Great British Railway Journeys (2010–…): Season 3, Episode 24 - Belfast to Whitehead - full transcript
In 1840, one man transformed
travel in Britain and Ireland.
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 these islands
to see what of Bradshaws world
remains.
For the first time
on my railway adventures,
I've crossed the Irish Sea,
using my 19th-century
Bradshaw's Descriptive Railway Handbook
of Great Britain and Ireland.
And the book gives a fascinating glimpse
of an island
that, at the time of writing,
was one island
under the reign of Queen Victoria.
But of most interest to me, it was
also experiencing a railway revolution.
On this stretch, Hi be discovering
an industrial railway
built on inhospitable bogs...
What scale of rail operation
do you have here?
Well, in total, we would have
600km of permanent rail line.
Admiring a marvel of
Victorian railway engineering...
Brendan, it's certainly worth seeing
the viaduct from here, isn't it'?
It soars above the town.
This wonderful combination
of iron and stone.
And unearthing extraordinary
underground secrets.
- So, now we're at the sharp end?
- (man) This is where it all happens.
(man) Just mind your footing. Just
follow me is probably the best thing.
Having visited 19th-century Ireland's
first railway lines in Dublin,
I'm now following their
expansion out from the capital.
My route takes me north,
where having crossed the border,
I'll take in the dramatic scenery
of the north-east coast,
finishing up in Derry/Londonderry.
This stretch starts in the
rural Midlands, west of Dublin.
Then re-joins the East Coast Main Line,
taking in the fishing town of
Balbriggan, en route to Drogheda.
I'm making a slight detour inland
from my coastal route northwards
through the Republic of Ireland
because I'm intrigued
by this entry in Bradshaw's.
"Nearly one-fifth pan of
this county is occupied by bog,
including a considerable portion
of the great chain of morasses
termed the Bog of Allen."
And now Bradshaw
suddenly breaks into verse.
"Great Bog of Allen, swallow down
That odious heap call'd Philipstown."
"And if thy maw can swallow more,
Pray take, and welcome, Tullamore."
"These two unhappy towns are planted
in the very heart of this most
desolate bog," says Bradshaw's.
And with a build-up like that,
who can resist visiting?
The rhyme quoted in my guidebook
is typical of 19th-century attitudes
to Ireland's extensive bogs.
They were seen as barren lands,
a cause of poverty and misery,
ripe for reform.
To see this remarkable
landscape for myself,
I'm leaving the train on the edge
of the ancient Bog of Allen.
So, my trip to the desolate bog
begins at the somewhat
isolated station of Enfield.
These days, much of the bog/and would
be unrecognisable to Victorian eyes.
Vast swathes of the landscape have been
transformed by the peat industry,
which harvests around
four million tonnes a year.
I'm guided by peat-worker
Justin McCarthy.
Very good to see you. Would this be
the notorious Bog of Allen?
It would be pan of the Bog of Allen
that will stretch across
the midlands of Ireland.
How extensive
are these bogs in Ireland?
Seventeen percent of the total
land mass of Ireland is bogland.
- That's amazing.
- Yeah.
The bogs have developed
over thousands of years,
as layers of dead plant material
have built up in wetland areas.
This eventually transforms
into carbon-rich peat,
a resource which has long
been exploited by the locals.
So, this is peat and it's useful stuff?
It is, yes.
Traditionally, it would have been used
to provide fuel for domestic homes.
And, probably over the last
two or three centuries,
it would have been
cut by hand into sods.
The sods would have been
turned during the summer
to be allowed to be air-dried.
That provided fuel for the winter-time.
For most of the 19th century, as the
world enjoyed a love affair with coal,
peat was seen as an inferior fuel.
While a few industrialists
experimented with it,
creating new products like briquettes,
many felt that the bogs would best be
drained and converted for agriculture.
By the early 20th century,
peat's potential value
as an alternative form
of energy was realised.
And for the first time,
a serious peat industry grew up.
You're now doing this
on an industrial scale?
We are.
It probably was brought to a head
by the Second World War
and by the fuel shortages
that were caused throughout Europe
due to be the... the emergency,
as we called it, the Second World War.
We decided to invest
in our own future here
and provide an
indigenous source of fuel
on an industrial scale
that wouldn't leave us open to
threats of shortage
of fuel internationally.
(Michael) ls this still used
mainly in people's homes?
Actually, most of what we do here
is to provide electricity.
The peat that you're looking at here
is being loaded here
and being brought to a power station
and burned to make electricity.
These days,
peat extraction is controversial.
We estimated that over
three-quarters of the republic's bogs
have already been lost,
with side-effects including
the loss of wildlife
and the release of greenhouse gases.
This company's made a commitment
to drain no new areas,
concentrating on bogs like this,
first drained 40 years ago.
(Carmichael) How do you get rid
of the water?
It's about drainage.
Er, we have to dig out-falls
around the periphery of the bog.
And, internally, then we
put in these ditch drains here.
So, if you like, it's like a big
grid of drains that are 50ft apart
right across the bog.
The harvesting is done by machines,
which scrape off the top layer of peat.
Once the peat has been exhausted,
plans for so-called cutaway bogs
include turning them into
nature reserves and even wind farms.
But that's not what We come to see.
Amazingly, this soggy environment
supports a huge railway network.
I'm amazed by what I'm seeing here.
I knew you built railways.
And I assumed I'd see you
putting down sleepers
and laying each track on each side.
But none of that at all.
This is just a Meccano kit.
It's all ready-made.
(Justin) It's all pre-assembled.
The lads put down about...
They lift and lay about
400 yards every day.
- 400 yards of track?
- Yeah.
