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Keeping it in the family – Part Two

Newly overhauled De Winton 0-4-0VBT Chaloner shunts in the yard at Pages Park to collect the carriages for the ‘Leedon Flyer’ during the Leighton Buzzard Railway’s autumn gala on September 28 2024. GRAHAM NUTTALL

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Keeping it in the family – Part One

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From here to eternity

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Canadian Pacific returns to steam at Mid-Hants

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In :a[Part One]{href='https://www.steamrailway.co.uk/blog/features/keeping-it-in-the-family/' }, ALF FISHER – the owner of 1877-built De Winton 0-4-0VBT _Chaloner_ – recalled how he saved the locomotive for preservation and its early years running at the Leighton Buzzard Railway. This time, he picks up the story in the mid-70s when _Chaloner_ was due a heavy overhaul.

The re-awakening came in 1975. Realising that _Chaloner_’s centenary was only two years away, there started a rebuild, but one still with enormous cash limitations on what could and couldn’t be done. She was stripped, the frames cleaned, and all repainted in a smart brown lined livery, but the major development was the welding up of the top tubeplate by a generous local firm, which allowed the pressure to be increased to 125lb/sq. in. This, however, made only a small improvement to her indifferent performance.

Somewhat belatedly, an ashpan was designed and fitted. This had the dubious distinction of lasting no more than half an hour in service as it warped substantially as soon as it became hot and was hastily removed. Was this part of a learning curve for us or a further tantrum by a cantankerous old engine?

In 1977, out of the blue came an invitation from the National Railway Museum to host us in York, where _Chaloner_ rested awhile. Here she was spectacularly posed, firstly alongside _The Agenoria_ of 1829 and, eventually, in front of _Mallard_. Naturally, the steam ‘wags’ described this as the pairing of the world’s fastest and slowest steam locomotives, but such a title for _Chaloner_ is now truly outdated, however apt it may have been then. Many years later, in 2019, she was to appear on the concourse at King’s Cross station, in front of the statue of _Mallard_’s creator, Sir Nigel Gresley. I wondered what he would have thought of this upstart ‘Coffeepot’ at his feet.

A further momentous invitation came in 1986, this time from the Ffestiniog Railway, which invited _Chaloner_ to join in with the line’s 150th anniversary celebrations. This was to totally change her fortunes. At Boston Lodge, she was re-united with _Britomart_, a ‘Quarry Hunslet’ she had previously worked with at Pen-yr-Orsedd Quarry and, on April 20, they both worked a rake of slate waggons up the hill from Minffordd yard to Gwyndy bank. Here we released the waggons, giving them a gentle push to roll back to Porthmadog, thus creating the first gravity train in 120 years, starting a practice which has continued and expanded to this day. Remarkably, _Chaloner_ was the very first visiting steam engine to run on the Ffestiniog Railway, setting a precedent for dozens which have followed since.

However, this trip back to Wales emphasised her mechanical and power shortcomings, and I arranged she would return to Porthmadog the following year for some of the major flaws to be remedied. The most obvious start was to make the wheels round rather than oval, so cutting out the intense vibration which had marred every journey. Secondly, the cylinders and slidebars, each being a single casting, were removed and re-bored to perfection; piston and valve rods were machined, while the worn port faces were refurbished. Finally, new piston rings were fitted, and the front end was complete. At last, most of the steam could be used to power the locomotive, instead of half of it swishing past the pistons to escape up the chimney unused.

The first steaming from Boston Lodge Works was a revelation, the response from the regulator being instantaneous and reassuring. With a new crisp exhaust and healthy beat, I whisked her over the Cob to the Harbour station. Nobody could have been more ecstatic than I, until the time came to return. With repeated efforts, she would not budge an inch. To be ignominiously towed back to Boston Lodge by a diesel was not my idea of a triumph. Her cussed temperament had reappeared as it had done regularly since the earliest days of preservation. This time, it was a short-lived crisis. Large nuts at the top of each piston rod had been secured by split pins. Someone had thought to ‘modernise’ them by replacing them with rollpins, one of which had fractured. The moral is, of course, don’t mess about with centenarian locomotives, especially one like this with a chip on her shoulder.

This was not the last visit to Boston Lodge Works, as she returned in 1990 for the fitting of a new boiler by Bennett of Bristol.

In terms of improvements, things never stood still for long in the ensuing years.

In 1992, David had turned his attention to the deteriorating bodywork. The tank was then almost a hundred years old and corroding. It was removed, thoroughly de-rusted, primed and hot-dipped galvanised, a technique which has proved effective and will ensure its continued existence.

The bunker was similarly decayed and was treated as far as possible in place, but was permanently cured by the removal of the rivets and treating the interspace between body and framework in the Covid rebuild of 2021-24.

