We travelled to Yorkshire for the Easter break, God's own country Anne
calls it, to visit my Brother and Sister-in-Law, Heather and Trevor, who live in Guisborough,
Cleveland. We decided that we would trade the wet and windy weather of the
South East for the wet and windy weather of the North East. To be fair, we did
have a couple of fine days and on one of them, Easter Sunday, we drove to the Eske Valley with
the purpose of visiting a village called Grosmont. I'm sure there are brothers,
maybe Ladies too, who have heard of Grosmont. If you happen to be a fan of
steam locomotives then you will most certainly know the name.
Grosmont Railway Station serves the village of Grosmont in the North
York Moors. It is operated by Northern, the North Yorkshire Moors Railway,
which provides a passenger service from one platform of the station on the Esk
Valley Line. A little bit of history; Grosmont developed mainly as a centre of
ironstone mining which flourished during the 19th Century. From here the
rock was taken by rail to the Teesside blast furnaces. Grosmont was also known
for producing the 'Grosmont Brick' from 1870 until 1957. This was a
particularly dense brick which defied being drilled. B&Q budget price drill bits
will not do!
Today, the village is dominated by the heritage steam and diesel
services operated by Northern which run from Pickering to Grosmont. On some
days during the Summer season, there is an extra service along the Esk Valley
Railway line from Grosmont to Whitby. Because the Northern, shares the station
with the Heritage Steam Railway, you can change trains and platforms at
Grosmont to
either service simply by crossing the lines to the
opposite side.
If, like me, you love the smell of oil, steam, diesel and burning coal,
then a visit the engine sheds, a short walk from the station, is nothing less
than a pilgrimage. A steamy one though! Here you can view a variety of
maintenance being carried out on the steam engines by a band of dedicated
volunteers.
The thing about steam is the excitment! I can remember as a child in
Wales, running to the bridges and level crossing barriers to be thrilled by an
express steam train as it absolutely 'Whooshed' by. 'Whooo whoo' went the
whistle, 'clickety clack, clackety click' went the giant wheels on the track as
we waved it past. Very often, it was just a goods train chugging happily along and although it wasn't as exciting as an express, at least the driver had the time
and mostly the inclination to wave back at you. Compare that with modern rail
travel where we all, herd like, enter metal tubes to be transported from A to B
and beyond.
I vividly remember a primary school trip to visit Windsor Castle and St Georges Chapel. We started from Ebbw Vale Central. Good
old 'Ebba' (an affectionate abbreviation) which had a Railway station in those
days before Richard Beeching started his cull! We travelled to
Newport in those 'departmentalised' carriages that no longer exist.
No corridor only a door on each side which made many passengers feel very vulnerable as indeed they were! Basically, you were trapped until the next station!
When we alighted at Newport, a
black steaming monster (I could draw comparisons here but morality, good sense and the law, prevents me from doing so) awaited with wheels that were taller than any of us. Even the teachers! A through express, no less, took us straight
to Paddington where we changed to the Windsor & Eaton line. I could wax
lyrical on Windsor Station and the permanent replica of Queen Victoria's steam
engine, but that's
for another day.
