Great British Railway Journeys (2010–…): Season 7, Episode 1 - Carlisle to Penrith - full transcript
For Victorian Britons,
George Bradshaw was a household name.
At a time when railways were new,
Bradshaw's guidebook inspired them
to take to the tracks.
I'm using a Bradshaw's Guide
to understand how trains transformed
Britain, its landscape, its industry,
society and leisure time.
As I crisscross the country
150 years later, it helps me
to discover the Britain of today.
I'm beginning a journey through
the north-western quarter of England.
It contains some of Britain's
loveliest scenery.
But it was also the cradle
of the Industrial Revolution
and its great cities
polluted the air and the water.
Trains enabled urban workers
occasionally to escape
from the grime, but then again, mass
tourism threatened the beauty spots.
On this journey, I hope to discover
how the Victorians were the
first generation to struggle with the
conflict between progress and nature.
Following my Bradshaw's Guide,
my route will cross Northwest England
to finish in the West Midlands.
It begins close to the
Scottish border,
heads through the mountains
and valleys of Cumbria,
continues south through Lahcashirés
once smoke-filled cities
and teeming docks,
and ends in Staffordshire.
Today's leg starts in Carlisle,
moves east to the Victorian market
town of Brampton,
then heads south-west to Penrith,
the gateway to the northern lakes.
On this journey,
I get to grips with factory life.
Oh, that's quite a good one.
- Well done!
- Quite a good one!
So exciting when I get it right!
Descend to the
bowels of the Earth.
Is this the little incline
you were talking about?
- This is the little incline, yeah.
- This is a rollercoaster.
This is a fairground ride.
What the hell! Argh!
And come out on top of the World.
So I'm now walking out on air
and the drop beneath me
appears to be infinite.
My first stop will be Carlisle,
which Bradshaw's describes as,
"a healthy spot oh the Eden
in Cumberland,
on the Scottish border."
"Once the key to Scotland
on this side of the island."
And I might add that its railway
station is a suitable gateway
to England.
Carlisle is known
as the Great Border City,
positioned ten miles south
of Scotland.
And, thanks to the Victorians,
it's the main cultural, commercial
and industrial centre
in north Cumbria.
By Bradshaw's day, Carlisle Citadel
Station had united the city's
expanding rail connections
under one roof.
Carlisle was once served by
seven different railway companies.
It was the scene of intense
competition between those
great railway builders,
George Stephenson and Joseph Locke.
It once boasted the largest railway
marshalling yard in Europe.
It was a strategic hub
on the West Coast Mainline,
just south of the Scottish border.
Rail links with the Northwest
and northeast of England
transformed the city into
a thriving industrial centre.
Today, Carlisle boasts
a population of more than 100,000
and it's the historic home of some of
the country's major food producers.
I'm heading to the McVitie's factory,
who make Carr's biscuits.
Bradshaw's has the most
extraordinary entry.
"Carlisle is celebrated for its
manufacture of fancy biscuits."
"The leading establishment
being Messrs Carr."
"if curiosity should induce
the tourist to make a visit,
we do not hesitate to say that it
would be found highly interesting."
"if any prejudice exist
against fancy biscuits,
it will at once be removed
on an inspection of the Works."
"Even from the minds
of the most fastidious."
"The most scrupulous cleanliness
being observable throughout."
So, removing all prejudice from
my mind, I set out biscuit-wards.
'I've not heard of a fancy biscuit,
but hopefully factory general
manager Angela Gibbs can shed
some light on the matter.
Angela, my Bradshaw's Guide
is rather polite about this place.
He calls it a manufactory.
When did it all begin?
Well, Jonathan Dodgson Carr
came up from Kendal in 1831.
He opened a shop in Carlisle,
first of all baking bread,
and then he moved
eventually to this site.
This factory was
up and running by 1841,
so that's a fantastic
achievement in ten years.
Jonathan Dodgson Carr had come
to Carlisle to make his fortune.
He achieved it through his ingenuity
and by harnessing steam power
to produce biscuits
on an industrial scale.
I get the impression from the guide
book that this place was quite
mechanised by the 1860s.
Yes, it was, because this is the
birthplace of biscuit automation.
Jonathan Dodgson Carr was
an amazingly inventive man
and he saw What was happening
in the printing industry and
he adapted a printing press to stamp
out 10, 20, 30, 40 biscuits at a time.
And that revolutionised
the biscuit industry.
But Carr also needed
to develop an appealing product.
Biscuit had been hard,
dry and savoury,
used to sustain
the Navy on long voyages.
He came up with a plan.
There's an extraordinarily
long passage in my guide book
about fancy biscuits.
What did Victorians mean by that?
That evolved here into the
famous Carr's Table Water,
but they were very plain biscuits.
What happened later in the 1800s
was the development of What's
referred to as fancy biscuits -
amazing different ingredients
and different types of biscuits.
The custard creams,
the bourbon creams,
the jam rings that we know today,
but also amazing things like Ragged
Robin Creams and Just Desserts.
They had an amazing array.
And Carr's made those
into assortments and sold them
as fancy biscuits.
A simple treat that people
could afford.
Carr's timing couldn't
have been better.
Coach travellers had been able
to stop for food at roadside inns.
With the arrival of the railways,
people began to make longer
journeys and often, they were unable
to buy refreshments along the Way.
And so the demand for
a travel snack was born.
Today, fancy biscuits
are as popular as ever.
How many biscuits are you
producing per year?
Well, we make 3.5 billion
packets of biscuits a year.
Things like custard creams,
six million a day, bourbon creams,
six million a day.
