#disused railway

[dubmill]

Parkland Walk, Crouch End, London; 2.11.2014

#photography #photographers on tumblr #dubmill #London #Crouch End #England #UK #Britain #Parkland Walk #footpath #disused railway #Crouch End station #original photography #original photograph #2014 #02112014

[selfindulgenttwaddle]

Leaves on the line 🍃

#rail #railway #railway line #abandoned #abandoned railroad #leaf #leaves #leaves on the line #flowers #tulips #disused #unused

[quordleona03]

Scotland so green in early spring.

#photographers of tumblr #trinity path #disused and overgrown railway line #edinburgh #scotland #trees #ivy #wild garlic

[seat-safety-switch]

You might think that buying a train is expensive. They're made of a lot of metal, after all, and scrap prices are quite healthy at the moment. Not only that, but the railroads own all the rails, and those greedy monopolists don't want you to bring your free-enterprise, private individual train on them. There is another option.

You see, railways have these special little trucks, called hi-rails. They're basically strangely narrow pickup trucks, with a little train part on their front and rear, used to maintain the railway (trains are too bourgeois to do their own maintenance, and leave it to "lesser" vehicles.) When these hi-rails get on the tracks, they can turn into trains. Rail cops hassling you? Pop off and drive away like a regular old pickup truck.

Here's the real secret: these things are super cheap at auction. And why wouldn't they be? The only folks who can use them are railways, who already have trucks of their own. Sure, they take the train parts off the truck to make sure you don't do exactly what I'm doing, but any idiot can take a tape measure to some train tracks, and figure out how to cut through the fence at the locomotive maintenance yard to get some wheels. Now, I'm commuting to work using efficient public transit – but doing so with heated seats, cupholders, and satellite radio.

Sure, there are some downsides. Most of my city's transit network is underground, so I spend a lot of time reversing really fast out of tunnels. Years of railway maintenance engineers jumping in and out of it have worn the seat bolsters down quite a bit. And it doesn't go "choo-choo," or even feature a train horn, which was a major disappointment the first time I got on it. Overall, though, I can strongly recommend picking up disused rail-maintenance equipment and committing several federal crimes. Getting to skip the long red light between the Home Depot and my house by jumping into a subway tunnel has paid for itself in, like, a weekend.

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2023: Day 30 - Middle of Nowhere

They Should Have Left This Part of the Island Alone:

The railway line to the new quarry was making the older engines nervous. “I don’t like it,” muttered Duke as he went about his work. “That part of the island is meant to be left alone.”

Skarloey and Rheneas agreed with the old engine. “They’ll find the bridge,” Rheneas hissed at Skarloey. “We closed that line for a reason.” “I know, Rheneas,” Skarloey replied gravely. “But what can we do? If there’s profit to be made, those executives won’t listen to reason.” “What’s up there isn’t reasonable,” Rheneas retorted.

All three were on edge – and it only got worse when the surveyors found an old, creaky iron bridge. It spanned a wide gorge, crossing over a swamp below. Rusty went to help the gangers lay rails over the old structure – only to find that there were already rails! These rails were weather worn, bent out of shape by hot summer days and rusted by frigid winter nights.

“We’ll need to pull these rails up and relay them,” Mr Hugh said. “It’s odd,” Rusty replied. “I didn’t even know there was a bridge up here.” The little diesel began the long, tedious task of carefully removing the old rails and replacing them with fresh new ones. Somehow, the bridge itself had not suffered the same fate as the track. Instead, it stood silently over the gorge, perfectly frozen in time.

Rusty felt like the railway was intruding on something, purely by crossing over the gorge.

Still, they pressed on.

They found the trackbed of an old railway on the other side of the bridge, one which twisted and turned carefully through the mountains until it reached an abandoned quarry, sat perfectly at the base of the mountain they wished to mine.

“It’s an abandoned quarry,” Rusty told the other engines. “And it’s in the middle of nowhere! I don’t get it. Who’d even put a quarry there, let alone abandon it and leave a giant iron bridge behind!”

Skarloey and Rheneas shared a worried look, while Duke went eerily quiet.

“I thought your railway blew up that bridge,” hissed Duke the next morning, once the other engines had left for work. “We thought so too,” Skarloey replied, eyes wide. “We planted the dynamite and everything! You don’t think…” “I wouldn’t want to risk it,” Duke replied solemnly.

Much of the line was overgrown, and soon the foreman began asking for trains to run up to the construction site to take away all the trimmed branches and leaves from the trees. Rusty and Peter Sam set to work on the trains, hauling long lines of trucks up and down the extension.

“You be careful on that old line,” Duke warned Peter Sam. “That is a part of the island few venture to for good reason.” Peter Sam was confused. “Granpuff, what are you talking about? I know it’s in the middle of nowhere, but it’s nothing to be afraid of!” “Just listen to me,” Duke hissed, his eyes ablaze. Peter Sam gulped. “That part of the island is not to be trifled with! You take care, for the love of Saint Machan, Peter Sam!” Peter Sam shakily agreed to the old engine’s frightening warning.

Construction continued apace. The new quarry was further up the mountain than the abandoned one, and a line was constructed through a narrow gorge below the old quarry to reach it, circling around behind the mountain towards the site.\

That was where they found it.