Railways are the perfect way
to transport the peat
because the weight can be
spread across the boggy ground.
The lines being laid
are temporary tracks,
but this bog is also home to
a network of permanent lines.
What scale of rail operation
do you have here?
In total, we would have 600km
of permanent rail line.
I mean, that's amazing.
That's almost like a national system.
It's actually probably the biggest
industrial railway in Europe.
And then what quantity of
rolling stock do you have?
We have 200 locos and 1600 wagons.
I mean, you really are a major railway.
It is huge. It is actually huge.
Since peat reserves are finite,
the future of the industry is uncertain.
But for the next few years at least,
the bog trains will continue their work.
Having changed trains in Dublin,
I'm now rejoining my south to north
route on the Dublin to Drogneda line,
completed in 1844.
My next stop is a seaside town
with a rich history.
I'm now headed for Balbriggan,
which my Bradshaw's Guide tells me
"has a harbour inside a pier,
600ft long with a fixed light,
35ft high, visible ten miles distant".
And he says, "The Cargee half-tide rock
lies one mile north-east."
I get the impression of a community
that lived from the sea
and with great respect for the sea.
In Bradshaws day, however, Balbriggan
was more than just a fishing town.
My guidebook writes of the
stocking, linen and embroidery trades
flourishing here in the 19th century.
Before I arrive, {want to see
whether my fellow passengers
know of this textile heritage.
Excuse me. I'm headed for Balbriggan.
Do you know it?
I live in Balbriggan, yeah.
It's a lovely place.
Balbriggan, it actually means
"the town on the small hills".
In Irish it's Baile Brigin.
I've lived there all my life.
In the old days, apparently,
it used to manufacture stockings.
- Do you know anything about that?
- That's right.
Down in Station Street, they made socks.
Er... I think it was called Smyth's.
And they used to make socks there
for the Queen.
- For Queen Victoria?
- Yeah.
I'm not too sure. Maybe it was Queen
Victoria. They made socks there, anyway.
What son of socks
or stockings did she wear?
- Oh, I couldn't tell you that.
- (Carmichael laughs)
- That's classified.
- (both laugh)
But what you can tell me is,
they came from Balbriggan?
Yeah.
In fact, Balbriggaws textiles
were once so famous
that the town's name became
a byword for a type of knitted cotton.
I'm getting off
at the harbour-side station
to see what this place
is known for today.
And even from the train,
it looks a charming, charming place.
By the time the railway
reached Balbriggan in 1844,
the textile trade was well established.
And after the rails arrived,
it continued to expand, with new
factories built beside the line.
And the story about the royal penchant
for Balbriggan's wares seems to be true.
Indeed, one Thomas Mangan, who was
a hosier with the company Smyth,
supplied Queen Victoria with stockings
for more than 60 years.
In recognition of that,
she sent him a signed
photograph of herself,
commending him for being a conscientious
worker, though in a humble position.
Well into the 1900s, the town
continued to be famous for stockings,
as well as long johns
and other underwear.
But by the end of the century,
the industry had succumbed
to competition from cheap imports.
These days, no trace of
the stocking industry remains,
but the railway is still here,
overlooking the lighthouse
mentioned in my “Bradshaw's Guide“.
The town since still sustains a modest
fishing industry, mainly for prawns.
We come for a chat
with some local fishermen
to see how the rails and the sea
have shaped the town.
Gentlemen...
would you mind if I while away
a few moments with you?
- Certainly. We'd be delighted.
- Great to see you. Lovely evening.
(Carmichael) Your lighthouse
is rather famous, I think.
The lighthouse dates back
to the time the harbour was built.
Roughly 1761 onwards. Right?
And, erm, it's one of the oldest ones
in the country at the moment.
Still standing on the same spot
without being changed,
except that it's lost its top.
- It used to have a bell on top.
- (Michael) Does it show light any more?
It does. It's only a guiding light.
It's not really, erm... a sea light.
But it is used for guidance?
It is used for guidance, but wouldn't
be any use in fog, you know?
Until the 1960s, the lighthouse
had a much brighter beam.
But even then,
resourceful fishermen found other ways
to help them into
the safety of the harbour.
So, what navigational tricks
do the sailors use?
If it was foggy now,
you'd be listening for the train.
Making a noise going across the bridge.
You'd know then that the harbour
was near. You'd follow the sound.
It's one of the few viaducts in the
country that runs over a harbour.
- Yes.
- Eleven arches.
(man 1) Eleven arches, yeah.
These days, fishermen have
computer systems to help them.
But the trains passing over the viaduct
still drum out the rhythms
of Balbriggan life.
These fishermen even use
the sounds of the trains
to tell them when it's home time.
Well, there's one particular train.
The cuppa scald train.
The cuppa scald train
would mean the cup of tea train.
To scald the kettle,
if you know the phrase.
In Ireland, they either said
"to wet the tea," or "scald the tea".
You never said "make the tea".
- (Carmichael) And it means to go...
- It means to go home.
- And enjoy a cup of tea?
- Yes.
- As simple as that.
- (laughter)
But still probably the most famous train
in the harbour at the moment.
Well, I don't know about
the cuppa scald train,
but ifs time for me to get some rest.
And with the sound of locomotives
and lapping waves to lull me to sleep,
Balbriggan will do just fine.
Day two of my journey,
and I'm back on the tracks.
I'm travelling on what's now
the Dublin to Belfast main line,
built in three stages
by three different companies.
I'm on the southern stretch,
completed in 1844.
And my immediate destination was,
for a while, the terminus of the line.
My next stop is Drogheda.
And my Bradshaw's says that it
"enjoys a good trade in Irish produce".
