here though less dramatic in their formation, but the sea wall, an invaluable protection for the railway in winter, is a favourite promenade for the holiday-makers of Teignmouth, whether they are railway enthusiasts or not.. 

..The line runs through the back of Teignmouth town between high retaining walls, in Dartmoor granite, but quickly enough on the left hand side there come delightful glimpses across the harbour, boat yards, and the estuary of the River Teign, with the beautiful little town of Shaldon beneath the high red cliff of the Ness.

The description by Nock continues after the Torbay Express has run through Newton Abbot (see image above) and then on through Kingskerswell and Torre to its next stop in Torquay: 

The present main station, by Livermead Sands, is near enough to the beach for some enticing glimpses of the waters of Tor Bay, and as the train starts away for the south, and negotiates some sharp though short gradients the line comes right out above the beach [at Hollicombe] and the full beauty of Torquay’s situation and its superb and rugged coastline is displayed. At this stage in the journey the prospect is soon cut off, by the houses of Paignton.. 

..On leaving Paignton, and climbing on to the cliff edge beyond Goodrington Sands (see image below) the wide panorama over the entire sweep of Tor Bay reveals some of its interesting and complex geological features. The red sandstone cliffs of Dawlish and Teignmouth recur at Paignton, in an even deeper shade of red, but at each end of the bay, on the north side extending outwards from Torquay to Hope’s Nose, and at the south beyond Brixham to Berry Head, the tattered and splintered rock formations from “London Bridge” to the outlying Thatcher and Oar Stones, and Berry Head itself are examples of carboniferous limestone, and provide such striking and spectacular cliff structure as to cause at least one eminent geographer to compare it with those of the Mediterranean Riviera resorts.

Passing over the summit at Churston the express then ran down to the beautiful Dart valley, skirting along the river bank to the terminus at the small town of Kingswear at the mouth of the river. Remaining passengers could then travel over to Dartmouth by ferry, the town having a railway station but no railway lines (there were never any!). What a contrast it must have seemed to London and its suburbs, and what a pleasure to be able to study the landscape from a railway carriage as it passes down the line.

All this was for the passengers. Trainspotters could either find a location where the express sped past or see it at Exeter, Torquay or Paignton. There, the polished locomotive could be admired and one could take in its metallic, oily and smoky smells after the rapid, and hard-working, journey down from London. All very special memories and, as Nock points out in his descriptions of the section of line through South Devon, a link between the wonders of steam locomotives and the geology of the terrain through which the Torbay Express passed at the end of its journey. Geology is part of natural history after all, but my main interest in that subject did not involve distant views, rather in what plants and animals could be seen first-hand on shores, or in hedgerows, and what could be seen with a simple microscope.

I still like steam locomotives and, as my career has shown, I have an abiding love of natural history. Both started when I was in a boy in Torbay and I’m pleased that, in this regard at least, I have failed to grow up.

 

[1] https://rwotton.blogspot.com/2021/07/memories-of-privet-in-torbay.html

[2] O.S.Nock (1985) Great British Trains: An evocation of a memorable age in travel. London, Pelham Books.

Photograph credits (in sequence) R.J.Blenkinsop; S.Creer; Ben Brooksbank;  R.J.Blenkinsop; and Derek Cross.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A religious upbringing?

Canadian rock legend Neil Young sold some of his extensive model railway collection this week: https://www.liveauctioneers.com/catalog/112391_property-from-the-collection-of-neil-young/ As a child, I would have been very envious of these, as I had a hand-me-down Hornby clockwork set to play with and, although there was lots of track, locomotives, coaches and wagons, there was little concession to reality and patience ran thin when derailments, and spectacular crashes, occurred so frequently.

My interest anyway was in the railways on which the models were based and I was fortunate in being brought up in Paignton during the 1950s and early 1960s, a time when full-sized trains played an important role in the life of the town. We were a family of five and all three brothers had an interest in trainspotting so, as the youngest, it was inevitable that I would follow suit and eventually be given an Ian Allan book to underline the numbers of locomotives I had seen. For me, it almost had the status of a religion and I could relate to the thrill of seeing all the different types more easily than I could to the excitement I was led to believe came from Bible stories. Of course, trains provided no promise of salvation, or any link to something supernatural, but they provided an introduction to steam locomotives with the names of castles, halls, granges and manors in shiny brass letters on their curved nameplates: places that seemed as exotic, and yet rather closer to home, than the various Biblical names I heard so frequently at Winner Street Baptist Church. Another difference between the two “religions” was that train worship was seasonal, with a concentration in July and August and it was Saturday, not Sunday, that required my attendance at the railway station early in the morning. My place was against the railings just visible in the far left of the contemporary photograph (above), taken in quieter times and there was nothing like summer Saturdays for rarities from distant parts. All manner of locomotives were pressed into service, including those designed for pulling freight trains.

So, why was Paignton such a mecca (if you will excuse an Islamic pun)? Something of the flavour of events is described by David St John Thomas and Simon Rocksborough Smith in their book Summer Saturdays in the West [1]:

The overnight trains always had a reputation for running late, and on the busiest Saturdays when many ran in several parts the average late arrival at..Paignton could be as much as two hours. If it was as bad as this, then engines and stock were often not available to start return trips from Paignton to London, the Midlands or North in time, and so delays spread. At times, almost a half of the incoming holidaymakers arrived in their resorts by breakfast time.. .. Of course, these masses of incoming visitors could not go to their hotels or camps until noon or even later and were this something of a liability to the resorts, swamping swimming pools and cafes (once a Paignton cafe sold 600 eggs at a Saturday breakfast time) and overfilling public shelters or just remaining on the station platforms when it was wet. Those who had not booked accommodation would form queues outside information bureaux before opening time..

..Once the overnight trains had passed through there would be a slight lull on the down line, filled in by a few strictly local trains for the large numbers of Taunton and Exeter people going to the sea on day trips..

I noticed the crowds streaming off the trains, of course, but they were of little importance to me compared to the busy work of the locomen, guards and station staff and the wondrous noises and smells from the locomotives. In the picture below (taken from Thomas and Smith’s book) you can see the crowds at Torquay (the next stop up the line) waiting for a train to Manchester, as a train for Leeds pulls out of the station. The same scene played out at Paignton, but departing trains never had the same interest, as their locomotives had already been seen on the way down. However, the crews needed to make a spirited getaway as the line quickly began a climb and there was much other activity as departing, and arriving trains, passed over a level crossing, with gates controlled manually from the signal box. All a whirl of activity, although my interest waned after a few years, as did the number of trains.

I don’t know whether my experiences on these summer Saturdays provide an example of the Jesuit maxim “Give me the child for his first seven years, and I’ll give you the man”, but I’ve retained my interest in railways, and in steam locomotives, having taken a locoman’s course (see below) and had the pleasure of riding on the footplate of a steam locomotive on more than one occasion (see below). In contrast, my interest in churchgoing – never strong – dwindled to nothing by the time I was 12 years old and I no longer attended at Winner Street. I realised then that my interest in Natural History was becoming absorbing and provided me with a sense of wonder that doesn’t need a theistic explanation. I'm afraid it is still like that.

[1] David St John Thomas and Simon Rocksborough Smith (1973) Summer Saturdays in the West. David & Charles, Newton Abbot.