Great British Railway Journeys (2010–…): Season 4, Episode 18 - Taunton to Minehead - full transcript
In 1840, one man transformed travel
in the British Isles.
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 isles
to see what of Bradshaws Britain
remains.
Steered by my Bradshaw's Guide,
I'm now at the halfway point
of my journey from London Paddington
to Newton Abbot
and today I shall complete my crossing
of the county of Somerset.
On this leg, I'll explore a church
that moves in mysterious ways...
That's extraordinary, Rod.
It really is moving from side to side.
I'll find out just what it takes
to run a 19th-century signal box...
I had no idea that what a signalman
needed to do
was so responsible and so physical.
And I'll summon all my strength
to shift a 'HO-ton steam locomotive.
(strains) She's moving.
I can't believe it. She's moving.
On this journey I'm paying tribute
to Isambard Kingdom Brunei,
master engineer
of the Great Western Railway.
I started at Paddington Station,
one of his finest monuments.
We travelled west through Wiltshire
and into Somerset
and HI finish at Newton Abbot
in Devon,
the scene of
one of his magnificent failures.
I'm covering 25 miles on this leg,
travelling northwest through Somerset,
ending on the coast at Minehead.
My first stop today is Taunton.
My Bradshaw's tells me that
"it was successfully defended
against the Royalists
during the English Civil War"
and also that "there
the ill-fated Duke of Monmouth
proclaimed himself king in 1685".
Now, legend has it that Queen Victoria
was so incensed
by this history
of anti-monarchic feeling,
that whenever she crossed Taunton
she would draw the curtain
in her railway carriage window
so as not to see her disloyal subjects.
Looks like Taunton is trying to make up
today for its anti-royalist past.
"Somersets county town,"
says my "Bradshaw's",
"has a most pleasing appearance,
situated in the central part of
the luxuriant Vale of Taunton Deane."
The guidebooks also rather captivated
by one church, St Mary Magdalene.
Bradshaw's tells me that "the tower of
Taunton's gothic church
is of Henry VII's age, 153ft high,
of light and elegant proportions
and set off with pinnacles, battlements
and niches
in the elaborate style of that day."
And I'm hoping that the vicar
can tell me more.
(church bells ringing)
- Hello, Michael.
- Rod. Lovely to see you.
Good to see you.
Now, my Bradshaw's tells me
that the tower here is of Henry VII's
age, so it's very historic.
Ah. But it isn't quite.
It's not strictly true.
It's a facsimile of the original.
The original was 1508,
but in Victorian times they rebuilt it.
But they've rebuilt it very faithfully.
It doesn't look Victorian to me.
Well, you know what the Victorians
were like. They always liked to add.
But they resisted that temptation.
They didn't put a clock face there.
They just built it as it was
because it was so magnificent.
The restoration of the church and tower
was overseen by renowned Victorian
architect George Gilbert Scott.
One of Britain's
most prolific architects,
over 800 buildings in the United Kingdom
were restored or designed by him,
including in London
the St Pancras Midland Hotel
and the Albert Memorial
in Kensington Gardens.
So, St Mary Magdalene's tower
is in esteemed company.
Out into the glorious sunshine.
As we came up,
my heart was pounding more and more.
(laughs)
The steps were getting steeper
and thinner.
- I have size 11 feet.
- (laughs)
- Not easy.
- Not easy.
Rod, having walked up all those steps
gives you quite an appreciation of
the task of building this tower in 1508
and the Victorians rebuilding it. What
do you know about the rebuilding?
There's a lovely story
about the Victorian rebuild.
And in those days, of course,
it was before they had
a lot of mechanical help,
and so the building was done by pulleys,
blocks, tackles and a donkey.
And the donkey went backwards
and forward for several years
down Hammet Street,
pulling the heavy stones up the tower,
and then right at the end, when the
tower was finished in its magnificence,
the builders took the donkey all
the way up to here where we stand now,
to give him a good view
of what he'd helped to build.
The donkey must have thought
it was an Eeyore-some view.
Oh, my goodness me.
(laughs) Yes. I'm sure he did.
There is a little something else
about the tower
and that relates to the bells
that are here.
There are 15 bells.
Twelve are regularly rung.
But they're infamous
in the bell-ringing world.
They're not terribly good.
They need replacing.
And... Well, you just watch what happens
when I call them up.
OK, folks, ready to ring?
(bells ring)
(laughs)
- I know what happens. The tower sways.
- You can feel it, can't you?
I'm standing in the centre of the tower
and it's going... wobbly.
That's extraordinary, Rod.
It really is moving from side to side.
I was once in a skyscraper during an
earthquake and it felt just like this.
- Luckily, I trust Victorian builders.
- Yes.
The Victorians' relentless appetite
for railway building
meant that by the end
of the 19th century,
whilst main lines joined
the country's major cities,
branch lines had penetrated
almost every comer of the country.