And that "small craft can
come up to the quays from the sea,
which is six miles distant."
Which makes the town sound
peaceful enough.
But it sits upon a river, the Boyne,
which gave its name to
one of the most decisive battles
in the history of the British isles.
At the close of the 17th century,
a bloody battle was fought on Irish soil
between rival Catholic
and Protestant British kings.
As my Bradshaw's says,
"On 10 July 1690, the famous
Battle of the Boyne took place,
when King William III
utterly defeated the Jacobite party."
They were the supporters of the
deposed King James ll, the Catholic.
"The battle was fought at Oldbridge,
three miles above the town."
And that battle
set the course of Irish history.
Sixty thousand men took part,
making it the biggest pitched battle
ever on British or Irish soil.
But the Victorian era also left
its mark on Drogheda town.
What's lured me here is this
dramatic feat of engineering.
The ISO-metre-high Boyne Viaduct
took four years to build
and created an uninterrupted rail route
from Dublin to Belfast
that survives to this day.
The bridge has been updated
since Bradshaw's day,
but much of the
original structure remains.
I'm taking a tour with local
museum archivist Brendan Matthews.
- Hello, Michael.
- Hi. Good to see you.
Pleased to meet you.
I've come to admire
your wonderful viaduct.
Fantastic piece of work.
By 1849, railway lines reaching north
from Dublin and south from Belfast
had reached the banks
of the River Boyne.
But there could be no through service
without spanning its '167-metre width.
(Michael) The building of
this wonderful bridge,
how significant was it
in the history of Irish railways?
(Brendan) Hugely significant.
It was the last piece of the jigsaw,
if you like, when the train had come.
It was to link the great cities,
at the time, of Belfast and Dublin.
What did you do as a railway passenger
before the bridge was built?
To get the passengers from one side of
the river to the other,
they were brought around on coaches,
horses and cans and so on.
And there was a man employed to do this,
a man called Thomas Simcox
from Drogheda.
And he would bus the passengers around,
roughly about a mile,
to go down through the town of
Drogheda, cross St Mary's Bridge,
through the town on the north side,
and then they would board a train
on the opposite bank of the river.
A bridge was the obvious solution.
But raising the capital was impossible
in famine-ravaged 19th-century Ireland.
By the 1850s, however,
the money had been found.
And civil engineer John MacNeill
was commissioned to produce a design.
He decided on a latticework viaduct,
supported by 15 masonry arches
and two vast peers.
Construction began in 1851,
and for the town of Drogheda,
it was a godsend.
(Brendan) This would have created
an awful lot of work.
Quarrying stone for instance,
craftsmen, stonecutters, stonemasons,
steeplejacks to build the pillars
and so on.
The coming of the railway
and the building of the viaduct,
- it created work.
- And pride.
Yeah, real pride.
It helped enormously because,
as the famine ended,
Drogheda responded more rapidly
because of the railway being here.
So it was able to respond
and to get out of that, kind of, depths
of depression of the Great Famine.
Able to get out of that more rapidly
because of the railway.
The ambitious project
wasn't completed until 1855.
But the first train crossing
took place some two years before.
Under pressure to link
Dublin with Belfast
for the Dublin Exhibition of 1853,
a temporary wooden structure
was erected and put to use.
There was a train carrying two wagons,
and they put on board
between 45 and 50 labourers.
Interesting, the way they mentioned that
it was labourers they put to test it.
They put these 45-50 labourers on board,
the whole lot weighing 75 tonnes.
And that was the initial train
to come across on 15 May 1853.
Newspapers, they vary
between 8-10,000 people
who turned out to see this happening.
They would have never seen anything like
this great piece of achievement
and a great marvel, great for
the economy of Drogheda as well.
And for the morale of the people.
And for the morale of the people,
it was absolutely fantastic, yeah.
By 1855, the wooden latticing
had been replaced by iron,
making this the longest section
of latticed ironwork in the world.
But not everybody welcomed
this engineering triumph.
(Brendan) People had a fear.
They had a fear of travelling over this.
And so many continued
their journey by horse and can
to go from one side to the other.
Time had to be allowed for the train
to wait on these people to come around
and board from one side to the other.
The original ironwork
was replaced by steel
when the bridge was refurbished
in the 1930s.
But the Victorian masonry peers
are stiff in piece.
Before I leave,
Brendan's brought me to the riverbank.
The best place to appreciate
the scale of this achievement.
Brendan, it's certainly worth
seeing the viaduct from here, isn't it'?
It soars above the town.
It's this wonderful combination
of iron and stone.
(Brendan) Absolutely.
A marvel in its day,
when it was constructed.
I see pillars built into the river.
How difficult was that?
(Brendan)
Very difficult, by all accounts.
They would have used a method
which was called a cofferdam,
which is metal plates, which are formed
into a square tank around the pillars,
enabling the workmen
to work within the tank.
And the water would have been seeping
or leaking into this cofferdam,
and because of that,
they brought in bales of wool
to plug the inside of the cofferdam
to stop the water from
actually leaking in.
And because of that reason,
people had to believe
that the actual viaduct
was built on the foundation
of cotton wool.
Therefore, people refused to
travel over the bridge by train.
Not good for confidence.
Absolutely not good for confidence.
Apparently, the urban myth
still persists.
But I'm not getting he chance
to test the bridge just yet.
My last train journey of the day
is taking me west
on a branch Kine from Drogheda.
And although ifs mentioned
in my "Bradshaw's",
ifs not a service you'll find
in any modem timetable.
Since I've been in
the Republic of Ireland,
I've been riding on railway lines
that were built for passengers.
