The Great Little Trains of Wales......................
We were off to Wales to ride the little trains.
Norman and Colin come to the US to ride on preserved railways like the Durango and Silverton or the Cumbres and Toltec. But they had never ridden the little trains of Wales, despite the fact that they live just a few hours away. So when they asked us to come visit them in England, we said we would if we could go to Wales. Good choice.
For a quick geography lesson, Wales is on the west coast of the island, the large two-pronged peninsula south of Scotland and north of Cornwall. I don't quite understand the political angle, but a few years ago, the Welsh voted for devolution and got their own parliament, sort of like Scotland, and as far as I can tell, they have never considered themselves Englishmen. Although they share the British currency system, they have their own language. Signs are thankfully in both English and Welsh because it bears no relationship to any language with which I am familiar. We were both surprised to hear how much Welsh is actually spoken but the Welsh-speakers we encountered were as comfortable in English as they presumably were in Welsh. One always wonders if they are making comments about the English behind their backs, but who knows....
To simplify things and eliminate moving every night, Norman had made reservations for four nights at a hotel in Porthmadog, which is also one end of the Ffestiniog Railway that we planned to ride. When he had made the reservations months ago, the hotel had been named the Owens Hotel. He programmed Flossie to take us right there, but where was it? We drove up and down the street. It was supposed to be right across from Woolworth's, but it wasn't. Traffic was bumper to bumper both directions through the small town, clogged with August vacationers. Who says you can't get to Wales? Thousands of people showed us otherwise.
Finally, I suggested that Norman use his mobile phone to call for directions and also ask where the car park could be found. I took notes on the car park location, but it still eluded us. Finally, Al and Colin got out and walked, which would have been the sensible thing to do in the first place except for the total lack of parking places. Norman idled the car in an alley while we waited.
It turned out that he should have asked for the name of the hotel, because it had changed hands in the meantime. Fortunately, our reservations were still on the books, because all we saw while driving around the area for four days were no vacancy signs. I am tempted to say that this hotel set a new low, except that the new owners, a young couple, were such delightful people and so eager to please. The room was large and clean and the beds not too bad, but the en suite bathroom had no shower, only a tub. And in the inimitable way of the British, it had two faucets so that the cold and hot did not mix. How the heck was I going to wash my hair when just sitting down in a tub was a problem? I'm really getting to notice the barriers to the handicapped in my current physical condition. Not to mention the fact that there were two flights of stairs up to these rooms, which took me forever to navigate single step by painful single step.
And then there were the nights. The hotel fronted the main street of town. Vehicular traffic slowed down after dinner and was virtually non-existent, but those pedestrians! Teenagers hung out on the corner until all hours, then the drunks from all the local pubs had to walk home. I'm embarrassed to say that I didn't even think about looking out the window at 2 am to investigate the sounds of running feet, a man yelling and a woman screeching. Just about the time you got back to sleep, the city came around to empty those trash bins that were placed every 30 feet along the street, which was great for town tidiness but hard on my rest. Oh yes, then the garbage truck showed up about 5:30 every morning including Sunday. At least the breakfasts were good.
Quit complaining, you say. OK, I'll get on with the good parts.
First a little background about the Welsh narrow-gauge trains. As far as I know, most of them were originally put in to haul slate from the quarries to shipping points on the coast. Slate was, and still is, used widely in construction as roofing material and for paving purposes. The slate quarries were generally in the hills and the routes to them were not suitable for standard gauge railways, being too steep and winding. Hence the use of narrow gauge, which was used for the same reason in many places in mountains of the American West. Many of these Welsh railroads were built in the early to mid-1800's and continued until the advent of clay tile for roofing caused a crash in the slate industry.