Ginger nuts, seven million a day.
So this is an amazing legacy
to Jonathan Dodgson Carr.
In the 21st century, the machinery
may be modern, but the role
of the biscuit packer has changed
little since Bradshaw's day.
The first thing you have to do
is judge how many biscuits
go in a packet.
Then you have to seize them,
squeeze them like a concertina,
transport them over here,
rest them on the edge,
divide them in two,
all While this thing is racing past.
It's impossible!
Not too much squeezing!
Not too much squeezing.
Here we go.
That one was a little bit short.
That's it. There you go.
Well done.
That's your first packet of
biscuits. Pull them towards you.
Not so good.
Too many, too many, too many.
This is much more difficult
than it looks.
You're causing havoc down here!
- Not quite.
- Not quite. Getting there.
Oh, that's quite a good one.
- Yeah, well done.
- Quite a good one!
So exciting when I get it right!
Angela, I'm sorry.
I think I destroyed about
three billion biscuits.
Well, you did very well,
but there needs to be a lot more
improvement before we could
employ you.
I know.
But I hope you'll take some
of our fancy biscuits with you to
- enjoy on the rest of your journey.
- Oh, thank you. In an antique tin.
That's absolutely marvellous.
I've really enjoyed the visit.
- Thank you for coming. Bye.
- Bye.
Well, I Won't be giving up
the day job.
'Before returning to the station,
I'm making a small detour.
'My interest has been sparked
by a church in the nearby village
'Wreay, and I can't leave
Without having a peek.
'My guide is to be architect
Raymond Whittaker.'
- Well met, Raymond.
- Welcome to St Mary's, Michael.
It's lovely to be here.
What an amazing facade!
It is.
Quite extraordinary, isn't it?
Raymond, I'm ashamed to say
that this Wonderful church
does not appear in Bradshaw's,
but that great architectural
commentator Pevsner does
and says it's the finest
ecclesiastical piece of Victorian
architecture. But it's
absolutely extraordinary.
What are we looking at here?
It's a bit of Italy
set in north Cumbria.
It's a Romanesque basilica church.
It's a very simple form,
but look at the details of it and
you see absolutely amazing things.
You see fossils,
you see animals and insects.
It's absolutely full
of these things.
'In 1840, St Mary's was
in a poor state of repair.
'Wealthy local resident and
'self-taught designer Sarah Losh
offered to fund a new building,
'on condition that she had
a free hand in its design.'
What is so striking then is that,
as far as I can see,
there are no virgins,
there are no crucifixes,
there are none of the symbols
that I would expect to find.
Absolutely not, no. But it is
a church full of symbolism.
It's even pre-Christian, slightly
pagan, but very personal to Sarah.
Now, the first thing I Want to show
you, Michael, are these pine cones.
- Very handsome. What do they tell us?
- They have quite a story behind them.
Because Sarah had a friend,
William Thain, he was in the Army
and he went to fight in Afghanistan
and unfortunately was killed there.
But before then,
he sent back a pine cone to Sarah.
Sarah planted it in the churchyard
and it grew into a tree here.
To Sarah, it was a symbol
of new life
and also a symbol
of her dear friend, William.
'In the 1830s, Britain experienced
a great religious revival.
'By 1872, the number of churches
across the country
'had increased by over a third.
'St Mary's broke
the architectural mould.'
Tell me about the form.
A Roman basilica?
Yes, it is.
And going against the trend
of the day.
If you think of Victorian
architecture,
there would be Gothic churches,
high steeples, big pointed arches,
but here we have a very simple form,
a simple rectangular knave
and this fantastic curved apse.
What was a basilica in Roman times?
A basilica was in fact
a Roman law court.
In the apse would be seating
the judges, the chief judge
in the centre, and in the
middle there, the sacrificial table.
'Somewhat unusually
for a Woman of her time,
'Sarah was highly educated
and well travelled.
'She drew inspiration for St Mary's
from a grand tour of the Continent,
'undertaken with her sister
Katherine.'
Was Sarah Losh a married woman?
No, she never did marry.
Her parents died
when she was young and
she, with her sister Katherine,
grew up together, but unfortunately,
Katherine also died quite young
and Sarah built this church
in memory of her younger sister.
'Katherine's death in 1835
devastated Sarah.
'And, after completing
St Mary's in 1842,
'she built a mausoleum for her
in the grounds of the church.
'Styles and fashions have changed
very much since Victorian times
'and this might seem
to our tastes flamboyant.
'For Victorians, a mausoleum
'expressed the enormity of love
and of loss.'
That is very lovely, isn't it? Very
moving. And very refined.
Yes, it is.
It's a very fine marble statue
by a sculptor called David Dunbar,
but it's based oh a sketch
that Sarah did of Katherine
when they were on their
grand tour in Italy.
Katherine was sitting by a northern
lake in Italy and there she is
and in her hand,
she's holding a pine cone.
And so even though
Sarah avoided in her architecture
Christian symbols, she provides
her lamented sister
with a token of resurrection.
'It's been a treat to
head off the beaten track
'and to discover such
a peaceful haven.
'Back to the hurly burly
of Carlisle station.
'Like a travel-weary Victorian,
I'm feeling a little peckish.
'My prize tin of fancy biscuits
'should keep me going until
I reach my hotel tonight
'at my next stop in Brampton,
about ten miles east of Carlisle.'
- Hello there.
- Hello. How are you?
I'm very well.
Do you feel lucky today?
Yes, I do.
- Cos I've got a little treat for you.