It was a boulder, rounded by wind and rain buffeting it on all sides. It stood high up on a ledge, completely cut off from the rest of the world by the rough terrain. “What a sight…” gasped Rusty when the little diesel first saw it. “It’s certainly something,” agreed Duncan. “Don’t see stuff like that every day.”

The old quarry was reopened the next week. It still had veins of slate it reached, some nestled deep in the mountainside. Trucks began grumbling their way up the once-disused incline again, bringing load after load of slate and stone down the extension, across the old iron bridge and then down the valley.

“I don’t like this,” Duke remarked, watching nervously as Sir Handel shunted his trucks into place for Henry to load onto his goods train. “You don’t like most things, Granpuff,” snorted Sir Handel. Duke just scowled and steamed away to collect his next passenger train.

But Henry noticed that Duke kept gazing up the valley towards where he’d been told the quarry was, a fearful look in his eye. As the big green engine heaved his heavy goods train out of the siding, there was a sudden clunk from beneath him. “What was that?” he asked, throwing on the brakes – but it was too late. One of the slate trucks toppled right over, smashing into wooden splinters as its brakes jammed in the points. Henry stared back at his trucks in shock. Sir Handel was also stunned. Neither of them noticed Duke watching the entire spectacle with wide eyes.

“It’s already beginning to make an appearance,” hissed Duke to the other old engines that night. “Did you see what happened to Henry? That was a slate truck that derailed.” “It spilled across the entire mainline,” Skarloey said. “There was no way we couldn’t see that mess!” “So what do we do?” Rheneas asked. “A better question is what can we do?” Skarloey groaned. Neither of the other engines had an answer.

Winter set in not long after that, bringing with it fogs that curled up from the rivers and lakes along the Skarloey Railway and blanketed everything in thick, impenetrable grey. The snow followed close behind, a blizzard of white slush falling all through the night.

When the snow came, it made work difficult. Industry ground to a halt – but they still mined the slate from the lower quarry to keep the engines busy. Skarloey, Rheneas and Duke hated it when they had to go up the extension. The old iron bridge swayed and groaned under them, as though threatening to collapse at any second.

The workmen, however, didn’t notice. They were busy at the quarry, where they’d shovelled as much snow as possible into a giant bank behind the buffers. They believed the snowbank would stop runaway trucks from skidding all the way down into the ravine the line used.

One especially frosty morning, Skarloey was sent up to the quarry with some coal trucks and empty slate wagons. “Be careful,” warned Rheneas. “We may have passed that time of year, but I wouldn’t be too sure that it’s not still out there.” Skarloey agreed and was extra vigilant as he made his way up towards the quarry. The original trackbed that the railway had once used had become impassable over the years, so instead, trains ran through the ravine before circling back to enter the old quarry. Skarloey didn’t like this route.

“The old route may hold bad memories,” he murmured to himself. “But at least it was safer.” His driver didn’t hear him. They neared a large snowy overhang which dangled dangerously over the line.

“That’s got to be the snowbank the workmen have been making,” hummed Skarloey’s driver. “It doesn’t look safe,” Skarloey said. “I’d rather we check to see if it will collapse.”

The guard strode up, overhearing Skarloey’s suggestion. He gazed up too. “The old engine’s right,” he said. “The sound of Skarloey’s engine could trigger an avalanche. I’d rather we run over a detonator and check.” Skarloey and his driver agreed.

Up at the quarry, there was a problem. The overnight frost had buckled part of the winch mechanism that hauled trucks up and down the incline. The winch kept catching, slowing production down. A long line of loaded trucks was placed on one side of the incline, and a line of empty trucks on the other. As the loaded trucks started to come down the incline, the empty trucks derailed. The winch groaned.

“Break it! Snap it!” shouted the trucks. And they did.

The trucks came hurtling down the incline, thundering along, swaying violently. “The snowbank and buffers will stop them!” called a workman. But he was wrong.

Down below, Skarloey’s driver had just finished setting the detonator, and was walking back to Skarloey’s cab when they heard the rumble of a runaway train. “Back driver, quick!” shouted Skarloey. His driver sprinted to his cab, and threw open the regulator. Skarloey jolted back as the trucks plunged through the snowbank and into the ravine.

The old engine looked up in horror. “Avanlanche!” he cried. The trucks tumbled into the ravine, bringing the snowbank with them. Tonnes of snow and slate and wood and iron roared down the ravine walls, smashing into the rails where Skarloey had just stood. Shards of wood splintered off and rocketed past the old engine, missing him by inches.

“I knew it,” Skarloey whimpered. His driver was stunned. The usually unstoppable old engine had been reduced to near tears. “I knew we shouldn’t have come here. It’s angry now. We need to leave. We need to leave it all to nature.” “Are you alright, Skarloey? You’re talking jibberish.” “I am not!” snapped Skarloey. “We need to go. Now. We’re not welcome here.”

Skarloey’s driver was so stunned by his old engine’s outburst, that he complied. Skarloey hurried back down the line, not stopping for even a moment until he was safely on comfortably familiar rails.

