Great British Railway Journeys (2010–…): Season 3, Episode 17 - Bardon Mill to Wigton - 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.
My Bradshaw's is now steering me
through Cumbria.
You might expect me to be headed
for the Lake District,
but first,
my journey takes me along the sea
on the railway which, as Bradshaw says,
"skins the best pan
of the Cumberland coast."
Actually, it all
looks pretty good to me.
On today's part of my journey,
I'll be taking a train
from coast to mountain-top...
A little smut hits the eye to remind you
of the joys of steam travel.
Gaining rare access to an industry
that divides opinion worldwide,
nuclear power...
And it is absolutely massive.
The golf ball itself is probably
about 60 metres high.
And attending the revelation
of an extremely rare Cumberland Luck.
This is, I must say,
a rather emotional moment, isn't it?
This journey began
on the Scottish border
and is taking me across the spectacular
scenery of England
at its narrowest point, coast to coast,
finishing up
on the picturesque Isle of Man.
Today's run starts in Cockermouth,
near the Cambrian coast,
and then I'll travel south
to the nuclear facility at Sellafield,
ending the day in marvellous countryside
at Ravenglass.
I'm now headed for Cockermouth,
which Bradshaw's informs me
is situated at the junction
of the Cooker and the Derwent,
and he reminds me that
the poet William Wordsworth is a native
and apparently is commemorated at
St Mary's Church with a memorial window.
Cockermouth stands on the north-western
edge of the Lake District.
A railway to carry coal from the West
Cumberland pits for shipment by sea
was opened between the town and the
coast at Workington as early as 1847.
And once a passenger railway arrived
in 1865, the town flourished,
as Victorian tourists
flocked to the lakes
where the poet Wordsworth once lived.
As a Romantic writer,
much stimulated by nature,
Wordsworth absorbed the landscapes
surrounding the town
profoundly into his verses.
Sadly, Cockermouth Station
was closed in 1966,
so We alighted at Workington,
the closest point on the railway.
Reminiscing on his childhood,
Wordsworth wrote,
"What joy was mine!
How often in the course
Of those glad respites,
though a soft west wind
Ruffled the waters
to the angler's wish,
For a whole day together, have I lain
Down by thy side, O, Derwent!
Murmuring stream."
If Bradshaw could enthuse
about engineering,
why shouldn't the poet wax lyrical
about water?
The isolated
yet awe-inspiring landscape
and the water and mineral wealth
contained within it
had proved attractive to Victorian
and modern-day visitors,
artists and industries alike.
And water is key to Cockermouth,
being situated at the confluence
of two rivers.
We come here to visit a brewery,
established at this spot in 1828,
precisely because of the purity
of the waters that Wordsworth eulogised.
In the 19th century,
British beer and brewing set
the gold standard around the world.
In fact, Bass Ale from Burton-on-Trent
is credited
as the world's first global brand,
as it was exported to so many countries.
Head brewer Jeremy Pettman
is meeting me in the pump room.
There you'd have the brewery well,
80ft deep.
(Michael) I understand
that the quality of water
is very important in the making of beer.
(Jeremy) The water quality's
absolutely paramount.
The water comes off the fells. It
permeates down through the rock strata
to the east of the town itself
and forms an artesian well source
at the bottom of the brewery here.
We think that the water's been used
since Norman times
and actually supplied the castle
next door to the brewery.
By the 1870s,
science and potent new technologies
had revolutionised the brewing industry.
It had metamorphosed from a cottage
industry to a highly scientific process
utilising advances such as steam power
and cooling systems,
and even microscopes,
which were first introduced by brewers
trying to perfect beer yeast.
Staggeringly, after cotton spinning,
brewing was one of the most important
industries in Britain
in terms of sheer numbers employed
and the cash that it generated.
As I came in,
I noticed your buildings are historic.
Do you pride yourselves really
on brewing beer
as it used to be done
in the 19th century?
This is a traditional brewery.
Whilst we've done a lot of
improvement work over the years,
we've tended to maintain
that traditionality.
We're a heritage industry,
this is heritage brewing,
and we're very proud of it.
The weather systems that cause
an above average rainfall in this area,
and hence plentiful pure water,
can also be unpredictable and violent,
as Cockermouth found to its cost
in recent history.
We all remember the terrible floods
that afflicted Cockermouth in 2009.
What happened here?
Where you're stood at the moment,
the well was completely covered.
You'd probably be somewhere waist deep,
just above waist deep in water.
That obviously covered the well,
it made it unusable.
The water actually came up
in very quick fashion,
probably two, two and a half hours,
and by one o'clock we had to pull
the plug on the brewery itself
and literally just walk away
and leave the water to its own devices.
Thankfully, after nine weeks of hard
work over Christmas and the New Year,
the brewery resumed production.
And I think ifs time
to sample some beer
and see whether I can taste this
Cumbria water, so loved by the poet.
We are exactly,
as Bradshaw describes it,
at the junction of the Cooker
and the Derwent.
- There you go. All the best.
- Your very, very good health.
- Cheers.