In 2011, the very ancient worn tyres were replaced by Alan Keef, raising the engine significantly. This had the welcome effect of removing the unfortunate habit of the coupling rods and big ends striking the ground on certain road crossings, causing the whole engine to make a disconcerting leap in response. At the same time, the crank axle – the Achilles heel of all De Winton engines – was found to have cracks developing and, unlike in quarry days, there was no pool of redundant locomotives to rob. The axle was therefore sent to Farndon of Coventry for specialist welding and machining, a firm renowned as heavy crank specialists, and one more worry was over. Later, David found that the valves were of different lengths causing further inefficiencies, another example of borrowing bits from any other locomotive within reach. These were replaced and the blower and blastpipe nozzle improved.

In 2017 18, he tackled a design problem which had niggled him for some time. De Winton’s designer had made a piston head consisting of three loose rings sandwiched between upper and lower discs holding them in place. This arrangement meant that steam could bypass the rings via their expansion joints, contributing to loss of performance – six small gaps can waste a lot of steam. To combat this, he introduced a cast iron carrier with recesses, mounted within the old piston, enabling new narrower piston rings to sit in grooves, thereby cutting out potential steam loss. As befits correct conservation practice, the modification is fully reversible.

##### Despite the name, he was not French, and was born with the name Wilkins, though his ancestors had crossed the Channel in the 11th Century under the name of ‘De Wintona’. By 1848, he was an engineering apprentice at Fawcett, Preston in Liverpool and lived at 33 Mount Street in Liverpool directly opposite the ‘Mechanics Institute’ – later renamed the ‘Liverpool Institute’ and there learned his skills. This was no coincidence but convenience.

##### In 1944, I also became a pupil of the ‘Institute’, by then a grammar school, totally unaware of any connection with De Winton who was then unknown to me. Thus 100 years afterwards, I was unwittingly succeeding the man who became my hero. While Paul MacCartney and George Harrison were also pupils there a little later, I am unashamedly biased in thinking of Jeffreys De Winton as the premier old boy of the ‘Liverpool Institute’.

I am often asked about driving techniques and what sort of a ride she gives, being without springs. Contrary to expectations, on good track, which is now commonplace, the riding is excellent and equal – if not superior – to a sprung engine. In the early days at Leighton Buzzard, this was far from the case and there were times on the decaying track when she would rock precariously on the two wheels which were sitting on the track, the other two being unconnected to any rails and floating in mid-air.

With the steady improvements over the years, driving and firing methods have changed considerably. Because of the inefficiency of the first few years, firing had to be done regularly on the move, which was not in the mind of the designer in 1877. To keep the fire in tolerably decent shape, the fireman had to kneel on the footplate while travelling and feed the coal down a chute to the fire with one hand, while hanging on grimly with the other. With feet over the edge this was a recipe for disaster and when one fireman did have his dangling foot hit badly by a passing coupling rod end, a protective plate was fitted, and firing was limited to only while stationary. Concerning driving, the regulator is light and easy to use. While at one time full gear was vital just to have any hope of reaching one’s destination, with subsequent improvements and extra notches being put in the reverser, she will now run sweetly in near to mid-gear for miles on end. In those early days of oval cylinders and leaking valves, the exhaust was a constant muffled roar. Now, with perfect valves and timing, the beat is as clear and precise as a main line locomotive in peak condition.

A constant form of amusement when hosting drivers from other railways was their absolute horror at seeing the water level disappear out of the bottom of the gauge glass, sometimes for five minutes or more, while we remained unconcerned. It had to be explained that in this vertical boilered locomotive, with her obnoxious habit of throwing hot, dirty water over anyone in reach, the water level must be kept low. Thus, when at times the water may become invisible, this is not a time to panic over an impending catastrophe. We have to reassure visiting drivers that in strange creatures such as _Chaloner_ there is some 18 inches between the bottom of the gauge glass and the firebox crown, so that danger is minimal. They also find it difficult to comprehend that no such thing as a fusible plug in the firebox has ever been thought necessary and remains so to this day.

An interesting quirk of the regulator when acquired was that its inner barrel had somehow been fitted the wrong way round. Driving was not impaired one iota, but the ‘alteration’ fell short of best practice, for it became clear that the whistle could operate just fine when the locomotive was stationary, but not when the regulator was open! There appears to be no record of the number of quarrymen lost through this slight error.