Duke and Rheneas met him at the middle station. “Are you alright?” asked Rheneas. “You’re meant to be up at the quarry.” “There was an avalanche,” Skarloey hissed. “The trucks… they broke away from the winch… they plunged into the ravine… it’s angry.” Rheneas and Duke shared a worried look.

It took a long time to clear away the wreckage from the avalanche. The frigid temperatures had hardened much of the snow into ice, and it wasn’t until spring that they were able to safely run trains back through the ravine.

The melting snow also cause a surge in torrents that threatened to wash away the track. These were particularly bad around the new quarry construction site. The boulder stood overhead, silent as it gazed down at the construction disturbing its peace. Rusty mentioned it to the other engines. “I don’t want to go back up there,” Skarloey muttered to Rheneas and Duke. “One of you go confirm it.” “I’ll go,” said Duke. “You two were here last time – it might not target me as a newcomer.” “It targeted you when your line strayed too close,” reminded Rheneas bitterly. “I’m amazed it only took one of those Culdee Fell engines as a sacrifice.”

The news came that James had derailed near the Culdee Fell Railway after looking after the line while the electric engines were unable to work. When the red engine was shunted into the siding to await his turn in the works, he looked very shaken up indeed.

“I saw something up there,” he declared loudly to everyone who listen. “There’s something wrong up at Peel Godred!” “Shut up!” snarled Rheneas. “We know. But if you tell anyone, it will come after you.” James went silent in horror. “It’s… but Godred…” “Godred?” Duke thundered over, eyes wide in surprise. “You saw him? I must go up to that quarry at once.”

“I’ll get the story from James,” Rheneas promised. “You go take a look.” Duke raced away, swapping duties with Peter Sam to get up to the new quarry construction site.

And when he turned that final corner, his boiler ran cold. “It’s really there,” he gasped in amazement. The old engine shunted his trucks into their proper siding, muttering an ancient Sudrian prayer under his breath. His first driver had taught him the prayer long, long ago – and he’d taught Culdee.

As he turned on the triangle to head back down the line, an object fell from the ledge, smashing down on the trackside. Duke jumped. “What was that?” exclaimed Rusty, hurrying over. “It’s… it’s… a cylinder…” Duke edged closer to the rusted metal lump. It was rusted beyond all comprehension… and yet, it was too familiar for Duke’s liking. “I’ll take it with me,” he said eventually. “I’d suggest you send some men to secure the ledge.” Rusty and the foreman agreed, and Duke hurried away with the rusted cylinder.

“It’s Godred’s!” he exclaimed to Skarloey and Rheneas that night. “His cylinder block was at that site! It cannot be a coincidence.”

“It’s a warning,” a voice said. The three jumped and looked all around – but there was no one there.

The seasons changed. When summer came, the new quarry finally opened. Long trains of high-quality rock came pouring down from the mountain, filling up truck after truck at the transfer sidings. Rusty met Bear and Donald at the transfer sidings.

“Where’s all this rock coming from?” asked Bear. “The new quarry,” replied Rusty. “This mountain rock is good for many things, although it’s dangerous up there.” “How come?” asked Donald. “Because of a big boulder,” Rusty said grimly. “It stands on a cliff high above the line, and it feels like it’s watching me.”

“Dinnae be sae dunderheided!” snorted Donald. “Boulders dinnae hae een!” Rusty just sighed and rumbled away, not spotting a very concerned Skarloey in the sheds.

The new quarry soon began to leave its mark. Profit came streaming in, encouraging the quarry owners to further exploit the lands around their initial setup. This brought them ever closer to the cliff where the boulder stood.

“It’s not right,” hissed Duke. “There’s a reason it was left as the middle of nowhere.” “Pah!” snorted Duncan. “It’s just the base o’ Culdee Fell! Peel Godred’s on the other side!” “Peel Godred is not on Culdee Fell,” Skarloey said sternly. “And it’s not technically the base of Culdee Fell, but one of the smaller mountains that feeds into the Fell itself.” Duncan rolled his eyes and huffed away.

The weather changed again, and something strange began to happen along the old line. The trees and bushes that the workers had cut right back the year before had grown far more rapidly than anyone could anticipate, beginning to choke the line with dead leaves and debris. After some debris hid a rock that derailed Sir Handel, the Thin Controller got the workers to begin pruning along the line.

Peter Sam and Rusty often worked together, the two top-and-tailing the trains up and down the extension. One day, Rusty helped Peter Sam to a water column at the top of the ravine, and once there, honked goodbye to let Peter Sam know that the little diesel had headed up to the old quarry. Peter Sam needed this drink, but the trucks grew impatient. “Let’s break away,” they giggled. Their loads were heavy, so when they tugged at a coupling, it snapped.

The trucks rocketed back down the line, speeding through the ravine. “After them!” shouted Peter Sam. The little green engine gave chase, but it was already too late. A sign read ‘Slow! Steep bend and Ravine ahead’ – but the silly trucks never saw it. They thundered onto the old iron bridge and toppled over, crashing down into the ravine and plunging into the swamps below. Peter Sam puffed out onto the bridge and stared down at the scene of the disaster.