One such line, engineered by Brunet,
was the West Somerset Railway,
which ran from Taunton
to the Somerset coast.
Today, the tine starts
five miles out of town.
When my Bradshaw's was written,
the West Somerset line was new.
"14 miles long, it runs through
Bishops Lydeard, Crowcombe,
Stogumber and Williton
to the market town of Watchet."
But today, it runs from Bishops Lydeard
to Minehead, a distance of 20 miles,
making it the longest stretch
of standard gauge heritage railway
in the United Kingdom.
I'm going on it,
and I'm steamy with excitement.
I've done a lightning change
because on this trip,
not for me the passenger carriage.
No. I'm headed for the footplate.
- Hello. Pleased to meet you, Michael.
- Can I come on?
Please do. Come aboard. Mind your head.
Driver Merv Hebditch has invited me
to travel up front.
Always an exciting moment when your
steam locomotive leaves the station.
(whistle blows)
And what a glorious sound
this locomotive is making.
Brunei was commissioned
to build the line.
It was operated by
the Bristol and Exeter Railway Company
and opened in 1862.
Over a decade later,
the line was taken over
by that most famous of railway companies
and one very close to Brunel's heart,
the Great Western.
To be in England on a summer's day
is bliss,
but to be on a steam locomotive
in west Somerset is heaven.
Like other small rural branches,
the line closed in the 1970s.
However, it reopened
as a heritage railway some years later
and is enjoyed today by passengers
who like a ticket to nostalgia.
We've got quite a crowded train today.
Why do you think it is
that the British people are
so fascinated by steam engines?
They're just a living thing.
We put a fire in the morning.
It comes to life.
It creates steam. It makes a noise.
I've been doing this 52 years, and it's
still... I still get a buzz out of it.
Well, I'd like to stay on,
but this is my stop.
Be nice if you could stay on.
I'm disembarking at Williton,
although ifs only mentioned in passing
in my “Bradshaw's Guide“.
I'm here to visit something
that's a magnet for rail enthusiasts.
A signal box that's nearly as old as
the line itself and still operational.
Signalman Nick Budd pulls the levers.
- (laughs)
- Hello.
Hello, Nick. That looks like hard work.
It certainly is today.
Nice and warm today.
Are you a signalman born and bred?
No. I was an airline captain,
would you believe?
But then I gave it up
and decided to come here.
You were an airline captain.
What did you use to fly?
Boeing 747s.
Well, it just shows
the railways attract all sorts.
So, actually, you know, in those days
you had 400 lives under your
supervision, and you do today.
Absolutely.
The only difference is speed.
In those days,
I was flying planes at 650mph.
Today I'm controlling trains at 25mph.
- When's our next train?
- The next train is in 20 minutes.
That doesn't sound like much time
to a trainee signalman like me.
Firstly set the route,
and then the signals. Now...
Basically, these levers
are colour-coded.
The black ones are the points,
the blue ones lock the points,
the red ones are for signals,
the white ones are spare levers,
and the one and only brown one locks and
unlocks the gates on the level crossing.
I think I'd rather fly a 747.
That sounds complicated.
Well, that's only the beginning.
My first job is to close the gates.
- Hope we're still in time.
- I think just.
Next, they need to be locked.
And home.
Time to pull off the signal now,
Michael. Number 23, please.
It is quite pressurised. The idea that
you're responsible for people's lives
puts on a lot of pressure.
Usually there's a train coming
the other way at the same time.
Thank goodness there ism today.
This is complicated enough.
Signal...
back.
Gates... unlocked.
With the train in the station,
now I have to open the gates again.
Hmm. I have no idea how these open.
Ah!
- No.
- On the other side.
Oh, thank you. That was a helpful tip.
There we go.
I had no idea that what a signalman
needed to do
was so responsible and so physical.
OK. The train's here.
- The gates are open.
- Excellent.
The signal's on. What next?
Now we need a token for the train to go
to the next signal box.
- Right. Three in one.
- Three in one.
- I can now take that out.
- That's it.
This Victorian token system
was a safety measure
to ensure that no two trains
could ever be on one stretch
of single track at the same time.
Only a driver with the token
in his possession could proceed.
Let's hope I've got this right.
- I think you're expecting this.
- You're not the signalman.
(laughs) I armor new.!
Safe journey.
- Thank you very much.
- Bye now.
- That went smoothly.
- Very good.
All we have to do now
is put that back in the machine
so that we can get another one out
at some time.
A kind offer,
but I think that's my tot for the day.
For now it's onwards.
And I'm looking forward
to experiencing the ride as a passenger.
The final stop of the day is Watchet,
which my Bradshaw's tells me
has "a coastguard station prettily
seated in a secluded creek
on the Bristol Channel".