The outings to Porthmadog were followed by a flurry of invitations to other railways. With 27 railways having played host to _Chaloner_, it is hard to choose highlights other than the unforgettable trips along the complete Ffestiniog & Welsh Highland Railways in 2011 and 2019 – inconceivable achievements for an antique quarry shunter. Fortunately for the crews, both trips were achieved in splendid weather. The first, in July 2011, followed the launch of the book _De Winton of Caernarfon_ at the National Slate Museum at Llanberis, _Chaloner_ being displayed there, then in the town square of Caernarfon and ultimately in the former De Winton erecting shop on the quay. Flagged off by the mayor of Caernarfon, we set off with just a bogie wagon and a handful of volunteers. It wasn’t going to be too demanding and there was ample water along the route which habitually serviced thirsty Garratts. At the time, we felt it was the greatest reward possible for 50 years of gradual improvement, and while David showed his regulator skills for most of the way, I couldn’t resist taking over for the final mile of the climb from Rhydd-Ddu to the summit in the shadow of Snowdon with an overwhelming sense of satisfaction.

While running 25 miles from Caernarfon to Porthmadog was not to be sniffed at, her ability to run fast – extremely fast – was a complete revelation. The Welsh Highland Railway had kindly provided an escort locomotive to follow in case of trouble. When we did occasionally stop, and the diesel, _Upnor Castle_, eventually came into view, her driver was emphatic that there was no way he could possibly keep up with us. On the level of the Glaslyn Estuary, _Chaloner_ was clocked at a steady 22mph, though knowledgeable Ffestiniog passengers with us deemed it to be 25. In 2019, the complete trip was repeated but an escort was unnecessary, thus avoiding potential embarrassment to a diesel driver.

Speed was never the pre-requisite for a quarry shunter but there are nevertheless a couple of memories of working hard which are impossible to ignore. Galloping up the short grade at Groudle Glen in the Isle of Man in 1995 was unforgettable to all who saw her, while in 2018 on a member’s special on her home turf of Leighton Buzzard, her astonishing climb of the 1 in 24 of Marley’s Bank at 18mph with two full coaches and a brake van, nine tons in tow, recalled her dismal efforts 50 years earlier when struggling to lift herself alone up the very same bank.

Visits to other railways have usually been more sedate. In addition to performing at most 2ft gauge lines in Britain, she has ventured cross-Channel to appear at the Frankfurt Feldbahn Museum, Maldegem in Belgium and, in 2009, to the Froissy-Cappy-Dompierre line in Picardy. If the Welsh Highland trip had first shown her speed capability, the visit to Froissy had already revealed her haulage performance to be just as dramatic. Running on the level part of the line adjacent to the Somme Canal, the load started at 11 tons with two heavy French First World War well wagons and a bogie tanker. Someone then decided to hitch on a German ‘Feldbahn’ 0-6-0 tank for the next trip while someone – i.e. me – coaxed the French driver into keeping the regulator closed. Finally, the Barclay 0-6-0T _Doll_, also visiting from Leighton Buzzard joined the train, again as a dead weight. With 32 tons in tow, _Chaloner_ had plenty of steam to spare after a rapid one-mile run, confirming the reputed feat of _Rhymney_ – a fellow De Winton at Pen-yr-Orsedd quarry – of being capable of starting and hauling 40 tons on the level.

It might be thought that with all the improvements done over the years, that there would nothing left to remedy, but not so. The most recent rebuild was started in 2019 and was due to be completed in three years, but that was before anyone had heard of Covid and the catastrophic events which came with it. David was committed that everything be done to the highest standards, not only mechanically, but to protect all the original material from future corrosion and, in his own words, so that he would not need to do anything further in his own lifetime.

All body parts, boiler and fittings were removed from the frames which were then shot-blasted and treated against rust. Having earlier spent decades of my life laboriously filling in a multitude of rusty pits to achieve a high gloss paint finish, to see them all reappear was personally a hard pill to swallow, though justified. The top of the water tank had suffered from corrosion between the plates, thinning them and forcing them apart. The only way to correct this and prevent it recurring, was to drill out the rivets, remove the top plate completely, de-rust and treat all surfaces, then f latten and refit it with round headed bolts in lieu of rivets. The same treatment was needed for rusting areas around the lower rim of the bunker. Thus, her De Winton tank and bunker of unknown 19th Century origins began life anew.

In the case of the boiler, there was no such solution, and replacement was inevitable. The new one, the fourth in 148 years, was manufactured by Mendip Steam Restoration of Bridgwater in Somerset and fitted there.

The ancient crank axle was again found to have new cracks which had to be welded up and machined once again, this time at Statfold Barn. While there, a wheel centre was also found fractured and needed replacing. Similar disappointments followed in quick succession. After a long wait for the return of the wheels and axles, two days before they were due to be sent back, a serious crack was found in one of the fly cranks and, due to Covid, another three months went by until a replacement could be made. The cladding which had been roughly overlapped since purchase was now fitted correctly to jointing strips. All very commendable, but in doing so this caused an increase in the overall diameter which then fouled the eccentrics and provided a few more hours work to correct. Improvements were also made to the valves and eccentrics and adjustments were made to enable more efficient passage of steam through the exhaust and blast pipe.