The thing about narrow-gauge trains is they are small, cute and loaded with nostalgic cues. Plus they generally go through scenic terrain. Great combination for luring tourists. Although the slate industry collapsed many years ago in Wales, the tourist industry has more than replaced it. I was aware that there were tourist trains in Wales; what I didn't know was how many of them there are. Ten of them are banded together in a marketing organization called 'The Great Little Trains of Wales' but there are several other lines and museums. As nearly as I can tell, they all depend greatly on volunteers and they have done a great job of getting young people involved as volunteers.
After our arrival at the hotel, I needed a rest so the guys went off to investigate the Ffestiniog Railway station, just a couple of blocks down the road, and to drool over the shiny locomotives that we had seen whilst stuck in the traffic jam on the way into town. They also bought tickets for the next day to eliminate that last-minute rush.
The weather was iffy as we made our way to the station in the morning, but we didn't care because we were going to be riding a train on a line that opened in 1836. See the photo album for pictures.
The train ride starts at the harbor and crosses a causeway which gives a great view of a mud-flatted estuary which is shared by wading birds, cows and the inevitable sheep. Not too far along, the track starts climbing along a valley, stopping at tiny halts along the way. It goes through a forest then breaks out to a view of the Irish Sea. All along the way there are interesting houses and farms as well as broad vistas. Occasionally the train goes through a tunnel. It is possible to get off at a number of different halts and walk along trails, joining up another train at the same or another halt futher down the line. Some of the villages are built so close to the track that you could look right in the windows if they weren't guarded with lace curtains. At one point the track spirals to gain elevation, passing over itself, the only such spiral in Great Britain. For you railfans, it's the Tehachapi loop in miniature.
The line is bordered by trees, many of which are oaks, and numerous other varieties of plants and shrubs, many of which were in bloom. One that was not was the rhododendren, which I was surprised to find is actually a weed in this area. The species was introduced in the mid-1700's as a garden planting but since has spread to take over vast areas of woodlands where it prevents growth of native species on the forest floor, diminishing the biodiversity and reducing the habitat for wildlife. Coming from a family where rhododendrens were considered among the highest form of plant life, to call one a weed almost seems like heresy!
The trip takes about an hour each way. At the endpoint, Blaenau Ffestiniog, a bus meets the train to take passengers to tour the slate mine but we opted just to have lunch to break the journey. There is, of course, a pub opposite the train stop where you can get a light meal. I had the ubiquitous pub meal of a stuffed jacket potato (baked potato), this one stuffed with what is called 'prawn mayonaise' although where I come from a prawn is a large thing while these looked like shrimp to me. Nevertheless, it was very tasty and had Al wishing he had ordered it instead of a sandwich.
The trip back was, naturally, all downhill and it was interesting to hear the difference in the engine sound as it worked to hold the cars back instead of hauling them up.
Day two we rode the Welsh Highland Railway, beginning and ending at Caernarfon which is on the coast north across a narrow peninsula from Porthmadog. This railway has a small section at Porthmadog and the plan is to complete the line so that it will eventually run all the way from Caernarfon to Porthmadog, a distance of about 20 miles. Completion is expected in 2008, so maybe that would be a good time to go back. At this time, however, about half of the total line is open and it climbs into the heart of Snowdonia, a large national park that encompasses the highest mountains of Wales including Snowdon Peak which stands about 3500 feet high.
The terminus at Caernarfon is near the Caernarfon Castle, right on the water next to a marina, so Al had something to investigate while we waited for the train. There isn't much of a waiting area here, apparently because, as we were to find out, most people pick up the train at the other end.
The route heads immediately inland and after running past the train yard and through some lowland villages, starts to climb through typically lush Welsh mountain scenery. Lots of sheep. There are stops along the way where you can get off and on again if you want to do some walking. Soon a lake appears at the end of a green valley and in the distance we would have seen Snowdon except for the clouds. Some pretty nice views anyway.