- Oh, right.
They're not quite as old
as the tin...
I was going to say,
very old treat. Thank you.
- Do you fancy a biscuit?
- Yes, that's very kind.
- Thank you very much.
- Do you know...
in my old Bradshaw's Guide, these
are referred to as fancy biscuits.
Are they?
- Yeah.
- I didn't know that.
- Shall we see whether they taste fancy?
- Are they made in Carlisle?
They are Carr's biscuits, in the old
parlance...
- you know?
- Oh, right.
There we go.
- Very nice.
Thank you.
When you travel by train,
do you ever fancy a biscuit?
- Yes, quite often.
- Mm.
- Particularly chocolate ones.
- Oh... I've taken the chocolate one.
- You should have told me.
- It's OK.
- Were you being polite?
- I was.
Cos I fancied the chocolate one,
you left it.
That's very nice of you.
Hello. ls there anyone here
who likes biscuits?
Yeah.
- Do you Want one?
- Yes, please.
- Would you like a biscuit?
- Mm.
Yes, please.
What's your favourite biscuit?
- Do you like that one?
- These biscuits, yeah.
What would you describe that as?
Fruity.
A fruity biscuit. And you've gone for
a custard cream. Do you like those?
Yes.
So, if zero is no good at all
and ten is very good,
how good is that biscuit?
Hm...
Eight?
What do you think? How good
is your biscuit, zero to ten?
One?!
Is that cos you Want another one?
My final stop of the day is Brampton,
in the heart of the Cumbrian
countryside,
two miles south of Hadrian's Wall.
With a population of 4,600, this
small market town lays claim to the
only church designed by the Victorian
Pre-Raphaelite architect Philip Webb.
My overnight rest is at the Howard
Arms, mentioned in my Bradshaw's.
I'm ready to resume my journey south
to the heart of the Lake District.
Bradshaw's tells me that "Cumberland
presents the traveller with perhaps
"the grandest and most romantic
scenery to be met Within England."
And then there's an intriguing
reference to
"minerals peculiar to the mountains".
Now, one of those will put lead
in your pencil, to be blunt.
'Ladies and gentlemen leaving
the service here at Penrith,
'please take extra care as there is
a large step down to the platform.'
From Penrith station, the gateway
to the Northern Lakes,
I'll head 40 miles west by road,
through glorious scenery.
In 1865, the now-closed
Cockermouth, Keswick and
Penrith Railway opened up West
Cumberland to Victorian tourists,
who were keen to escape
the grime of the city
and to indulge in a late 19th-century
passion for fell Walking.
Today, it's one of the most
popular spots for ramblers
and climbers in the United Kingdom.
But this region claims more
than a spectacular landscape.
The market town of Keswick was once
home to the first pencil factory
in the world, established in 1832.
It's now based in new premises
on the west coast, at Workington.
I'm meeting Derwent Pencils'
technical manager, Barbara Murray.
When did pencil manufacture
begin in the Lake District?
Graphite was discovered
in 1565 in the Borrowdale Valley,
a shepherd uncovered it
when he was in a thunderstorm.
He thought it was lead.
Black lead, they used to call it.
And they started marking
sheep with it,
so that was the first use and then
it evolved into pencils from there.
It was for many years the only known
source of graphite in Europe,
the most valuable mineral ever
mined in Cumbria.
During the 18th century,
local cottage industries were
producing rudimentary pencils, but it
Wasn't until the early 19th century
that the new writing tool took off.
The Victorian factory made a
slimline lead, invaluable to
architects and engineers.
So, despite the development
of the ballpoint pen and the computer
and so on, there's still huge
demand for pencils.
There is a huge demand for pencils.
We make about a million a week
and we export to 70 or 80 countries
all around the World.
At the time of my guide book,
the factory was already producing
five to six million pencils a year.
And, as the railways began to open up
the Lake District to tourism,
sketching the landscape became
a popular holiday pastime.
And the graphite pencil
was the perfect tool.
- Is this all graphite in there?
- It's a mixture of graphite and clay.
This says it's 9B, which I think
means it's very soft, is it?
It does, yes.
B means black and H means hard.
So the blend of graphite
and clay varies,
depending on the hardness
or softness of the pencil.
Today, pencils are produced in every
imaginable shade and colour.
- These are obviously your pigments.
- Yes, they are.
From just these few colours, we can
blend 800 or 900 different colours.
That's amazing.
Now, in Victorian times,
how would you have made a yellow?
Yellow was probably
made from plants in Victorian times.
They would have been much duller
because they were earth colours,
so they'd have made them from plants
or from iron oxides
or from crushed insects.
For example, the red would have been
made from crushed insects.
But nowadays, they're all chemically
derived. Very dependable.
They're always the same colour
every time we buy them.
Pity though, to put all those crushed
insects out of work, isn't it?
It is!
[SHE LAUGHS]
I'm pleased to see this historic
company thriving nearly two centuries on,
continuing to innovate, as it did
to achieve its early success.
I'm now heading through
the Borrowdale valley
towards my last destination
of the day.
Inspired by the romantic poetry
of William Wordsworth and his passion
for the Lakes, Victorians began to
recognise this area for its beauty.
By contrast, industrialists saw the
potential of its
great mineral wealth.
I've come to Honister slate mine
in the Borrowdale valley,
Where Westmorland green slate has
been quarried since the early 1700s.
When mines were created here in 1833,
north Cumbrian slate became
big business.
Today, it's the only operational
slate mine of its kind in England.
I'm meeting co-owner Joe Weir.
