
The state of our railways: not so bad!
November 22, 2009
The Ebbw Vale Line: Film Stars and a Phoenix
June 2, 2009A welcome in the Valleys
The geography of the Welsh valleys north of Cardiff and Newport was such that made the landowners, and the railways, very rich – if not the poor beggars digging the coal at great risk way underground.
The valleys run north-south, cut into much higher ground by erosion, and gave access to rich coal seams. At first canals tried to get up these valleys to carry out the black harvest, then railways snaked in during the 19th century from the Great Western Main Line running along the coast, although the original aim was get coal simply down to the docks. Just about everything in Britain was coal-powered then – railways, ships, gas works, factories, electricity generation when that started, and almost every home’s heating or hot water. The demand was immense.
Iron and steelworks also boomed in South Wales, bringing in more rail traffic. When the passenger services declined after World War II, many routes were closed, but luckily a few stayed open, some just for heavy freight.
This included the Ebbw Vale line, running north from Newport, which follows:
Film stars and a phoenix
Typical of the Valley Lines that extend north of Cardiff and Newport in Wales is the Ebbw Vale line, in that it was created to serve heavy industry – and was saved by freight traffic too. That miraculous survival means today it is still there to take passengers to the beautiful valleys and hill tops once wreathed in pollution from heavy industry. Now the mines and steelworks have gone – and their jobs too, sadly – but flowers grow and sheep graze where slag heaps once were a sterile moonscape, and the rust-red dust that covered everything around the steelworks is a thing of the past too.
The cracking country walks are all the better for the clean air and now unpolluted rivers.
I say the Ebbw Vale branch was saved. In fact it closed for passengers in 1962, the heavy freight continuing for long enough to mean the track was maintained and not ripped up for scrap. Then on one glorious day in 2008 it was reborn like a phoenix. It was a great example of local people-power working with county, Welsh, British and European authorities to get things done. Nor was it done on the cheap – all the stations have new shelters and the signalling is up-to-the-minute LED stuff. (Not for the first time one wonders why English branches, if they are kept open at all, have to make do with inflexible services caused by a one-engine-in-steam policy, and no signals. Every expense spared!)
Here it’s been done properly, no doubt as a boost to the local economy devastated by the loss of mining and steelworks jobs, and the service is quick and efficient. At the time of writing trains from Ebbw Vale in the hills run south down towards Newport but then swerve west along the Great Western Main Line to Cardiff. Being the capital and having jobs and shops galore and – if you’re Welsh – the best rugby stadium in the world, Cardiff is probably where the commuters in the new housing estates that have replaced the industrial dereliction at several stations up this line want to go. But Newport, always in nearby Cardiff’s shadow, feels slighted by this and is likely to get a direct service off the line too, if a bit more track doubling allows a train to each direction each hour. Certainly the passenger usage in the first year beat all targets, so the scheme must be judged a great success.
The route described, from the south
The Ebbw Vale line makes a good excursion from Cardiff, in less than an hour.
Once you turn off the GWML, from whichever city you start, you soon reach Rogerstone, with fine views of the hills ahead and the typical neat new suburban housing which has replaced those perhaps grim (but friendly at the same time) two-up-two-down terraces, with the front room opening straight on to the street, that comes to mind when you think Welsh Valleys.

Joe Calzaghe
The next station serves two villages, Risca and Pontymister, and starts a double-track section. Then we cross the valley to follow the River Ebbw upwards. Next comes Crosskeys, the station-less village of Abercarn, and Newbridge. Newbridge was and is home to the great boxer Joe Calzaghe who retired unbeaten in 2009, having won 46 games, including one where he broke his hand – so he fought on with the other one!
Talking about sport, note how little flat land there is in each community and how they devote it first and foremost to a rugby pitch. Houses, schools and chapels can perch on the hills.
The next community, Crumlin, had the luxury of two stations. One of them, Crumlin Low Level, was on this line, originally the Monmouthshire Railway. But the other soared way overhead on a now vanished viaduct, made of cast and wrought iron, linking with a railway across the tops of these hills.