Another challenge in this rebuild was to research and as far as possible to find the correct colour scheme – all previous liveries having been products of my own imagination. This time it was to be as accurate as we could manage. An incredible piece of good fortune arose while the engine was on display in the De Winton works in Caernarfon in 2011. “Would this be of interest?” enquired our visitor, Brian Hurst. Stunned, we found ourselves looking at an original sepia works photograph of _Chaloner_ when new in 1877. He had acquired it in a sale, and we will always be grateful to him for bringing it to our attention and allowing me to copy it. To have _any_ works photograph of that date was unusual, but for it to be _Chaloner_ herself from among 70-odd other locomotives by De Winton was incredible.

It was not hard to see the reason, which was to display a totally new feature – a cab, almost certainly the first quarry engine to receive such a luxury and the only one to ever appear on a De Winton locomotive. This accounts for her being described as a ‘hooded locomotive’ when sold second-hand in 1888 to the quarry ‘next door’. The cab was immediately removed and presumably scrapped by the new purchaser, Pen-yr-Orsedd Quarry, to enable it to navigate tunnels, while the chimney had to be cut down for the same reason. The photograph, although showing the engine in workshop grey, does indicate the contour of the original lining, which differs from the standard design adopted later.

So, it was now possible to arrive at a realistic plan for the new livery. It also allowed David to make drawings of the cab from which we were able to make a replica, which was fitted some years ago and is ‘worn’ from time to time. It is impossible to guarantee the accuracy of the basic colour, but we have done our utmost from the available evidence – small fragments obtained from other locomotives of the same period – which have inevitably been subject to weathering and age.

It was now time for me to come back into the frame as the long-time locomotive painter, and in 2021 the dining room was again commandeered as a paint shop, where for several months the table was devoid of food, being replaced by several large pieces of cladding in turn, each needing a minimum of six coats of paint and varnish. Covid did have the advantage of giving plenty of time to spare. At the same time, the bunker was shoe horned into the side of the house and painted and lined there, and all woodwork preserved and treated in the garden shed – where else?

The green is unusual for narrow gauge, though it appears to have been used by some main line railways of the time. But colour was not all that mattered for De Winton. Most vertical boilered engines of the mid-to-late 19th Century – for instance by Chaplin, and Head, Wrightson – were extremely functional visually with no consideration of their appearance. De Winton, possibly through his aristocratic upbringing (see panel) had an eye for design and his ‘new’ design of 1877, of which _Chaloner_ was the first, was way in advance of her contemporaries, being a very tidy machine with a wealth of polished steel set off against the new stylish colour.

It is improbable that anyone is still around who saw these engines running around the slate quarries, but from photographs we know that in their later years they were unkempt and scruffy, and far removed from their original smart appearance. Fortunately, a few photos have survived of the 3ft gauge locomotives supplied to the granite quarries at Penmaenmawr, and these show what splendidly attractive machines they were in their prime, with their smart lining, gleaming polished steel reversing arms, reach rods, coupling rods and regulator and brake handles. To return these items to their original appearance on _Chaloner_, they have now been brushed satin-plated, and the resulting ensemble is stunning. If watching from above, I am certain Jeffreys De Winton must surely be well pleased.

So, at 64 years, it has been a long haul, but extraordinarily satisfying, despite dominating family life for many years. Who was in charge – man or machine? Now _Chaloner_ is running as never before, and David and his small team of helpers can be proud of their efforts. The latest improvements, particularly to the blast pipe and valves, seem to be working well and she will now be in as good shape, if not better, than when first built. This year will hopefully prove this, for she is destined to appear for much of the summer at Porthmadog, including the ‘Railway 200’ Platinum Jubilee Weekend on June 19-22. And, fingers crossed, she may even be allowed to venture out on to the Welsh Highland Railway to stretch her ancient limbs once more.

**PART ONE**  
While 1877-built De Winton 0 4 0VBT _Chaloner_ may not have won the _Steam Railway_ magazine readers’ award, it remains a hugely historic and interesting locomotive. And, it has been owned by the same family since 1960. Its saviour and owner ALF FISHER tells its remarkable story.

I had come up from Euston to Liverpool on a Friday night behind a ‘Lizzie’ with 16 bogies in tow. It was not a sparkling performance with a lame ‘Patriot’ on the Manchester relief ten minutes ahead of us, and arrival was 50 minutes late – not unusual but still unwelcome. My friend John Ward had said we were to have a day out in North Wales as he had something to show me. What he meant was that he had discovered the narrow gauge on our doorstep, or nearly.

