Fleetstreet legend and Mirror columnist, Paul Routledge, sends gentle tales from his West Yorkshire allotment, Mrs R’s pantry and his local, the Old White Bear. This week, puffer-nutter Paul takes the historic Settle-Carlisle line, a lovely relic of the steam age
The electric trains stop at Skipton. From there, it’s a crowded, two-coach rattler up the famous Settle-Carlisle line.
And on my journey, it’s a fine, cold autumn morning, blue sky after the heavy rains that inundated the Yorkshire Dales.
This is the line that should not be here. It was slated for closure by the Tories in the 1980s but saved after a popular campaign.
From the Grade II-listed station at Skipton, a cheerless walk from the centre, the line climbs the Aire Valley, parallel much of the way with the Leeds and Liverpool canal, Britain’s longest.
At this time of the year, the river is full, a brown surging torrent. Sheep wander disconsolately through sodden fields, or sit on wet grass, making the most of a thin sunshine.
Pretty line stations punctuate the two-hour journey: Gargrave, Hellifield, and then Settle, where the “Long Drag” starts.
This was the great test of enginement in the halcyon days of steam, when this was still the route of London to Glasgow trains like the Thames-Clyde Express.
It’s not much of a challenge to our Class 158 diesel charging at moderate speed uphill against a stiff northerly wind. There’s time to admire the magnificent stone structures that bear witness to the skill of Victorian masons.
But you don’t see the greatest of them all: riding over the 2,372-foot long Ribblehead Viaduct, soaring 104 ft on 24 arches, you don’t get the view enjoyed by admiring hikers below.
There is consolation in the landscape: Ingleborough, sculpted by the Ice Age, the rotting remains of wooden sleepers standing upright to ward off snowdrifts, the isolated signal box at Blea Moor, the tiny station at Dent, at 1,150 England’s highest.
Beyond the 1,169 Ais Gill summit after windy Garsdale, the line descends into the lush green Eden Valley, through Kirkby Stephen, Appleby, Langwathby and Kirkoswald and Armathwaite, rolling into what was once called Citadel station one time.
I’ve travelled this route often, in all seasons, and there is always something different to see. It is a quintessentially English experience, not just for puffer-nutters like me.
