and for more than a century Workington, a few stations up the line, exported rolled steel track to build railways far and wide across the world. Sadly, it went the way of much of British industry, and Workingtonâs rail-making works, which first exported to the Texas and Alabama Railway in 1872, were finally closed in 2006.
Weâre now into our second cup of Assam, and discussing the merits of the Italianate style of the local station architecture â with nice touches such as the monogram of the Furness Railway set into the cast-iron lamp holders. Grange station is especially attractive, and a plaque on the wall pronounces it W INNER . B EST I NTERNATIONAL S MALL S TATION OF THE Y EAR 2007. Another grander plaque says the station was built in 1872 to the design of James Brunlees and is a replica of the top storey of the Grange Hotel. âThis is quite wrong,â says Anderson, who clearly knows as much about the line as it is possible to know. But the next train is due, and life is slow enough on the Cumbrian Coast for me not to be able to afford to miss it. The train is surprisingly full as we rumble over the next estuary crossing and onto the Leven Viaduct, an even grander piece of engineering than the Kent Viaduct, recently rebuilt by Network Rail, who closed the line for four months during its reconstruction. In 1903 the Whitehaven to Carnforth Mail was blown over here, though fortunately not into the water. But the passengers were left to crawl to safety on their hands and knees through the storm. There was even greater drama farther along the line at Lindal, where the engine of a goods train disappeared into a hole opened up by mining subsidence. It was never recovered, an intact piece of industrial archaeology frozen in time and waiting to be exhumed by generations hence.
The views are especially lovely here, as the line weaves through the Vale of Nightshade and past the remains of Furness Abbey, built by the Cistercians and second only in importance to Fountains Abbey in Yorkshire. The construction of the railway infuriated William Wordsworth, who called the companyâs directors âprofane despoilersâ. He had already publicly warmed to the theme with a sonnet attacking the building of a new line to Windermere. âIs there no nook of English ground secure from rash assault?â he wrote. One wonders what he would have made of the hideous rectangular bulk of Heysham nuclear power station, which disfigures many of the views from our train window along this part of the coast.
It seems incredible that during the nineteenth century the directors of the Furness turned the docks at Barrow into Englandâs third-largest after London and Liverpool. In modern times the shipyards were renowned as the place where Britainâs Trident nuclear submarines were built. But the naval industry fell on hard times at the end of the Cold War and there is not so much reason to come here now: the last direct trains to London Euston were withdrawn in the 1980s. As one commentator observed, âThere were not enough submarine salesmen journeying to the consulates and embassies of the capital to justify a through service.â Building nuclear submarines is hardly a vote winner these days and the number of people working in the shipyards is a fraction of what it once was. In any case, the town has other claims to fame. In 2002 it suffered the worldâs fourth-biggest outbreak of legionnairesâ disease in which seven people died. In 2008 it was judged the most working-class town in Britain, something of a contrast with the 1870s, when it had the largest number of aristocrats per head of any town in the land. While the train is waiting I alight briefly to use the gentlemenâs toilet, which I discover to be the cleanest I have ever seen on a railway station. Could there be a connection?
âWhere do you want to get off?â asks Brian, the conductor. North from Barrow is the least used
Weâre now into our second cup of Assam, and discussing the merits of the Italianate style of the local station architecture â with nice touches such as the monogram of the Furness Railway set into the cast-iron lamp holders. Grange station is especially attractive, and a plaque on the wall pronounces it W INNER . B EST I NTERNATIONAL S MALL S TATION OF THE Y EAR 2007. Another grander plaque says the station was built in 1872 to the design of James Brunlees and is a replica of the top storey of the Grange Hotel. âThis is quite wrong,â says Anderson, who clearly knows as much about the line as it is possible to know. But the next train is due, and life is slow enough on the Cumbrian Coast for me not to be able to afford to miss it. The train is surprisingly full as we rumble over the next estuary crossing and onto the Leven Viaduct, an even grander piece of engineering than the Kent Viaduct, recently rebuilt by Network Rail, who closed the line for four months during its reconstruction. In 1903 the Whitehaven to Carnforth Mail was blown over here, though fortunately not into the water. But the passengers were left to crawl to safety on their hands and knees through the storm. There was even greater drama farther along the line at Lindal, where the engine of a goods train disappeared into a hole opened up by mining subsidence. It was never recovered, an intact piece of industrial archaeology frozen in time and waiting to be exhumed by generations hence.
The views are especially lovely here, as the line weaves through the Vale of Nightshade and past the remains of Furness Abbey, built by the Cistercians and second only in importance to Fountains Abbey in Yorkshire. The construction of the railway infuriated William Wordsworth, who called the companyâs directors âprofane despoilersâ. He had already publicly warmed to the theme with a sonnet attacking the building of a new line to Windermere. âIs there no nook of English ground secure from rash assault?â he wrote. One wonders what he would have made of the hideous rectangular bulk of Heysham nuclear power station, which disfigures many of the views from our train window along this part of the coast.
It seems incredible that during the nineteenth century the directors of the Furness turned the docks at Barrow into Englandâs third-largest after London and Liverpool. In modern times the shipyards were renowned as the place where Britainâs Trident nuclear submarines were built. But the naval industry fell on hard times at the end of the Cold War and there is not so much reason to come here now: the last direct trains to London Euston were withdrawn in the 1980s. As one commentator observed, âThere were not enough submarine salesmen journeying to the consulates and embassies of the capital to justify a through service.â Building nuclear submarines is hardly a vote winner these days and the number of people working in the shipyards is a fraction of what it once was. In any case, the town has other claims to fame. In 2002 it suffered the worldâs fourth-biggest outbreak of legionnairesâ disease in which seven people died. In 2008 it was judged the most working-class town in Britain, something of a contrast with the 1870s, when it had the largest number of aristocrats per head of any town in the land. While the train is waiting I alight briefly to use the gentlemenâs toilet, which I discover to be the cleanest I have ever seen on a railway station. Could there be a connection?
âWhere do you want to get off?â asks Brian, the conductor. North from Barrow is the least used
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