Great British Railway Journeys (2010–…): Season 3, Episode 13 - Lydney to Newport - full transcript
In 1840, one man transformed
travel in Britain.
His name was George Bradshaw,
and his railway guides inspired
the Victorians to take to the tracks.
Stop by Stop
he told them where to travel,
what to see and where to stay.
Now, 170 years later,
I'm making a series of journeys across
the length and breadth of the country
to see what of Bradshaw's Britain
remains.
Steered by my Bradshaw's Guide,
I'm now completing my journey towards
the most westerly pan of south Wales.
This area hosted a powerhouse
of the Industrial Revolution.
And I'm keen to discover
the cultural legacy of that period,
and also to find out
whether industry and trade
are still continued here
on a colossal scale.
On the final leg of this journey,
I'll be discovering how
the 19th-century steel trade
has been brought up to date...
I can feel the heat
of the blast furnace,
I can see a stream of molten iron,
I can see sparks flying,
I can see smoke.
And now this fantastic train
that's emerging.
Going on a Victorian adventure
to see a marvel of the natural world...
it's wonderfully wet
and wonderfully thrilling, isn't it?
It's kind of... very, very romantic.
And learning how industry gave birth
to beautiful musk: in Bradshaw's day.
So, how long have you been in the choir'?
Only 53 years.
No?
- Yeah.
(laughter)
We been making a long journey from
the heart of England to west Wales.
It's taken me through rolling hills
and ancient forests,
before crossing the border,
where We been exploring the rich
industrial and railway heritage
of the Welsh valleys.
This stretch kicks off in Port Talbot,
then takes in the natural wonders
of the Vale of Neath,
finishing up at the port
of Milford Haven.
My guidebook paints a vivid picture of
this region's beating industrial heart.
Here is Bradshaw's gripping description
of south Wales in the mid-19th century.
"At night, the lurid glare
from countless coke ovens."
"By day, the dense clouds proceeding
from hundreds of chimney stalks
overhanging the valley."
"At all times, the arsenical,
sulphurous vapour filling the air,
which you may both smell and taste."
"And that gives the scene a character
scarcely to be seen elsewhere."
Bradshaw's recognised
that the industrial Revolution
had bought both paradise and inferno.
The heat and smoke that hung over
the valleys in Bradshaw's day
was producing iron and steel,
vital ingredients for
the spread of the railways
and Britain's rapid industrial growth.
My first stop is Port Talbot,
a town which is still synonymous
with steel today.
I'm heading to the vast modern
steelworks just south of the town
to see how the industry has changed
since the 19th century.
This 20-square kilometre site
is managed by John Fenyman.
Good morning, John.
Morning, Michael. Lovely to see you.
This is really industry
on an epic scale, isn't it?
Absolutely. We're stood in front of
the blast furnaces here at Port Talbot.
Fantastic sight.
I was reading my Bradshaw's Guide
on the way here.
He has this description of the
blast furnaces in the mid-19th century,
so iron and steel-making
goes back a long way here?
Absolutely. The plant is built around
coal supplies and iron-ore supplies.
It goes back to Christopher Talbot
back in the 19th century.
Christopher Rice Manse! Talbot
was a local landowner.
The ironworks he opened here in 1831
took advantage of recent
industrial innovations
that made large-scale
iron production possible.
But his ambitions for the area went
further, as the town's name suggests.
So, he gave his name to Port Talbot,
he developed the dock?
Absolutely. The dock came along...
He realised, when you had an ironworks,
that you needed to bring materials in,
so he developed the docks.
He also had something
to do with the railways.
In fact, Talbot was a major player
in the railway history of south Wales.
He was chairman of the
South Wales Railway Company,
which built the tine used to export coat
from the region to London.
Closer to home, his efforts helped
Port Talbot to boom in the 19th century.
(Michael) So, actually,
in one person, this Talbot,
you've got the dock,
the ironworks, the railways,
all integrated in this single figure.
Yeah, he brought that in
in the 19th century
and made a huge difference to this area.
It's still the same today.
Industrially produced iron
helped Britain's railways
to unfurl across the land.
Used for everything from tracks
to stations and viaducts.
But by the 1870s, a new technology
allowed iron to be transformed
inexpensively into steel,
which was stronger,
giving fresh impetus to
the industrial Revolution.
Port Talbot gained its first
steelworks in 1901,
and then the core of the modern plant
opened in the 1950s.
Further technological progress has
transformed the manufacturing process.
(Carmichael) Wayne, hello.
- Hello.
(Carmichael) What is it that you control?
- All the furnace parameters,
how quick the furnace runs,
how much iron we're making,
what we put in the top,
what percentage of coke to ore.
(Carmichael) So, what I'm looking at,
at the screen,
how far away is that from this building?
It's about 30ft behind those windows.
- Really?
But it would be pretty damn hot
if we were down there?
If you were up there at the moment,
you'd be very warm,
uncomfortable.
You'd be wearing safety gear.
The iron itself is about
1500 degrees this morning.
(Carmichael) How do you get it up?
(Wayne) We blow hot air in the bottom.
About 1,000 degrees.
And then, inside there,
we mix that with coke and oxygen.
And then we get combustion.
The flame temperature at the bottom
then is about 2,240 degrees,
which produces that iron
at about 1528 right now.
The temperatures are just bewildering
to me. An extraordinary environment.
This vast site handles
the whole steelmaking process,
from smelting to rolling out
the finished product,
producing up to
five million tonnes per year.