Joe, here we are in What
I might call the Slate District.
How did you get into the business?
Yeah, I got into it
through me brother.
Me brother bought it as a derelict
place about 20 years ago now.
Set it up.
Before then, me grandfather had
worked here all my childhood days.
And how do we get to the mine?
I'm going to take you up
in the Land Rover.
Joe, I've heard talk of inclines.
What are inclines?
They're like the motorway where
they get all the slate out
and they fetch
the slate down on railway tracks.
Going very steeply up the mountain.
The gradient on it is amazing,
What they've built.
In 1879, the pack horses
and sledges were replaced by an
inclined tramway that carried slate
from the 2,000ft-high quarries
to a railway connected
to the work sheds.
What are those pieces along
the side of the incline?
- The buttresses? Yeah.
That's where the men would come out
with the bogies and the tubs
and, if it was rubbish in the tubs,
then they would chuck that over the
edge and that would make the scree.
If it was good slate, they would
connect that on to the incline
and then they would lower it
down to the bottom.
The Victorian slate-mining
industry rapidly expanded
in response to a demand for slate
roofing in towns and cities.
Massive population growth had
created a national housing
shortage across Britain.
- What's the market for slate
these days? - It's a niche market.
Just like the olden days,
we turn it in to roofing slate.
We also make kitchens
and the different products
that we can make out of it.
But We're in a very small way,
compared to the olden days.
There used to be 200 to 300 men work
up here. Now, we have three men.
Wait a minute. ls this the
little incline
- you were talking about?
- This is the little incline, yeah.
This is a rollercoaster.
This is a fairground ride.
- What the hell! Argh!
- You get used to it.
- Oh, yes?
- You need a helmet now.
- OK.
- Michael, we'll have to get rid of...
that lovely little hat you've got,
or you can place that on top.
- Tea cosy off.
- Very good.
Helmet on.
At the time of my guide book,
miners used pickaxes to hack out
an impressive 3,000 tonnes
of slate each year.
Joe is taking me
deeper into the old mine,
Where he has a surprise in store.
I've brought you into here
because I believe...
I don't watch too much telly, but
you're into railways, aren't you?
I'm into railways.
Here's our little railway.
Our little 2ft-gauge railway.
Electric, as you... You probably
know more about it than me actually.
I don't think so!
In 1883, work began
on the Honister Crag Railway,
which was completed 13 years later.
It greatly increased the amount
of slate that could be shifted
out of the mine each day.
So What kind of weight can you
put in one of those wagons?
Maybe about three-quarters
of a tonne.
There's little wooden bogies
we have as well
and we can fit about two and a half
tonne, that's a slate clog,
What we call a clog, and our maximum
would be about two and a half tonne.
So you're really quite closely
connected here to the
- Victorian era, aren't you?
- We are, yeah.
Alongside Honister slate mine,
on the mountain edge,
is Britain's only via ferrata,
or iron Way.
It traces the route taken by
Victorian miners,
whose daily Walk to work was
at a dizzying height of 2,0001%.
Hello. You lot look as
if you're going on the via ferrata.
- ALL: Yes, we are!
- So, the question is why?
- We don't know.
- Might as well. [LAUGHTER]
- We've no idea! - So, are you nervous?
No, not at all. Just excited.
So, What's the bit you're least
looking forward to?
The bridge. The bridge What we
have to go over.
And why does that scare you?
Basically,
because it wobbles about a bit.
Plus there's some strong winds
up there as well.
Now it's my turn to step out.
Seven times the height of Big Ben,
the via ferrata is
not for the faint-hearted.
These are original steps in here
that the miners
would come to work on.
In 2012, Joe installed
an ominous looking skywalk,
a terrifying tightrope Walk
across the valley.
Right, are you ready for this,
Michael?
Ready as I'll ever be, Joe.
Let's go.
Follow me.
- You all right, Michael? I'm OK-ish.
Now, at this point,
the wooden slats run out.
Don't get the
Elvis Presley leg, though.
- What's that?
- Where you're shaking, like that!
Oh, no, don't shake me, Joe!
- What shall I do now, Joe?
- We head off now.
Good luck, I'm leaving you.
I'm now stepping out over
the abyss below.
I didn't think I'd be terrified.
But I am.
Oh... Carefully positioning one
foot in front of the other...
Whoa! The wind is rocking us
backwards and forwards!
Send in the helicopter!
So I'm now walking out on air
and the drop beneath me
appears to be infinite.
I think I ventured far enough
to appreciate the fantastic view.
It'll be a relief to get my feet
back on Terra firma
and continue my journey.
Sarah Leah's delightful church
celebrates the
innocence of nature before
it was disturbed by man.
By contrast,
amongst the harsh beauty of the crags
near Keswick, Victorian miners
toiled to extract industrial
quantities of slate
to feed the voracious demand
for housing in the cities.
My high-wire act, swaying
above the green valley, taught me
to appreciate, for a moment,
the fear that they must have felt
constantly, working in dangerous
conditions all the time.
Next time, I revisit a literary
hero from childhood...
- He's a small rabbit, isn't he?
- Yes.
He has to stretch up on his
tippy toes to post his letter.
Lend a hand making the archetypal
fell-Walker's snack...
- Wow! Absolutely refreshing, isn't it?
- Yeah.
When you make Kendal Mint Cake,
it's very rare that you get a cold.
Visit the home of a man
of extraordinary talents...
It's rather ironic that the greatest
architecture critic of his age
would end up living in a house
to be looked out of,
rather than looked towards.
And finish off with a brief
encounter on the platform.