When we arrived at Rhyd-Ddu, the end-point, we discovered a large parking lot full of cars, many more than at Caernarfon. The conductor told us that people come from the campgrounds and guesthouses in this area to ride the train in the opposite direction than we had. There was supposed to be a pub in town, 'just a few minutes walk' from the station, but we could see it off in the distance and there was no way that it was just a few minutes walk for me and Norman, so we had to shelve our plans for having lunch here. Colin hustled back to the train and reclaimed our original private compartment located, as luck would have it, next to where the young, buxom refreshments girl stored her wares. As soon as she returned from her break, we loaded up on lunch-substitutes like Old Speckled Hen Ale and slices of fruitcake.
On the return trip, with the locomotive already having to hold the cars back, there was the sudden sound of wheels braking to avoid a pair of sheep that had wandered onto the track. Thank goodness the train doesn't go very fast.
On the third day, we had to make a decision about what railroad to ride next. The final choice was the Talyllyn Railway which was brilliant. The line is only just over seven miles long, but the ride takes about an hour each way, which gives you some idea of the 'speed' that these trains achieve.
The line runs up the side of a valley that is simply lovely--I can't describe it any other way. At one stop, you can get out and take a short walk to Dolgoch Falls, which we had to pass on, sadly. (I was so irritated at not being able to take these walks.) There were plenty of other waterfalls along the route which we could see from our car as well as heather covered hillsides and a small lake. We broke the journey with lunch, of course, at the station cafe where Al and I both had Cornish pasties. On the way back we were able to get a better view of the three-arched stone bridge that is part of the original line.
Alas, we didn't have time to ride all the railways and to see more of Wales. On our last day, instead of taking the 'fast' route back to England, Norman instructed Flossie to take us the slow way 'over the top' through some more wonderful mountain scenery and picturesque villages so that we could savor the country as long as possible. I didn't even mind it when we got stuck behind the inevitable caravans because it just meant more time to enjoy the scenery.
Our visit to Wales was not long enough in a way, but after four months, we were more than ready to return home. We cannot thank Norman and Colin enough for their efforts in planning and executing the trip and for their patience with my infirmities.
We were off to Wales to ride the little trains.
Norman and Colin come to the US to ride on preserved railways like the Durango and Silverton or the Cumbres and Toltec. But they had never ridden the little trains of Wales, despite the fact that they live just a few hours away. So when they asked us to come visit them in England, we said we would if we could go to Wales. Good choice.
For a quick geography lesson, Wales is on the west coast of the island, the large two-pronged peninsula south of Scotland and north of Cornwall. I don't quite understand the political angle, but a few years ago, the Welsh voted for devolution and got their own parliament, sort of like Scotland, and as far as I can tell, they have never considered themselves Englishmen. Although they share the British currency system, they have their own language. Signs are thankfully in both English and Welsh because it bears no relationship to any language with which I am familiar. We were both surprised to hear how much Welsh is actually spoken but the Welsh-speakers we encountered were as comfortable in English as they presumably were in Welsh. One always wonders if they are making comments about the English behind their backs, but who knows....
To simplify things and eliminate moving every night, Norman had made reservations for four nights at a hotel in Porthmadog, which is also one end of the Ffestiniog Railway that we planned to ride. When he had made the reservations months ago, the hotel had been named the Owens Hotel. He programmed Flossie to take us right there, but where was it? We drove up and down the street. It was supposed to be right across from Woolworth's, but it wasn't. Traffic was bumper to bumper both directions through the small town, clogged with August vacationers. Who says you can't get to Wales? Thousands of people showed us otherwise.
Finally, I suggested that Norman use his mobile phone to call for directions and also ask where the car park could be found. I took notes on the car park location, but it still eluded us. Finally, Al and Colin got out and walked, which would have been the sensible thing to do in the first place except for the total lack of parking places. Norman idled the car in an alley while we waited.