The plant has its own
internal railway,
where locomotives pull
so-called torpedoes,
full of blistering hot liquid iron.
(Michael) John, it's a fantastic
feeling and sight here.
I can feel the heat
of the blast furnace.
I can see a stream of molten iron,
I can see sparks flying,
I can see smoke.
And now this fantastic train
that's emerging. Tell me about that.
The torpedo is like a flask on wheels.
It's holding in
1530 degrees of molten iron.
So there's about 300 tonnes
in this torpedo behind us.
It's now going to our steel plant,
where it will be treated
to turn it from iron into steel.
I can see the heat haze
rising above the torpedo.
So, this is an open vessel, is it?
- (John) The top of the vessel is open.
That's the area that we pour into
and actually pour out of
when it gets into the steel pump.
You must have yourselves a
pretty enormous and busy railway network
inside the plant.
Yeah, the blast furnaces
are known as the heart of the plant,
and the railway network
is known as the veins.
And actually, we're moving about
80,000 tonnes of molten iron a week
through the plant.
A week?
- A week, yes.
So, I mean, that does make you
a very substantial railway operation.
The railway here is absolutely
essential to this business.
It just cannot operate
without a railway network.
I'm sure George Bradshaw would be struck
that coke, iron smelting
and the transportation of steel by rail
continue today in a form
that he would recognise.
But the railways in his day
sewed passengers as well as freight.
I'm leaving Port Talbot,
following the tracks
of Victorian adventurers,
who came to explore
this region's gorgeous landscape.
My Bradshaw's says,
"Here, the fine vale of Neath
may be ascended
to the beautiful waterfalls
at its summit."
"Some of the best waterfalls
in south Wales."
And whilst industry has changed a lot
since Bradshaws day,
I'm assuming that nature has not.
I leave the train at Neath Station.
In Bradshaw's day,
I would have been able to pick up
the Vale of Neath railway here
to take me closer to
the Valley's most stunning scenery.
The line's gone now.
But that won't deter me from
following the trail of Victorians,
who sought the thrills of nature
in waterfall country.
I'm meeting countryside warden
Helen Pye
to hear whether this beauty spot
has changed since Bradshaw's day.
Helen.
How are you?
- What an awesome sight that is.
It's absolutely stunning, isn't it?
(Carmichael) The power of nature, eh?
I imagine that Victorian tourists
did come in considerable numbers.
The numbers were actually quite low.
This area was quite an extreme
environment for them to come to,
so you did generally tend to get
explorers, naturalists, artists, really.
And probably people who were
more of the higher classes,
because it was quite an adventure
to come here, really.
(Michael) Of course, the Victorians
combined this romanticism,
this wish to get back to
the forces of nature
with a very keen sense of
scientific inquiry, didn't they?
Yeah, definitely. So, you had people
like Alfred Russel Wallace coming here.
He was a famous naturalist
of the 19th century.
Though no longer a household name,
Alfred Russel Wallace
was well known in Victorian times.
Working independently,
he hit upon a theory of evolution
at the same time as Darwin.
Indeed, hearing of Wallace's work
spurred Darwin to publish his own.
This countryside first inspired
Wallace to study the natural world.
And it still attracts
scientific interest today.
(Helen) This site is actually
of European importance.
And it's designated
for its open ash woodland
and some of the really rare
species that that supports.
And most people don't really know about
them. They're lichens and mosses.
All those green things
that you see growing on trees.
But they're actually really
important and rare on this site.
These days, the area attracts
154,000 visitors a year,
many doing the 21st-century
equivalent of the Victorian tour,
the four waterfalls walk.
A highlight is the opportunity
to stand behind
this magnificent torrent of water.
It's wonderfully wet
and wonderfully thrilling, isn't it?
It's kind of... very, very romantic.
I wish I were a Victorian poet
who could pen a few lines,
or a Victorian painter
who could capture the beauty.
Or a Victorian who could take the steam
railway back down the Neath Valley.
Somewhere dry.
After my Victorian adventure, I'm now
in search of a bed for the night.
"Bradshaw's" recommends
Neath's Castle Hotel.
And apparently,
it also has a sporting claim to fame.
Before I touch down for the night,
I'm stopping off for a chat with
Neath rugby club secretary Mike Price.
Hello, Mike.
Michael.
Welcome to Wales's rugby capital.
That's Neath, is it?
That's Neath, yeah.
The good citizens of Cardiff
might disagree,
but Neath is the place
where Welsh rugby really all stalled.
(Carmichael)
This room is a particular shrine?
(Mike) Yes, this is the centenary room
in the Castle Hotel in Neath.
And this is where the
Welsh Rugby Union itself was founded.
Rugby was introduced to Wales
in the 19th century,
and the working men of the Welsh valleys
were quick to make it their own.
The railways helped to
encourage matches,
even between distant teams.
And with the creation of the Rugby
Union, Welsh rugby came of age.
Now Wales could field
an official national team,
kicking off a love affair
that shows no sign of fading.
So, tell me about Wales's love of
or passion for rugby.
Well, it borders on fanaticism really.
And I think it all grows from
people's schooldays.
I wouldn't think there's
a school kid in Wales
who hasn't participated in a game
of rugby at some level or other.
And even before that,
children get given rugby balls
as presents, even as toddlers.
After a stimulating day,
I must convert my energy to sleep
and try to get some rest.
Today, I'm continuing west
towards the city of Swansea.