It was an ideal location for people
to meet by chance.
[END THEME]
George Bradshaw was a household name.
At a time when railways were new,
Bradshaw's guidebook inspired them
to take to the tracks.
I'm using a Bradshaw's Guide
to understand how trains transformed
Britain, its landscape, its industry,
society and leisure time.
As I crisscross the country
150 years later, it helps me
to discover the Britain of today.
I'm beginning a journey through
the north-western quarter of England.
It contains some of Britain's
loveliest scenery.
But it was also the cradle
of the Industrial Revolution
and its great cities
polluted the air and the water.
Trains enabled urban workers
occasionally to escape
from the grime, but then again, mass
tourism threatened the beauty spots.
On this journey, I hope to discover
how the Victorians were the
first generation to struggle with the
conflict between progress and nature.
Following my Bradshaw's Guide,
my route will cross Northwest England
to finish in the West Midlands.
It begins close to the
Scottish border,
heads through the mountains
and valleys of Cumbria,
continues south through Lahcashirés
once smoke-filled cities
and teeming docks,
and ends in Staffordshire.
Today's leg starts in Carlisle,
moves east to the Victorian market
town of Brampton,
then heads south-west to Penrith,
the gateway to the northern lakes.
On this journey,
I get to grips with factory life.
Oh, that's quite a good one.
- Well done!
- Quite a good one!
So exciting when I get it right!
Descend to the
bowels of the Earth.
Is this the little incline
you were talking about?
- This is the little incline, yeah.
- This is a rollercoaster.
This is a fairground ride.
What the hell! Argh!
And come out on top of the World.
So I'm now walking out on air
and the drop beneath me
appears to be infinite.
My first stop will be Carlisle,
which Bradshaw's describes as,
"a healthy spot oh the Eden
in Cumberland,
on the Scottish border."
"Once the key to Scotland
on this side of the island."
And I might add that its railway
station is a suitable gateway
to England.
Carlisle is known
as the Great Border City,
positioned ten miles south
of Scotland.
And, thanks to the Victorians,
it's the main cultural, commercial
and industrial centre
in north Cumbria.
By Bradshaw's day, Carlisle Citadel
Station had united the city's
expanding rail connections
under one roof.
Carlisle was once served by
seven different railway companies.
It was the scene of intense
competition between those
great railway builders,
George Stephenson and Joseph Locke.
It once boasted the largest railway
marshalling yard in Europe.
It was a strategic hub
on the West Coast Mainline,
just south of the Scottish border.
Rail links with the Northwest
and northeast of England
transformed the city into
a thriving industrial centre.
Today, Carlisle boasts
a population of more than 100,000
and it's the historic home of some of
the country's major food producers.
I'm heading to the McVitie's factory,
who make Carr's biscuits.
Bradshaw's has the most
extraordinary entry.
"Carlisle is celebrated for its
manufacture of fancy biscuits."
"The leading establishment
being Messrs Carr."
"if curiosity should induce
the tourist to make a visit,
we do not hesitate to say that it
would be found highly interesting."
"if any prejudice exist
against fancy biscuits,
it will at once be removed
on an inspection of the Works."
"Even from the minds
of the most fastidious."
"The most scrupulous cleanliness
being observable throughout."
So, removing all prejudice from
my mind, I set out biscuit-wards.
'I've not heard of a fancy biscuit,
but hopefully factory general
manager Angela Gibbs can shed
some light on the matter.
Angela, my Bradshaw's Guide
is rather polite about this place.
He calls it a manufactory.
When did it all begin?
Well, Jonathan Dodgson Carr
came up from Kendal in 1831.
He opened a shop in Carlisle,
first of all baking bread,
and then he moved
eventually to this site.
This factory was
up and running by 1841,
so that's a fantastic
achievement in ten years.
Jonathan Dodgson Carr had come
to Carlisle to make his fortune.
He achieved it through his ingenuity
and by harnessing steam power
to produce biscuits
on an industrial scale.
I get the impression from the guide
book that this place was quite
mechanised by the 1860s.
Yes, it was, because this is the
birthplace of biscuit automation.
Jonathan Dodgson Carr was
an amazingly inventive man
and he saw What was happening
in the printing industry and
he adapted a printing press to stamp
out 10, 20, 30, 40 biscuits at a time.
And that revolutionised
the biscuit industry.
But Carr also needed
to develop an appealing product.
Biscuit had been hard,
dry and savoury,
used to sustain
the Navy on long voyages.
He came up with a plan.
There's an extraordinarily
long passage in my guide book
about fancy biscuits.
What did Victorians mean by that?
That evolved here into the
famous Carr's Table Water,
but they were very plain biscuits.
What happened later in the 1800s
was the development of What's
referred to as fancy biscuits -
amazing different ingredients
and different types of biscuits.
The custard creams,
the bourbon creams,
the jam rings that we know today,
but also amazing things like Ragged
Robin Creams and Just Desserts.
They had an amazing array.
And Carr's made those
into assortments and sold them
as fancy biscuits.
A simple treat that people
could afford.
Carr's timing couldn't
have been better.
Coach travellers had been able
to stop for food at roadside inns.
With the arrival of the railways,
people began to make longer
journeys and often, they were unable
to buy refreshments along the Way.
And so the demand for
a travel snack was born.
Today, fancy biscuits
are as popular as ever.
How many biscuits are you
producing per year?
Well, we make 3.5 billion
packets of biscuits a year.
Things like custard creams,
six million a day, bourbon creams,
six million a day.
Ginger nuts, seven million a day.