It turned out that he should have asked for the name of the hotel, because it had changed hands in the meantime. Fortunately, our reservations were still on the books, because all we saw while driving around the area for four days were no vacancy signs. I am tempted to say that this hotel set a new low, except that the new owners, a young couple, were such delightful people and so eager to please. The room was large and clean and the beds not too bad, but the en suite bathroom had no shower, only a tub. And in the inimitable way of the British, it had two faucets so that the cold and hot did not mix. How the heck was I going to wash my hair when just sitting down in a tub was a problem? I'm really getting to notice the barriers to the handicapped in my current physical condition. Not to mention the fact that there were two flights of stairs up to these rooms, which took me forever to navigate single step by painful single step.
And then there were the nights. The hotel fronted the main street of town. Vehicular traffic slowed down after dinner and was virtually non-existent, but those pedestrians! Teenagers hung out on the corner until all hours, then the drunks from all the local pubs had to walk home. I'm embarrassed to say that I didn't even think about looking out the window at 2 am to investigate the sounds of running feet, a man yelling and a woman screeching. Just about the time you got back to sleep, the city came around to empty those trash bins that were placed every 30 feet along the street, which was great for town tidiness but hard on my rest. Oh yes, then the garbage truck showed up about 5:30 every morning including Sunday. At least the breakfasts were good.
Quit complaining, you say. OK, I'll get on with the good parts.
First a little background about the Welsh narrow-gauge trains. As far as I know, most of them were originally put in to haul slate from the quarries to shipping points on the coast. Slate was, and still is, used widely in construction as roofing material and for paving purposes. The slate quarries were generally in the hills and the routes to them were not suitable for standard gauge railways, being too steep and winding. Hence the use of narrow gauge, which was used for the same reason in many places in mountains of the American West. Many of these Welsh railroads were built in the early to mid-1800's and continued until the advent of clay tile for roofing caused a crash in the slate industry.
The thing about narrow-gauge trains is they are small, cute and loaded with nostalgic cues. Plus they generally go through scenic terrain. Great combination for luring tourists. Although the slate industry collapsed many years ago in Wales, the tourist industry has more than replaced it. I was aware that there were tourist trains in Wales; what I didn't know was how many of them there are. Ten of them are banded together in a marketing organization called 'The Great Little Trains of Wales' but there are several other lines and museums. As nearly as I can tell, they all depend greatly on volunteers and they have done a great job of getting young people involved as volunteers.
After our arrival at the hotel, I needed a rest so the guys went off to investigate the Ffestiniog Railway station, just a couple of blocks down the road, and to drool over the shiny locomotives that we had seen whilst stuck in the traffic jam on the way into town. They also bought tickets for the next day to eliminate that last-minute rush.
The weather was iffy as we made our way to the station in the morning, but we didn't care because we were going to be riding a train on a line that opened in 1836. See the photo album for pictures.
The train ride starts at the harbor and crosses a causeway which gives a great view of a mud-flatted estuary which is shared by wading birds, cows and the inevitable sheep. Not too far along, the track starts climbing along a valley, stopping at tiny halts along the way. It goes through a forest then breaks out to a view of the Irish Sea. All along the way there are interesting houses and farms as well as broad vistas. Occasionally the train goes through a tunnel. It is possible to get off at a number of different halts and walk along trails, joining up another train at the same or another halt futher down the line. Some of the villages are built so close to the track that you could look right in the windows if they weren't guarded with lace curtains. At one point the track spirals to gain elevation, passing over itself, the only such spiral in Great Britain. For you railfans, it's the Tehachapi loop in miniature.
The line is bordered by trees, many of which are oaks, and numerous other varieties of plants and shrubs, many of which were in bloom. One that was not was the rhododendren, which I was surprised to find is actually a weed in this area. The species was introduced in the mid-1700's as a garden planting but since has spread to take over vast areas of woodlands where it prevents growth of native species on the forest floor, diminishing the biodiversity and reducing the habitat for wildlife. Coming from a family where rhododendrens were considered among the highest form of plant life, to call one a weed almost seems like heresy!