Arabesque (1966) starred Gregory Peck and Sophia Loren
I wouldn’t normally go on about something you can’t see (although the stone abutments are still there, high on the hillside) but this one was utterly extraordinary. It was the highest viaduct in Britain, and almost unbelievably, starred in a film Arabesque with Gregory Peck and Sophia Loren.
The little trains of the east-west Newport, Abergavenny & Hereford Railway would cross the valley so high they seemed like aircraft.
The viaduct was the third highest in the world. Some described its lattice construction as effortlessly elegant, or ugly to others, and it had a certain beauty from the hills up top, because it and its almost adjoining viaduct, like Miss Loren, had very attractive curves.
At the viaduct’s opening a character from Pontypool called, of course, Mad Jack, was persuaded to drive the test train, loaded with lead and pig iron, to test the high girders for deflection. He was said to have visited every pub in the district to get up his courage, then took the train at a fair lick instead of the officially recommended crawl for the test. The shaken engineer who accompanied him asked ‘Why the **** did you go at that speed?’ Mad Jack replied: ‘When eternity looks you straight in the face, you may as well go at full speed to meet it!’
Trains were then put on both tracks weighing a total of 380 tons and onlookers in the valley far below were startled to see the engineer climb over the handrail to examine the girders for deflection. It was within the limits.
The Crumlin Viaduct was completed in 1855, and it should be remembered this was before steel became cheaply available, so it was made of cast iron and wrought iron, a startling achievement. The same stuff as the ill-fated Tay Bridge, but much better done.
The passenger route up above closed in 1964, under the Beeching cuts, and although the viaduct was a listed structure, British Railways said it had to come down, citing maintenance costs. In fact it had been the cheapest viaduct to build and had little spent on it apart from painting every seven years, but it was an unsentimental age it was doomed and down it came over the next two years.
But not before it starred in that Hollywood film.
Next station is Llanhilleth, where buses for Abetertillery link up. The rail link to that that town, however, came next at the closed station of Aberbeeg, where the track taking off right can clearly be seen, with its platform intact, although it closed in 1962. The optimistic Welsh are even talking about reopening that line, making this a junction again.
The next station up that closed line reminds us of the terrible cost of the coal boom that created these railways and towns. The Six Bells colliery disaster came in 1960 – late on in the mining era, although the mine didn’t finally close until the 1980s. The toll of the gas explosion was 45 dead, the cost to local families incalculable, particularly when you recall the fatalities included two fathers each with two sons.
Then it’s a short run up to Ebbw Vale Parkway, a bit of a hike from the town centre. That terminus, too, may be extended in the near future, but you have to admit they’ve done a fair job of the reopening and looking at the number of passengers, it’s a cracking success.
One last thing before we leave the valleys. You know those satirical nicknames passengers gave to railway company initials? In the coal boom years there was line running across the tops of the valleys called the B&M for Brecon and Merthyr. After a few runaways on its steep inclines, it was thereafter known as the Breakneck and Murder…
There’s lots more history of the Crumlin Viaduct and loads of photos at: www.crumlinviaduct.co.uk

Railway Heroes in the Fens
June 2, 2009Soham, a small market town near Cambridge, is sadly remembered by some for the worst of human nature. Better here to recall another mainly forgotten and dramatic incident that brought out the very best of mankind: heroism, duty, self-sacrifice and calm professionalism under terrible pressure.
It is a story that gives us far, far better reasons for remembering this attractive little town.
At about 01.30 in the morning on Friday 2 June 1944, a long goods train was chuffing and clanking its unhurried way across the darkened landscape towards Soham from Ely. Although World War II was reaching fever pitch, with the whole Allied effort in top gear for the imminent invasion of Europe, and the buzz-bombs still landing on London, around Soham all was quiet apart from the odd owl hoot… and the passage of the train.