- Cheers.
The only thing that worries me
is rain is coming on
and lovely though your water is,
I don't want to get any in my beer.
Not a problem. There's a saying around
here that every drop of rain that falls
is another pint of Cockermouth ale.
Good saying.
Despite its powerful potential
for destruction,
the abundant water
in this beautiful landscape
has clearly inspired
both writers and brewers.
We travelled
to Whitehaven Railway Station,
nestled on the Cumbrian coast,
to catch the train to a place
where the local water is used
for something much more controversial.
An industry that both fuels our modern
world, but also furious debate.
Sellafield was once
just a country railway station
that Victorian tourists used
to access the delights
of local seaside resorts.
But its nature changed in the 1950s
when it became home to Calder Hall,
the worlds first commercial
nuclear power station.
Power is at the heart
of any modern society.
During the Industrial Revolution
that so enthralled Bradshaw,
the steam engine moved man forward
for the first time
from pure dependence
on muscle and sweat.
I'm on my way now
to see a new source of energy
developed during the 20th century whose
impact was every bit as revolutionary
as the steam engine had been in its day.
In Bradshaws day, the energy
for homes, industry and railways
came from the burning of coal,
which provided a staggering 95%
of Britain's energy needs.
But today, oil and natural gas
are the nation's major fuel sources,
with nuclear power providing
a sixth of our electricity.
(woman) We hoped these reactors
will eventually make it possible
to produce power 20 times more cheaply
than conventional methods,
and will, incredibly,
make more fuel than it uses.
(Michael) Nuclear power stations
generate electricity
from energy produced by the fission,
or splitting, of uranium atoms.
But its enormous potential
comes with a problem.
Nuclear power generation
produces spent fuel,
containing dangerous radioactive waste,
which has to be dealt with safely
and stored for many hundreds,
if not thousands, of years.
Sellafield now specialises
in reprocessing spent nuclear fuel
and decommissioning facilities.
And both local water and the railways
play a vital role
in this controversial work.
I'm meeting Chris Halliwell,
as this nuclear plant
is painstakingly disassembled
or decommissioned.
As I understand it, then, we are now
alongside a prototype nuclear reactor
and you have decommissioned it,
taken it out of service.
How important is that?
It's a significant achievement, Michael.
It's the first power-generating reactor
in the UK to be fully decommissioned.
What does decommissioning mean?
We've effectively shut down the station.
We've removed all of the fuel elements
that were inside.
That machine there
is controlling this robotic arm
that you can see
on the other screen here.
That disappears down into the reactor,
very deep,
and that's what we've used to cut up
and remove all of the components
inside the reactor core.
The spent nuclear fuel
is stored in large cooling ponds.
They're fed with water
siphoned from Wast Water,
the Lake District's deepest lake,
which Wordsworth described as
“long, stern and desolate“.
These waters have now been harnessed
to a modem use.
How long has that little job taken you?
It's taken the best part of 20 years
to complete it to where we are now
and we finished about May 2011.
Many of the 441 nuclear power stations
in the world today
will come to the end
of their operational lives
in the next few decades.
Being able safely to recover
and store radioactive waste
is fundamental to the future
of nuclear generation.
Do we have to content ourselves
with watching this on television
or can we get down there?
Absolutely not, perfectly clean
and safe to go downstairs.
If you want to follow me,
we can have a look.
I've been given incredibly rare access
to the inside of the reactor
that Chris and his team
are decommissioning.
(Chris) Here we are, Michael.
We're inside the golf ball,
the famous iconic structure
at Sellafield,
and most people are familiar
with it from the outside,
but very few have had the opportunity
to see it from this angle.
It is absolutely massive. What kind of
dimensions are we dealing with here?
(Chris) The golf ball itself
is probably about 60 metres high
and we're now sat on top
of the reactor itself
and that extends maybe
25 metres down below us.
This was a prototype.
So how does this compare in size
to the production models
that were built?
It's an exact one-fifth scale replica
of a full-size advanced gas reactor.
Nuclear materials travel across
the length and breadth of Britain
hundreds of times each year,
with spent nuclear fuel being carried
by train to Sellafield for reprocessing.
Brian Howell, from the Nuclear
Decommissioning Authority,
is meeting me at Sellafield's
dedicated railway sidings.
This is clearly a very special train.
What exactly does it carry?
These trains carry specially designed
flasks that contain a potential range
of nuclear materials
brought to Sellafield to be reprocessed.
(Michael) You're taking
spent nuclear fuel from power stations,
whether in the UK or abroad.
The stuffs brought here, reprocessed,
and the stuff that's useful
is then sent back to the UK
or to the customer abroad,
wherever it is, and all by rail.
Yeah. Here in the UK, railway
is the preferred route of transport.
A tried, tested, safe route.
How do you know they're safe'?
They could be involved
in a rail accident, couldn't they?
Since 1982, we've travelled
over ten million miles
transporting nuclear materials
without an accident.
However, a number of years ago,
they did do, obviously,
a thorough series of safety tests.
That included crashing a locomotive
with two carriages
into one of these flasks.
