This is my first Trip Report post. It describes some fairly modest days out I did nine years ago, mostly on Northern Rail units, so I hope it won’t bore everyone. I recently found the envelope containing old tickets, and other souvenirs from the trip, which prompted me to re-read my diary notes and write up my memories.
It's split into three parts, covering three Day Rangers I did in autumn 2007:-
1) Greater Manchester Ranger
2) Mills & Markets Day Ranger
3) Cheshire Day Ranger
First of all, here’s some background explaining how I came to do these trips and why I make observations that may sound mundane or obvious to you regulars, but which interested me as a UK “outsider”:-
I grew up in the UK but have lived and worked abroad for many years. In 2007 I lived in San Diego, California, although I did return regularly to the UK on business and to visit my family who still live in the Wigan area. Usually circumstances had required me to hire cars during my visits and, except in London, I had used the British rail network only rarely since the 1980s.
In 2007 I had an opportunity for an extended UK holiday. This time I decided I would not open any work e-mails for the duration (anathema in the US business world), I didn’t bother with a rental car and my wife would not be with me at the beginning of the visit. I planned to spend the first week lodging with my sister in Wigan – the wife enthusiastically approved of this idea, without realizing my definition of “spending some time with my family” meant a cup of tea at breakfast time, supper at the end of the day and me roaming around north-west England in the intervening period.
So in September of that year I arrived at Manchester Airport from the USA west coast, jet-lagged and intending to spend the best part of a week taking days out from my base in Wigan, before Mrs S.B. arrived and we began a more conventional touring holiday.
2007 was around 10 years into the privatization of BR and I was interested to observe what benefits and developments this Brave New World had brought to my old stomping grounds around the railways of the north-west. I wasn’t intending to do any haulage scratching or serious route bashing, instead just to potter around experiencing “the vibe” of the day-to-day railway.
I had already missed the First North Western and Arriva Trains Northern era, my visit was a couple of years into Serco-Abellio’s Northern and the First TransPennine Express franchises, although there were plenty of units still knocking about the Manchester area in the old FNW “Gold Star” and teal ATN liveries.
Enough of the preamble, on with the report …..
Part 1: GM Rail Ranger
My first full day in the UK was a Saturday and turned out to be a fine autumn day. Being more prone to jet lag than in my younger days, I didn’t have ambitious plans, but did want to cover the Stockport-Stalybridge train (which ran on Saturday mornings at that time), so a day out with a Greater Manchester Rail Ranger sounded like a reasonable plan.
I was wide awake by 04:00 but was relying on my sister to drive me to one of the railway stations in the Wigan area to start my travelling day. Other household priorities and Saturday routines delayed the early start I would have liked (the Ranger being valid all day at weekends) but it would have seemed rude to my hosts to say “don’t bother” and ring for a taxi. Eventually the agreement was to drop me off at Ince station (on her way to Morrison’s) in time for the 09:19 Wigan Wallgate – Manchester Victoria train.
It was the first time I had ever used Ince station and I arrived in plenty of time for the planned departure. As I got to the top of the steps to the island platform, a train pulled in heading in the Wigan direction. A quick yell and a potential ankle-twisting run down the stairs had the kindly female guard holding the train after closing its doors and letting me board through the back door of the Class 150 Sprinter (a Todmorden - Kirkby service). I returned the favour by paying her for my GM Ranger with exact change – a bargain at £3.50, with none of today’s 16:01 to 18:29 malarkey.
I wasn’t sure if it was a brave or foolish move to hop on a random train travelling in the opposite direction to where I was heading, but I hoped there would be a better selection of Manchester-bound trains from Wigan Wallgate than from Ince.
I was in luck – my train arrived into Wallgate on time at 09:09 just right for a cross-platform interchange into a slightly delayed Southport - Manchester Airport service (a minus 2 connection according to the timetable). The Airport-bound Class 156 rolled in looking well loaded and there was a big crowd waiting on the platform, but something close to a 100% passenger exchange seemed to occur at Wigan. Most people on the train appeared to get off and I was lucky to be standing near one of the unit’s doors, so managed to bag a good window seat before the carriage filled close to capacity again. Then right away for a quick limited-stop run to Manchester Piccadilly, stopping only at Westhoughton, Bolton, Salford Crescent, Deansgate and Oxford Road. I enjoying the lineside views along the way – these are often un-scenic after Bolton, and used to be very familiar to me but I had not been in this area for many years. I left the train at Piccadilly, my next objective being to get to Stockport in time for the 11:28 to Stalybridge.
I spent a bit of time mouching around Piccadilly station, including a browse in the literary annex (the Ian Allan bookshop on the station approach). I had not been to Piccadilly for many years and it had smartened up considerably since my last visit. I was surprised at the number of retail outlets now squeezed onto the concourse, although it was still obviously a functioning railway station, and not quite as cluttered as some airports which can look like shopping centres with barely-visible departure gates added seemingly as an afterthought. Still, no problems getting something to eat, a cup of coffee and to add credit to the pre-paid Orange cellphone I had acquired for my stay. During this stopover I also picked up a handful of Northern’s promotional leaflets for ranger and rover tickets, which provided a couple of ideas for the trips which appear in Parts 2 and 3 of this report.