In the 19th century, this area
was a hive of industrial activity,
dominated by coal-mining
and copper smelting.
At the end of a day
working in the pit, or on the railways,
or at the blast furnace,
the working man
sought a leisure activity.
And that has bequeathed us something
that we associate more particularly
with the Welsh than even coal or steel.
(Welsh male voice choir singing)
In this region, the dirt and smoke
of the Industrial Revolution
gave birth to the
Welsh male voice choir.
Formed not of classically-trained
musicians but working men,
these choirs are a fundament
of Welsh culture.
I'm leaving the train at Swansea,
and heading to the nearby
suburb of Dunvant,
where I've heard there's
an intriguing connection
between singing and the railways.
Until the 1960s, Dunvant was linked
by rail to Swansea Docks.
Sadly, these days that line has gone,
and at! that remains of the station
is a modest hut.
We where I'm meeting
the choir chairman Barry Evans.
Barry.
- Michael.
Nice to meet you.
- Great to see you.
Now, the Dunvant Male Voice Choir
has quite a claim to fame, doesn't it?
Yes, it's the oldest established
continuous male voice choir in Wales.
Established in 1895.
And it's been going ever since
without a break, really.
You've decided to meet me here
for what reason?
Because before the main
male voice choir was formed,
the other choir in the village
started in this building in 1880
when it was pan of
the main station building.
And when this choir split up,
some of the members went to form
the male voice choir.
(Carmichael)
Why did they form in a railway station?
Because the station master,
Isaac Peters, was a musician of sorts.
He pulled people together in the area
from Killay and Dunvant
to form a mixed choir.
And they used to practise
in the station when he was on shift.
Industrialisation and the new railways
soon brought unprecedented numbers
of miners and metalworkers
to villages across the valleys.
All working to the new rhythms
of the industrial age.
Set shifts became the norm,
leaving the men with
structured leisure time to fill.
Why did working men join choirs
in the 19th century?
I think it was a bit of a challenge.
There wasn't much else to do.
Most people were in the chapel. It paid
to be in the chapel and the schools.
And it was a community thing.
You got together,
not just men, but ladies as well,
and you had mixed choirs.
And then the men found you could have
a nice sound with a male voice choir.
So lots of male voice choirs
were founded.
(Michael) Did it mix with
what I assume is quite a macho culture?
Men who were working
underground all day,
working in the railways,
working in the blast furnaces.
(Barry) Well, I think it was just
being pan of a team.
As well as being in the pit,
they used to play rugby together
and do all sons of things together.
Singing, it just brought people
together for a bit of enjoyment.
That was the main reason for it.
The choirs could exploit
local rivalries,
as the men threw their hearts
into competitions between villages.
The tradition survives to this day.
And the quest for excellence
is undiminished.
(choir singing in Welsh)
I suppose that I could have
strayed here during Victoria's reign
and heard a sound as powerful
and as moving.
What a privilege.
What beautiful harmonies.
You've got fantastic voices.
Absolutely incredible voices.
Thank you so much.
May I ask you,
how long have you been in the choir'?
Twenty-five years now.
Twenty-five years?
- Yes.
What do you get out of your singing?
- I suppose it's the comradeship.
It's good fun,
it's good for your health.
Very good for your health, in fact.
Erm, the opportunity to travel.
And the opportunity to learn
from people,
like our musical team here,
for instance, how to hone our voices.
And take us to some
very prestigious venues
and to sing with some
very prestigious people.
How long have you been in the choir?
- Only 53 years.
No?
- Yeah.
(laughter)
Yes.
- Fifty-three years.
And I'm the youngster in the choir now.
Fantastic.
Were your family in the choir?
Very much so, yes.
My father and my grandfather.
Three generations.
And my other grandfather was also in it,
but not during my time.
(Carmichael) Why have you done it
for 53 years?
What have you gained from your singing?
Well, it's my village.
I was born here, born into this chapel.
Spent all my life here.
It's the people that I've lived with...
it's a part of what we are.
What would life have been like
for you without your singing?
Oh, dear. I...
- (laughter)
You can't even think about it, can you?
No. Not really, no.
No. I wouldn't have imagined
living without singing.
You know, I can't imagine
anything more beautiful
than walking in here
and hearing this choir sing.
I can't imagine any better
welcome in the hillside
or any better welcome in the vales.
(choir sing in Welsh)
With the sound of Wales
ringing in my ears,
I'm now taking my last train
on this long trip.
I'm bound for Mitford Haven
in Pembrokeshire,
which receives an enthusiastic review
in my 19th-century guide.
The final stage of my journey
takes me to the Welsh coast,
to one of the most westerly places
in mainland Britain.
My Bradshaw's talks about "that
magnificent inlet called Milford Haven".
"Milford is prettily situated
on a sloping point of land
about six miles from the entrance to
the haven, to which it gives its name."
And the natural advantages of that
harbour serve Milford Haven today
as well as they have
in centuries gone by.
The railway reached Milford in 1856.
And a few years later, the line was
extended to reach the main docks.
I'm getting off in the town centre
and heading to the waterfront
to see what the locals make
of their fine harbour.
(Michael) Hello.
- (woman) Hello.
Enjoying the view'?
- It's lovely.
Do you come from Milford Haven?
- I live around the corner.
Not far from here at all.
Do you manage to get out
and enjoy the water sometimes?
Yes, we do. We go out on my friend's
jet-ski and we go surfing.