It sounds like a delightful place
to watch the last rays of the sun.
In the 19th century,
Watchet was a busy commercial port,
shipping locally mined iron ore
across the Bristol Channel
to the Welsh furnaces.
The only ships docking here today
are sail boats and yachts
as the port is now an active marina.
A beautiful sunset
on the Somerset coast,
and I'm lucky to be in Watchet
to watch it.
The sun has risen
on another beautiful morning.
And I'm continuing my journey north
on this wonderful heritage line.
My Bradshaw's tells me
that "Dunster Castle,
standing on the cliffs to the south,
is within a very short distance."
But when my guide was published,
you couldn't get there by train.
Now you take the Dunster Castle Express.
For wealthy landowners
in the rural wilds,
the arrival of the railway presented
huge financial opportunities.
(whistle blows)
Some sought profit by allowing
the rail companies
to build tracks through their estates,
whilst others saw the potential
in bringing tourism
and trade to their area.
One such champion was George Luttrell.
In 1867, he inherited
the Dunster Estate,
at the time one of the largest
in Somerset.
So keen was he to revitalise
his comer of the county
that he backed plans to extend the line
from Watchet via Dunster to Minehead.
And he became the first director
of this new railway.
And now appearing out of the smoke
from the engine,
as though it were looming out of a mist,
is the magnificent sight
of Dunster Castle,
brilliantly lit on this sunny day.
What a sight.
Today Dunster is in the hands
of the National Trust
and volunteer guide Martin Harborne
has kindly agreed to tell me more.
What a wonderful room.
How old is the castle?
The castle itself, 1,000 years old.
Originally there was a Saxon castle
on here.
Then when the Normans arrived,
they built their big stone castle.
And then the Luttrells took it over?
The Luttrells did indeed.
In 1376, they purchased it.
They were here an awfully long time.
21 generations?
Twenty-one... 600 years.
Right through until 1976
when the Luttrell family handed it over
to the National Trust for their custody.
I'm interested in one particular
Luttrell. A Victorian, George Luttrell.
Ah. George Fownes-Luttrell, as we call
him. That's his portrait up there.
And he was involved
in the total alteration of the castle
by the well-known architect of the day,
Anthony Salvin.
So what sons of things did he do?
He completely transformed the castle
from an Elizabethan-style castle
where the family lived at one side,
the servants lived on this side
and they entertained in the middle.
He turned it into a Victorian
comfortable gentleman's residence
with an upstairs and downstairs.
And using the latest technology?
Absolutely, yes. He wanted
all the latest technology,
things that were almost unheard of
down here,
things like bathrooms and gas supplies
and those son of things,
which in the 1870s was
really cutting-edge stuff.
The remodelling took four years
and cost over £25,000,
which was more than Luttrell's
yearly income from the estate,
a sobering 22.5 million
in today's money.
I suppose a billiards room was regarded
as a very important pan
of a Victorian household?
A most essential pan.
This was a gentleman's room.
During the Victorian period,
this would have been full of the
wonderful smells of cigars and brandy
and only the men were allowed in here.
Was this another innovation
of George Fownes-Luttrell?
It was. Prior to the alterations,
this was the kitchen of the main house.
Unheard of in Victorian times,
parts of the house had centre! heating.
And the new kitchen,
which was built in the basement,
was well-ventilated, with windows.
It was also state of the art.
Mod cons included a two-oven cooker...
a built-in bain-marie
and a dumbwaiter.
This pioneering attitude towards
new technologies continues unabated.
In 2008, it became the first
Grade I listed National Trust property
to have solar panels installed.
George Luttrell would be proud.
Can you think of anything you'd
rather have than a beautiful castle?
I can. A beautiful castle
with a view of steam trains.
And that's where I'm headed,
back to Dunster Station
to pick up the extended line
which so helped reinvigorate
this rural corner of Somerset.
My journey continues through stunning
Somerset countryside
towards my next stop, Minehead,
which my Bradshaw's describes as
"a beautiful watering hole".
But when the railway reached there
from 1874,
then holidaymakers began to arrive
by the train load.
Formerly a small fishing port,
Minehead was already popular
amongst the wealthy
as a fashionable sea-bathing resort
from as early as 1752.
However, it wasn't until train travel
that it became easily accessible
and affordable for the middle classes.
The West Somerset Railway should ideally
have linked across the Porlocks
with the Lynton to Barnstaple line,
but even for the Victorians those hills
proved too great an obstacle
and so Minehead is the end of the line.
- Hello!
- Hello there.
- How was the journey?
- Wonderful. Stunning.
- Do you know Minehead?
- Not at all, no.
- You're going in to have a look.
- Have a wander. Where do you suggest?
Well, all I know is that my Bradshaw's
calls it "a beautiful watering hole".
- Oh.
- (man) Gin and tonic?