After the crash, the locomotive
was virtually written off.
However, the flask only had a couple
of scratches and a minor dent in it,
so that gives us the confidence
that this is an extremely safe way
of transporting these materials.
Transporting nuclear fuel by train
has led to special engineering
within these wagons to protect
their radioactive cargo.
If I could see inside those boxes,
what would I find?
Inside the box is, in essence,
another highly engineered box,
which we call a flask, that is designed
to be very secure for impacts
and those kind of reasons.
Then within special compartments
within that flask,
the fuel is actually protected
and loaded.
The fuel flasks can weigh anything
from 50 to 150 tonnes once fully laden,
and sit on specially engineered
low-loader wagons.
They arrive at the site
many times a month by rail,
from the docks at Barrow-in-Furness
or from rail-connected power stations
elsewhere in the UK.
(Brian) With many nuclear facilities,
they'll be in fairly isolated
or remote pans of the UK,
where perhaps the road network
isn't everything you'd want it to be
to transport nuclear materials.
Rail is a tried and tested route
and we think that it's the best route
for the kind of job that we have to do.
Despite the controversies that surround
the use of nuclear power,
I cam help thinking
that Bradshaw would have been impressed
that the Victorian technology
of metal wheel on metal rail
coexists with processes
that rely on human mastery of the atom.
So, after ah absorbing day, I'm heading
off to find a hotel for the night.
As ever, I've sought Bradshaws advice
for where to stay.
"Along the coast from Whitehaven,
on or near the railway,
is Muncaster Hall,
the seat of Lord Muncaster."
What a place to stay.
This location is spectacular.
In fact, John Ruskin,
Victorian poet, artist and critic,
described Muncaster as
"the gateway to Paradise".
But "Bradshaw's" sparks interest
in Muncaster not only for the view.
Inside the house, it says,
is Henry VI's cup,
who took refuge after
the Battle of Hexham in 1464.
And extraordinarily, that cup
still exists over 500 years later.
The ancestral family are the Penningtons
who, incredibly,
have resided in the castle since 1208.
Peter Frost-Pennington
and his father-in-law, Patrick,
have kindly agreed to show me the cup.
This is, I must say,
a rather emotional moment, isn't it?
Yes. People aren't usually allowed
to see it. You're very privileged.
I am very privileged indeed.
(Peter) It's very dirty
because we never dare wash it.
It must never leave the place.
And here...
it is. The Luck of Muncaster.
I feel that I am present
at a very special, unique ceremony.
This glass drinking bowl is
a rare example of a Cumberland Luck,
an object ensuring good fortune
for those who possess it.
According to my Bradshaw's,
it was given by Henry VI
after the Battle of Hexham.
What was the story?
He was running away with his two friends
and he was found at the tower
outside that window,
having tried to get shelter
in the next-door valley,
but he was denied it.
He was found by the two shepherds
and brought here for two or three weeks.
When he left, he left his drinking bowl
behind saying,
as long as it should remain
whole and unbroken,
the Penningtons would always be living
and thriving at Muncaster.
What an awesome object and how moving
that it's survived so long.
The evident care that the Penningtons
have over centuries lavished oh the bowl
is now matched by the hospitality
lavished on their guest
as I'm invited to join
the family's supper.
Having wined and dined in elegant style,
I'm starting a new day at Ravenglass,
the only coastal village
in the Lake District National Park.
The nearest station to Muncaster Castle
is Ravenglass.
My Bradshaw's says, "12 miles distant
is Wast Water and the Fells,
the principle of which is Scafell,
3,1601% high."
Luckily, there's a railway
that takes me most of the way.
Big mountain, small train.
The Ravenglass and Eskdale Railway
proved popular when it opened in 1875,
between the sea and Scafell,
the highest of the Cumbrian peaks.
The Victorians used it to enjoy the
spectacle and majesty of the mountains.
But, like many railways, it started
life with an industrial purpose.
Peter van Zeller
is today's train driver.
- Hello, Peter.
- Hello!
Great to see you.
I'm really looking forward to this ride.
What's the history of the railway?
The railway was built to carry iron ore
for steel making.
They thought it was really suitable
for the first steel-making processes.
Once the iron ore had been ferried
from the mines on the mountain at Boot
to the coast at Ravenglass,
passengers hopped aboard the empty
wagons for the return ascent.
The railway closed in 1913,
after quarrying stopped,
but a group of rail enthusiasts from
a miniature railway engineering company
saved and restored the line
during the First World War.
In the Bradshaw's of the 1920s,
you'll find this ran every day,
Christmas Day included.
It carried the mails,
it carried everybody's goods,
because the passengers weren't enough
to keep the thing solvent, if you like.
What about your locomotive?
What kind of vintage is that?
This one was built in 1923.
It looks like a miniature
of a full-size engine,
but it was designed to do a real job.
It would pull 20 tonnes of stone
through the winter
or turn up and pull the 150 passengers
who come off the main line railway,
with equal ease, should we say.
And it's still doing it 90 years later.