The beaches are beautiful,
I have to say.
Pembrokeshire has its cons,
but the beaches are absolutely stunning.
It's not great today,
but the scenery is beautiful.
It's supposed to be summer.
But obviously not today. (laughs)
Milford Haven was founded
only in the 1790s.
But in its short ZOO-year history,
it's been through several incarnations.
Surprisingly, some of the first people
to settle here came from America.
And their legacy is discernible
in the town today.
This transatlantic connection came about
thanks to the remarkable
natural harbour.
To hear more, I'm meeting Andrew Brown
from the Mitford Haven Port Authority.
Hello, Andrew.
Michael, welcome to Milford Haven.
It's great to be here.
I'd been lured here
by my Bradshaw's Guide.
It says that,
"As there is plenty of deep water,
the harbour at Milford Haven would
easily hold the entire British Navy."
That's quite a thought
and quite a claim, isn't it?
It is, and it's absolutely true.
And it's been pan of the success of
Milford Haven over the last 200 years.
Erm, the water depth is 16.5 metres
in the main channel.
And that's minimum.
It's actually more than that.
In Bradshaw's day, that's over 50ft
of water at all states of the tide.
Only in the late 18th century
did local landowners realise
the potential of the Haven.
They lobbied Parliament
for permission to build a new town
with a very unusual group
of new residents in mind.
American Whalers.
They were looking for a base in the UK
to bring in all the spoils
from their whaling.
And they started here
in the late 1790s, into the 1800s.
They would go away into the seas
for a year or more at a time,
and they brought the whales in
and the whale bones were used
to line ladies' corsetry, apparently.
And the sperm oil
was taken up to London,
and that was used as fuel
for street lighting in London.
These whalers had settled in Milford
partly because of its excellent harbour,
but also to avoid high import duties.
At that time, America ted
the hugely lucrative whale trade.
In the days before petroleum,
oil made from whale blubber
was highly prized,
and as the Industrial Revolution
progressed, it was put to many uses,
from candles to lubricating locomotives.
But as a whaling port,
Mitford didn't last long.
By the mid-19th century,
the whale trade was in decline
thanks to the inventions of
gas lighting and kerosene.
In the 1880s, Mitford Haven
decided to chart a different course,
which began with building new docks.
The initial aspiration
was that the docks,
when they were built,
would attract transatlantic liners.
But the reality,
when the gates first opened in 1888,
was that the first ship in was a small
team steam trawler by the name of Sybil.
I believe she landed
about five tons of fish.
And that, in fact, set the future of
Milford for the following hundred years.
(Carmichael)
And that fish was headed, I assume,
for the railway
and for the cities of Britain.
Well, indeed. In fact, there was a fish
quay that was one-fifth of a mile long.
And in fact, in Paddington as well,
there were posters that said, "Milford
Haven, where the fish comes from."
And there were fish trains that went up
to London, up to Billingsgate every day.
By the 1900s, Milford was Britain's
sixth largest fishing port.
But by the middle of the 20th century,
things were going downhill.
The harbour came to the rescue
once again,
when in the 1950s and 60s, oil companies
saw it as an ideal site for refineries.
Today, the docks are filled
with vast tankers
carrying oil and liquefied natural gas.
So, Milford Haven
has gone from whale oil to crude oil.
It's the second oil age, as we call it.
And then more recently,
in the last two or three years,
liquefied natural gas
has started to come ashore,
and each of them produce about
20-25 per cent of the UK's needs,
both in terms of refined product
and in terms of the gas.
Milford's liquefied natural gas complex
is one of the biggest in the world.
The oil companies
still use the railways,
with eight to ten trains carrying
2,000 tonnes of refined material
out of the town every week.
It was the references in Bradshaw's
that brought me here today.
Frankly, it's been a surprise
because Milford Haven is not necessarily
a name that's on everybody's lips,
and yet it turns out to be
a fundamentally important port
for the very same reason that Bradshaw's
mentions, the depth of the water.
It's the depth of the water
that has made Milford Haven.
In spite of its peripherality,
in spite of how far away it is
from the centre of the UK and Europe,
we are the energy port of the UK.
We're the third largest port
in terms of tonnage moved in the UK.
And we're the largest port in Wales.
There is an immense pride in Milford
Haven in what the port's done for it.
During this rail trip,
We been musing on how the Victorians
harnessed the railways
to make the most of their resources.
Trains carried everything
from self-improving tourists...
to the very coal, iron and steel
that fuelled the Industrial Revolution.
On this journey
from Oxford to Milford Haven,
I've contemplated beautiful British
landscape from towers and hills.
This land has been good to us.
The Victorians changed it, cultivating
its fields and mining its minerals.
Some of what they did
has now returned to nature.
For the span from Bradshaws time
to ours is but a moment gone,
whilst this island of ours
endures forever.
My next journey takes me
to the north of England,
as my "Bradshaw's" leads me
from Bernwick-upon-Tweed,
south-west across
the backbone of England,
through industrial heartlands
and dramatic scenery,
finishing on the beautiful
and unique Isle of Man.
Hi be admiring spectacular
engineering triumphs
in the Cambrian countryside...
Thank you for going
so slowly over the viaduct.
Isn't that a beautiful thing?
- Aye.
Submerging myself
in a top-secret world...
It is enormous.
It's like the last scene of
a James Bond movie, isn't it?
And hearing how perilous life was
on the industrial railways
of the north-east.