We were approaching Mold when I was told to stop the Morris Minor, borrowed for the day from my father. We scrambled up a bank to find a little shed. Knowing John, I was not surprised to find a trio of woebegone engines in residence: two Bagnalls and a Kerr, Stuart, or vice versa. I had seen the narrow gauge a few years earlier on a solo visit to mooch around the abandoned Boston Lodge works at Porthmadog, thinking how wonderful and impossible it would be if someone could save that particular railway. Seeing these very small engines, it occurred to me that the house I had just bought had a space at the side where one of these could comfortably fit and be admired. However, I did nothing about it until John told me a few months later that they had disappeared. A quick letter to the owner, the Castle Firebrick Company, brought a quick reply telling me how disappointed they were as they had wanted to give them away to someone who would appreciate them.

But the weird idea of buying a locomotive persisted and I contacted Penrhyn Quarry, which advised that it would be happy to sell its redundant engines for scrap value. This put them completely out of reach for me as they were valued at £10 per ton, and they appeared to be from about six tons upwards. A year or so later, John told me about some more reclusive, smaller and rather strange engines he had unearthed in the Nantlle Vale in Caernarvonshire. Mistakenly, I thought the smallest would be about two tons and, in a fit of generosity, I made an offer of £21 which, after an initial rebuff, was eventually accepted.

It was 1960. I had just bought myself a steam engine, and a decidedly odd one. This was soon noticed by well-meaning friends whose response was, ‘Why didn’t you buy a ‘REAL’ locomotive?’. I suppose if I could have afforded a ‘Quarry Hunslet’, a ‘Dock Tank’ or even a ‘Jinty’, then I would have done. There was, of course, a reason – two in fact. Whatever I bought had to fit in the garage space at the side of my end-of-terrace house. Secondly came affordability. At ten pounds per ton scrap value, there was little option but to choose the smallest and cheapest I could lay hands on. And if I had bought a ‘Jinty’ I wouldn’t have owned _Chaloner_, and life just wouldn’t have been the same. How fortunate this turned out to be. Almost by accident, I had become the owner of an ancient piece of machinery which was to exert an influence over me and my family for the next 60-plus years.

Admittedly, it was a trifle weird. The boiler was vertical, as were the cylinders. It was missing some basics one expects, such as springs, a dome and a cab. It had emanated from De Winton and Co., a small ironworks on the quay in Caernarfon in 1877, that produced machinery for the slate trade in addition to locomotives, and we now know this was the first of its new improved ‘Standard’ class. It was cheap to build and cheap to buy, thus very popular locally, and was followed by some 30 locomotives of the same basic type, including enlarged versions and an adaptation with inside frames for 3ft gauge railways. For over half a century they had pottered around the quarries of North Wales largely unloved and unnoticed.

So, 64 years later, we can look back on its rescue and transformation and judge how far we have come since she became part of the Fisher family.

Like vintage car owners, locomotive owners can become totally obsessed with their possessions and spend a lifetime devoted to the object, or sadly they can start a project with great verve and enthusiasm until something more interesting comes along or funds run out – just two of the reasons for the smaller, uncared-for locomotives one sees decaying in sidings on so many preserved lines. Alternatively, you can persevere, and once you’ve overcome the feeling that everything is totally impossible you strive until something works and then you must push on to make it work even better.

So it was with me, and later with son David, but for me, with a lifelong passion for locomotives and absolutely no mechanical experience whatsoever, it was to be a long haul. Looking back, I sometimes question whether I have been the motivation for _Chaloner_’s revival, or if _Chaloner_ has truly been the one in charge. Has she, like the proverbial house cat, been an apparently passive pet, or one which, like the cat, dominates the scene almost unseen?

Nevertheless, we all know that owning a locomotive needs a bottomless pit of resources, but like any hobby or sport, it can provide so many aims and challenges, so much despair, stress, anguish and yet quite unparalleled satisfaction when it eventually proves worthwhile.

Anyone who has followed the progress of _Chaloner_ will have caught on to the fact that the foremost principle guiding the care of the locomotive has always been conservation, conservation, conservation. It would be nice to say this was my noble principle from day one, but it wasn’t – it was purely accidental. Quite simply, it was due initially to a complete deficiency of funds to replace anything larger than a couple of nuts and bolts. Being only a couple of years married, with our first house, there was not much in the kitty for a frivolity such as a battered, rusty steam engine. In fact, the whole purchase of the locomotive from Pen-yr-Orsedd slate quarry in the Nantlle Vale was in dire jeopardy when I was informed that there would be an additional charge of £10 for hauling the locomotive down two inclines on a Saturday morning (overtime rates for the men), plus £35 to bring her by road on low-loader from North Wales to Hertfordshire. Added to the £21 purchase cost, the total of £66 (nearly £1,300 in today’s money) was way beyond my resources.