Next move was to Stockport on the 10:52 Piccadilly - Alderley Edge - my first ride on a Class 323 EMU. There were very few other passengers in my carriage, it was nice and quiet, and departure was on time. Bloody hell – what was that noise? Of course, it was the characteristic loud whoop-whooping of the 323’s VVVF drive, which I’d never heard previously, but has since become one of my favourite “railway” sounds. I was also impressed with the acceleration of the 323 – it seemed to take off like s**t off a shovel compared to the old Class 304s, which I had been familiar with on the line south from Piccadilly – and I had thought the 304s were quick off the mark compared to 1st generation diesels.
Arriving into Stockport, it was straight under the subway to Platform 3a where a Northern 150 was waiting with the Stalybridge parliamentary. The unit’s doors were locked and there were half-dozen or so of the usual suspects milling about on the platform – all male, all middle-aged or elderly and about half of them with cameras around their necks. We were all there for the same purpose, but everyone studiously ignored each other.
Presently the guard appeared and as he unlocked the doors the Stockport platform announcer gave an enthusiastically cheerful impression of a TV Game Show host. “The train on platform 3A is the 11:28 to .... Stalybridge!! Stopping at Denton, etc, etc”.
The Stalybridge Sprinter chugged out across the Stockport viaduct and I was surprised to see the old signalboxes at Stockport No.2 and Heaton Norris Junction still in use despite the huge modernization of the WCML in the early 2000s. We were held a minute or two at Heaton Norris Jn to let a couple of southbound trains pass, then squealed onto the Guide Bridge line. A pause at Denton to set down a couple of camera-wielding cranks, then no one got on and no one got off for the rest of the run to Stalybridge, where we arrived a few minutes late. The driver changed ends in double-quick time and immediately sprinted off ECS towards Manchester, as if they would soon be calling last orders for morning toast in the Newton Heath canteen.
I was tempted to visit the Stalybridge Buffet Bar (most of the honourable gentlemen, my parliamentary colleagues, seemed to be heading that way) but I figured this risked taking too much of a bite out of my day, so it was onto the first available service back towards Manchester. This turned out to be another Northern 156, all-stations from Huddersfield, which departed for Victoria at 12:03 well loaded and hardly a seat to spare.
I was quite surprised at how prosperous-looking most of the passengers were on this train. Certainly the three thirty-something women who shared the bay of four seats with me wore new, expensive-looking clothes and jewelery, immaculate make-up and the smug demeanor of new money (presumably they were off for a serious afternoon’s credit-card bashing in Manchester). But most other people in the carriage looked very smart too, with winning combinations of the “right” brand logos on their casual clothes, top-of-the-range eyewear perched on their noses, teeth whitened to California standards and a discrete whiff of expensive perfume in the air. Not necessarily what you expect on a packed Northern Rail DMU, unless perhaps it was coming from Wilmslow or Prestbury. Maybe there’s more money in the residential part of the Pennines east of Manchester than there used to be – if there had been a few more decent (less orange) suntans among them, this lot wouldn’t look out of place back home in San Diego.
My trip was a year or more before Saturdays on this route were bespoiled by the excesses of Pennine Ale Trail – I wonder if the gangs of lads in fancy dress and the hen parties subsequently drove this train’s well-groomed and aspirational clientele back to their Audis and Range Rovers?
Anyhow, back to reality and the bay platforms at Manchester Victoria. What next? Now I fancied another dose of those fast and noisy Class 323 EMUs I had just discovered, so it was a Metrolink T-68 tram to the Piccadilly undercroft and then the next 323 out to Glossop. I left Piccadilly at 12:49, with nothing much to report for this trip, except I now noticed extensive demolition and clearance had taken place of the substantial (but derelict) station buildings at Guide Bridge – a change which hadn’t registered when I passed through on the Stalybridge DMU less than two hours ago.
Arriving in Glossop I was feeling peckish, so I left the station for the first likely-looking pub serving food – the George Hotel just across the street. I ordered a bar meal and a pint (Thwaites, I think) and sat down in a quiet corner.
I’d arrived at the pub just in time, because as soon as I was getting stuck into my food a huge funeral party burst through the doors. Whoever had died obviously was either very popular or a prolific procreator – or both – because there were people of all ages and descriptions in the crowd – men, mostly in suits and black ties, mature women in suitably sombre clothes (with a netted veil hat or two) and a couple of younger women in their one and only “little black dress”, which some might say stretched decorum for a funeral. Chaos ensued around the bar as multiple complicated drinks orders were placed.
Shortly, a wizened old man came to sit at the small table next to mine. He must have been in his eighties, in Sunday Best for the funeral (his jacket and pants now a size or two too big) and wearing his best flat cap. As soon as he’d put his full pint onto the table and sat down, an appointment with the porcelain obviously became necessary. As he struggled back to his feet, he said to me “Watch me pint, will yer?” In true northern fashion, I gave a nod of acknowledgement and grunted “aye”.