So, if it's your job
to get that rope off
and you happened to trip,
what's the consequence?
You're dead.
travel in Britain.
His name was George Bradshaw,
and his railway guides inspired
the Victorians to take to the tracks.
Stop by Stop
he told them where to travel,
what to see and where to stay.
Now, 170 years later,
I'm making a series of journeys across
the length and breadth of the country
to see what of Bradshaw's Britain
remains.
Steered by my Bradshaw's Guide,
I'm now completing my journey towards
the most westerly pan of south Wales.
This area hosted a powerhouse
of the Industrial Revolution.
And I'm keen to discover
the cultural legacy of that period,
and also to find out
whether industry and trade
are still continued here
on a colossal scale.
On the final leg of this journey,
I'll be discovering how
the 19th-century steel trade
has been brought up to date...
I can feel the heat
of the blast furnace,
I can see a stream of molten iron,
I can see sparks flying,
I can see smoke.
And now this fantastic train
that's emerging.
Going on a Victorian adventure
to see a marvel of the natural world...
it's wonderfully wet
and wonderfully thrilling, isn't it?
It's kind of... very, very romantic.
And learning how industry gave birth
to beautiful musk: in Bradshaw's day.
So, how long have you been in the choir'?
Only 53 years.
No?
- Yeah.
(laughter)
We been making a long journey from
the heart of England to west Wales.
It's taken me through rolling hills
and ancient forests,
before crossing the border,
where We been exploring the rich
industrial and railway heritage
of the Welsh valleys.
This stretch kicks off in Port Talbot,
then takes in the natural wonders
of the Vale of Neath,
finishing up at the port
of Milford Haven.
My guidebook paints a vivid picture of
this region's beating industrial heart.
Here is Bradshaw's gripping description
of south Wales in the mid-19th century.
"At night, the lurid glare
from countless coke ovens."
"By day, the dense clouds proceeding
from hundreds of chimney stalks
overhanging the valley."
"At all times, the arsenical,
sulphurous vapour filling the air,
which you may both smell and taste."
"And that gives the scene a character
scarcely to be seen elsewhere."
Bradshaw's recognised
that the industrial Revolution
had bought both paradise and inferno.
The heat and smoke that hung over
the valleys in Bradshaw's day
was producing iron and steel,
vital ingredients for
the spread of the railways
and Britain's rapid industrial growth.
My first stop is Port Talbot,
a town which is still synonymous
with steel today.
I'm heading to the vast modern
steelworks just south of the town
to see how the industry has changed
since the 19th century.
This 20-square kilometre site
is managed by John Fenyman.
Good morning, John.
Morning, Michael. Lovely to see you.
This is really industry
on an epic scale, isn't it?
Absolutely. We're stood in front of
the blast furnaces here at Port Talbot.
Fantastic sight.
I was reading my Bradshaw's Guide
on the way here.
He has this description of the
blast furnaces in the mid-19th century,
so iron and steel-making
goes back a long way here?
Absolutely. The plant is built around
coal supplies and iron-ore supplies.
It goes back to Christopher Talbot
back in the 19th century.
Christopher Rice Manse! Talbot
was a local landowner.
The ironworks he opened here in 1831
took advantage of recent
industrial innovations
that made large-scale
iron production possible.
But his ambitions for the area went
further, as the town's name suggests.
So, he gave his name to Port Talbot,
he developed the dock?
Absolutely. The dock came along...
He realised, when you had an ironworks,
that you needed to bring materials in,
so he developed the docks.
He also had something
to do with the railways.
In fact, Talbot was a major player
in the railway history of south Wales.
He was chairman of the
South Wales Railway Company,
which built the tine used to export coat
from the region to London.
Closer to home, his efforts helped
Port Talbot to boom in the 19th century.
(Michael) So, actually,
in one person, this Talbot,
you've got the dock,
the ironworks, the railways,
all integrated in this single figure.
Yeah, he brought that in
in the 19th century
and made a huge difference to this area.
It's still the same today.
Industrially produced iron
helped Britain's railways
to unfurl across the land.
Used for everything from tracks
to stations and viaducts.
But by the 1870s, a new technology
allowed iron to be transformed
inexpensively into steel,
which was stronger,
giving fresh impetus to
the industrial Revolution.
Port Talbot gained its first
steelworks in 1901,
and then the core of the modern plant
opened in the 1950s.
Further technological progress has
transformed the manufacturing process.
(Carmichael) Wayne, hello.
- Hello.
(Carmichael) What is it that you control?
- All the furnace parameters,
how quick the furnace runs,
how much iron we're making,
what we put in the top,
what percentage of coke to ore.
(Carmichael) So, what I'm looking at,
at the screen,
how far away is that from this building?
It's about 30ft behind those windows.
- Really?
But it would be pretty damn hot
if we were down there?
If you were up there at the moment,
you'd be very warm,
uncomfortable.
You'd be wearing safety gear.
The iron itself is about
1500 degrees this morning.
(Carmichael) How do you get it up?
(Wayne) We blow hot air in the bottom.
About 1,000 degrees.
And then, inside there,
we mix that with coke and oxygen.
And then we get combustion.
The flame temperature at the bottom
then is about 2,240 degrees,
which produces that iron
at about 1528 right now.
The temperatures are just bewildering
to me. An extraordinary environment.
This vast site handles
the whole steelmaking process,
from smelting to rolling out
the finished product,
producing up to
five million tonnes per year.