Sounds like we've got something
to look forward to.
A pint, do you think,
or a gin and tonic?
- (laughs)
- Or both!
Could be either of those, couldn't it?
Enjoy your day. Bye-bye.
Today the station is packed
with steam fans, but in Victorian times
it was tourists from the Big Smoke
and south Wales crowding the platform.
I'm meeting general manager of
this heritage railway, Paul Conibeare.
- Paul, hello!
- Michael. Welcome to Minehead.
Thank you. It's a vast station
with these great long platforms.
I suppose that emphasises
how important it was in its heyday.
Yes. It was a very busy
Great Western terminus
and it's very long to cope with
the visitors it anticipated on the day.
It is of course the terminus.
I can see hills ahead.
Presumably the Porlock hills
prevented it from going further.
There were plans to go on
to Porlock and on to Lynton,
but Sir George Newnes, who was involved
in the Lynton/Barnstaple railway,
didn't want the riff raff
in their pan of the world.
- The riff raff from Minehead.
- Yes.
And I notice on your trains
that you have the engine on the front.
Now, that must imply, I think, that you
have some way of turning them around.
- How do you do that?
- We're very lucky.
We've invested in our turntable here
which was fitted in 2008
to provide the ability for the first
time since the early '60s
to turn the locomotives
so they face the right direction
for the cameras and visitors
to the railway.
The turning around
of extremely heavy locomotives
was a problem that confronted
rail companies
until the dawn of the diesel era.
At Minehead they had to be turned
in a locomotive shed
some distance from the tracks,
a slow process which ate
into the efficiency of the line.
The shed was demolished in the 1960s.
This new turntable,
a Victorian original for the most part,
was purchased in 1974,
but due to lack of funding and space,
it wasn't put in place until 2008.
We now have a locomotive
weighing 110 tons
which our driver, David Herb,
will show you how to turn.
I'll just use my little finger, I think.
Hello, David. Reporting for duty, sir.
- Just going to push it, are we?
- Just push it.
OK. Here goes.
(strains) She's moving.
I can't believe it. She's moving.
Don't know about you, David,
but I'm putting quite a lot of effort
into this right now.
I have weight on my side.
And now that it's in motion,
it gets a little bit easier
because it has momentum.
Somebody tells me
that stopping this thing
is even more difficult
than getting it going.
- I'll do the stopping.
- OK.
We're arriving at our endpoint.
I'm ceasing to push cos it's moving
under its own momentum
and you are now braking it.
And no! Overshot a tiny bit.
Just easing it back.
You were... You're learning to do that
pretty well.
(Sighs)
Next time, I'll do it alone.
- (applause)
- What can I say?
Thanks to the likes of George Newnes,
a key player in establishing the
twin resorts of Lynton and Lynmouth,
the rail link was never built,
so I can go no further by train.
Instead, I'll cross
the impenetrable Porlock Hill by road
to reach the next notable attraction
mentioned in my guide.
Bradshaw's says that
"tourists should proceed
to the far-famed
Valley of the Rocks on foot
along the cliff walk,
whence the scenery is very fine."
"The view in the valley
is exceedingly grand."
"He should employ a guide
to accompany him on his first visit,"
and mine is called Terry.
- Terry, hello.
- Hello, Michael.
What gave rise to these
extraordinary formations of rock?
Well, one time the river ran
through here, carving out this valley.
Then the river diverted to its present
course, running down into Lynmouth.
The crags you can see here,
they've been mainly caused
by the weathering action
over thousands of years,
leaving these very complicated
and intriguing shapes.
- (Michael) Beautiful view.
- It does takes your breath away.
And at this point,
we're about 500ft above sea level.
- Whoa. It's a long way down, isn't it?
- It's a long way, yes.
- So, who created this path?
- It was one of the hotel owners.
He wanted it for his tourists.
He wanted a romantic walk,
something that was sensational.
It must have attracted
painters and writers over the years.
It did. Some of the early visitors
were Keats and Shelley.
They went home
and romanced about this place.
They nicknamed it Little Switzerland.
At one point, it was said
it was the grandest walk in England.
I've had a wonderful journey
from Taunton,
enjoying travel Victorian style,
by steam train.
I've filled my lungs with smoke
and my eyes with smuts.
What better place to blow them away
than here on the Devon cliffs,
where the Romantic poets
drew inspiration
from one of the finest views in England.
On my next journey I get up close
with a piece of natural history...
(woman) It's a moa egg,
an extinct bird from New Zealand.
There's only 36 specimens of a decent
size been catalogued in the world.
I visit a garden used as a viewing
platform for public hangings...
We've got three tiers going up.
According to the records,
they were full.
It was shoulder-to-shoulder,
line-to-line of people.
And encounter a timepiece
like no other.
You know, in my political career,
I met a few two-faced liars,
but this is my first experience
of a four-faced liar.
