Tag: rail

August 4th – 3 former rail bridges in Brownhills, from 3 separate railway lines, all three suffering with age and the destructive tenacity of nature. The lone arch at the top corner of Clayhanger Common is slowly being pushed apart by shrubs and weeds, and is in what must be the final stages of natural reclamation. The Slough bridge, over the canal near Coppice Side, now serves as a pedestrian and cycleway over the Wyrley and Essington for National Cycle Route 54, but the familiar blue Freakley bricks are being pried apart here too by gentle, instant hydraulic pressure.

The third bridge is arguably the most interesting. One of only two listed buildings in the town, it is considered of rare enough design to be worth preserving, although it too is suffering the ravages of lack of care. As if to compound the misery, It has recently had a new nameplate installed, which reads ‘Pelsall Old Railway Bridge’.

This isn’t Pelsall, you muppets.

July 22nd – I had to do a favour on my way home from work, so I returned from Walsall through Pelsall and hopped on to the old railway line across the common at Brownhills. Although half of it’s length is a cycle way and part of National Route 5, the northern section to Brownhills West is not. Whilst the southern section is surfaced and a little overgrown, it’s unofficial section is open and a green, a verdant arcade. On this balmy summer evening, this greenway was shady and cool, and full of bird and animal life. A real gem, and relatively unknown to all but Brownhillians.

March 28th – Crikey, it was a long journey home. Engineering works commencing at the frankly bizarre time of 2pm today resulted in there being no through trains from Wolverhampton to Birmingham. Since my bike can’t go on a replacement bus service, I was faced with cycling to Walsall from Wolverhampton (I wanted to visit the night market), or find some other route. 

I was tired. It was very cold. The route from Wolverhamton to Walsall is horrid. And the wind was against me.

A quick hack with the National Rail app showed I could take a train from Wolverhampton to Stafford, a second service from Stafford to Rugeley Trent Valley, and another from Rugeley to Walsall. The whole lot from Telford took about 3 hours, end to end. An adventure, of sorts.

I hadn’t actually been to Stafford Station in over 20 years; it’s still bloody odd. One of several local stations built in the 60s, it has dated badly, and shares the same faults as it’s sister stations, Coventry, Wolverhampton and Telford. It’s a peculiar place.

Even more unsettling is Rugeley Trent Valley. It’s bleak, desolate and deserted. This station is unstaffed, and occupies a withering, wind-blasted location in the industrial north of town. 2 of the 3 platforms are an Island accessed from a high, steep footbridge, and trains thunder through here at very high speed. It’s clearly a place people choose to take their own lives, as I’ve never seen so many signs advising the number for the Samaritans. With every train that blasted through, the cold wind lashing me in it’s wake, I thought of poor, lost souls. 

Grim.

On the train to Walsall, I was comforted by Cannock Chase in the snow, and not far from the Goosemoor Green crossing, a small herd of fallow deer loafed by the line. They made me feel human again. 

Never underestimate the cheering power of snow, trees and wild animals.

October 23rd – The bleak weather continues. Thoroughly depressing commutes were lightened only by getting a decent train service for the first time in weeks. Despite the mass cancellations, I for once fell lucky and managed to get on 2 trains that were on time and 2 that were only a few minutes late. This may seem unremarkable, but the service has been so bad of late it’s been adding whole hours to my commuting time. As my train home rolled into Shenstone, I felt quite pleased, but noticed the announcement as I alighted that the following train was 15 minutes late. That one was set to be seriously overcrowded. The local rail system really is useless at the moment.

Shenstone Station, however, is still beautiful, even in the half-light of a miserable day.

October 10th – At Acocks Green, I noticed this memorial bouquet of flowers has appeared. It’s sad, and bears no card; I suspect it’s in memory of a young man who committed suicide here a couple of years ago. I felt it’s poignancy today particularly, as it was World Mental Heath Day. Anyone can suffer, we’re all susceptible. Please, if you know someone who’s suffering, do your best to help. Every day is a good day to walk up to someone, take their hand and say ‘Hello, chum.’ Sometimes, we all need a friend to listen.