The plant has its own
internal railway,
where locomotives pull
so-called torpedoes,
full of blistering hot liquid iron.
(Michael) John, it's a fantastic
feeling and sight here.
I can feel the heat
of the blast furnace.
I can see a stream of molten iron,
I can see sparks flying,
I can see smoke.
And now this fantastic train
that's emerging. Tell me about that.
The torpedo is like a flask on wheels.
It's holding in
1530 degrees of molten iron.
So there's about 300 tonnes
in this torpedo behind us.
It's now going to our steel plant,
where it will be treated
to turn it from iron into steel.
I can see the heat haze
rising above the torpedo.
So, this is an open vessel, is it?
- (John) The top of the vessel is open.
That's the area that we pour into
and actually pour out of
when it gets into the steel pump.
You must have yourselves a
pretty enormous and busy railway network
inside the plant.
Yeah, the blast furnaces
are known as the heart of the plant,
and the railway network
is known as the veins.
And actually, we're moving about
80,000 tonnes of molten iron a week
through the plant.
A week?
- A week, yes.
So, I mean, that does make you
a very substantial railway operation.
The railway here is absolutely
essential to this business.
It just cannot operate
without a railway network.
I'm sure George Bradshaw would be struck
that coke, iron smelting
and the transportation of steel by rail
continue today in a form
that he would recognise.
But the railways in his day
sewed passengers as well as freight.
I'm leaving Port Talbot,
following the tracks
of Victorian adventurers,
who came to explore
this region's gorgeous landscape.
My Bradshaw's says,
"Here, the fine vale of Neath
may be ascended
to the beautiful waterfalls
at its summit."
"Some of the best waterfalls
in south Wales."
And whilst industry has changed a lot
since Bradshaws day,
I'm assuming that nature has not.
I leave the train at Neath Station.
In Bradshaw's day,
I would have been able to pick up
the Vale of Neath railway here
to take me closer to
the Valley's most stunning scenery.
The line's gone now.
But that won't deter me from
following the trail of Victorians,
who sought the thrills of nature
in waterfall country.
I'm meeting countryside warden
Helen Pye
to hear whether this beauty spot
has changed since Bradshaw's day.
Helen.
How are you?
- What an awesome sight that is.
It's absolutely stunning, isn't it?
(Carmichael) The power of nature, eh?
I imagine that Victorian tourists
did come in considerable numbers.
The numbers were actually quite low.
This area was quite an extreme
environment for them to come to,
so you did generally tend to get
explorers, naturalists, artists, really.
And probably people who were
more of the higher classes,
because it was quite an adventure
to come here, really.
(Michael) Of course, the Victorians
combined this romanticism,
this wish to get back to
the forces of nature
with a very keen sense of
scientific inquiry, didn't they?
Yeah, definitely. So, you had people
like Alfred Russel Wallace coming here.
He was a famous naturalist
of the 19th century.
Though no longer a household name,
Alfred Russel Wallace
was well known in Victorian times.
Working independently,
he hit upon a theory of evolution
at the same time as Darwin.
Indeed, hearing of Wallace's work
spurred Darwin to publish his own.
This countryside first inspired
Wallace to study the natural world.
And it still attracts
scientific interest today.
(Helen) This site is actually
of European importance.
And it's designated
for its open ash woodland
and some of the really rare
species that that supports.
And most people don't really know about
them. They're lichens and mosses.
All those green things
that you see growing on trees.
But they're actually really
important and rare on this site.
These days, the area attracts
154,000 visitors a year,
many doing the 21st-century
equivalent of the Victorian tour,
the four waterfalls walk.
A highlight is the opportunity
to stand behind
this magnificent torrent of water.
It's wonderfully wet
and wonderfully thrilling, isn't it?
It's kind of... very, very romantic.
I wish I were a Victorian poet
who could pen a few lines,
or a Victorian painter
who could capture the beauty.
Or a Victorian who could take the steam
railway back down the Neath Valley.
Somewhere dry.
After my Victorian adventure, I'm now
in search of a bed for the night.
"Bradshaw's" recommends
Neath's Castle Hotel.
And apparently,
it also has a sporting claim to fame.
Before I touch down for the night,
I'm stopping off for a chat with
Neath rugby club secretary Mike Price.
Hello, Mike.
Michael.
Welcome to Wales's rugby capital.
That's Neath, is it?
That's Neath, yeah.
The good citizens of Cardiff
might disagree,
but Neath is the place
where Welsh rugby really all stalled.
(Carmichael)
This room is a particular shrine?
(Mike) Yes, this is the centenary room
in the Castle Hotel in Neath.
And this is where the
Welsh Rugby Union itself was founded.
Rugby was introduced to Wales
in the 19th century,
and the working men of the Welsh valleys
were quick to make it their own.
The railways helped to
encourage matches,
even between distant teams.
And with the creation of the Rugby
Union, Welsh rugby came of age.
Now Wales could field
an official national team,
kicking off a love affair
that shows no sign of fading.
So, tell me about Wales's love of
or passion for rugby.
Well, it borders on fanaticism really.
And I think it all grows from
people's schooldays.
I wouldn't think there's
a school kid in Wales
who hasn't participated in a game
of rugby at some level or other.
And even before that,
children get given rugby balls
as presents, even as toddlers.
After a stimulating day,
I must convert my energy to sleep
and try to get some rest.
Today, I'm continuing west
towards the city of Swansea.
In the 19th century, this area
was a hive of industrial activity,
dominated by coal-mining
and copper smelting.