- One of them's correct, though.
- (laughs)
in the British Isles.
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 isles
to see what of Bradshaws Britain
remains.
Steered by my Bradshaw's Guide,
I'm now at the halfway point
of my journey from London Paddington
to Newton Abbot
and today I shall complete my crossing
of the county of Somerset.
On this leg, I'll explore a church
that moves in mysterious ways...
That's extraordinary, Rod.
It really is moving from side to side.
I'll find out just what it takes
to run a 19th-century signal box...
I had no idea that what a signalman
needed to do
was so responsible and so physical.
And I'll summon all my strength
to shift a 'HO-ton steam locomotive.
(strains) She's moving.
I can't believe it. She's moving.
On this journey I'm paying tribute
to Isambard Kingdom Brunei,
master engineer
of the Great Western Railway.
I started at Paddington Station,
one of his finest monuments.
We travelled west through Wiltshire
and into Somerset
and HI finish at Newton Abbot
in Devon,
the scene of
one of his magnificent failures.
I'm covering 25 miles on this leg,
travelling northwest through Somerset,
ending on the coast at Minehead.
My first stop today is Taunton.
My Bradshaw's tells me that
"it was successfully defended
against the Royalists
during the English Civil War"
and also that "there
the ill-fated Duke of Monmouth
proclaimed himself king in 1685".
Now, legend has it that Queen Victoria
was so incensed
by this history
of anti-monarchic feeling,
that whenever she crossed Taunton
she would draw the curtain
in her railway carriage window
so as not to see her disloyal subjects.
Looks like Taunton is trying to make up
today for its anti-royalist past.
"Somersets county town,"
says my "Bradshaw's",
"has a most pleasing appearance,
situated in the central part of
the luxuriant Vale of Taunton Deane."
The guidebooks also rather captivated
by one church, St Mary Magdalene.
Bradshaw's tells me that "the tower of
Taunton's gothic church
is of Henry VII's age, 153ft high,
of light and elegant proportions
and set off with pinnacles, battlements
and niches
in the elaborate style of that day."
And I'm hoping that the vicar
can tell me more.
(church bells ringing)
- Hello, Michael.
- Rod. Lovely to see you.
Good to see you.
Now, my Bradshaw's tells me
that the tower here is of Henry VII's
age, so it's very historic.
Ah. But it isn't quite.
It's not strictly true.
It's a facsimile of the original.
The original was 1508,
but in Victorian times they rebuilt it.
But they've rebuilt it very faithfully.
It doesn't look Victorian to me.
Well, you know what the Victorians
were like. They always liked to add.
But they resisted that temptation.
They didn't put a clock face there.
They just built it as it was
because it was so magnificent.
The restoration of the church and tower
was overseen by renowned Victorian
architect George Gilbert Scott.
One of Britain's
most prolific architects,
over 800 buildings in the United Kingdom
were restored or designed by him,
including in London
the St Pancras Midland Hotel
and the Albert Memorial
in Kensington Gardens.
So, St Mary Magdalene's tower
is in esteemed company.
Out into the glorious sunshine.
As we came up,
my heart was pounding more and more.
(laughs)
The steps were getting steeper
and thinner.
- I have size 11 feet.
- (laughs)
- Not easy.
- Not easy.
Rod, having walked up all those steps
gives you quite an appreciation of
the task of building this tower in 1508
and the Victorians rebuilding it. What
do you know about the rebuilding?
There's a lovely story
about the Victorian rebuild.
And in those days, of course,
it was before they had
a lot of mechanical help,
and so the building was done by pulleys,
blocks, tackles and a donkey.
And the donkey went backwards
and forward for several years
down Hammet Street,
pulling the heavy stones up the tower,
and then right at the end, when the
tower was finished in its magnificence,
the builders took the donkey all
the way up to here where we stand now,
to give him a good view
of what he'd helped to build.
The donkey must have thought
it was an Eeyore-some view.
Oh, my goodness me.
(laughs) Yes. I'm sure he did.
There is a little something else
about the tower
and that relates to the bells
that are here.
There are 15 bells.
Twelve are regularly rung.
But they're infamous
in the bell-ringing world.
They're not terribly good.
They need replacing.
And... Well, you just watch what happens
when I call them up.
OK, folks, ready to ring?
(bells ring)
(laughs)
- I know what happens. The tower sways.
- You can feel it, can't you?
I'm standing in the centre of the tower
and it's going... wobbly.
That's extraordinary, Rod.
It really is moving from side to side.
I was once in a skyscraper during an
earthquake and it felt just like this.
- Luckily, I trust Victorian builders.
- Yes.
The Victorians' relentless appetite
for railway building
meant that by the end
of the 19th century,
whilst main lines joined
the country's major cities,
branch lines had penetrated
almost every comer of the country.