But this branch off the main
Dublin to Belfast line
was built for passengers and freight,
and now is a freight line only.
And this massive veteran,
American-built locomotive
seems the best wait for me
to hitch a ride to my next destination.
I'm on my way to Navan,
along a line which, until the 1950s,
was used by passengers.
Nowadays, ifs a different load
that travels these tracks.
Zinc and lead.
I'm bound fora vast mine,
which extracts millions of tonnes
of ore each year.
This island's metal industry
has roots stretching back
to Bradshaw's day and beyond.
I'm getting the story from Owen O'Neill,
who's worked at this mine for 28 years.
Owen, hello.
Michael, very welcome.
Good to see you.
This looks like a formidable operation
you've got here. Pretty big.
Yeah, it's Europe's largest
lead/zinc mine.
The sixth largest in the world.
(Carmichael) I don't think of Ireland
as a mining country.
In my ignorance,
I think of it as agricultural.
Has there been a lot of mining?
Yeah, there's a rich heritage
of mining in Ireland.
We've mined back as early
as the Bronze Age.
There was copper and traces of gold.
In the 18th and 19th century,
with the industrial Revolution,
mining became more popular again.
These new mines provided industrial
Britain with much-needed metals.
With the advent of electricity,
copper especially boomed,
used, for example, in the new
telegraph wires encircling the globe.
At one stage, 19th-century Ireland
boasted mines in almost every county.
But by the end of the century,
a fall in metal prices
caused the industry to slump.
It wasn't until the mid-20th century
that interest in
metal mining was revived.
Exploration began, and in 1970,
this huge reserve of zinc
and lead was discovered.
We produce approximately
2.7 million tonnes
from the underground operation.
We process it in our
milling section here.
And produce, then, about 360,000 tonnes
of zinc concentration.
Zinc from this mine is used
to galvanise steel,
protecting it from rust and
extending its We in modem products,
from car bodies to road signs.
(Carmichael) And I'm pleased to see
you're using the railways.
(Owen) Yeah. Railways are very important
for us. We're 100% reliant on it.
(Carmichael) And each train is
carrying what kind of weight?
(Owen) Each train is carrying
about 600 tonnes.
And we have approximately three trains
per day. On average, three trains a day.
This is metal mining on a scale
the Victorians could only dream of.
I'm taking a trip deep underground
to see it first hand.
- I'd like to introduce Joe Ricer.
- Joe, Michael.
Pleased to meet you, Michael.
We're going down in this?
We are. I'm going to put you
into the front seat there. Belt up.
Amazingly, the mine's 400-plus workers
all reach the underground workings
by 4x4.
This is extraordinary to me
because I'm used to coal mines,
where you go down in a cage.
(Joe) That's right.
- We're going to drive our way in?
- We're driving down.
That's the main access
into the mine now.
The journey takes about 15 minutes
by car and covers around four miles.
(Michael) it's like driving
down a multi-storey car park,
except you kept just keep going.
- (Joe) Yeah.
- How far are you gonna take us today?
(Joe) We'll bring you down
about 600 metres.
- 600 metres deep?
- Vertical, yeah.
(Joe) It is 1,000 metres,
but we're not going right to the bottom.
Unless you want to. If you want to,
I can bring you right down.
(Carmichael) 600 metres will do me, Joe.
With an astonishing 120km
of underground roads here,
I'm very glad I'm with
a knowledgeable guide.
(Joe) OK, Michael, we're here.
(Carmichael)
So, now we're at the sharp end?
(Joe) Yes. This is where it all happens.
Now, just mind your footing.
Follow me is probably the best thing.
19th-century Ireland's mines were small,
and used basic technology
to extract the metal.
Here, much of the work is done
by huge drilling machines,
which bore deep into the rock.
Right, Michael,
the machine operator is Declan.
- Declan, hello. Michael.
- This is Michael.
I guess it's going to be quite noisy?
Very noisy. Wear ear plugs.
And ear muffs if you have them.
The drill makes holes
up to 80 metres long,
which are then loaded
with powerful explosives.
So actually, the key to getting
this stuff out is to blow it out?
Or blast it out, yeah. Oh, yeah.
- That's fantastic.
- Yeah. That's just a part of the cycle.
- The whole thing is a massive scale.
- It is.
The extracted ore is then taken to
the surface to be crushed and processed,
then exported abroad to be smelted.
Much of the lead will be
used in batteries,
while the zinc finds
its way into everything,
from washing machines to screws.
(Carmichael) Would you expect that
as you keep spiralling down,
- you're gonna find more and more?
- We're very hopeful.
We have for years and years,
back in the '80s, '90s,
we have been always finding
as much as we have mined.
It has, maybe, thinned out a little bit,
but we're always hopeful
that we will hit the bonanza.
And maybe the real ore body
is out there somewhere.
As the say, the mother lode,
as they call it.
We're hopeful for that.
Whether or not they discover more ore,
exploring this region
with my “Bradshaw's Guide“
We certainly uncovered a land
that's full of surprises.
Walking the magnificent viaduct
at Drogheda
reminds me how the railways
transformed Ireland in Bradshaws day.
But seeing tracks laid across a peat bog
and watching vast quantities of zinc
being transported by train
convinces me that, 150 years later,
the railway is still
a formidable technology.
On the next stretch of my trip,
I'll be hunting for ancient relics,
steered by my "Bradshaw's"...
That is a most extraordinary
set of stones.
I suppose Stonehenge-like.
Learning how 19th-century
astronomers mapped the stars...
Now, John, that I do recognise
as a telescope.
And travelling on a Victorian country
railway, lovingly restored to life.