So this is an amazing legacy
to Jonathan Dodgson Carr.
In the 21st century, the machinery
may be modern, but the role
of the biscuit packer has changed
little since Bradshaw's day.
The first thing you have to do
is judge how many biscuits
go in a packet.
Then you have to seize them,
squeeze them like a concertina,
transport them over here,
rest them on the edge,
divide them in two,
all While this thing is racing past.
It's impossible!
Not too much squeezing!
Not too much squeezing.
Here we go.
That one was a little bit short.
That's it. There you go.
Well done.
That's your first packet of
biscuits. Pull them towards you.
Not so good.
Too many, too many, too many.
This is much more difficult
than it looks.
You're causing havoc down here!
- Not quite.
- Not quite. Getting there.
Oh, that's quite a good one.
- Yeah, well done.
- Quite a good one!
So exciting when I get it right!
Angela, I'm sorry.
I think I destroyed about
three billion biscuits.
Well, you did very well,
but there needs to be a lot more
improvement before we could
employ you.
I know.
But I hope you'll take some
of our fancy biscuits with you to
- enjoy on the rest of your journey.
- Oh, thank you. In an antique tin.
That's absolutely marvellous.
I've really enjoyed the visit.
- Thank you for coming. Bye.
- Bye.
Well, I Won't be giving up
the day job.
'Before returning to the station,
I'm making a small detour.
'My interest has been sparked
by a church in the nearby village
'Wreay, and I can't leave
Without having a peek.
'My guide is to be architect
Raymond Whittaker.'
- Well met, Raymond.
- Welcome to St Mary's, Michael.
It's lovely to be here.
What an amazing facade!
It is.
Quite extraordinary, isn't it?
Raymond, I'm ashamed to say
that this Wonderful church
does not appear in Bradshaw's,
but that great architectural
commentator Pevsner does
and says it's the finest
ecclesiastical piece of Victorian
architecture. But it's
absolutely extraordinary.
What are we looking at here?
It's a bit of Italy
set in north Cumbria.
It's a Romanesque basilica church.
It's a very simple form,
but look at the details of it and
you see absolutely amazing things.
You see fossils,
you see animals and insects.
It's absolutely full
of these things.
'In 1840, St Mary's was
in a poor state of repair.
'Wealthy local resident and
'self-taught designer Sarah Losh
offered to fund a new building,
'on condition that she had
a free hand in its design.'
What is so striking then is that,
as far as I can see,
there are no virgins,
there are no crucifixes,
there are none of the symbols
that I would expect to find.
Absolutely not, no. But it is
a church full of symbolism.
It's even pre-Christian, slightly
pagan, but very personal to Sarah.
Now, the first thing I Want to show
you, Michael, are these pine cones.
- Very handsome. What do they tell us?
- They have quite a story behind them.
Because Sarah had a friend,
William Thain, he was in the Army
and he went to fight in Afghanistan
and unfortunately was killed there.
But before then,
he sent back a pine cone to Sarah.
Sarah planted it in the churchyard
and it grew into a tree here.
To Sarah, it was a symbol
of new life
and also a symbol
of her dear friend, William.
'In the 1830s, Britain experienced
a great religious revival.
'By 1872, the number of churches
across the country
'had increased by over a third.
'St Mary's broke
the architectural mould.'
Tell me about the form.
A Roman basilica?
Yes, it is.
And going against the trend
of the day.
If you think of Victorian
architecture,
there would be Gothic churches,
high steeples, big pointed arches,
but here we have a very simple form,
a simple rectangular knave
and this fantastic curved apse.
What was a basilica in Roman times?
A basilica was in fact
a Roman law court.
In the apse would be seating
the judges, the chief judge
in the centre, and in the
middle there, the sacrificial table.
'Somewhat unusually
for a Woman of her time,
'Sarah was highly educated
and well travelled.
'She drew inspiration for St Mary's
from a grand tour of the Continent,
'undertaken with her sister
Katherine.'
Was Sarah Losh a married woman?
No, she never did marry.
Her parents died
when she was young and
she, with her sister Katherine,
grew up together, but unfortunately,
Katherine also died quite young
and Sarah built this church
in memory of her younger sister.
'Katherine's death in 1835
devastated Sarah.
'And, after completing
St Mary's in 1842,
'she built a mausoleum for her
in the grounds of the church.
'Styles and fashions have changed
very much since Victorian times
'and this might seem
to our tastes flamboyant.
'For Victorians, a mausoleum
'expressed the enormity of love
and of loss.'
That is very lovely, isn't it? Very
moving. And very refined.
Yes, it is.
It's a very fine marble statue
by a sculptor called David Dunbar,
but it's based oh a sketch
that Sarah did of Katherine
when they were on their
grand tour in Italy.
Katherine was sitting by a northern
lake in Italy and there she is
and in her hand,
she's holding a pine cone.
And so even though
Sarah avoided in her architecture
Christian symbols, she provides
her lamented sister
with a token of resurrection.
'It's been a treat to
head off the beaten track
'and to discover such
a peaceful haven.
'Back to the hurly burly
of Carlisle station.
'Like a travel-weary Victorian,
I'm feeling a little peckish.
'My prize tin of fancy biscuits
'should keep me going until
I reach my hotel tonight
'at my next stop in Brampton,
about ten miles east of Carlisle.'
- Hello there.
- Hello. How are you?
I'm very well.
Do you feel lucky today?
Yes, I do.
- Cos I've got a little treat for you.
- Oh, right.
They're not quite as old
as the tin...