This was the point where _Chaloner_ became inextricably a part of the family. As my wife had recently retired from the Met Office, she benefited from their practice of awarding a ‘dowry’ to female employees about to retire and embark on motherhood. Nobly parting with half of her £50 dowry, the deal was sealed. For her contribution, she was rewarded daily by having to gaze on a rusted hulk from the kitchen window, a hulk which slowly transformed into something more presentable.

It was always a matter of chance who would be delivered at the house first. Son David, (_Chaloner_’s current owner), made it first by a whisker and arrived on September 10 1960, weighing in at eight and a half pounds. _Chaloner_, at four and a half tons, arrived some 24 hours later. The two were fated to be inextricably linked for ever. Not every child grows up with a steam engine in the back yard. Perhaps he had little choice, and his future was already clearly defined.

We closed the road for _Chaloner_’s unloading by simply putting two rows of cones across it. Nobody thought that it might have been a good idea to seek permission first! The lorry simply backed into the gateway of the house and accompanied by grunts and groans from friends and neighbours, she was pushed off the lorry and on to a track panel awaiting just inside the gate.

Over the next few years, a steady stream of visitors came to see the strange object in the back yard and new friends were made. The most outstanding one usually appeared in a clerical cassock and a wore a billowing black cloak. It was of course, Rev. Teddy Boston, whose recently restored Bagnall saddle tank _Pixie_ ran on his line through the rectory garden at Cadeby in Leicestershire.

Teddy was nothing if not forthright. ‘Alf! What on earth is the point of having a steam engine if it doesn’t go anywhere? Now get cracking and let’s see her working’. I was shocked by this order. Nothing could have been further from my mind, and the thought of getting her working filled this non-engineer’s mind with horror. But it was a challenge which could not be ignored.

So began a knuckle-crunching year, learning the hard way how to chisel out rusting tubes at both ends – all 76 of them. Neighbourly tolerance must have been near breaking point as each hammer blow resonated loudly around an empty boiler in a suburban back yard every evening. Suppliers were also tolerant and helpful. Dewrance and Co. donated two missing brass tallow cups (or oilers) while a far bigger contribution was a complete set of new tubes, gratis, from the Universal Tube Company. These were the earliest days of purchase and restoration – for context, it was two years before Alan Pegler bought _Flying Scotsman_. Requests for help from the trade were thus quite novel and more likely to be met with a good response.

The boiler tubes were new; the boiler was not. The holes in the tubeplates were so varied in diameter that some new tubes dropped completely through the holes to the ground below while some were tight and had to be driven in. Other tube holes were oval! This was an early lesson in how the maintenance of industrial locomotives was far removed from that of the main lines and, significantly, a foretaste of what to expect as the repair of the engine would progress.

Eventually the tubes were all inserted and expanded and the day of the boiler inspector’s visit for a hydraulic test arrived. It was to be the decisive moment, to learn if my introduction to basic engineering would pass the test. Pumping the boiler up to pressure soon became impossible when jets of water shot out from both ends of the water gauge, and I was gutted. ‘No problem’, said the obliging inspector. ‘Just pop down to the nearest garage, ask for an old inner tube, and give me a couple of sixpences.’ Puzzled, I obeyed and returned with the trophies. Removing the gauge glass and packing, he roughly cut two pieces of the rubber tube, spread them over the two openings in the water gauge, laid the sixpenny piece coins on the rubber and tightened everything up with the gland nuts. Within minutes the test was complete, and my first re-tubing of a boiler had been worth the bruises and late nights. In view of the thin tubeplate, it was agreed that she should run only at a reduced pressure of 80lb/sq. in which, to my lasting regret, we mistakenly thought would be adequate.

It may have been a foretaste of the highs and lows which were to accompany the whole restoration process, but it was a necessary prelude to raising steam for the first time in some 14 years. A fortnight later, following re-packing of the water gauge, the fire was lit, and a gathering of keen neighbours assembled to watch. With the engine raised up on blocks, the regulator was opened and to everyone’s amazement, the wheels revolved, in fact quite rapidly. Nevertheless, the onlookers were blissfully unaware of a new problem which only I encountered. The weather had produced a torrential downpour all day, meaning that observers had to watch from within the house. Despite my soaked condition, I soon became aware that every time I opened the regulator, there was a change in the nature of the heavy rain, which unaccountably turned very hot and exceedingly dirty. So, I learned another enduring lesson that, unlike conventional locomotives, these ‘Coffee Pots’ with vertical boilers do not possess a dome to collect the steam at the driest point, and that ‘priming’ – carrying boiling water with the steam to the cylinders – is an occupational hazard which must be avoided whenever possible.