At the end of a day
working in the pit, or on the railways,
or at the blast furnace,
the working man
sought a leisure activity.
And that has bequeathed us something
that we associate more particularly
with the Welsh than even coal or steel.
(Welsh male voice choir singing)
In this region, the dirt and smoke
of the Industrial Revolution
gave birth to the
Welsh male voice choir.
Formed not of classically-trained
musicians but working men,
these choirs are a fundament
of Welsh culture.
I'm leaving the train at Swansea,
and heading to the nearby
suburb of Dunvant,
where I've heard there's
an intriguing connection
between singing and the railways.
Until the 1960s, Dunvant was linked
by rail to Swansea Docks.
Sadly, these days that line has gone,
and at! that remains of the station
is a modest hut.
We where I'm meeting
the choir chairman Barry Evans.
Barry.
- Michael.
Nice to meet you.
- Great to see you.
Now, the Dunvant Male Voice Choir
has quite a claim to fame, doesn't it?
Yes, it's the oldest established
continuous male voice choir in Wales.
Established in 1895.
And it's been going ever since
without a break, really.
You've decided to meet me here
for what reason?
Because before the main
male voice choir was formed,
the other choir in the village
started in this building in 1880
when it was pan of
the main station building.
And when this choir split up,
some of the members went to form
the male voice choir.
(Carmichael)
Why did they form in a railway station?
Because the station master,
Isaac Peters, was a musician of sorts.
He pulled people together in the area
from Killay and Dunvant
to form a mixed choir.
And they used to practise
in the station when he was on shift.
Industrialisation and the new railways
soon brought unprecedented numbers
of miners and metalworkers
to villages across the valleys.
All working to the new rhythms
of the industrial age.
Set shifts became the norm,
leaving the men with
structured leisure time to fill.
Why did working men join choirs
in the 19th century?
I think it was a bit of a challenge.
There wasn't much else to do.
Most people were in the chapel. It paid
to be in the chapel and the schools.
And it was a community thing.
You got together,
not just men, but ladies as well,
and you had mixed choirs.
And then the men found you could have
a nice sound with a male voice choir.
So lots of male voice choirs
were founded.
(Michael) Did it mix with
what I assume is quite a macho culture?
Men who were working
underground all day,
working in the railways,
working in the blast furnaces.
(Barry) Well, I think it was just
being pan of a team.
As well as being in the pit,
they used to play rugby together
and do all sons of things together.
Singing, it just brought people
together for a bit of enjoyment.
That was the main reason for it.
The choirs could exploit
local rivalries,
as the men threw their hearts
into competitions between villages.
The tradition survives to this day.
And the quest for excellence
is undiminished.
(choir singing in Welsh)
I suppose that I could have
strayed here during Victoria's reign
and heard a sound as powerful
and as moving.
What a privilege.
What beautiful harmonies.
You've got fantastic voices.
Absolutely incredible voices.
Thank you so much.
May I ask you,
how long have you been in the choir'?
Twenty-five years now.
Twenty-five years?
- Yes.
What do you get out of your singing?
- I suppose it's the comradeship.
It's good fun,
it's good for your health.
Very good for your health, in fact.
Erm, the opportunity to travel.
And the opportunity to learn
from people,
like our musical team here,
for instance, how to hone our voices.
And take us to some
very prestigious venues
and to sing with some
very prestigious people.
How long have you been in the choir?
- Only 53 years.
No?
- Yeah.
(laughter)
Yes.
- Fifty-three years.
And I'm the youngster in the choir now.
Fantastic.
Were your family in the choir?
Very much so, yes.
My father and my grandfather.
Three generations.
And my other grandfather was also in it,
but not during my time.
(Carmichael) Why have you done it
for 53 years?
What have you gained from your singing?
Well, it's my village.
I was born here, born into this chapel.
Spent all my life here.
It's the people that I've lived with...
it's a part of what we are.
What would life have been like
for you without your singing?
Oh, dear. I...
- (laughter)
You can't even think about it, can you?
No. Not really, no.
No. I wouldn't have imagined
living without singing.
You know, I can't imagine
anything more beautiful
than walking in here
and hearing this choir sing.
I can't imagine any better
welcome in the hillside
or any better welcome in the vales.
(choir sing in Welsh)
With the sound of Wales
ringing in my ears,
I'm now taking my last train
on this long trip.
I'm bound for Mitford Haven
in Pembrokeshire,
which receives an enthusiastic review
in my 19th-century guide.
The final stage of my journey
takes me to the Welsh coast,
to one of the most westerly places
in mainland Britain.
My Bradshaw's talks about "that
magnificent inlet called Milford Haven".
"Milford is prettily situated
on a sloping point of land
about six miles from the entrance to
the haven, to which it gives its name."
And the natural advantages of that
harbour serve Milford Haven today
as well as they have
in centuries gone by.
The railway reached Milford in 1856.
And a few years later, the line was
extended to reach the main docks.
I'm getting off in the town centre
and heading to the waterfront
to see what the locals make
of their fine harbour.
(Michael) Hello.
- (woman) Hello.
Enjoying the view'?
- It's lovely.
Do you come from Milford Haven?
- I live around the corner.
Not far from here at all.
Do you manage to get out
and enjoy the water sometimes?
Yes, we do. We go out on my friend's
jet-ski and we go surfing.
The beaches are beautiful,
I have to say.