(whistle toots)
The railways dual purpose
of ferrying quarried granite
down from the mountains in winter
and carrying tourists up in the summer
kept the line operating until the 1950s.
Victorian tourists could absorb
a breath of fresh air
in open wagons over seven miles,
through two magnificent valleys,
to the foot of England's
highest mountains.
Today, ifs a heritage railway,
affectionately known in
the Cumbrian dialect as “la'al ratty“,
or "little railway".
We been looking forward to my trip
up to these daunting slopes.
Travelling with a steam engine
in an open-top carriage
is a very special experience.
Of course, you have the constant odour
of the smoke in your nose.
It feels at times as if it's raining,
because the vapour from the stack
is falling on my face
and every now and again,
a little smut hits the eye,
to remind you of the joys
of steam travel.
I'm told that beyond the last stop,
the Victorians would also visit
Wast Water, described as
“a rather fierce and deep stretch
of water that has claimed many lives...
I think for today,
the train journey will suffice.
That was wonderful.
I really enjoyed it.
- Splendid.
- Thank you very much indeed.
This seems like a model railway.
It feels like a toy.
But I'm rather moved by the idea
that once, it had a timetable,
that people relied on it
and that it carried their post.
We alighted from this beautiful
little steam service at Irton
to visit a Victorian mansion
with extensive landscaped gardens,
known as Gatehouse.
Bradshaw describes the countryside
in Westmoreland,
which is now part of Cumbria, as “a
region of lofty mountains, naked hills
and bleak, barren moors".
So I'm intrigued to know
how a garden could be conjured
from such forbidding landscape.
Local designer Chris Jones is my guide.
- Hello, Chris.
- Hello. Good to see you.
What a wonderful estate.
What's the history of it?
Like so many of these
northern estates and mansions,
it was basically northern
merchant wealth in Victorian times,
where they wanted to escape the cities
and establish country seats
for themselves,
become country squires, if you like.
Gatehouse was built in 1896
as a country retreat for the Rea family,
wealthy Liverpudlian
coal and shipping merchants.
Like many rich Victorian industrialists,
they wanted both to escape
the grime and squalor of the city,
and to make their mark by constructing
a thing of beauty and grace
that would make them
the envy of their peers.
What did they have to do here?
They bought the local farm.
All of this was a meadow.
First of all, they flooded the meadow
and created this tarn, or lake.
They landscaped the whole area.
All of this planting here
was put in by them.
They've got cascades,
they've got formal gardens.
They had orchards and so on.
Railways and steam-powered liners,
reaching all comers of the globe,
allowed for exploration and discovery,
opening up the world
for well-heeled travellers.
Back in Britain,
the upper classes were keen to recreate
the unfamiliar and wonderful flora
that they'd seen.
And so the Victorian era
became the golden age
for exotic plant collecting
and for radical garden design.
It was actually designed,
at least in part,
by Thomas Mawson, the leading
landscape architect of his day.
In fact, he came up with the expression
"landscape architecture",
because, prior to that,
it would be the architect themselves
who established the gardens.
Thomas Mawson objected to that,
saying they didn't have the sensitivity
to create a garden.
Thomas Mawson reshaped the landscape.
Then, in 1914,
he created a Japanese garden
for Lord Rea's sons, James and Russell.
All things Eastern had become extremely
fashionable during this period,
as Japan was opened up to the West
during the 19th century.
To have a Japanese garden
on your estate
was considered
the height of sophistication.
So, Michael, can you imagine
a nice summer's evening,
the Reas and their guests
coming on a woodland promenade,
after their dinner, in their finery,
and being presented with this
all of a sudden?
A unique Japanese garden.
They must have been, the guests,
very impressed.
These Reas have really
done something novel,
something really original
and opulent, too.
I think that's right.
A lot of these gardens were inspired
by the 1910 Japan-Britain Exhibition,
so you've only got
a few gap years there,
so there weren't
that many around at the time.
Here we are
on a typical Japanese bridge.
What are the characteristics, otherwise,
of Japanese gardens?
(Chris) They were more interested
in texture, form.
It could be the rustle of the bamboo,
any of those qualities.
It's a different sensibility
to British gardening.
The Japanese gardens themselves
are meticulously cared for,
meticulously groomed,
and they're pieces of an.
Chris has been working on the garden
for the last 12 years
and has high hopes that, one day,
he and a dedicated band of volunteers
will achieve a tranquil perfection that
would not feel out of place in Japan.
As the Industrial Revolution advanced,
poets and artists
were gripped by Romanticism.
A love of lakes and cascades and chasms.
As Victorians saw their landscape
changed by factories and cities,
they too longed for nature in the raw
and crowded onto trains
to take to the hills.
On the next step of my journey,
I'll be exploding the myths
behind Cumbrian slate...
(air horn sounds)
(explosion)
That was a much bigger bang
than I'd expected.
Submerging myself
in a top-secret world...
Not much room here, I can tell you.
And discovering why Victorians loved
“the Hanging Town“.
- And this is a short drop rope.
- Meaning that they would be strangled.