One such line, engineered by Brunet,
was the West Somerset Railway,
which ran from Taunton
to the Somerset coast.
Today, the tine starts
five miles out of town.
When my Bradshaw's was written,
the West Somerset line was new.
"14 miles long, it runs through
Bishops Lydeard, Crowcombe,
Stogumber and Williton
to the market town of Watchet."
But today, it runs from Bishops Lydeard
to Minehead, a distance of 20 miles,
making it the longest stretch
of standard gauge heritage railway
in the United Kingdom.
I'm going on it,
and I'm steamy with excitement.
I've done a lightning change
because on this trip,
not for me the passenger carriage.
No. I'm headed for the footplate.
- Hello. Pleased to meet you, Michael.
- Can I come on?
Please do. Come aboard. Mind your head.
Driver Merv Hebditch has invited me
to travel up front.
Always an exciting moment when your
steam locomotive leaves the station.
(whistle blows)
And what a glorious sound
this locomotive is making.
Brunei was commissioned
to build the line.
It was operated by
the Bristol and Exeter Railway Company
and opened in 1862.
Over a decade later,
the line was taken over
by that most famous of railway companies
and one very close to Brunel's heart,
the Great Western.
To be in England on a summer's day
is bliss,
but to be on a steam locomotive
in west Somerset is heaven.
Like other small rural branches,
the line closed in the 1970s.
However, it reopened
as a heritage railway some years later
and is enjoyed today by passengers
who like a ticket to nostalgia.
We've got quite a crowded train today.
Why do you think it is
that the British people are
so fascinated by steam engines?
They're just a living thing.
We put a fire in the morning.
It comes to life.
It creates steam. It makes a noise.
I've been doing this 52 years, and it's
still... I still get a buzz out of it.
Well, I'd like to stay on,
but this is my stop.
Be nice if you could stay on.
I'm disembarking at Williton,
although ifs only mentioned in passing
in my “Bradshaw's Guide“.
I'm here to visit something
that's a magnet for rail enthusiasts.
A signal box that's nearly as old as
the line itself and still operational.
Signalman Nick Budd pulls the levers.
- (laughs)
- Hello.
Hello, Nick. That looks like hard work.
It certainly is today.
Nice and warm today.
Are you a signalman born and bred?
No. I was an airline captain,
would you believe?
But then I gave it up
and decided to come here.
You were an airline captain.
What did you use to fly?
Boeing 747s.
Well, it just shows
the railways attract all sorts.
So, actually, you know, in those days
you had 400 lives under your
supervision, and you do today.
Absolutely.
The only difference is speed.
In those days,
I was flying planes at 650mph.
Today I'm controlling trains at 25mph.
- When's our next train?
- The next train is in 20 minutes.
That doesn't sound like much time
to a trainee signalman like me.
Firstly set the route,
and then the signals. Now...
Basically, these levers
are colour-coded.
The black ones are the points,
the blue ones lock the points,
the red ones are for signals,
the white ones are spare levers,
and the one and only brown one locks and
unlocks the gates on the level crossing.
I think I'd rather fly a 747.
That sounds complicated.
Well, that's only the beginning.
My first job is to close the gates.
- Hope we're still in time.
- I think just.
Next, they need to be locked.
And home.
Time to pull off the signal now,
Michael. Number 23, please.
It is quite pressurised. The idea that
you're responsible for people's lives
puts on a lot of pressure.
Usually there's a train coming
the other way at the same time.
Thank goodness there ism today.
This is complicated enough.
Signal...
back.
Gates... unlocked.
With the train in the station,
now I have to open the gates again.
Hmm. I have no idea how these open.
Ah!
- No.
- On the other side.
Oh, thank you. That was a helpful tip.
There we go.
I had no idea that what a signalman
needed to do
was so responsible and so physical.
OK. The train's here.
- The gates are open.
- Excellent.
The signal's on. What next?
Now we need a token for the train to go
to the next signal box.
- Right. Three in one.
- Three in one.
- I can now take that out.
- That's it.
This Victorian token system
was a safety measure
to ensure that no two trains
could ever be on one stretch
of single track at the same time.
Only a driver with the token
in his possession could proceed.
Let's hope I've got this right.
- I think you're expecting this.
- You're not the signalman.
(laughs) I armor new.!
Safe journey.
- Thank you very much.
- Bye now.
- That went smoothly.
- Very good.
All we have to do now
is put that back in the machine
so that we can get another one out
at some time.
A kind offer,
but I think that's my tot for the day.
For now it's onwards.
And I'm looking forward
to experiencing the ride as a passenger.
The final stop of the day is Watchet,
which my Bradshaw's tells me
has "a coastguard station prettily
seated in a secluded creek
on the Bristol Channel".
It sounds like a delightful place
to watch the last rays of the sun.