“This was our fault,” sighed the driver. “We didn’t secure them properly.” “But it makes no sense…” murmured Peter Sam. “Those trucks were new…”

But that excuse didn’t float well with the Thin Controller. “New or not, those trucks shouldn’t have been given the opportunity to run away. You will shunt trucks here in the yards until I can trust you again.”

Duncan was delighted with Peter Sam’s dilemma. “Fancy no securing yer trucks,” he sniggered. “They’ll come back to haunt you and yer special funnel. OoooOooo!”

Skarloey, Rheneas and Duke all winced together. Rusty noticed. “Well,” the little diesel said. “The workers up on that extension say there’s a real ghost – I bet you’d be frightened of it.” “Pah! Ghosts, things that go bump in the night; rubbish! That’s just a load of nonsense they’re telling you to spook you, Rusty. But tell it anyway, I’d like a laugh.” Skarloey went to say something, but Duke hushed him. “He’ll learn one way or another,” murmured the old engine.

“Alright, I’ll tell you a story that’ll make your funnel quiver,” smirked Rusty. “A long time ago, a little engine was returning home. It was a misty moonlit night. As the little engine crossed the old iron bridge, he suddenly lost control and plunged over the side and into the swamps below. He was never found again – but the workmen say that when the moon is full they have seen the engine trying to make it home… but he never reaches the other side.”

Rheneas, Skarloey and Duke all slunk out of the sheds, faces pale.

“So what do you think of that, Duncan?” asked Rusty. “Pah! Nonsense,” replied Duncan, and he puffed back into his berth to sleep.

The gruff engine was plagued with nightmares all throughout his restless sleep, but he didn’t tell anyone. Duke, Rheneas and Skarloey kept a close eye on him – and Duncan kept a close eye on the moon. It was only two days until it was a full moon. To distract himself, Duncan began to pull pranks on Peter Sam, pretending to be a ghost to spook the poor engine.

“Never you mind, Peter Sam,” sighed his driver. “He’d be frightened if he really saw a ghost.” This gave Peter Sam an idea, which he told his crew. His crew spoke with Duncan’s, and they agreed.

“The full moon is tonight,” they said. “We’ll do it at once.”

Duncan had to take coal trucks up to the quarries and bring loaded stone and slate trucks back. Every trip involved crossing the old iron bridge. “Haunted bridge; Pah!” snorted Duncan. “It’s as tame as a pet rabbit!” But all the same, he kept thinking about Rusty’s story. If he’d been less in his smokebox, he might have noticed more about his surroundings.

The boulder had shifted.

On his last train of the evening, Duncan had to bring a special new piece of machinery up to the new quarry. It was called Thumper, and it was built to make collecting the rock even easier. But it took a long time to unload Thumper, and even longer to assemble the trucks they needed to take back. As dusk fell, Duncan spoke up.

“If we don’t go now, Skarloey’ll take my favourite place in the sheds,” Duncan complained. He hadn’t noticed the fact that Skarloey had stopped stealing that spot months ago, spending his time close to Duke and Rheneas instead. “We can’t go until all our trucks are filled,” his driver replied. Duncan looked nervous, his eyes darting from side to side.

It was dark by the time they set off. The moon was full, and the mists were rising up around the old iron bridge, curling around its beams like tendrils trying to drag it down into the swamps. Duncan whistled, and the sound echoed all around, bouncing off the walls of the gorge and distorting into something unnatural.

Duncan tentatively crawled onto the bridge. He made it halfway before suddenly stopping. Ahead, he saw flickering lights. To Duncan, they looked like an engine. His driver didn’t see the lights.

A rock plunged into the swamps below, startling both Duncan and his driver. “It’s the ghost!” wailed Duncan. “Take me back! Take me back! Please!” Duncan’s driver was spooked too – he opened the reverser, and Duncan hurried for the safety of the quarry sheds.

Duke came to find him the next morning. “Are you alright youngster?” he asked, eyes not on Duncan. “No,” admitted Duncan. “I saw something. It was there, on the bridge!” Duke looked grim, still gazing up at the cliff where the boulder stood. “I see. Come along then, let’s get you back to the sheds while there’s plenty of daylight.” Duncan was all too happy to have another engine with him as he crossed the old iron bridge. A large shard of rock stuck out at a jagged angle, not twenty feet from the bridge.

“It looks like it came away from the cliff last night,” Duke’s driver said. “Must’ve caused a right ruckus!” “It did,” laughed Duncan’s driver. “Spooked me!” “But I saw something,” murmured Duncan. Duke didn’t reply – not until they were in the privacy of the sheds.

“So you saw a ghost then,” Duke said. It wasn’t a question. “I did,” Duncan replied. Skarloey, in the next berth over, looked over. “So, it’s really back,” he muttered. “Indeed,” Duke sighed. “I looked this morning – that boulder has definitely moved overnight.” Duncan gulped. “What? The boulder? Is it a ghost too?”

Neither Duke nor Skarloey answered for a long moment.

“No one’s quite sure,” Skarloey eventually said. “But whatever it is, it’s been around since long before the railway.” “But the engine!” “Wasn’t the first to fall off the old iron bridge,” Rheneas announced grimly, steaming in. “There was also a horse and its handler. But that engine’s demise is what closed the bridge originally. We put dynamite on that bridge… and we thought we’d blown it up!”