- They danced on the end of the rope.
- Indeed.
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.
My Bradshaw's is now steering me
through Cumbria.
You might expect me to be headed
for the Lake District,
but first,
my journey takes me along the sea
on the railway which, as Bradshaw says,
"skins the best pan
of the Cumberland coast."
Actually, it all
looks pretty good to me.
On today's part of my journey,
I'll be taking a train
from coast to mountain-top...
A little smut hits the eye to remind you
of the joys of steam travel.
Gaining rare access to an industry
that divides opinion worldwide,
nuclear power...
And it is absolutely massive.
The golf ball itself is probably
about 60 metres high.
And attending the revelation
of an extremely rare Cumberland Luck.
This is, I must say,
a rather emotional moment, isn't it?
This journey began
on the Scottish border
and is taking me across the spectacular
scenery of England
at its narrowest point, coast to coast,
finishing up
on the picturesque Isle of Man.
Today's run starts in Cockermouth,
near the Cambrian coast,
and then I'll travel south
to the nuclear facility at Sellafield,
ending the day in marvellous countryside
at Ravenglass.
I'm now headed for Cockermouth,
which Bradshaw's informs me
is situated at the junction
of the Cooker and the Derwent,
and he reminds me that
the poet William Wordsworth is a native
and apparently is commemorated at
St Mary's Church with a memorial window.
Cockermouth stands on the north-western
edge of the Lake District.
A railway to carry coal from the West
Cumberland pits for shipment by sea
was opened between the town and the
coast at Workington as early as 1847.
And once a passenger railway arrived
in 1865, the town flourished,
as Victorian tourists
flocked to the lakes
where the poet Wordsworth once lived.
As a Romantic writer,
much stimulated by nature,
Wordsworth absorbed the landscapes
surrounding the town
profoundly into his verses.
Sadly, Cockermouth Station
was closed in 1966,
so We alighted at Workington,
the closest point on the railway.
Reminiscing on his childhood,
Wordsworth wrote,
"What joy was mine!
How often in the course
Of those glad respites,
though a soft west wind
Ruffled the waters
to the angler's wish,
For a whole day together, have I lain
Down by thy side, O, Derwent!
Murmuring stream."
If Bradshaw could enthuse
about engineering,
why shouldn't the poet wax lyrical
about water?
The isolated
yet awe-inspiring landscape
and the water and mineral wealth
contained within it
had proved attractive to Victorian
and modern-day visitors,
artists and industries alike.
And water is key to Cockermouth,
being situated at the confluence
of two rivers.
We come here to visit a brewery,
established at this spot in 1828,
precisely because of the purity
of the waters that Wordsworth eulogised.
In the 19th century,
British beer and brewing set
the gold standard around the world.
In fact, Bass Ale from Burton-on-Trent
is credited
as the world's first global brand,
as it was exported to so many countries.
Head brewer Jeremy Pettman
is meeting me in the pump room.
There you'd have the brewery well,
80ft deep.
(Michael) I understand
that the quality of water
is very important in the making of beer.
(Jeremy) The water quality's
absolutely paramount.
The water comes off the fells. It
permeates down through the rock strata
to the east of the town itself
and forms an artesian well source
at the bottom of the brewery here.
We think that the water's been used
since Norman times
and actually supplied the castle
next door to the brewery.
By the 1870s,
science and potent new technologies
had revolutionised the brewing industry.
It had metamorphosed from a cottage
industry to a highly scientific process
utilising advances such as steam power
and cooling systems,
and even microscopes,
which were first introduced by brewers
trying to perfect beer yeast.
Staggeringly, after cotton spinning,
brewing was one of the most important
industries in Britain
in terms of sheer numbers employed
and the cash that it generated.
As I came in,
I noticed your buildings are historic.
Do you pride yourselves really
on brewing beer
as it used to be done
in the 19th century?
This is a traditional brewery.
Whilst we've done a lot of
improvement work over the years,
we've tended to maintain
that traditionality.
We're a heritage industry,
this is heritage brewing,
and we're very proud of it.
The weather systems that cause
an above average rainfall in this area,
and hence plentiful pure water,
can also be unpredictable and violent,
as Cockermouth found to its cost
in recent history.
We all remember the terrible floods
that afflicted Cockermouth in 2009.
What happened here?
Where you're stood at the moment,
the well was completely covered.
You'd probably be somewhere waist deep,
just above waist deep in water.
That obviously covered the well,
it made it unusable.
The water actually came up
in very quick fashion,
probably two, two and a half hours,
and by one o'clock we had to pull
the plug on the brewery itself
and literally just walk away
and leave the water to its own devices.
Thankfully, after nine weeks of hard
work over Christmas and the New Year,
the brewery resumed production.
And I think ifs time
to sample some beer
and see whether I can taste this
Cumbria water, so loved by the poet.
We are exactly,
as Bradshaw describes it,
at the junction of the Cooker
and the Derwent.
- There you go. All the best.
- Your very, very good health.
- Cheers.
- Cheers.