In the 19th century,
Watchet was a busy commercial port,
shipping locally mined iron ore
across the Bristol Channel
to the Welsh furnaces.
The only ships docking here today
are sail boats and yachts
as the port is now an active marina.
A beautiful sunset
on the Somerset coast,
and I'm lucky to be in Watchet
to watch it.
The sun has risen
on another beautiful morning.
And I'm continuing my journey north
on this wonderful heritage line.
My Bradshaw's tells me
that "Dunster Castle,
standing on the cliffs to the south,
is within a very short distance."
But when my guide was published,
you couldn't get there by train.
Now you take the Dunster Castle Express.
For wealthy landowners
in the rural wilds,
the arrival of the railway presented
huge financial opportunities.
(whistle blows)
Some sought profit by allowing
the rail companies
to build tracks through their estates,
whilst others saw the potential
in bringing tourism
and trade to their area.
One such champion was George Luttrell.
In 1867, he inherited
the Dunster Estate,
at the time one of the largest
in Somerset.
So keen was he to revitalise
his comer of the county
that he backed plans to extend the line
from Watchet via Dunster to Minehead.
And he became the first director
of this new railway.
And now appearing out of the smoke
from the engine,
as though it were looming out of a mist,
is the magnificent sight
of Dunster Castle,
brilliantly lit on this sunny day.
What a sight.
Today Dunster is in the hands
of the National Trust
and volunteer guide Martin Harborne
has kindly agreed to tell me more.
What a wonderful room.
How old is the castle?
The castle itself, 1,000 years old.
Originally there was a Saxon castle
on here.
Then when the Normans arrived,
they built their big stone castle.
And then the Luttrells took it over?
The Luttrells did indeed.
In 1376, they purchased it.
They were here an awfully long time.
21 generations?
Twenty-one... 600 years.
Right through until 1976
when the Luttrell family handed it over
to the National Trust for their custody.
I'm interested in one particular
Luttrell. A Victorian, George Luttrell.
Ah. George Fownes-Luttrell, as we call
him. That's his portrait up there.
And he was involved
in the total alteration of the castle
by the well-known architect of the day,
Anthony Salvin.
So what sons of things did he do?
He completely transformed the castle
from an Elizabethan-style castle
where the family lived at one side,
the servants lived on this side
and they entertained in the middle.
He turned it into a Victorian
comfortable gentleman's residence
with an upstairs and downstairs.
And using the latest technology?
Absolutely, yes. He wanted
all the latest technology,
things that were almost unheard of
down here,
things like bathrooms and gas supplies
and those son of things,
which in the 1870s was
really cutting-edge stuff.
The remodelling took four years
and cost over £25,000,
which was more than Luttrell's
yearly income from the estate,
a sobering 22.5 million
in today's money.
I suppose a billiards room was regarded
as a very important pan
of a Victorian household?
A most essential pan.
This was a gentleman's room.
During the Victorian period,
this would have been full of the
wonderful smells of cigars and brandy
and only the men were allowed in here.
Was this another innovation
of George Fownes-Luttrell?
It was. Prior to the alterations,
this was the kitchen of the main house.
Unheard of in Victorian times,
parts of the house had centre! heating.
And the new kitchen,
which was built in the basement,
was well-ventilated, with windows.
It was also state of the art.
Mod cons included a two-oven cooker...
a built-in bain-marie
and a dumbwaiter.
This pioneering attitude towards
new technologies continues unabated.
In 2008, it became the first
Grade I listed National Trust property
to have solar panels installed.
George Luttrell would be proud.
Can you think of anything you'd
rather have than a beautiful castle?
I can. A beautiful castle
with a view of steam trains.
And that's where I'm headed,
back to Dunster Station
to pick up the extended line
which so helped reinvigorate
this rural corner of Somerset.
My journey continues through stunning
Somerset countryside
towards my next stop, Minehead,
which my Bradshaw's describes as
"a beautiful watering hole".
But when the railway reached there
from 1874,
then holidaymakers began to arrive
by the train load.
Formerly a small fishing port,
Minehead was already popular
amongst the wealthy
as a fashionable sea-bathing resort
from as early as 1752.
However, it wasn't until train travel
that it became easily accessible
and affordable for the middle classes.
The West Somerset Railway should ideally
have linked across the Porlocks
with the Lynton to Barnstaple line,
but even for the Victorians those hills
proved too great an obstacle
and so Minehead is the end of the line.
- Hello!
- Hello there.
- How was the journey?
- Wonderful. Stunning.
- Do you know Minehead?
- Not at all, no.
- You're going in to have a look.
- Have a wander. Where do you suggest?
Well, all I know is that my Bradshaw's
calls it "a beautiful watering hole".
- Oh.
- (man) Gin and tonic?
Sounds like we've got something
to look forward to.
A pint, do you think,
or a gin and tonic?