“So what is it?” demanded Duncan. “No one’s quite sure,” repeated Skarloey. “It was written about by King Godred himself, not to mention Saint Machan and the Ancient Sudrians. It stands at the top of the Keeill-y-Deighan valley, opposing the Standing Stones.” “The ancient Sudrians stayed well away from that region for a reason,” added Duke gravely. “It’s in the middle of nowhere – and we’re disturbing it with this new quarry.”

Duncan felt ill.

Something was up at the new quarry, and he’d just delivered a piece of machinery to increase production.

Rusty also felt like something wasn’t right with the boulder. It seemed as though it had shifted up on the cliff from one end of the quarry to the other. But that was impossible.

Instead, Rusty focused on the new piece of equipment. Thumper was very useful. He worked extremely hard, pounding away at the cliff face and digging up tonnes of rock for the little engines to take away. Sir Handel, Peter Sam and Rusty were kept hard at work – but no one bothered to check on the boulder.

Loose gravel fell to the lineside.

It rained the next day, and the workmen were unable to work. Rusty still went up to the new quarry, to check for any signs of damage. Rusty gazed up, and shivered. Above stood Boulder.

Suddenly, a large slab of rock smashed down onto the rails. Rusty was shocked. The driver was concerned too. “We’d best leave until the weather’s better,” he said. “The rain’s loosened some of the rock.” “I think it’s Boulder,” murmured Rusty. “I think it wants us to go away.” As Rusty left, the little diesel didn’t notice a dark face cross the Boulder, before vanishing into the rain.

The quarry grew even busier once the rain cleared. Even more machines came to help – and that’s when Rusty looked up.

“Boulder’s moving,” Rusty gasped. “Don’t be daft!” snorted Rusty’s driver. “It can’t!”

But it did. It fell from it’s high perch, smashing down into the quarry below. It bulldozed several buildings instantly, then began to roll downhill.

“It’s rolling along our line!” exclaimed Rusty. “Quick!” The little diesel dashed backwards, honking their horn and shouting in terror. “Go! Go! Run!”

The boulder picked up speed, growing ever faster. Rusty swore that there was a face on the boulder – the little diesel went even faster, tears springing to their eyes.

“I don’t want to be squashed!” Rusty wailed. The little diesel rushed down the extension, wheels screaming in protest as Rusty rounded each bend as fast as their driver would dare. The boulder began to gain on the poor little diesel, but still Rusty kept going.

Skarloey, Rheneas and Duke sat on the other side of the old iron bridge. They were just about to cross when they heard the thunderous roar of the boulder falling from its perch.

“No…” gasped Skarloey. “Rusty!” exclaimed Rheneas in horror. The little engine went to move forwards, only to be stopped by Duke. “We can’t go over,” shouted Duke. “It all downhill from that quarry – the boulder will come straight for us!”

Rusty was driving flat out, racing through the ravine. The boulder was slowed by the narrow walls, but it wasn’t stopping. Still, Rusty used these precious moment to their advantage, drawing ahead and refusing to slow in the slightest, even as their engine began to cough and splutter.

“Help!” shouted Rusty. They sped round the next bend, and the little diesel’s driver spotted the old iron bridge.

“If we can cross that, we’ll be safe!” The little diesel managed to find just a little more speed. Rusty clattered onto the bridge, going as fast as their wheels could carry them. The boulder was close behind.

Rusty sped off the bridge; the boulder roared onto the bridge. The old iron bridge groaned under the weight, rivets snapping off in all directions before the superstructure gave way and the entire thing, boulder included, went smashing down into the gorge.

The last thing the engines saw was a terrifying, scowling face carved into the side of the boulder.

And then, silence.

The engines left the gorge as quickly as they could. As they did, an explosion rocked the mountainside! “The quarry!” exclaimed Rusty, horrified. “The boulder must’ve…” The little diesel trailed off, unable to finish that horrific thought.

When the Thin Controller surveyed the damage, he decided to close the extension. Down in the gorge, the boulder was half submerged. “We should have left this part of the island… alone.”

They ripped up the rails the very next day, and left the trackbed to be engulfed by nature. Some places are left well enough alone because they must be – but Skarloey, Rheneas and Duke know that one day, people will return to the dark side of Culdee Fell, in search of the wealth it hides. And when that day comes, they too will know of it.

And it doesn’t accept trespassers.

Back to Master Post

James and Godred

Rheneas and the Old Bridge

#fanfiction writer #railway series #weirdowithaquill #thomas the tank engine #railways #traintober #traintober 2023 #ttte skarloey #ttte rheneas #ttte rusty #rusty and the boulder #duncan gets spooked #ttte au #spooky #Boulder #cw character death #old iron bridge #ttte duke #skarloey railway #snow #tumblr links #very long post #long reads

[tenderperversion]

im going to throw up. anyone wanna take me behind a disused railway line. 😍

#the smiths #a

[sudriantraveler]

George was looking forward to pulling up a disused railway siding to make way for a road widening project.

Unfortunately, Dennis rolled into the yard and just so happened to decide that siding was perfect to go and rest in.

And knowing Dennis, It'll probably be a while before he decides to move.

