As the charming two-carriage train pulls out of Llandeilo in Carmarthenshire on a frosty December morning, passengers are treated to a breathtaking journey through the Welsh countryside on the Heart of Wales line.
The idyllic rural town quickly fades into the background, replaced by stunning fields and hills that make for a mesmerising trip. The historic Heart of Wales Line, which is over 150 years old, stretches 121 miles from Swansea to Shrewsbury, passing through a host of intriguing places such as Llanwrda, Llangammarch, Llandrindod, Llangynllo, Knucklas, Hopton Heath and Broome.
Among these fascinating stops, one tiny station stands out for its sheer obscurity – the quaint Welsh station of Sugar Loaf. This charming station is so elusive that the train only stops there if you request it in advance. In fact, between April 2020 and March 2021, not a single passenger got on or off at Sugar Loaf station.
A few years ago, there was a spike in interest when an impressive 1,846 passengers used the station between April 2017 and March 2018. This has been attributed to tourists keen to say they’ve visited the most remote train station in Wales, and one of the most isolated in the UK, according to Wales Online.
However, the following year saw a significant drop, with the number of visitors halving, but still welcoming over 700 passengers. Since then, sightings of people at Sugar Loaf have become increasingly rare, reports the Express.
In the year leading up to March 2020, a mere 156 passengers were recorded at a remote railway station – that’s just three a week on average. To be fair to the quiet Sugar Loaf station, it was closed between July 2020 and August 2021 due to Transport for Wales imposing Covid-19 safety measures.
Remarkably, even during the three months before shutting down, not a single person got off there. In stark contrast, Cardiff Central stood as Wales’ busiest station with nearly two million movements in the pandemic year.
When reporter Rob Harries disembarked at the desolate station, he described his experience: stepping out felt like “entering a different world – one of utter tranquillity and isolation.” The adventure thrilled him to bits: “The excitement I felt was akin to being granted access to an airplane’s cockpit.”
Rob noted his initial worry about how to signal for the return ride disappeared after a friendly chat with the conductor: “My initial nerves about having to flag down the return train were quickly soothed by the conductor’s assurance that he’d be accompanying me back.”
After a contemplative 37 minutes, Rob found himself alone, wrapped in silence except for the whispering winter winds of Wales. No creature comforts here: no digital connection, no bustling coffee shop vibe, zero watchful CCTV, not even a loo, and only the faintest hint of a phone signal: “The absence of traffic noise underscored the remoteness of my location.”
The solitude shattered only when a fellow human voice echoed on the platform, a sound that punctured the otherwise uninterrupted cold wait.
“Wow, I’ve got to say I’ve been coming here for god knows how many years and you’re the first person I’ve ever seen get off the train,” Andrew Jones from Integral, who was there for annual maintenance, remarked in disbelief. “I’m shocked,” he confessed.
His colleague Dave Williams echoed his surprise, with Rob adding: “Despite their regular visits since 2008, my arrival was a novel event for them.” Dave couldn’t hide his amazement either, saying: “When I saw someone get off I couldn’t believe it. There’s nothing here. You can’t even get a cup of tea.”
They disclosed that even the steps from the station were a recent upgrade, replacing an old wooden staircase that used to be the sole access to the main road. The station, shut down in 1965 and reopened in 1984, was initially meant to serve railway workers living nearby.
Now, it appears only walkers use the station. There are stairs leading to a modest car park and then to the road between Cynghordy and Llanwrtyd. A lay-by nearby once had a burger van, but without passengers, business is non-existent.
Rob lamented: “My hopes of a warm cup of tea are dashed, despite Andrew the maintenance man kindly offering to drive me to the nearest village some three miles away.”
In a tech-free zone with no internet and a sketchy phone signal, life takes a peaceful turn, leaving you to relish the tranquil surrounds – immersing in the fresh countryside air, the forest aromas, the stillness of December, complemented by the sporadic bleat of sheep.
Returning to Llandeilo’s gentle commotion, a fellow traveller queried Rob about his journey from Sugar Loaf: “Did you get on at Sugar Loaf? What was it like?” To which he responded simply, “Quiet,” adding, “But a pleasant kind of quiet, and beautiful too.”