The incentive for me to complete the work came in 1968, being the launch of the Leighton Buzzard Railway, then known as the Iron Horse Railroad. The young volunteers were looking for a steam engine to open their railway and I happened to have one, however odd and totally unsuitable. The first test steaming on the eve of opening in June 1968 was traumatic. We put in a nice level fire and to our delight she steamed up quite rapidly – so far, so good. However, there was a slight hiccup. Yes, the safety valves blew off on cue at 80lb/sq. in, but by now there was a roaring fire, and the boiler pressure stubbornly rose remorselessly. ‘Get that injector on, fast!’. ‘It’s already been on for ten minutes!’ came the reply. There was no remedy left but to shovel out some of the raging inferno. In short, the pressure reached somewhere around 135lb/sq. in before the pointer on the gauge stabilised and started descending and life came back to normal. The following day was the railway’s opening day and was less traumatic with nothing more significant than three derailments and _Chaloner_ characteristically misbehaving by depositing her entire fire and firebars in the middle of a main road after a particularly vicious jolt. This was never going to be like owning a ‘REAL’ engine.

To say that the early workings there were fraught would be an understatement. There was no water supply at the shed and the locomotive had to be topped up from a horse trough at Marley’s Tile Works almost a mile down the line. This was fine until one momentous day in November when we took _Chaloner_ on a solo outing down the line to Leedon Loop, then the end of the manageable line, intending to top up on the return journey. It was extremely foggy and bitterly cold with a hoar frost all day. While waiting there, our guest – the familiar clerical figure in billowing black cloak – emerged belatedly through the fog and we decided to head back. However, every time the regulator was opened slightly, even on the level, showers of hot water were violently ejected from the chimney until water in the gauge glass was quickly invisible. All this was taking place on level track, but we still had to get her up the 1 in 24 gradient of Marley’s Bank before the water supply could be reached. With minimal regulator opening and with four people pushing her up the grade, we eventually reached the water trough. Here appeared a problem which, looking back, might have been foreseen. The trough was coated in a thick layer of ice upon which lay a frozen hosepipe. Smashing the ice, we found the water full of bits of straw, not very compatible with one ailing injector. Luckily, there was a very ancient bucket nearby. It was a mass of holes which didn’t help. It took a nail-biting time to fill the tank and the boiler to safe levels when all concerned breathed great sighs of relief – shades of the _Titfield Thunderbolt_. Undoubtedly having a clergyman with us with a direct line to the Almighty played a big part in our salvation, but it was a narrow squeak.

The track gauge of the still-operating sand railway on which we ran was nominally two feet but widened considerably in places. Derailments were to be expected from that fact alone, though with an unsprung locomotive, rerailing was relatively simple. However, as early as opening day it was discovered that at least one pair of wheels was oval, being a quarter inch out of true, which accounted for a bone-shaking ride. The cylinder bores were similarly worn, enabling vast amounts of steam to pass by the pistons without making any contribution to power output whatsoever. More unexpected was the fact that the front axle was 2ft gauge – the approximate gauge of its home quarry – while the other was inexplicably 1ft 10¾in. While this contributed to the unfortunate habit of falling off the rails, it also accounted for a deep groove in the Tarmac on the level crossing across the A4012. One can only conclude that Pen-yr-Orsedd Quarry had broken so many axles that it had been forced to beg help from Penrhyn Quarry (which used the lesser gauge) by providing one from its own withdrawn De Winton fleet. On removal, the offending axle was found to be cracked, and a new one was produced by the local makers of forklift trucks, Lancer Boss.

Priming was a perpetual hazard, particularly when hauling a roofless ‘passenger train’, as was the case in the first season. Many were the times that passengers returned from their ride with shirts and dresses enhanced by black polka dots, while on one occasion, water softener was added to the tank, causing foaming, which not only doubled the amount of dirty water projected from the chimney but additionally produced drops which had now become the colour of blackcurrant squash. This was even less welcome and resulted in more than one claim for compensation from angry passengers. The water softening idea was cancelled forthwith.