I was going to say,
very old treat. Thank you.
- Do you fancy a biscuit?
- Yes, that's very kind.
- Thank you very much.
- Do you know...
in my old Bradshaw's Guide, these
are referred to as fancy biscuits.
Are they?
- Yeah.
- I didn't know that.
- Shall we see whether they taste fancy?
- Are they made in Carlisle?
They are Carr's biscuits, in the old
parlance...
- you know?
- Oh, right.
There we go.
- Very nice.
Thank you.
When you travel by train,
do you ever fancy a biscuit?
- Yes, quite often.
- Mm.
- Particularly chocolate ones.
- Oh... I've taken the chocolate one.
- You should have told me.
- It's OK.
- Were you being polite?
- I was.
Cos I fancied the chocolate one,
you left it.
That's very nice of you.
Hello. ls there anyone here
who likes biscuits?
Yeah.
- Do you Want one?
- Yes, please.
- Would you like a biscuit?
- Mm.
Yes, please.
What's your favourite biscuit?
- Do you like that one?
- These biscuits, yeah.
What would you describe that as?
Fruity.
A fruity biscuit. And you've gone for
a custard cream. Do you like those?
Yes.
So, if zero is no good at all
and ten is very good,
how good is that biscuit?
Hm...
Eight?
What do you think? How good
is your biscuit, zero to ten?
One?!
Is that cos you Want another one?
My final stop of the day is Brampton,
in the heart of the Cumbrian
countryside,
two miles south of Hadrian's Wall.
With a population of 4,600, this
small market town lays claim to the
only church designed by the Victorian
Pre-Raphaelite architect Philip Webb.
My overnight rest is at the Howard
Arms, mentioned in my Bradshaw's.
I'm ready to resume my journey south
to the heart of the Lake District.
Bradshaw's tells me that "Cumberland
presents the traveller with perhaps
"the grandest and most romantic
scenery to be met Within England."
And then there's an intriguing
reference to
"minerals peculiar to the mountains".
Now, one of those will put lead
in your pencil, to be blunt.
'Ladies and gentlemen leaving
the service here at Penrith,
'please take extra care as there is
a large step down to the platform.'
From Penrith station, the gateway
to the Northern Lakes,
I'll head 40 miles west by road,
through glorious scenery.
In 1865, the now-closed
Cockermouth, Keswick and
Penrith Railway opened up West
Cumberland to Victorian tourists,
who were keen to escape
the grime of the city
and to indulge in a late 19th-century
passion for fell Walking.
Today, it's one of the most
popular spots for ramblers
and climbers in the United Kingdom.
But this region claims more
than a spectacular landscape.
The market town of Keswick was once
home to the first pencil factory
in the world, established in 1832.
It's now based in new premises
on the west coast, at Workington.
I'm meeting Derwent Pencils'
technical manager, Barbara Murray.
When did pencil manufacture
begin in the Lake District?
Graphite was discovered
in 1565 in the Borrowdale Valley,
a shepherd uncovered it
when he was in a thunderstorm.
He thought it was lead.
Black lead, they used to call it.
And they started marking
sheep with it,
so that was the first use and then
it evolved into pencils from there.
It was for many years the only known
source of graphite in Europe,
the most valuable mineral ever
mined in Cumbria.
During the 18th century,
local cottage industries were
producing rudimentary pencils, but it
Wasn't until the early 19th century
that the new writing tool took off.
The Victorian factory made a
slimline lead, invaluable to
architects and engineers.
So, despite the development
of the ballpoint pen and the computer
and so on, there's still huge
demand for pencils.
There is a huge demand for pencils.
We make about a million a week
and we export to 70 or 80 countries
all around the World.
At the time of my guide book,
the factory was already producing
five to six million pencils a year.
And, as the railways began to open up
the Lake District to tourism,
sketching the landscape became
a popular holiday pastime.
And the graphite pencil
was the perfect tool.
- Is this all graphite in there?
- It's a mixture of graphite and clay.
This says it's 9B, which I think
means it's very soft, is it?
It does, yes.
B means black and H means hard.
So the blend of graphite
and clay varies,
depending on the hardness
or softness of the pencil.
Today, pencils are produced in every
imaginable shade and colour.
- These are obviously your pigments.
- Yes, they are.
From just these few colours, we can
blend 800 or 900 different colours.
That's amazing.
Now, in Victorian times,
how would you have made a yellow?
Yellow was probably
made from plants in Victorian times.
They would have been much duller
because they were earth colours,
so they'd have made them from plants
or from iron oxides
or from crushed insects.
For example, the red would have been
made from crushed insects.
But nowadays, they're all chemically
derived. Very dependable.
They're always the same colour
every time we buy them.
Pity though, to put all those crushed
insects out of work, isn't it?
It is!
[SHE LAUGHS]
I'm pleased to see this historic
company thriving nearly two centuries on,
continuing to innovate, as it did
to achieve its early success.
I'm now heading through
the Borrowdale valley
towards my last destination
of the day.
Inspired by the romantic poetry
of William Wordsworth and his passion
for the Lakes, Victorians began to
recognise this area for its beauty.
By contrast, industrialists saw the
potential of its
great mineral wealth.
I've come to Honister slate mine
in the Borrowdale valley,
Where Westmorland green slate has
been quarried since the early 1700s.
When mines were created here in 1833,
north Cumbrian slate became
big business.
Today, it's the only operational
slate mine of its kind in England.
I'm meeting co-owner Joe Weir.
Joe, here we are in What
I might call the Slate District.
How did you get into the business?