#ttte #rws #thomas and friends #ttte art #ttte dennis #ttte george

[spindrifters]

marginalia - chapter thirty-nine, merthyr tydfil

There’s a slight commotion just then as Remus catches himself from tripping on an upgrown root, and the ghosting grimace of pain across his face is fleeting, but not so quick that Sirius doesn’t catch it. All thoughts of warding patterns and Alastor Moody leave his mind as Sirius nabs a fallen twig off the ground, the pouring magic from his hand coaxing it easily to transfigure form into a beautiful oak walking stick. He presents it with a grin. “Show off.” Remus rolls his eyes, but takes it all the same. “Only the best for my favorite old man.” Remus hits him with it. Four kilometers out from Merthyr Tydfil, Frank holds up his wand arm, and their company comes to an abrupt halt. It hasn’t been the worst trek down, and Sirius knows they’ve been going slow for Remus’s sake, but still. It’s a far cry from casual walks down well-worn trails in the woods of Phoenix Isle. They’ve been picking through the untread outskirts of the disused Brecon Railway, winding steadily downhill through dense forest and outcrops of boulder in the gathering dark, and he can tell from Remus’s slowing-down that it isn’t just his hip that’s bothering him now. The walking stick seems to have been a bit of a help, at least. Suppose that’ll teach the proud bastard to bring along his cane next time.

#wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar fic #what's that? an UPDATE? in THIS economy? #my fic

[musicalsiphonophore]

I went to the disused railway line this evening (#beechingcore) and I was listening to music and texting my partner and it was so good

and then I was listening to selfish by will wood

and then I started singing along a little

and, realising I was most likely alone (it being 7pm on a random Monday), I started singing loudly as I walked up and down

and by Cotard’s Solution I was screaming along

and I think I made somebody’s dog bark somewhere? (I apologise to that person) but I didn’t let that stop me

and I had so much fun

I got to scream along to “IM WHO I OUGHTA BE AND THAT IS GOD TO ME” like I have always longed to scream along to that line

but then I saw a guy on the railway line early on in hand me my shovel i’m going in

so then I left and was only singing under my breath as I walked home

and when I got home I was grinning my head off

:)

#will wood #wwattw #self ish #will wood and the tapeworms

[kaisercaimo]

disused railway bridge, co. monaghan, Ireland

nov 2023

#photography

[trainalt22]

1955-1956

In 1955, the traffic to the NWR showed no signs of stopping. The express went from 6 coaches to 8, and Gordon enjoyed the new challenge. However, with Thomas on his branch line and Edward overseeing the Suddrey branch line, Tidmouth was left without a pilot. This meant that the big engines had to marshal their trains, much to their detriment. In February of 1955, the three big engines went on strike.

The new Fat Controller was furious that he could have gone six months without an incident. He went to Tidmouth to investigate. When he arrived, he was frustrated that his engines would strike over something as petty as this. But he soon reached a compromise with the engines. They would go back to work immediately, and as they did, he would look for a pilot. They reached an understanding and soon left for their trains.

Sir Topham came across an offer for a small saddle tank. From the looks of it, they were a kitbash of some kind from an independent workshop, a rarity in the time of British Rail. The engine, Percy, was cheap, and he needed a quick fix to the issue at Tidmouth. Percy was elated to have been bought. He saw more use in the industrial sector than on a railway. His kit-bashed nature made Topham wary of purchasing him, but after ample testing, Percy was in full mechanical order and ready for work.

Thomas's schedule was shifted so that he could have more time between trains to help Percy learn how to marshal trains. The two got on immediately. Percy found his gruff, sarcastic nature reminiscent of his old manager at the steelworks where he was built. Percy was a quick learner. He had experience shunting, but his size made it far easier for him to slip into tight sidings. He soon zipped around the yard. Of course, Thomas said he could do it better, but he was proud of how far Percy had come in such little time. By April, Thomas's schedule had gone back to normal, and Percy was adapting to his new job running the yard and bringing smaller trains from the yard to the docks.

The Tidmouth Harbour saw an increase in traffic as well, and Percy was soon overwhelmed. So Sir Topham approached the Tidmough Harbor board to buy a new locomotive. The board couldn't find an engine quick enough, and by spring, the port was soon overwhelmed. The Fat Controller, annoyed with the bottleneck of traffic, loaned an engine from British Rail. As Sodor had limited infrastructure for the newer "revolutionary" diesel locomotives, BR begrudgingly sent a steam engine. Montague was his name, but he preferred Duck, a nickname he picked up in his days as the pilot for Paddington Station.

The port was soon sorted, and the Fat Controller saw it fit to take a holiday to East Anglia. While there, he discovered a disused tram line, and against his wife's wishes, went snooping around. He found a small engine shed showing signs of overgrowth. Inside was a slumbering tram engine, a C53 from the looks of it. They were in pristine condition. They soon awoke, startled by the man who they believed to be a vandal. But after introductions were exchanged, the tram engine, or Toby as he liked to be called, was curious about the holidaying railway controller. He listened to his tales of the North Western from when he was a boy. Toby asked the controller rather bluntly if he had room for him as retired life wasn't what it was cracked up to be. The controller promised that if he needed a tram, he would come to Toby post haste. This pleased the tram, and they soon said their farewells.