The only thing that worries me
is rain is coming on
and lovely though your water is,
I don't want to get any in my beer.
Not a problem. There's a saying around
here that every drop of rain that falls
is another pint of Cockermouth ale.
Good saying.
Despite its powerful potential
for destruction,
the abundant water
in this beautiful landscape
has clearly inspired
both writers and brewers.
We travelled
to Whitehaven Railway Station,
nestled on the Cumbrian coast,
to catch the train to a place
where the local water is used
for something much more controversial.
An industry that both fuels our modern
world, but also furious debate.
Sellafield was once
just a country railway station
that Victorian tourists used
to access the delights
of local seaside resorts.
But its nature changed in the 1950s
when it became home to Calder Hall,
the worlds first commercial
nuclear power station.
Power is at the heart
of any modern society.
During the Industrial Revolution
that so enthralled Bradshaw,
the steam engine moved man forward
for the first time
from pure dependence
on muscle and sweat.
I'm on my way now
to see a new source of energy
developed during the 20th century whose
impact was every bit as revolutionary
as the steam engine had been in its day.
In Bradshaws day, the energy
for homes, industry and railways
came from the burning of coal,
which provided a staggering 95%
of Britain's energy needs.
But today, oil and natural gas
are the nation's major fuel sources,
with nuclear power providing
a sixth of our electricity.
(woman) We hoped these reactors
will eventually make it possible
to produce power 20 times more cheaply
than conventional methods,
and will, incredibly,
make more fuel than it uses.
(Michael) Nuclear power stations
generate electricity
from energy produced by the fission,
or splitting, of uranium atoms.
But its enormous potential
comes with a problem.
Nuclear power generation
produces spent fuel,
containing dangerous radioactive waste,
which has to be dealt with safely
and stored for many hundreds,
if not thousands, of years.
Sellafield now specialises
in reprocessing spent nuclear fuel
and decommissioning facilities.
And both local water and the railways
play a vital role
in this controversial work.
I'm meeting Chris Halliwell,
as this nuclear plant
is painstakingly disassembled
or decommissioned.
As I understand it, then, we are now
alongside a prototype nuclear reactor
and you have decommissioned it,
taken it out of service.
How important is that?
It's a significant achievement, Michael.
It's the first power-generating reactor
in the UK to be fully decommissioned.
What does decommissioning mean?
We've effectively shut down the station.
We've removed all of the fuel elements
that were inside.
That machine there
is controlling this robotic arm
that you can see
on the other screen here.
That disappears down into the reactor,
very deep,
and that's what we've used to cut up
and remove all of the components
inside the reactor core.
The spent nuclear fuel
is stored in large cooling ponds.
They're fed with water
siphoned from Wast Water,
the Lake District's deepest lake,
which Wordsworth described as
“long, stern and desolate“.
These waters have now been harnessed
to a modem use.
How long has that little job taken you?
It's taken the best part of 20 years
to complete it to where we are now
and we finished about May 2011.
Many of the 441 nuclear power stations
in the world today
will come to the end
of their operational lives
in the next few decades.
Being able safely to recover
and store radioactive waste
is fundamental to the future
of nuclear generation.
Do we have to content ourselves
with watching this on television
or can we get down there?
Absolutely not, perfectly clean
and safe to go downstairs.
If you want to follow me,
we can have a look.
I've been given incredibly rare access
to the inside of the reactor
that Chris and his team
are decommissioning.
(Chris) Here we are, Michael.
We're inside the golf ball,
the famous iconic structure
at Sellafield,
and most people are familiar
with it from the outside,
but very few have had the opportunity
to see it from this angle.
It is absolutely massive. What kind of
dimensions are we dealing with here?
(Chris) The golf ball itself
is probably about 60 metres high
and we're now sat on top
of the reactor itself
and that extends maybe
25 metres down below us.
This was a prototype.
So how does this compare in size
to the production models
that were built?
It's an exact one-fifth scale replica
of a full-size advanced gas reactor.
Nuclear materials travel across
the length and breadth of Britain
hundreds of times each year,
with spent nuclear fuel being carried
by train to Sellafield for reprocessing.
Brian Howell, from the Nuclear
Decommissioning Authority,
is meeting me at Sellafield's
dedicated railway sidings.
This is clearly a very special train.
What exactly does it carry?
These trains carry specially designed
flasks that contain a potential range
of nuclear materials
brought to Sellafield to be reprocessed.
(Michael) You're taking
spent nuclear fuel from power stations,
whether in the UK or abroad.
The stuffs brought here, reprocessed,
and the stuff that's useful
is then sent back to the UK
or to the customer abroad,
wherever it is, and all by rail.
Yeah. Here in the UK, railway
is the preferred route of transport.
A tried, tested, safe route.
How do you know they're safe'?
They could be involved
in a rail accident, couldn't they?
Since 1982, we've travelled
over ten million miles
transporting nuclear materials
without an accident.
However, a number of years ago,
they did do, obviously,
a thorough series of safety tests.
That included crashing a locomotive
with two carriages
into one of these flasks.