I might think I was in the wrong place
if it weren't for the
tell-tale drift of smoke.
travel in Britain and Ireland.
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 these islands
to see what of Bradshaws world
remains.
For the first time
on my railway adventures,
I've crossed the Irish Sea,
using my 19th-century
Bradshaw's Descriptive Railway Handbook
of Great Britain and Ireland.
And the book gives a fascinating glimpse
of an island
that, at the time of writing,
was one island
under the reign of Queen Victoria.
But of most interest to me, it was
also experiencing a railway revolution.
On this stretch, Hi be discovering
an industrial railway
built on inhospitable bogs...
What scale of rail operation
do you have here?
Well, in total, we would have
600km of permanent rail line.
Admiring a marvel of
Victorian railway engineering...
Brendan, it's certainly worth seeing
the viaduct from here, isn't it'?
It soars above the town.
This wonderful combination
of iron and stone.
And unearthing extraordinary
underground secrets.
- So, now we're at the sharp end?
- (man) This is where it all happens.
(man) Just mind your footing. Just
follow me is probably the best thing.
Having visited 19th-century Ireland's
first railway lines in Dublin,
I'm now following their
expansion out from the capital.
My route takes me north,
where having crossed the border,
I'll take in the dramatic scenery
of the north-east coast,
finishing up in Derry/Londonderry.
This stretch starts in the
rural Midlands, west of Dublin.
Then re-joins the East Coast Main Line,
taking in the fishing town of
Balbriggan, en route to Drogheda.
I'm making a slight detour inland
from my coastal route northwards
through the Republic of Ireland
because I'm intrigued
by this entry in Bradshaw's.
"Nearly one-fifth pan of
this county is occupied by bog,
including a considerable portion
of the great chain of morasses
termed the Bog of Allen."
And now Bradshaw
suddenly breaks into verse.
"Great Bog of Allen, swallow down
That odious heap call'd Philipstown."
"And if thy maw can swallow more,
Pray take, and welcome, Tullamore."
"These two unhappy towns are planted
in the very heart of this most
desolate bog," says Bradshaw's.
And with a build-up like that,
who can resist visiting?
The rhyme quoted in my guidebook
is typical of 19th-century attitudes
to Ireland's extensive bogs.
They were seen as barren lands,
a cause of poverty and misery,
ripe for reform.
To see this remarkable
landscape for myself,
I'm leaving the train on the edge
of the ancient Bog of Allen.
So, my trip to the desolate bog
begins at the somewhat
isolated station of Enfield.
These days, much of the bog/and would
be unrecognisable to Victorian eyes.
Vast swathes of the landscape have been
transformed by the peat industry,
which harvests around
four million tonnes a year.
I'm guided by peat-worker
Justin McCarthy.
Very good to see you. Would this be
the notorious Bog of Allen?
It would be pan of the Bog of Allen
that will stretch across
the midlands of Ireland.
How extensive
are these bogs in Ireland?
Seventeen percent of the total
land mass of Ireland is bogland.
- That's amazing.
- Yeah.
The bogs have developed
over thousands of years,
as layers of dead plant material
have built up in wetland areas.
This eventually transforms
into carbon-rich peat,
a resource which has long
been exploited by the locals.
So, this is peat and it's useful stuff?
It is, yes.
Traditionally, it would have been used
to provide fuel for domestic homes.
And, probably over the last
two or three centuries,
it would have been
cut by hand into sods.
The sods would have been
turned during the summer
to be allowed to be air-dried.
That provided fuel for the winter-time.
For most of the 19th century, as the
world enjoyed a love affair with coal,
peat was seen as an inferior fuel.
While a few industrialists
experimented with it,
creating new products like briquettes,
many felt that the bogs would best be
drained and converted for agriculture.
By the early 20th century,
peat's potential value
as an alternative form
of energy was realised.
And for the first time,
a serious peat industry grew up.
You're now doing this
on an industrial scale?
We are.
It probably was brought to a head
by the Second World War
and by the fuel shortages
that were caused throughout Europe
due to be the... the emergency,
as we called it, the Second World War.
We decided to invest
in our own future here
and provide an
indigenous source of fuel
on an industrial scale
that wouldn't leave us open to
threats of shortage
of fuel internationally.
(Michael) ls this still used
mainly in people's homes?
Actually, most of what we do here
is to provide electricity.
The peat that you're looking at here
is being loaded here
and being brought to a power station
and burned to make electricity.
These days,
peat extraction is controversial.
We estimated that over
three-quarters of the republic's bogs
have already been lost,
with side-effects including
the loss of wildlife
and the release of greenhouse gases.
This company's made a commitment
to drain no new areas,
concentrating on bogs like this,
first drained 40 years ago.
(Carmichael) How do you get rid
of the water?
It's about drainage.
Er, we have to dig out-falls
around the periphery of the bog.
And, internally, then we
put in these ditch drains here.
So, if you like, it's like a big
grid of drains that are 50ft apart
right across the bog.
The harvesting is done by machines,
which scrape off the top layer of peat.
Once the peat has been exhausted,
plans for so-called cutaway bogs
include turning them into
nature reserves and even wind farms.
But that's not what We come to see.
Amazingly, this soggy environment
supports a huge railway network.
I'm amazed by what I'm seeing here.
I knew you built railways.
And I assumed I'd see you
putting down sleepers
and laying each track on each side.
But none of that at all.
This is just a Meccano kit.
It's all ready-made.
(Justin) It's all pre-assembled.
The lads put down about...
They lift and lay about
400 yards every day.
- 400 yards of track?
- Yeah.
Railways are the perfect way
to transport the peat
because the weight can be
spread across the boggy ground.