Yeah, I got into it
through me brother.
Me brother bought it as a derelict
place about 20 years ago now.
Set it up.
Before then, me grandfather had
worked here all my childhood days.
And how do we get to the mine?
I'm going to take you up
in the Land Rover.
Joe, I've heard talk of inclines.
What are inclines?
They're like the motorway where
they get all the slate out
and they fetch
the slate down on railway tracks.
Going very steeply up the mountain.
The gradient on it is amazing,
What they've built.
In 1879, the pack horses
and sledges were replaced by an
inclined tramway that carried slate
from the 2,000ft-high quarries
to a railway connected
to the work sheds.
What are those pieces along
the side of the incline?
- The buttresses? Yeah.
That's where the men would come out
with the bogies and the tubs
and, if it was rubbish in the tubs,
then they would chuck that over the
edge and that would make the scree.
If it was good slate, they would
connect that on to the incline
and then they would lower it
down to the bottom.
The Victorian slate-mining
industry rapidly expanded
in response to a demand for slate
roofing in towns and cities.
Massive population growth had
created a national housing
shortage across Britain.
- What's the market for slate
these days? - It's a niche market.
Just like the olden days,
we turn it in to roofing slate.
We also make kitchens
and the different products
that we can make out of it.
But We're in a very small way,
compared to the olden days.
There used to be 200 to 300 men work
up here. Now, we have three men.
Wait a minute. ls this the
little incline
- you were talking about?
- This is the little incline, yeah.
This is a rollercoaster.
This is a fairground ride.
- What the hell! Argh!
- You get used to it.
- Oh, yes?
- You need a helmet now.
- OK.
- Michael, we'll have to get rid of...
that lovely little hat you've got,
or you can place that on top.
- Tea cosy off.
- Very good.
Helmet on.
At the time of my guide book,
miners used pickaxes to hack out
an impressive 3,000 tonnes
of slate each year.
Joe is taking me
deeper into the old mine,
Where he has a surprise in store.
I've brought you into here
because I believe...
I don't watch too much telly, but
you're into railways, aren't you?
I'm into railways.
Here's our little railway.
Our little 2ft-gauge railway.
Electric, as you... You probably
know more about it than me actually.
I don't think so!
In 1883, work began
on the Honister Crag Railway,
which was completed 13 years later.
It greatly increased the amount
of slate that could be shifted
out of the mine each day.
So What kind of weight can you
put in one of those wagons?
Maybe about three-quarters
of a tonne.
There's little wooden bogies
we have as well
and we can fit about two and a half
tonne, that's a slate clog,
What we call a clog, and our maximum
would be about two and a half tonne.
So you're really quite closely
connected here to the
- Victorian era, aren't you?
- We are, yeah.
Alongside Honister slate mine,
on the mountain edge,
is Britain's only via ferrata,
or iron Way.
It traces the route taken by
Victorian miners,
whose daily Walk to work was
at a dizzying height of 2,0001%.
Hello. You lot look as
if you're going on the via ferrata.
- ALL: Yes, we are!
- So, the question is why?
- We don't know.
- Might as well. [LAUGHTER]
- We've no idea! - So, are you nervous?
No, not at all. Just excited.
So, What's the bit you're least
looking forward to?
The bridge. The bridge What we
have to go over.
And why does that scare you?
Basically,
because it wobbles about a bit.
Plus there's some strong winds
up there as well.
Now it's my turn to step out.
Seven times the height of Big Ben,
the via ferrata is
not for the faint-hearted.
These are original steps in here
that the miners
would come to work on.
In 2012, Joe installed
an ominous looking skywalk,
a terrifying tightrope Walk
across the valley.
Right, are you ready for this,
Michael?
Ready as I'll ever be, Joe.
Let's go.
Follow me.
- You all right, Michael? I'm OK-ish.
Now, at this point,
the wooden slats run out.
Don't get the
Elvis Presley leg, though.
- What's that?
- Where you're shaking, like that!
Oh, no, don't shake me, Joe!
- What shall I do now, Joe?
- We head off now.
Good luck, I'm leaving you.
I'm now stepping out over
the abyss below.
I didn't think I'd be terrified.
But I am.
Oh... Carefully positioning one
foot in front of the other...
Whoa! The wind is rocking us
backwards and forwards!
Send in the helicopter!
So I'm now walking out on air
and the drop beneath me
appears to be infinite.
I think I ventured far enough
to appreciate the fantastic view.
It'll be a relief to get my feet
back on Terra firma
and continue my journey.
Sarah Leah's delightful church
celebrates the
innocence of nature before
it was disturbed by man.
By contrast,
amongst the harsh beauty of the crags
near Keswick, Victorian miners
toiled to extract industrial
quantities of slate
to feed the voracious demand
for housing in the cities.
My high-wire act, swaying
above the green valley, taught me
to appreciate, for a moment,
the fear that they must have felt
constantly, working in dangerous
conditions all the time.
Next time, I revisit a literary
hero from childhood...
- He's a small rabbit, isn't he?
- Yes.
He has to stretch up on his
tippy toes to post his letter.
Lend a hand making the archetypal
fell-Walker's snack...
- Wow! Absolutely refreshing, isn't it?
- Yeah.
When you make Kendal Mint Cake,
it's very rare that you get a cold.
Visit the home of a man
of extraordinary talents...
It's rather ironic that the greatest
architecture critic of his age
would end up living in a house
to be looked out of,
rather than looked towards.
And finish off with a brief
encounter on the platform.
It was an ideal location for people
to meet by chance.
[END THEME]