Pembrokeshire has its cons,
but the beaches are absolutely stunning.
It's not great today,
but the scenery is beautiful.
It's supposed to be summer.
But obviously not today. (laughs)
Milford Haven was founded
only in the 1790s.
But in its short ZOO-year history,
it's been through several incarnations.
Surprisingly, some of the first people
to settle here came from America.
And their legacy is discernible
in the town today.
This transatlantic connection came about
thanks to the remarkable
natural harbour.
To hear more, I'm meeting Andrew Brown
from the Mitford Haven Port Authority.
Hello, Andrew.
Michael, welcome to Milford Haven.
It's great to be here.
I'd been lured here
by my Bradshaw's Guide.
It says that,
"As there is plenty of deep water,
the harbour at Milford Haven would
easily hold the entire British Navy."
That's quite a thought
and quite a claim, isn't it?
It is, and it's absolutely true.
And it's been pan of the success of
Milford Haven over the last 200 years.
Erm, the water depth is 16.5 metres
in the main channel.
And that's minimum.
It's actually more than that.
In Bradshaw's day, that's over 50ft
of water at all states of the tide.
Only in the late 18th century
did local landowners realise
the potential of the Haven.
They lobbied Parliament
for permission to build a new town
with a very unusual group
of new residents in mind.
American Whalers.
They were looking for a base in the UK
to bring in all the spoils
from their whaling.
And they started here
in the late 1790s, into the 1800s.
They would go away into the seas
for a year or more at a time,
and they brought the whales in
and the whale bones were used
to line ladies' corsetry, apparently.
And the sperm oil
was taken up to London,
and that was used as fuel
for street lighting in London.
These whalers had settled in Milford
partly because of its excellent harbour,
but also to avoid high import duties.
At that time, America ted
the hugely lucrative whale trade.
In the days before petroleum,
oil made from whale blubber
was highly prized,
and as the Industrial Revolution
progressed, it was put to many uses,
from candles to lubricating locomotives.
But as a whaling port,
Mitford didn't last long.
By the mid-19th century,
the whale trade was in decline
thanks to the inventions of
gas lighting and kerosene.
In the 1880s, Mitford Haven
decided to chart a different course,
which began with building new docks.
The initial aspiration
was that the docks,
when they were built,
would attract transatlantic liners.
But the reality,
when the gates first opened in 1888,
was that the first ship in was a small
team steam trawler by the name of Sybil.
I believe she landed
about five tons of fish.
And that, in fact, set the future of
Milford for the following hundred years.
(Carmichael)
And that fish was headed, I assume,
for the railway
and for the cities of Britain.
Well, indeed. In fact, there was a fish
quay that was one-fifth of a mile long.
And in fact, in Paddington as well,
there were posters that said, "Milford
Haven, where the fish comes from."
And there were fish trains that went up
to London, up to Billingsgate every day.
By the 1900s, Milford was Britain's
sixth largest fishing port.
But by the middle of the 20th century,
things were going downhill.
The harbour came to the rescue
once again,
when in the 1950s and 60s, oil companies
saw it as an ideal site for refineries.
Today, the docks are filled
with vast tankers
carrying oil and liquefied natural gas.
So, Milford Haven
has gone from whale oil to crude oil.
It's the second oil age, as we call it.
And then more recently,
in the last two or three years,
liquefied natural gas
has started to come ashore,
and each of them produce about
20-25 per cent of the UK's needs,
both in terms of refined product
and in terms of the gas.
Milford's liquefied natural gas complex
is one of the biggest in the world.
The oil companies
still use the railways,
with eight to ten trains carrying
2,000 tonnes of refined material
out of the town every week.
It was the references in Bradshaw's
that brought me here today.
Frankly, it's been a surprise
because Milford Haven is not necessarily
a name that's on everybody's lips,
and yet it turns out to be
a fundamentally important port
for the very same reason that Bradshaw's
mentions, the depth of the water.
It's the depth of the water
that has made Milford Haven.
In spite of its peripherality,
in spite of how far away it is
from the centre of the UK and Europe,
we are the energy port of the UK.
We're the third largest port
in terms of tonnage moved in the UK.
And we're the largest port in Wales.
There is an immense pride in Milford
Haven in what the port's done for it.
During this rail trip,
We been musing on how the Victorians
harnessed the railways
to make the most of their resources.
Trains carried everything
from self-improving tourists...
to the very coal, iron and steel
that fuelled the Industrial Revolution.
On this journey
from Oxford to Milford Haven,
I've contemplated beautiful British
landscape from towers and hills.
This land has been good to us.
The Victorians changed it, cultivating
its fields and mining its minerals.
Some of what they did
has now returned to nature.
For the span from Bradshaws time
to ours is but a moment gone,
whilst this island of ours
endures forever.
My next journey takes me
to the north of England,
as my "Bradshaw's" leads me
from Bernwick-upon-Tweed,
south-west across
the backbone of England,
through industrial heartlands
and dramatic scenery,
finishing on the beautiful
and unique Isle of Man.
Hi be admiring spectacular
engineering triumphs
in the Cambrian countryside...
Thank you for going
so slowly over the viaduct.
Isn't that a beautiful thing?
- Aye.
Submerging myself
in a top-secret world...
It is enormous.
It's like the last scene of
a James Bond movie, isn't it?
And hearing how perilous life was
on the industrial railways
of the north-east.
So, if it's your job
to get that rope off
and you happened to trip,
what's the consequence?
You're dead.