Benjamin Gimbert, driver
People would not have slept so soundly had they known what the goods train contained. Forty-four of its 51 wagons were loaded with 500lb and 250lb bombs destined for an American air base. Six more were loaded with fuses, detonators, tail fins and release gear for this fearsome weaponry. All was stacked and roped carefully to prevent mishap and covered with fire-resistant tarpaulins.
The signals were clear to allow the train through Soham as it steadily approached. Something made driver Benjamin Gimbert glance back along his train, although everything had been checked at the last stop. Now Gimbert was horrified to see flames licking up at the corner of the first wagon behind his coal tender.
He pulled the whistle cord to alert the guard in his brake van at the rear of the train. Both had the sense not to apply their brakes sharply. Sending stacks of bombs tumbling over would not help, so the heavy train slowed for maybe two minutes to a halt about 200 yards before Soham station.

James Nightall, fireman
The driver remained at his post while telling fireman Jim Nightall to get down on the track and run back to uncouple the burning wagon from the rest. He told Nightall to take a coal hammer, in case the coupling was too hot to handle. This uncoupling done, Gimbert opened the regulator as Nightall climbed back onto the footplate and sped the one burning wagon away from the rest of the bomb-laden train.
As he passed through the station he slowed to yell to the signalman, Frank ‘Sailor’ Bridges: ‘Sailor – have you anything between here and Fordham? Where’s the mail?’ He knew the mail train was due and didn’t want to endanger another train with his burning bomb wagon.
Bridges was another case of a quick-thinking man doing his duty. He had seen exactly what was happening from his post, had not only made sure the mail train was not yet in that section, but also protected the rear of the stricken train by sending a warning bell to the previous signal box, and further requested another engine to come and extract the rest of the train. Now he rushed to the platform edge carrying a full fire bucket in a forlorn attempt to douse the flames as the now brightly burning wagon rolled past.

Frank Bridges, signalman
But signalman Bridges was never to answer driver Gimbert’s desperate question. A deafening, massive blast blew the wagon to shreds, the 44 high explosive bombs exploding like simultaneous hits from several Flying Fortress aircraft they should have been dropped from. The station was instantly reduced to rubble, the line to a huge crater. Signalman Bridges was killed by the blast, as was fireman Nightall.
Amazingly, driver Gimbert came round some 200yds away on the grass outside the Station Hotel where he had been flung. The burnt and bleeding man staggered, dazed and unbelieving to his feet and asked the startled townspeople who came running whether his fireman and guard were safe. He was kept away from the smouldering crater where his engine had been, and taken to hospital. There, characteristically, he refused to be carried on a stretcher, saying he was too heavy, and walked in, with support.
Typically for the get-on-with-it era – compared to today where a line is closed for five weeks after an accident – the railway and military, including some US Army engineers with bulldozers, worked like demons to restore the vital rail link. The crater was rapidly filled in and the earth tamped solid, the wreckage removed by breakdown trains and new rails and sleepers rushed forward by willing hands. By 20.20 on the same day both tracks were open for traffic again where there had been a gaping pit just hours before.
Soham’s station had been completely destroyed and was never properly rebuilt; 13 houses were damaged beyond repair and much of the rest of the town suffered broken windows and lost slates. Several townspeople were injured. Yet had the whole train and all its bombs gone up, had the engine crew merely jumped from the train and run as simple self-preservation would have suggested, or unhitched just the engine to make their escape faster, the whole town would have gone and most of the people with it, leaving just a smoking wasteland. Hundreds would have died.

60th anniversary memorial
In the following month driver Ben Gimbert and fireman Jim Nightall were (posthumously) awarded the George Cross, the highest honour the King could give civilians, and the London & North Eastern Railway awarded them silver medals too.
At the time, with the D-Day invasion of Europe going on, their heroism was hardly noticed, with plenty of other heroes dying elsewhere to think about, plenty of bigger bits of history being made.
Eventually all the men involved in Soham’s deliverance would be remembered in plaques at the church, and even today you may see two modern diesel freight locos named Benjamin Gimbert GC and James Nightall GC rumbling around the system, maybe over the very spot. ‘They are not the first locos named after those two since the war, nor will they be the last,’ said one railwayman.
But for a memorial, who can better the six opening words of the minister at Soham Church, also saved from certain destruction, where the villagers gathered to give thanks for their miraculous escape on the following Sunday? As the wind whistled through a few missing window panes blown out by the blast, the minister started: ‘But for men such as these…’




