Tag: Snow Hill

#365daysofbiking Canal dreams:

May 24th – A beautiful, much less changeable day than the one before saw me saunter into Wolverhamton on the canal, then into Birmingham on the old line via Oldbury, Tipton and Smethwick.

With nothing open to dawdle at, Birmingham was a fleeting visit and I headed out towards Tyburn and Castle Bromwich on the canal, transferring to the Plants Brook/New Hall Valley cycleway to Sutton, then through Sutton Park home.

As usual, nature, and it’s relationship with urbanity was the star. Even if one particular rarity at Birmingham was made entirely out of Lego…

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#365daysofbiking Change is continual

July 11th – Returning to Birmingham, I had another meeting, but found time to have a look at the new Centenery Square water feature, the perennially unfinished Paradise Circus project and just marvel at the pace of change.

Arriving at Snow Hill I remain fascinated by the decay of the old metro stop there: Bypassed and left unused by the city centre extension,  it remains closed off and inaccessible, gently being reclaimed by nature. I remember when that stop and the line was new. What a revolution it was, but I forget that was nearly 20 years ago.

The line extension to Five Ways looks to be coming on well, and the formerly busy Paradise Circus – romanticised and cherished by Stephen Duffy so beautifully – is completely changed, and free of traffic. The views are currently opened up and it’s fascinating to be able to appreciate the city architecture without traffic.

Birmingham is doing what it does best – changing. I’m only a casual, occasional observer these days, but it still feels like home, and a city doing it’s damnedest to move with the times.

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#365daysofbiking What lies beneath

July 7th – It was indeed a better day. The sun was out, the wind had subsided as had the discomfort in my stomach.

I headed out on the canal to Wolverhampton, taking a slow but enjoyable potter down the mainline canal to Birmingham. From there to Aston, where I left the canal and got on a train back to Shenstone.

I noted the Dudley Tourist Board had been working hard to improve it’s customer service at Coseley Tunnel, where I doubt I’ll ever negotiate the southern portal steps with a bike again, although it was certainly an adventure.

Calling at the heavily secured, ghostly Rattlechain Pool, the lagoon concealing many thousands of tonnes of the worst toxic waste was a strange experience: It looks so serene and peaceful, yet the pool – itself just a cap to the material beneath, separated by a thick impermeable skin – is securely fenced and covered by many cameras.

It’s a ghostly and controversial place.

Under the M5 viaduct and Telford’s magnificent Engine Arm aqueduct, the canal is a peaceful, gentle and serene refuge from the mad urbanity above, and the street art is, as ever, fascinating.

Passing on the canal down the Snow Hill flight, I see the view is a matter of opinion. But why? What’s that all about?

A great restorative ride.

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#365daysofbiking Back in the city

March 2nd – After the bike jumble, the traditional ride into Birmingham on the canal for tea, cake and to marvel at the the art and history.

The towpath quality has improved vastly since last year, the architecture, including the wonderful view of St. Chad’s Cathedral, newly liberated by the demolition of the insulation factory, was stunning near Snow Hill. And oh, the faded grandeur of those imperious Birmingham pubs.

Pleased to see Bill Drummond has a new message for Birmingham, and the lovely calm of Brookvale Park and Witton Lakes was as wonderful as ever.

I returned a way I haven’t been for quite a few years – up the canal through Tyburn and Minworth to Middleton. Formerly the towpath through Minworth was dreadful in the winter, but now the bad stretch is limited to about a mile or so, and is ridable on a decently stout bike.

One shock though: The formerly monolithic and impressive Cincinnati works – empty and subject of great development promises by Urban Splash – has gone, including it’s iconic entry bridge over the canal. It’s now a perfectly decent but dull housing estate, so the Urban Splash dream was hot air. The bridge has gone Now only dull units remain to the east to say this huge factory ever existed.

Sad.

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June 22nd – It was a great ride for the animals, clearly enjoying the sun and warmth. The heron population is booming on the Birmingham canals at the moment, and their comical antics are a joy, as were the cackling ducks in the heart of the city. 

I just loved the disdain visible on the face of the snoozing embankment cat whose nap I so clearly wrecked.

I love canal riding on a warm evening.

June 21st – I passed through Snow Hill Station mid afternoon, and noticed a little bit of lost local history that I’d totally forgotten about – the old Snow Hill tram stop.

When the Midland Metro opened in the late 90s, it originally terminated here at one platform of Snow Hill Station. The stop was dark, dingy and low level, with a notoriously unreliable inexplicably single escalator and a dingy, horrible spiral staircase. It was not a great bit of urban design.

When the Metro line was extended around the City Centre to Stephenson Place, the line was diverted to the side of Snow Hill station and up around Colmore Circus, leaving the Snow Hill stop cut off and replaced by a better, street level station. The lines at the old stop are no longer connected to the main line, and the stop, abandoned, unserviced and closed is gladly being reclaimed by nature and slowly fading.

It’s amazing how quickly such things decay when unused.

May 15th – I was pleased to note while in Birmingham that a piece of public art I thought had been lost from St. Chad’s Circus subway was still extant, and had been moved. The mosaic or whatever it is – it’s more like a veneer than anything, but it’s not wood – is of trains and transport and commemorates Snow Hill Station, which was closed (I think) at the time it was created. 

The work used to be on the subway wall in one of the most horrid underpasses in the city centre. When the subterranean horror was infilled, I assumed the work had been lost, and forgot about it. 

I noticed the work fronting the planters outside One, Snow Hill. I’m glad it was saved, it’s a little bit of the Birmingham I remember.

Just like the horrid pub in the subway, The Brown Derby. That was a shocker.

One artwork is still missing, though, and used to stand on the grass above street level on St. Chads; it was a metal, full size child’s swing, captured and welded in multiple stages of movement as if caught in stop motion photography. It was brilliant. Anyone know what happened to that?

March 19th – Then, there was the city in a golden, very golden hour. I met a companion, had a good meal and a natter, and we rode back through a gorgeous evening, out from the city centre on the canal to Smethwick, then back through the Sandwell Valley. A gorgeous ride.

It was smoggy, and the air quality was poor; even the air conditioning at Gas Street was belching steam into the air. But it made for such a soft, golden light that kissed and flattered all it touched in this varied, architecturally eccentric city.

Man, I love this place.

February 26th – In Birmingham at twilight, I was without any kind of tripod, so practiced a steady hand. I used to pass through Colmore a lot, but in recent years barely at all. When I was here a lot, there was a Somerfield where the Costa is, the Waitrose hadn’t been built and the Sainsbury’s was a Marks and Spencer. It was never this handsome at dusk, either; several of the office blocks here are relatively new.

Like Walsall, Birmingham is not mine anymore; places I was familiar with, things I remember, bars, cafes and shops I haunted long gone. Yet I still feel at home here. 

Unlike Walsall, change has always been Birmingham’s modus operandi. And it’s getting better and better at it.

October 14th – I passed through Snow Hill Station early in the day on an errand before work. I hadn’t been there for ages, and scooting my bike across the access bridge, I was shocked to note the concourse had been retiled. I anxiously checked to see if the odd cat tile was still in place: I was relieved to see it was.

I have no idea why this hand-painted puss is here, but it’s clearly old, possibly rescued from the original station. Attempts to find out what it represents or commemorates failed.

I’m fascinated by this ceramic depiction of a cat. There’s a story here, if only I can find it. 

A lovely thing; so glad it endures.