- (laughs)
- Or both!
Could be either of those, couldn't it?
Enjoy your day. Bye-bye.
Today the station is packed
with steam fans, but in Victorian times
it was tourists from the Big Smoke
and south Wales crowding the platform.
I'm meeting general manager of
this heritage railway, Paul Conibeare.
- Paul, hello!
- Michael. Welcome to Minehead.
Thank you. It's a vast station
with these great long platforms.
I suppose that emphasises
how important it was in its heyday.
Yes. It was a very busy
Great Western terminus
and it's very long to cope with
the visitors it anticipated on the day.
It is of course the terminus.
I can see hills ahead.
Presumably the Porlock hills
prevented it from going further.
There were plans to go on
to Porlock and on to Lynton,
but Sir George Newnes, who was involved
in the Lynton/Barnstaple railway,
didn't want the riff raff
in their pan of the world.
- The riff raff from Minehead.
- Yes.
And I notice on your trains
that you have the engine on the front.
Now, that must imply, I think, that you
have some way of turning them around.
- How do you do that?
- We're very lucky.
We've invested in our turntable here
which was fitted in 2008
to provide the ability for the first
time since the early '60s
to turn the locomotives
so they face the right direction
for the cameras and visitors
to the railway.
The turning around
of extremely heavy locomotives
was a problem that confronted
rail companies
until the dawn of the diesel era.
At Minehead they had to be turned
in a locomotive shed
some distance from the tracks,
a slow process which ate
into the efficiency of the line.
The shed was demolished in the 1960s.
This new turntable,
a Victorian original for the most part,
was purchased in 1974,
but due to lack of funding and space,
it wasn't put in place until 2008.
We now have a locomotive
weighing 110 tons
which our driver, David Herb,
will show you how to turn.
I'll just use my little finger, I think.
Hello, David. Reporting for duty, sir.
- Just going to push it, are we?
- Just push it.
OK. Here goes.
(strains) She's moving.
I can't believe it. She's moving.
Don't know about you, David,
but I'm putting quite a lot of effort
into this right now.
I have weight on my side.
And now that it's in motion,
it gets a little bit easier
because it has momentum.
Somebody tells me
that stopping this thing
is even more difficult
than getting it going.
- I'll do the stopping.
- OK.
We're arriving at our endpoint.
I'm ceasing to push cos it's moving
under its own momentum
and you are now braking it.
And no! Overshot a tiny bit.
Just easing it back.
You were... You're learning to do that
pretty well.
(Sighs)
Next time, I'll do it alone.
- (applause)
- What can I say?
Thanks to the likes of George Newnes,
a key player in establishing the
twin resorts of Lynton and Lynmouth,
the rail link was never built,
so I can go no further by train.
Instead, I'll cross
the impenetrable Porlock Hill by road
to reach the next notable attraction
mentioned in my guide.
Bradshaw's says that
"tourists should proceed
to the far-famed
Valley of the Rocks on foot
along the cliff walk,
whence the scenery is very fine."
"The view in the valley
is exceedingly grand."
"He should employ a guide
to accompany him on his first visit,"
and mine is called Terry.
- Terry, hello.
- Hello, Michael.
What gave rise to these
extraordinary formations of rock?
Well, one time the river ran
through here, carving out this valley.
Then the river diverted to its present
course, running down into Lynmouth.
The crags you can see here,
they've been mainly caused
by the weathering action
over thousands of years,
leaving these very complicated
and intriguing shapes.
- (Michael) Beautiful view.
- It does takes your breath away.
And at this point,
we're about 500ft above sea level.
- Whoa. It's a long way down, isn't it?
- It's a long way, yes.
- So, who created this path?
- It was one of the hotel owners.
He wanted it for his tourists.
He wanted a romantic walk,
something that was sensational.
It must have attracted
painters and writers over the years.
It did. Some of the early visitors
were Keats and Shelley.
They went home
and romanced about this place.
They nicknamed it Little Switzerland.
At one point, it was said
it was the grandest walk in England.
I've had a wonderful journey
from Taunton,
enjoying travel Victorian style,
by steam train.
I've filled my lungs with smoke
and my eyes with smuts.
What better place to blow them away
than here on the Devon cliffs,
where the Romantic poets
drew inspiration
from one of the finest views in England.
On my next journey I get up close
with a piece of natural history...
(woman) It's a moa egg,
an extinct bird from New Zealand.
There's only 36 specimens of a decent
size been catalogued in the world.
I visit a garden used as a viewing
platform for public hangings...
We've got three tiers going up.
According to the records,
they were full.
It was shoulder-to-shoulder,
line-to-line of people.
And encounter a timepiece
like no other.
You know, in my political career,
I met a few two-faced liars,
but this is my first experience
of a four-faced liar.
- One of them's correct, though.
- (laughs)