After the crash, the locomotive
was virtually written off.
However, the flask only had a couple
of scratches and a minor dent in it,
so that gives us the confidence
that this is an extremely safe way
of transporting these materials.
Transporting nuclear fuel by train
has led to special engineering
within these wagons to protect
their radioactive cargo.
If I could see inside those boxes,
what would I find?
Inside the box is, in essence,
another highly engineered box,
which we call a flask, that is designed
to be very secure for impacts
and those kind of reasons.
Then within special compartments
within that flask,
the fuel is actually protected
and loaded.
The fuel flasks can weigh anything
from 50 to 150 tonnes once fully laden,
and sit on specially engineered
low-loader wagons.
They arrive at the site
many times a month by rail,
from the docks at Barrow-in-Furness
or from rail-connected power stations
elsewhere in the UK.
(Brian) With many nuclear facilities,
they'll be in fairly isolated
or remote pans of the UK,
where perhaps the road network
isn't everything you'd want it to be
to transport nuclear materials.
Rail is a tried and tested route
and we think that it's the best route
for the kind of job that we have to do.
Despite the controversies that surround
the use of nuclear power,
I cam help thinking
that Bradshaw would have been impressed
that the Victorian technology
of metal wheel on metal rail
coexists with processes
that rely on human mastery of the atom.
So, after ah absorbing day, I'm heading
off to find a hotel for the night.
As ever, I've sought Bradshaws advice
for where to stay.
"Along the coast from Whitehaven,
on or near the railway,
is Muncaster Hall,
the seat of Lord Muncaster."
What a place to stay.
This location is spectacular.
In fact, John Ruskin,
Victorian poet, artist and critic,
described Muncaster as
"the gateway to Paradise".
But "Bradshaw's" sparks interest
in Muncaster not only for the view.
Inside the house, it says,
is Henry VI's cup,
who took refuge after
the Battle of Hexham in 1464.
And extraordinarily, that cup
still exists over 500 years later.
The ancestral family are the Penningtons
who, incredibly,
have resided in the castle since 1208.
Peter Frost-Pennington
and his father-in-law, Patrick,
have kindly agreed to show me the cup.
This is, I must say,
a rather emotional moment, isn't it?
Yes. People aren't usually allowed
to see it. You're very privileged.
I am very privileged indeed.
(Peter) It's very dirty
because we never dare wash it.
It must never leave the place.
And here...
it is. The Luck of Muncaster.
I feel that I am present
at a very special, unique ceremony.
This glass drinking bowl is
a rare example of a Cumberland Luck,
an object ensuring good fortune
for those who possess it.
According to my Bradshaw's,
it was given by Henry VI
after the Battle of Hexham.
What was the story?
He was running away with his two friends
and he was found at the tower
outside that window,
having tried to get shelter
in the next-door valley,
but he was denied it.
He was found by the two shepherds
and brought here for two or three weeks.
When he left, he left his drinking bowl
behind saying,
as long as it should remain
whole and unbroken,
the Penningtons would always be living
and thriving at Muncaster.
What an awesome object and how moving
that it's survived so long.
The evident care that the Penningtons
have over centuries lavished oh the bowl
is now matched by the hospitality
lavished on their guest
as I'm invited to join
the family's supper.
Having wined and dined in elegant style,
I'm starting a new day at Ravenglass,
the only coastal village
in the Lake District National Park.
The nearest station to Muncaster Castle
is Ravenglass.
My Bradshaw's says, "12 miles distant
is Wast Water and the Fells,
the principle of which is Scafell,
3,1601% high."
Luckily, there's a railway
that takes me most of the way.
Big mountain, small train.
The Ravenglass and Eskdale Railway
proved popular when it opened in 1875,
between the sea and Scafell,
the highest of the Cumbrian peaks.
The Victorians used it to enjoy the
spectacle and majesty of the mountains.
But, like many railways, it started
life with an industrial purpose.
Peter van Zeller
is today's train driver.
- Hello, Peter.
- Hello!
Great to see you.
I'm really looking forward to this ride.
What's the history of the railway?
The railway was built to carry iron ore
for steel making.
They thought it was really suitable
for the first steel-making processes.
Once the iron ore had been ferried
from the mines on the mountain at Boot
to the coast at Ravenglass,
passengers hopped aboard the empty
wagons for the return ascent.
The railway closed in 1913,
after quarrying stopped,
but a group of rail enthusiasts from
a miniature railway engineering company
saved and restored the line
during the First World War.
In the Bradshaw's of the 1920s,
you'll find this ran every day,
Christmas Day included.
It carried the mails,
it carried everybody's goods,
because the passengers weren't enough
to keep the thing solvent, if you like.
What about your locomotive?
What kind of vintage is that?
This one was built in 1923.
It looks like a miniature
of a full-size engine,
but it was designed to do a real job.
It would pull 20 tonnes of stone
through the winter
or turn up and pull the 150 passengers
who come off the main line railway,
with equal ease, should we say.
And it's still doing it 90 years later.