The lines being laid
are temporary tracks,
but this bog is also home to
a network of permanent lines.
What scale of rail operation
do you have here?
In total, we would have 600km
of permanent rail line.
I mean, that's amazing.
That's almost like a national system.
It's actually probably the biggest
industrial railway in Europe.
And then what quantity of
rolling stock do you have?
We have 200 locos and 1600 wagons.
I mean, you really are a major railway.
It is huge. It is actually huge.
Since peat reserves are finite,
the future of the industry is uncertain.
But for the next few years at least,
the bog trains will continue their work.
Having changed trains in Dublin,
I'm now rejoining my south to north
route on the Dublin to Drogneda line,
completed in 1844.
My next stop is a seaside town
with a rich history.
I'm now headed for Balbriggan,
which my Bradshaw's Guide tells me
"has a harbour inside a pier,
600ft long with a fixed light,
35ft high, visible ten miles distant".
And he says, "The Cargee half-tide rock
lies one mile north-east."
I get the impression of a community
that lived from the sea
and with great respect for the sea.
In Bradshaws day, however, Balbriggan
was more than just a fishing town.
My guidebook writes of the
stocking, linen and embroidery trades
flourishing here in the 19th century.
Before I arrive, {want to see
whether my fellow passengers
know of this textile heritage.
Excuse me. I'm headed for Balbriggan.
Do you know it?
I live in Balbriggan, yeah.
It's a lovely place.
Balbriggan, it actually means
"the town on the small hills".
In Irish it's Baile Brigin.
I've lived there all my life.
In the old days, apparently,
it used to manufacture stockings.
- Do you know anything about that?
- That's right.
Down in Station Street, they made socks.
Er... I think it was called Smyth's.
And they used to make socks there
for the Queen.
- For Queen Victoria?
- Yeah.
I'm not too sure. Maybe it was Queen
Victoria. They made socks there, anyway.
What son of socks
or stockings did she wear?
- Oh, I couldn't tell you that.
- (Carmichael laughs)
- That's classified.
- (both laugh)
But what you can tell me is,
they came from Balbriggan?
Yeah.
In fact, Balbriggaws textiles
were once so famous
that the town's name became
a byword for a type of knitted cotton.
I'm getting off
at the harbour-side station
to see what this place
is known for today.
And even from the train,
it looks a charming, charming place.
By the time the railway
reached Balbriggan in 1844,
the textile trade was well established.
And after the rails arrived,
it continued to expand, with new
factories built beside the line.
And the story about the royal penchant
for Balbriggan's wares seems to be true.
Indeed, one Thomas Mangan, who was
a hosier with the company Smyth,
supplied Queen Victoria with stockings
for more than 60 years.
In recognition of that,
she sent him a signed
photograph of herself,
commending him for being a conscientious
worker, though in a humble position.
Well into the 1900s, the town
continued to be famous for stockings,
as well as long johns
and other underwear.
But by the end of the century,
the industry had succumbed
to competition from cheap imports.
These days, no trace of
the stocking industry remains,
but the railway is still here,
overlooking the lighthouse
mentioned in my “Bradshaw's Guide“.
The town since still sustains a modest
fishing industry, mainly for prawns.
We come for a chat
with some local fishermen
to see how the rails and the sea
have shaped the town.
Gentlemen...
would you mind if I while away
a few moments with you?
- Certainly. We'd be delighted.
- Great to see you. Lovely evening.
(Carmichael) Your lighthouse
is rather famous, I think.
The lighthouse dates back
to the time the harbour was built.
Roughly 1761 onwards. Right?
And, erm, it's one of the oldest ones
in the country at the moment.
Still standing on the same spot
without being changed,
except that it's lost its top.
- It used to have a bell on top.
- (Michael) Does it show light any more?
It does. It's only a guiding light.
It's not really, erm... a sea light.
But it is used for guidance?
It is used for guidance, but wouldn't
be any use in fog, you know?
Until the 1960s, the lighthouse
had a much brighter beam.
But even then,
resourceful fishermen found other ways
to help them into
the safety of the harbour.
So, what navigational tricks
do the sailors use?
If it was foggy now,
you'd be listening for the train.
Making a noise going across the bridge.
You'd know then that the harbour
was near. You'd follow the sound.
It's one of the few viaducts in the
country that runs over a harbour.
- Yes.
- Eleven arches.
(man 1) Eleven arches, yeah.
These days, fishermen have
computer systems to help them.
But the trains passing over the viaduct
still drum out the rhythms
of Balbriggan life.
These fishermen even use
the sounds of the trains
to tell them when it's home time.
Well, there's one particular train.
The cuppa scald train.
The cuppa scald train
would mean the cup of tea train.
To scald the kettle,
if you know the phrase.
In Ireland, they either said
"to wet the tea," or "scald the tea".
You never said "make the tea".
- (Carmichael) And it means to go...
- It means to go home.
- And enjoy a cup of tea?
- Yes.
- As simple as that.
- (laughter)
But still probably the most famous train
in the harbour at the moment.
Well, I don't know about
the cuppa scald train,
but ifs time for me to get some rest.
And with the sound of locomotives
and lapping waves to lull me to sleep,
Balbriggan will do just fine.
Day two of my journey,
and I'm back on the tracks.
I'm travelling on what's now
the Dublin to Belfast main line,
built in three stages
by three different companies.
I'm on the southern stretch,
completed in 1844.
And my immediate destination was,
for a while, the terminus of the line.
My next stop is Drogheda.
And my Bradshaw's says that it
"enjoys a good trade in Irish produce".
And that "small craft can
come up to the quays from the sea,
which is six miles distant."