The trip takes about an hour each way. At the endpoint, Blaenau Ffestiniog, a bus meets the train to take passengers to tour the slate mine but we opted just to have lunch to break the journey. There is, of course, a pub opposite the train stop where you can get a light meal. I had the ubiquitous pub meal of a stuffed jacket potato (baked potato), this one stuffed with what is called 'prawn mayonaise' although where I come from a prawn is a large thing while these looked like shrimp to me. Nevertheless, it was very tasty and had Al wishing he had ordered it instead of a sandwich.
The trip back was, naturally, all downhill and it was interesting to hear the difference in the engine sound as it worked to hold the cars back instead of hauling them up.
Day two we rode the Welsh Highland Railway, beginning and ending at Caernarfon which is on the coast north across a narrow peninsula from Porthmadog. This railway has a small section at Porthmadog and the plan is to complete the line so that it will eventually run all the way from Caernarfon to Porthmadog, a distance of about 20 miles. Completion is expected in 2008, so maybe that would be a good time to go back. At this time, however, about half of the total line is open and it climbs into the heart of Snowdonia, a large national park that encompasses the highest mountains of Wales including Snowdon Peak which stands about 3500 feet high.
The terminus at Caernarfon is near the Caernarfon Castle, right on the water next to a marina, so Al had something to investigate while we waited for the train. There isn't much of a waiting area here, apparently because, as we were to find out, most people pick up the train at the other end.
The route heads immediately inland and after running past the train yard and through some lowland villages, starts to climb through typically lush Welsh mountain scenery. Lots of sheep. There are stops along the way where you can get off and on again if you want to do some walking. Soon a lake appears at the end of a green valley and in the distance we would have seen Snowdon except for the clouds. Some pretty nice views anyway.
When we arrived at Rhyd-Ddu, the end-point, we discovered a large parking lot full of cars, many more than at Caernarfon. The conductor told us that people come from the campgrounds and guesthouses in this area to ride the train in the opposite direction than we had. There was supposed to be a pub in town, 'just a few minutes walk' from the station, but we could see it off in the distance and there was no way that it was just a few minutes walk for me and Norman, so we had to shelve our plans for having lunch here. Colin hustled back to the train and reclaimed our original private compartment located, as luck would have it, next to where the young, buxom refreshments girl stored her wares. As soon as she returned from her break, we loaded up on lunch-substitutes like Old Speckled Hen Ale and slices of fruitcake.
On the return trip, with the locomotive already having to hold the cars back, there was the sudden sound of wheels braking to avoid a pair of sheep that had wandered onto the track. Thank goodness the train doesn't go very fast.
On the third day, we had to make a decision about what railroad to ride next. The final choice was the Talyllyn Railway which was brilliant. The line is only just over seven miles long, but the ride takes about an hour each way, which gives you some idea of the 'speed' that these trains achieve.
The line runs up the side of a valley that is simply lovely--I can't describe it any other way. At one stop, you can get out and take a short walk to Dolgoch Falls, which we had to pass on, sadly. (I was so irritated at not being able to take these walks.) There were plenty of other waterfalls along the route which we could see from our car as well as heather covered hillsides and a small lake. We broke the journey with lunch, of course, at the station cafe where Al and I both had Cornish pasties. On the way back we were able to get a better view of the three-arched stone bridge that is part of the original line.
Alas, we didn't have time to ride all the railways and to see more of Wales. On our last day, instead of taking the 'fast' route back to England, Norman instructed Flossie to take us the slow way 'over the top' through some more wonderful mountain scenery and picturesque villages so that we could savor the country as long as possible. I didn't even mind it when we got stuck behind the inevitable caravans because it just meant more time to enjoy the scenery.
Our visit to Wales was not long enough in a way, but after four months, we were more than ready to return home. We cannot thank Norman and Colin enough for their efforts in planning and executing the trip and for their patience with my infirmities.
posted by Al and Linda @ 7:42 AM
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