As soon as he’d shuffled off into the gents, a homely middle-aged woman in a black cardigan came over. “Is that me dad’s?” she asked, indicating the glass of beer. “He can come and sit over there with us”, and she took away his drink. I can’t be sure, but suspect dad may have deliberately chosen this quiet corner to be away from his mithering daughters.
Elderly plumbing being what it is, it was some minutes before the owd fella re-appeared and I had finished my lunch and my own pint of beer by then. He looked at his empty table, then my empty beer glass. “Hey”, he yelled, pointing his walking stick at me, “I told thee to watch me pint!” Luckily the daughter in the black cardigan bustled over and shepherded him back to the family group (and his waiting beer), with him still muttering angrily about somebody drinking his pint.
Back across the road to Glossop station, and I was hoping to go to Hadfield – one place I’d neglected ever to visit in my youthful trainspotting days, thereby missing out on seeing 1500V DC Woodhead freight trains in the flesh. The arrival time of the next incoming EMU from Manchester came and went with no sign of the train. In due course there was an announcement that the train would be here shortly, it had been delayed and consequently, rather than going out and back to Hadfield before returning to Manchester, it would now go to Hadfield then directly to Dinting and on to Piccadilly.
Decision time – would I forego my Hadfield stop and stay on this train for the rare opportunity to cover the Dinting East Junction to Dinting West Junction curve, which I would probably not get the chance to do again? Or continue as planned with a short stopover in Hadfield and join the next Manchester train?
My reason for wanting to visit Royston Vasey Hadfield is peripheral to this report, but it did trump the opportunity to travel the 12-chain Dinting north curve. The moves were firstly the delayed 14:22 Glossop – Hadfield, followed by a short break in Hadfield (where I avoided visiting any local shops), then the 15:01 Hadfield – Piccadilly (via Glossop again – I wonder how that funeral party’s going?) As expected, both were Class 323 workings.
Back in Manchester, another T-68 Metrolink tram took me from Piccadilly to Victoria. Lucky the GM Ranger is valid on Metrolink in the city centre.
Next I had decided on a full circuit of the Oldham loop to Rochdale. This line was slated for Metrolink conversion in the near future and this would be my last chance travel on it in heavy rail format. A Class 150 formed the 16:15 all stations Victoria to Shaw & Crompton, which I took to its terminus. The empty unit proceeded into the headshunt at Shaw before promptly reversing into the Up platform to form the next train to Manchester via Oldham. I had a short wait on the Rochdale-bound platform for the following service, which was scheduled to continue around the loop to Rochdale. Another 150 duly arrived and we left on time at 16:49 onto the single track section towards New Hey.
I stayed on the train at Rochdale, as I knew from the timetable posted at Shaw & Crompton that it continued into Manchester via Mills Hill. However I noticed at Rochdale that we were now advertised as a through train to Blackburn. This led to the hatching of an impromptu cunning plan. I could continue on this train and have a pint or two at one of my old watering holes, the Strawbury Duck pub adjacent to Entwistle station. I would need to speak to the guard at some point, both to ensure we stopped at Entwistle (which I correctly suspected was now a request stop) and to excess my Ranger with a Bromley Cross/Entwistle day return.
Running towards Manchester Victoria I observed how much rationalization had taken place with the East Manchester resignalling in the late 1990s. I remembered this area with the Cheetham Hill loop intact (and used by many of the trains to and from the Rochdale line), Red Bank sidings full of newspaper vans, DMUs and Mk. 1 coaches, semaphores galore and the big boxes at Brewery Sidings, Collyhurst Street and the like – well and truly gone by my 2007 visit. In fact the dominant feature approaching Victoria from the east now seemed to be blocks of new apartment buildings in the Green Quarter and no-longer the extensive railway infrastructure. At least one of my favourite signal boxes at Vitriol Works out towards Moston was still alive and kicking.
While the Class 150 paused in the gloomy, diesel-fume filled “new” Manchester Victoria, I suddenly hit the wall of exhaustion, a consequence of jet lag and having been awake since 4am. I realized going to sample hand-pulled real ales at the Strawbury Duck, then having to undertake a significant journey home was going to be quite a bad idea today and would not end well.
A bit unsure of the fastest way home to my bed in Wigan, I bailed from the Blackburn train at Salford Crescent (not having seen a guard nor bought an Entwistle excess) and rang my sister to negotiate the most convenient collection point. Hindley station was agreed upon, meaning I ended the day with a Class 142 from Salford Crescent to Hindley – remarkably for a day travelling around Manchester, this was my first and only Pacer. I was on the 17:42 Manchester Victoria to Wigan Wallgate via Atherton, a hopelessly early finish for any red-blooded rover bash, but I had my excuses today!
Statistics:-
£3.50 for 103½ miles = 3.4p/mile
Units:-
1x Class 142
4x Class 150
2x Class 156
4x Class 323
Part 2 to follow.