Which makes the town sound
peaceful enough.
But it sits upon a river, the Boyne,
which gave its name to
one of the most decisive battles
in the history of the British isles.
At the close of the 17th century,
a bloody battle was fought on Irish soil
between rival Catholic
and Protestant British kings.
As my Bradshaw's says,
"On 10 July 1690, the famous
Battle of the Boyne took place,
when King William III
utterly defeated the Jacobite party."
They were the supporters of the
deposed King James ll, the Catholic.
"The battle was fought at Oldbridge,
three miles above the town."
And that battle
set the course of Irish history.
Sixty thousand men took part,
making it the biggest pitched battle
ever on British or Irish soil.
But the Victorian era also left
its mark on Drogheda town.
What's lured me here is this
dramatic feat of engineering.
The ISO-metre-high Boyne Viaduct
took four years to build
and created an uninterrupted rail route
from Dublin to Belfast
that survives to this day.
The bridge has been updated
since Bradshaw's day,
but much of the
original structure remains.
I'm taking a tour with local
museum archivist Brendan Matthews.
- Hello, Michael.
- Hi. Good to see you.
Pleased to meet you.
I've come to admire
your wonderful viaduct.
Fantastic piece of work.
By 1849, railway lines reaching north
from Dublin and south from Belfast
had reached the banks
of the River Boyne.
But there could be no through service
without spanning its '167-metre width.
(Michael) The building of
this wonderful bridge,
how significant was it
in the history of Irish railways?
(Brendan) Hugely significant.
It was the last piece of the jigsaw,
if you like, when the train had come.
It was to link the great cities,
at the time, of Belfast and Dublin.
What did you do as a railway passenger
before the bridge was built?
To get the passengers from one side of
the river to the other,
they were brought around on coaches,
horses and cans and so on.
And there was a man employed to do this,
a man called Thomas Simcox
from Drogheda.
And he would bus the passengers around,
roughly about a mile,
to go down through the town of
Drogheda, cross St Mary's Bridge,
through the town on the north side,
and then they would board a train
on the opposite bank of the river.
A bridge was the obvious solution.
But raising the capital was impossible
in famine-ravaged 19th-century Ireland.
By the 1850s, however,
the money had been found.
And civil engineer John MacNeill
was commissioned to produce a design.
He decided on a latticework viaduct,
supported by 15 masonry arches
and two vast peers.
Construction began in 1851,
and for the town of Drogheda,
it was a godsend.
(Brendan) This would have created
an awful lot of work.
Quarrying stone for instance,
craftsmen, stonecutters, stonemasons,
steeplejacks to build the pillars
and so on.
The coming of the railway
and the building of the viaduct,
- it created work.
- And pride.
Yeah, real pride.
It helped enormously because,
as the famine ended,
Drogheda responded more rapidly
because of the railway being here.
So it was able to respond
and to get out of that, kind of, depths
of depression of the Great Famine.
Able to get out of that more rapidly
because of the railway.
The ambitious project
wasn't completed until 1855.
But the first train crossing
took place some two years before.
Under pressure to link
Dublin with Belfast
for the Dublin Exhibition of 1853,
a temporary wooden structure
was erected and put to use.
There was a train carrying two wagons,
and they put on board
between 45 and 50 labourers.
Interesting, the way they mentioned that
it was labourers they put to test it.
They put these 45-50 labourers on board,
the whole lot weighing 75 tonnes.
And that was the initial train
to come across on 15 May 1853.
Newspapers, they vary
between 8-10,000 people
who turned out to see this happening.
They would have never seen anything like
this great piece of achievement
and a great marvel, great for
the economy of Drogheda as well.
And for the morale of the people.
And for the morale of the people,
it was absolutely fantastic, yeah.
By 1855, the wooden latticing
had been replaced by iron,
making this the longest section
of latticed ironwork in the world.
But not everybody welcomed
this engineering triumph.
(Brendan) People had a fear.
They had a fear of travelling over this.
And so many continued
their journey by horse and can
to go from one side to the other.
Time had to be allowed for the train
to wait on these people to come around
and board from one side to the other.
The original ironwork
was replaced by steel
when the bridge was refurbished
in the 1930s.
But the Victorian masonry peers
are stiff in piece.
Before I leave,
Brendan's brought me to the riverbank.
The best place to appreciate
the scale of this achievement.
Brendan, it's certainly worth
seeing the viaduct from here, isn't it'?
It soars above the town.
It's this wonderful combination
of iron and stone.
(Brendan) Absolutely.
A marvel in its day,
when it was constructed.
I see pillars built into the river.
How difficult was that?
(Brendan)
Very difficult, by all accounts.
They would have used a method
which was called a cofferdam,
which is metal plates, which are formed
into a square tank around the pillars,
enabling the workmen
to work within the tank.
And the water would have been seeping
or leaking into this cofferdam,
and because of that,
they brought in bales of wool
to plug the inside of the cofferdam
to stop the water from
actually leaking in.
And because of that reason,
people had to believe
that the actual viaduct
was built on the foundation
of cotton wool.
Therefore, people refused to
travel over the bridge by train.
Not good for confidence.
Absolutely not good for confidence.
Apparently, the urban myth
still persists.
But I'm not getting he chance
to test the bridge just yet.
My last train journey of the day
is taking me west
on a branch Kine from Drogheda.
And although ifs mentioned
in my "Bradshaw's",
ifs not a service you'll find
in any modem timetable.
Since I've been in
the Republic of Ireland,
I've been riding on railway lines
that were built for passengers.
But this branch off the main
Dublin to Belfast line
was built for passengers and freight,
and now is a freight line only.