Meanwhile, back on Sodor, Percy was getting bored of his station pilot duties. And while Duck was a lovely engine, he was trying at times. He would always go on and on about the great Western way, which Percy found to be too strict and disciplined for his industrial laid-back attitude. Thomas, on the other hand, was well-acclimated to his branch line. He would take passengers to Tidmouth and trucks to the harbor. But it was getting a bit much for the tank engine, although Thomas didn't mind the hard work.

It wasn't until the Fat Controller got back from his vacation that Thomas ran into an issue. The old constable that was in charge of Ffarquar retired, and a new, younger officer was hired. The first time he saw Thomas, he flagged him because Thomas didn't have any wheel coverings. It was illegal for him to run on the tracks from the quarry to Ffarquar station as they passed through the town on the roads. As such, Thomas was forbidden from running up to the quarry unless he had proper wheel coverings.

Sir Topham Hatt soon arrived to find Thomas and the officer in a full-fledged argument, shouting back and forth. After he was able to defuse the situation, he was told that if he couldn't find an engine to the requirements, then he was forbidden from going any further up the line than the officer's post. And if any of his engines were caught going through Ffarquar without the proper modifications, then he would be fined. He thought back to Toby and quickly went home to write to his controller.

By 1956 Toby was on Sudrian soil and being repaired to full working order and started to work up in the quarry his schedule was earlier than Thomas's but for good reason, he would take the first shift of workmen up to the quarry and bring the stone back to Farquhar

This soon turned into an issue however Toby had a significantly shorter trip than Thomas so stone trucks were just piling up in Farquhar and Thomas couldn't pull all of them down to the Harbor

With an overflow of trucks at Ffarquhar

It became apparent that another engine was going to be needed on Thomas's branchline however after Toby's purchase the board of directors voted against buying another engine

Thopam soon found a solution and went to Tidmouth Harbor to find Percy

When asked if he would like to work on a branchline instead of being a station pilot Percy immediately agreed luckily the harbor board found an engine to purchase they were a class 08 diesel fresh out of the works they didn't have a name just a number D3102

They arrived in Sodor later that year and soon proved how revolutionary diesels were he could be ready to go at the twist of a key and usually was the first out of the shed shunting the early morning trains like the flying kipper or overnight goods

Duck however was fed up with the new diesel as he was extremely prejudiced against steam engines saying how they all had outlived their usefulness and were heading for the torch

Duck scoffed at this but deep down he was concerned he was only on loan from BR if he went back he could be cut up

This drove Duck to be better than D3102 or diesel as he was the only one of his type on Sodor it made for an easy nickname

Duck strove for greatness he kept up with diesel at every turn sparking a heated rivalry between the two

Duck had managed to convince a line of trucks to hold back if Diesel tried moving them to which they gleefully agreed with the trucks ready duck feigned illness to get Diesel to move them and when he tried they wouldn't move an inch diesels wheels slipped on the wet harbor tracks as he pulled harder and harder until the coupling snapped launching diesel into the buffers at the end of the key

Diesel hung precariously over the edge of the key below him was the sea and a swift demise he screamed for help and Duck rushed to his aid with the two attached ducks gave a swift heave but Diesel was heavier than he expected ducks wheels began to slip and diesel swayed his middle wheel was close to sliding off the pier when a barge slid under him but he didn't have time to question it as the coupling gave and he fell onto the barge slightly damaging his front end

Duck and the barge captain were praised for their quick thinking while Diesel was certain that Duck planned the accident but without proof, he couldn't go to the fat controller

Later that night Henry was set to take a goods train when he arrived in Tidmouth the trucks in the sidings all called him square wheels and a useless engine

Who was undeserving of their rebuild Henry was appalled angrily bumping the trucks when questioned they said Duck told them about his rebuild

Later that week James passed Duck pulling a goods train to Ellsworth and the trucks began saying that James's red paint made him look like rusty scrap iron duck didn't hear so he just smiled at James when he overtook him

Gordon who was napping at Tidmouth station was awoken by some truck singing

"Old number four that gallant galloping sausage always pulls the express what a bore to rush from place to place as that big blue disgrace" they giggled loudly as Gordon stormed off in a huff

The three big engines summoned the fat controller to Tidmouth sheds that night they made their complaints known rather bluntly calling for Duck to be sent away in disgrace sir topham however summoned Duck to Tidmouth so he could defend himself

The big engines welcomed Duck harshly calling him a liar and a manipulator diesel who was in the yard approached the scene cautiously he interjected that he speculated Duck caused his accident because of how quickly Duck came to his aid after saying he was ill

This and the insults that the others had received forced Sir Topham who believed that Duck hadn't spread the rumors to send the poor pannier away for the time being he sent him to work with Edward at Welsworth

#ttte #thomas and friends #ttte au #ttte thomas #vivamus machinis #ttte duck #ttte diesel #i gave diesel a real running number look it up hes real #(spolier alert hes dead lmafo) #oh and modernization thats a thing #the great purge is coming #batten down the hatches #ttte edward

[national-rail]

Okehampton (bude line) has a nice tearoom and is painted in the old style southern railway colours and is very nice

Station of the Week #3: Okehampton (OKE)

Okehampton, Devon, England. Maneged by ? Served by Great Western Railway.

