This is a little gem of historic film that I came across in the library the other afternoon. To bide me time on a winters afternoon now that lambing has gone quiet for the time being and I find meself between lambing sheds, I have decided to embark upon a little side project researching the history of railways in North Devon.
If you take a look at the film you can see that compared with today's sorry state of Barum as a terminus in the olden days the town was a thriving railway junction. Not quite Crewe or Clapham I grant you, but still a vibrant hub for trains and services coming and going from all over the place. Daily they would head off in a loop down to Cornwall via Bideford, Torrington and the clay pits. Jolly holidaymakers would then come hurtling down from Birmingham and London on the Atlantic Coast Express' heading on out to 'Combeconversely, rabbits, milk and produce would be heading up the other way to grace the shelves of grocers shops and the dining tables of the big cities. Mail trains came up from Exeter and also skirted the Moor from Taunton and earlier still a little loco puffed it's way out to Lynton and back. The remains of the latter are still visible at Chelfham Mill Viaduct, Blackmoor Gate Station Inn and Woody Bay where part of the track has been relaid and is now a major tourist attraction. Some say that down on the old lines you can still hear the sound of old engines and locos whistling in the wind and discern the rattle of rolling stock shunting by with the cries and cheers of long gone holidaymakers echoing across the estuary. At least that's what a couple of the lads down at the Angling Club reckon.
As the film ably illustrates there really was a golden age of rail in the area and I reckon it's passing is made even sadder by the rather decrepit state of our current and now somewhat singular service on the Tarka Line, where you can pay a small bleddy fortune to sit in a box on a rickety trolley next to an open sewer all in a journey time which Tarka himself could have probably beaten by swimming up to Exeter.
I have to admit, as is often the case I know, I know, to having something of a personal interest in the subject as believe it or not I happen to inhabit one of the old workers shacks down on Ashford Strand that the Squire bought of the British railways Board back in the 70's. If the film was to continue for another couple of miles or so you may have been able to see the small huddle of hovels which consist my current abode. Also my great Granfer, who funilly enough was called Ivor, was a sometime employee of the London and South Railway Company and he lived for many years in one of them railwayman's cottages which were pulled down a few years ago now to make way for the B&Q/Maplins car park. He lived right next door to the coal wagons and behind that tidy cottage where the old boy always had a sign out offering budgies for sale. In the film you can see a couple of rather proud and officious looking railwayman but I don't reckon he was one of them, more than likely he would have been one of the boys lazing on the bogey towards the end of the film as he's job was to walk the line banging the track with a great big mallet to see whether it's integrity was sound or not. He was the linesman for the county. Of course these blokes may not be working at all more than likely they are early members of that illustrious Barnstaple guild, the Honorable Company of Gawpers, Jabberers and Spade Leaners. Although given their location they could be predecessors of my own club the Taw Bridge and Tarka Trail Angling and Drinking Club.
As the film draws to end you can just make out two little tackers scrambling up the river bank to have a look at what's going on. Funny thing is, fifty odd years later you would have seen Me and Ian Stokey doing exactly the same thing, clambering up the bank to show our backsides at the passing train or to retrieve our squashed halfpennies from the track. Back then it gave us a brief moment of excitement before we returned to our hapless endeavour of fishing for flooks as more often than the not the only things we caught on our traces was a line of rubber johnnies. Happy days.
What also strikes me about this film is that in 1898 Barnstaple was party to such cinematic innovation and seeing the quality of the stock that remains it must have been quite something. People always think of the place as a bit of a backwater but evidently back then it was warming itself at the hearth of the white heat of technology.
Harping back to today's rail service between Barnstaple and Exeter I have to remark that fair's fair, First Great Western do enebtually seem to be addressing the needs of the passengers in the area. Not least with their introduction of the late night service which not only means that you now no longer have to leave London in the middle of the afternoon on a Friday to be sure of getting down here for a bit of supper but more's the point it means that us local folk can now travel up to Exeter of an evening to sample a bit of culture and still manage to get a train back home again that very same day. Bleddy perceptive management that was! I don't know what brainstorming session threw that one up but it was bleddy inspired.
Annie Corwood and I have booked our tickets for Holiday on Ice's Energia show at the Westpoint Arena in a couple of weeks time which we are both very much looking forward to.
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