(whistle toots)
The railways dual purpose
of ferrying quarried granite
down from the mountains in winter
and carrying tourists up in the summer
kept the line operating until the 1950s.
Victorian tourists could absorb
a breath of fresh air
in open wagons over seven miles,
through two magnificent valleys,
to the foot of England's
highest mountains.
Today, ifs a heritage railway,
affectionately known in
the Cumbrian dialect as “la'al ratty“,
or "little railway".
We been looking forward to my trip
up to these daunting slopes.
Travelling with a steam engine
in an open-top carriage
is a very special experience.
Of course, you have the constant odour
of the smoke in your nose.
It feels at times as if it's raining,
because the vapour from the stack
is falling on my face
and every now and again,
a little smut hits the eye,
to remind you of the joys
of steam travel.
I'm told that beyond the last stop,
the Victorians would also visit
Wast Water, described as
“a rather fierce and deep stretch
of water that has claimed many lives...
I think for today,
the train journey will suffice.
That was wonderful.
I really enjoyed it.
- Splendid.
- Thank you very much indeed.
This seems like a model railway.
It feels like a toy.
But I'm rather moved by the idea
that once, it had a timetable,
that people relied on it
and that it carried their post.
We alighted from this beautiful
little steam service at Irton
to visit a Victorian mansion
with extensive landscaped gardens,
known as Gatehouse.
Bradshaw describes the countryside
in Westmoreland,
which is now part of Cumbria, as “a
region of lofty mountains, naked hills
and bleak, barren moors".
So I'm intrigued to know
how a garden could be conjured
from such forbidding landscape.
Local designer Chris Jones is my guide.
- Hello, Chris.
- Hello. Good to see you.
What a wonderful estate.
What's the history of it?
Like so many of these
northern estates and mansions,
it was basically northern
merchant wealth in Victorian times,
where they wanted to escape the cities
and establish country seats
for themselves,
become country squires, if you like.
Gatehouse was built in 1896
as a country retreat for the Rea family,
wealthy Liverpudlian
coal and shipping merchants.
Like many rich Victorian industrialists,
they wanted both to escape
the grime and squalor of the city,
and to make their mark by constructing
a thing of beauty and grace
that would make them
the envy of their peers.
What did they have to do here?
They bought the local farm.
All of this was a meadow.
First of all, they flooded the meadow
and created this tarn, or lake.
They landscaped the whole area.
All of this planting here
was put in by them.
They've got cascades,
they've got formal gardens.
They had orchards and so on.
Railways and steam-powered liners,
reaching all comers of the globe,
allowed for exploration and discovery,
opening up the world
for well-heeled travellers.
Back in Britain,
the upper classes were keen to recreate
the unfamiliar and wonderful flora
that they'd seen.
And so the Victorian era
became the golden age
for exotic plant collecting
and for radical garden design.
It was actually designed,
at least in part,
by Thomas Mawson, the leading
landscape architect of his day.
In fact, he came up with the expression
"landscape architecture",
because, prior to that,
it would be the architect themselves
who established the gardens.
Thomas Mawson objected to that,
saying they didn't have the sensitivity
to create a garden.
Thomas Mawson reshaped the landscape.
Then, in 1914,
he created a Japanese garden
for Lord Rea's sons, James and Russell.
All things Eastern had become extremely
fashionable during this period,
as Japan was opened up to the West
during the 19th century.
To have a Japanese garden
on your estate
was considered
the height of sophistication.
So, Michael, can you imagine
a nice summer's evening,
the Reas and their guests
coming on a woodland promenade,
after their dinner, in their finery,
and being presented with this
all of a sudden?
A unique Japanese garden.
They must have been, the guests,
very impressed.
These Reas have really
done something novel,
something really original
and opulent, too.
I think that's right.
A lot of these gardens were inspired
by the 1910 Japan-Britain Exhibition,
so you've only got
a few gap years there,
so there weren't
that many around at the time.
Here we are
on a typical Japanese bridge.
What are the characteristics, otherwise,
of Japanese gardens?
(Chris) They were more interested
in texture, form.
It could be the rustle of the bamboo,
any of those qualities.
It's a different sensibility
to British gardening.
The Japanese gardens themselves
are meticulously cared for,
meticulously groomed,
and they're pieces of an.
Chris has been working on the garden
for the last 12 years
and has high hopes that, one day,
he and a dedicated band of volunteers
will achieve a tranquil perfection that
would not feel out of place in Japan.
As the Industrial Revolution advanced,
poets and artists
were gripped by Romanticism.
A love of lakes and cascades and chasms.
As Victorians saw their landscape
changed by factories and cities,
they too longed for nature in the raw
and crowded onto trains
to take to the hills.
On the next step of my journey,
I'll be exploding the myths
behind Cumbrian slate...
(air horn sounds)
(explosion)
That was a much bigger bang
than I'd expected.
Submerging myself
in a top-secret world...
Not much room here, I can tell you.
And discovering why Victorians loved
“the Hanging Town“.
- And this is a short drop rope.
- Meaning that they would be strangled.
- They danced on the end of the rope.
- Indeed.