This station does indeed look amazing and is great to get you almost into Dartmoor

There is a cafe in the station building and a Youth Hostel in the old goods shed.

Until recently this line used to be part of a heritage railway but was taken back under Network Rail when it went bankrupt and has now regained regular passenger service.

A cycle route follows the (currently disused) section of line to the west up to Meldon Viaduct

#trains #uk trains #station of the week

[quordleona03]

Shadows of trees lying over the pedestrian subway from Victoria Park to Hawthornvale Path, by the abandoned Newhaven Railway Station, (closed by the Tories 30th April 1962) - Edinburgh. March, 2023.

#photographers of tumblr #tree shadows #Scotland #Edinburgh #Victoria Park #Hawthornvale Path #Newhaven Railway Station - abandoned and disused #right-wing destruction of public transport

[stephensmithuk]

Wisteria Lodge

Our third story from His Last Bow - we've already done "The Dying Detective" and "The Cardboard Box".

This was published in two parts in The Strand.

Take a note of the Watsonian date here because this will be important later.

A reply-paid telegram was one where the sender also paid for the cost of any reply, up to a certain word limit (48 words for inland telegrams in the 1896 Post Office Guide).

You could send a telegram at most bigger post offices, or you could complete a pre-paid form and put it in a post box.

"Toilet" had a definition of the style of one's appearance.

Eccles is from Lee, which we've visited already in "The Man with The Twisted Lip" and which I discuss in my post for that.

Esher is today a town of around 7,000 people but part of a larger built-up area, thirteen miles from Charing Cross. While sitting outside the Greater London boundary in Surrey, the urban sprawl of London does not match the administrative boundaries and Esher is on the outer edge of this. You can in fact hit some serious countryside while staying within the city limits.

It also sat outside the Metropolitan Police District.

The town was historically a stagecoach stop on the London to Portsmouth road, which later become the A3 before that was diverted via a bypass around the town. It is home to the Sandown Park racecourse and George Harrison lived there for a while.

The railway station, then called Esher and Claremont (the latter being a Lancelot "Capability" Brown-designed mansion, then owned by a widowed daughter-in-law of Queen Victoria, her youngest son Prince Leopold having died due to haemophilia after a fall in 1884) is on the mainline from Waterloo to Weymouth - Aldershot being a bit further along on a branch line. It takes around half an hour to get there by modern electric train; only suburban services stop there, with express trains going straight through the disused centre platforms.

Spain, as a major power (even if most of its empire had already gone) and a monarchy, warranted an Embassy. San Pedro only would have had a legation.

There's quite a bit of racism in this one!

Some pictures of dog-grates can be found here.

Doors on many trains could be opened from the inside at the time, including on the move with the associated risks involved.

War crimes trials were not really a thing at this time.

Yet another case of the villains dying off-page!

The broad plot of this would not be out of place in a modern crime drama.

#letters from watson #sherlock holmes #history #wisteria lodge #wist #factoids

[useless-englandfacts]

so what do we think of this whole HS2 malarky?

look. i’ve always had complicated feelings towards hs2 because on the one hand i think trains are good (better than cars!) and improving britain’s dire railways is long overdue like we’re still using routes designed by the victorians

however. from the outset it was going to take a long time and it’s already way behind where it should be. it’s costing a fortune and now the tories are chopping and changing so much of it that it’s no longer worth having. the latest announcement from rishi sunak seems to have been made on a whim, so it’s clear that they either don’t know what they’re doing or they don’t care (or both). and now it’s like… the environmental damage will probably outweigh any positive environmental effects in the long term.

the town i grew up in is one of so many in britain that submit funding applications to re-open their railway line that became disused in the 1960s and it just makes me wonder why we don’t put the hs2 funding into 1) improving existing routes, and 2) reopening old routes that are still useful and viable!!

but we have a tory government. they don’t like spending and they don’t care about the environment and they’re not going to nationalise the railway and they certainly wouldn’t want to make life easier for the kinds of people who use public transport anyway because that would be gross.

so tldr: it wasn’t an entirely un-promising idea but the bag has been fumbled so much now that it’s probably not worth having. but we’ll be getting it anyway. when we’re all 90 years old. if we’re lucky.

#idk if ur question was about sth more specific but here u go anyway #asks #admin dominique

[zvaigzdelasas]

Partially funded by the United States, the $555-million project is expected to boost mineral export and intra-African trade and cements Angola's diplomatic pivot to the West, analysts said.[...] Currently stretching about 1,700 kilometres (1,050 miles), the railway was completed around 100 years ago by British investors interested in getting copper out of Africa. The Angolan section of the line was closed during the height of the country's 1975-2002 civil war and remained in disuse afterwards due to damage. Rebuilt by a Chinese company, it reopened in 2015 but traffic has struggled to take off.[...] The oil-rich country has long held close ties to China and Russia. Its ruling party was supported by the Soviet Union in the civil war against US-backed rebels.  But under President Joao Lourenco, it has moved closer to Washington.

9 Jul 23