And this massive veteran,
American-built locomotive
seems the best wait for me
to hitch a ride to my next destination.
I'm on my way to Navan,
along a line which, until the 1950s,
was used by passengers.
Nowadays, ifs a different load
that travels these tracks.
Zinc and lead.
I'm bound fora vast mine,
which extracts millions of tonnes
of ore each year.
This island's metal industry
has roots stretching back
to Bradshaw's day and beyond.
I'm getting the story from Owen O'Neill,
who's worked at this mine for 28 years.
Owen, hello.
Michael, very welcome.
Good to see you.
This looks like a formidable operation
you've got here. Pretty big.
Yeah, it's Europe's largest
lead/zinc mine.
The sixth largest in the world.
(Carmichael) I don't think of Ireland
as a mining country.
In my ignorance,
I think of it as agricultural.
Has there been a lot of mining?
Yeah, there's a rich heritage
of mining in Ireland.
We've mined back as early
as the Bronze Age.
There was copper and traces of gold.
In the 18th and 19th century,
with the industrial Revolution,
mining became more popular again.
These new mines provided industrial
Britain with much-needed metals.
With the advent of electricity,
copper especially boomed,
used, for example, in the new
telegraph wires encircling the globe.
At one stage, 19th-century Ireland
boasted mines in almost every county.
But by the end of the century,
a fall in metal prices
caused the industry to slump.
It wasn't until the mid-20th century
that interest in
metal mining was revived.
Exploration began, and in 1970,
this huge reserve of zinc
and lead was discovered.
We produce approximately
2.7 million tonnes
from the underground operation.
We process it in our
milling section here.
And produce, then, about 360,000 tonnes
of zinc concentration.
Zinc from this mine is used
to galvanise steel,
protecting it from rust and
extending its We in modem products,
from car bodies to road signs.
(Carmichael) And I'm pleased to see
you're using the railways.
(Owen) Yeah. Railways are very important
for us. We're 100% reliant on it.
(Carmichael) And each train is
carrying what kind of weight?
(Owen) Each train is carrying
about 600 tonnes.
And we have approximately three trains
per day. On average, three trains a day.
This is metal mining on a scale
the Victorians could only dream of.
I'm taking a trip deep underground
to see it first hand.
- I'd like to introduce Joe Ricer.
- Joe, Michael.
Pleased to meet you, Michael.
We're going down in this?
We are. I'm going to put you
into the front seat there. Belt up.
Amazingly, the mine's 400-plus workers
all reach the underground workings
by 4x4.
This is extraordinary to me
because I'm used to coal mines,
where you go down in a cage.
(Joe) That's right.
- We're going to drive our way in?
- We're driving down.
That's the main access
into the mine now.
The journey takes about 15 minutes
by car and covers around four miles.
(Michael) it's like driving
down a multi-storey car park,
except you kept just keep going.
- (Joe) Yeah.
- How far are you gonna take us today?
(Joe) We'll bring you down
about 600 metres.
- 600 metres deep?
- Vertical, yeah.
(Joe) It is 1,000 metres,
but we're not going right to the bottom.
Unless you want to. If you want to,
I can bring you right down.
(Carmichael) 600 metres will do me, Joe.
With an astonishing 120km
of underground roads here,
I'm very glad I'm with
a knowledgeable guide.
(Joe) OK, Michael, we're here.
(Carmichael)
So, now we're at the sharp end?
(Joe) Yes. This is where it all happens.
Now, just mind your footing.
Follow me is probably the best thing.
19th-century Ireland's mines were small,
and used basic technology
to extract the metal.
Here, much of the work is done
by huge drilling machines,
which bore deep into the rock.
Right, Michael,
the machine operator is Declan.
- Declan, hello. Michael.
- This is Michael.
I guess it's going to be quite noisy?
Very noisy. Wear ear plugs.
And ear muffs if you have them.
The drill makes holes
up to 80 metres long,
which are then loaded
with powerful explosives.
So actually, the key to getting
this stuff out is to blow it out?
Or blast it out, yeah. Oh, yeah.
- That's fantastic.
- Yeah. That's just a part of the cycle.
- The whole thing is a massive scale.
- It is.
The extracted ore is then taken to
the surface to be crushed and processed,
then exported abroad to be smelted.
Much of the lead will be
used in batteries,
while the zinc finds
its way into everything,
from washing machines to screws.
(Carmichael) Would you expect that
as you keep spiralling down,
- you're gonna find more and more?
- We're very hopeful.
We have for years and years,
back in the '80s, '90s,
we have been always finding
as much as we have mined.
It has, maybe, thinned out a little bit,
but we're always hopeful
that we will hit the bonanza.
And maybe the real ore body
is out there somewhere.
As the say, the mother lode,
as they call it.
We're hopeful for that.
Whether or not they discover more ore,
exploring this region
with my “Bradshaw's Guide“
We certainly uncovered a land
that's full of surprises.
Walking the magnificent viaduct
at Drogheda
reminds me how the railways
transformed Ireland in Bradshaws day.
But seeing tracks laid across a peat bog
and watching vast quantities of zinc
being transported by train
convinces me that, 150 years later,
the railway is still
a formidable technology.
On the next stretch of my trip,
I'll be hunting for ancient relics,
steered by my "Bradshaw's"...
That is a most extraordinary
set of stones.
I suppose Stonehenge-like.
Learning how 19th-century
astronomers mapped the stars...
Now, John, that I do recognise
as a telescope.
And travelling on a Victorian country
railway, lovingly restored to life.
I might think I was in the wrong place
if it weren't for the
tell-tale drift of smoke.