Lubrication was by laboriously filling small tallow cups above the cylinders and steam chests with oil before and during operations. Then one day, Teddy Boston reappeared waving a mechanical lubricator from a traction engine, which in the interests of efficiency was soon fitted and is still functioning today. For feeding the boiler, there was a single Giffard injector, which, in its worn state was somewhat temperamental and caused many anxious moments. As _Chaloner_ was now regularly hauling passenger trains, though erratically, this was deemed a bit risky, and a modern Penberthy injector was found and fitted below the footplate. Both additions were essential changes, but for the first time the requirements of operation and maintenance had to be prioritised over the ethics of conservation.

In the late ’50s and ’60s, industrial archaeology was just coming into vogue, and I was impressed by some fine books on the subject. Archaeology is not just discovering things but researching to improve our knowledge and, in some rarer cases, to revive and operate, while preserving original material at the same time. As noted, my original attitude towards conservation may have been accidental, but the growing popularity of industrial archaeology made me aware of the need to preserve original material wherever possible. It gradually dawned on me what an intriguing piece of history I had acquired, and the responsibility which went with it. Delving into the story of the locomotive, it became apparent that although all parts were of De Winton origin, many had come from other locomotives of the same or similar types, creating a patchwork of pieces which tell us much about engineering practice in the quarry, largely dictated by having to survive as the slate industry declined. Interchange of parts on main line locomotives was common for efficiency in moving engines out of overhaul as quickly as possible, but wholesale cannibalisation to make ends meet was an entirely different scenario. There was also a specific problem for those quarries with De Winton engines. Whereas top manufacturers like Hunslet or Bagnall could still supply spares for those operating their locomotives right up to the 1950s, De Winton had expired in 1901.

A few examples illustrate the point. The main frames are original apart from a replaced rear end. This may have resulted from a heavy shunt or a fall over the end of the tip. This replacement rear was already in place by 1927 when all the other De Wintons at the quarry were still in service, so where did it come from? The neighbouring Dorothea Quarry had withdrawn its three older examples by the First World War, so possibly they were the source. The two cylinders are not original but were taken from fellow locomotive _Glynliffon_, built in 1880, and were purloined in _Chaloner_’s 1926 rebuilding. The present water tank was acquired from the unique 1897 locomotive _Victoria_ but this tank in turn had been ‘borrowed’ from an unknown locomotive of earlier vintage. The quarry records tell us that when _Chaloner_’s crankshaft was found to be fractured in 1927, it was replaced by one taken from _Inverlochy_, also built in 1877. Curiously, when this replacement shaft also failed in 1933, yet another was robbed from the very same source, yet the remarkably resilient _Inverlochy_ survived this constant theft of its parts and inexplicably continued to run until 1938.

Sometimes, all is not what it seems. In the unique De Winton vertical boiler design, the cylinders are supported by vertical steel plates which were originally riveted to the boiler. In our case the plates are smooth and appear modern. Now, I am far from being a rivet or bolt counter, but the original works photo shows the attachment to the cylinders being by five bolts. However, the cylinders gleaned later from stablemate _Glynliffon_ as a replacement used only four bolts with different spacing. Stripping off all paint from these support plates and the bolts themselves a couple of years ago revealed punch marks on both. Surprisingly, one bolt has five punch holes while the adjacent plate has five punch holes. So, what does that tell us? Despite three changes of boiler and a change of cylinders, the supporting plates are far from modern but original 1877 parts, as are the bolts, the original five holes in the plates having been filled in and four repositioned holes made.

Evidence of other unexpected survivals can be seen in the recent photo of the driver’s side. Circular holes can be clearly seen at the foot of the cladding, for no apparent reason. The original boiler, which was scrapped in 1927, had washout plugs for boiler cleaning in these positions, rather than large mudholes as in subsequent boilers. Yet the holes in the cladding remain, proving that with one exception, the cladding was in place long before 1927 and is almost certainly original 1877 material.

From this minefield of archaeological inconsistencies, let’s return to the family home.

With _Chaloner_ the family pet having left, fortnightly trips to Leighton Buzzard by the male pair of the family had become the norm, compensated by sister Anne being provided with riding lessons at the same time. David, by now nine, had with other youngsters, found dubious employment at the railway by being delegated, among other tasks, to run behind the passenger train, beating out the many fires created by _Chaloner_ in the vegetation which abounded between the rails and elsewhere. One Sunday, when I was mercifully absent, she set fire to half a cornfield. While the fire brigade relished some practice, there had to be a reason. Unlike all ‘real’ locomotives, De Wintons do not have the luxury of an ashpan, so hot cinders could, and did, drop through the firebars without hindrance.

Despite the valiant efforts of the young stalwarts at Leighton Buzzard, her age and decrepitude began to tell. In 1970, work was done to improve the slide valves and port faces but all within stringent financial limits. The chimney was extended back to its original height so that drivers could at last go home without bleary bloodshot eyes from the smoke and ash – times when we admittedly wished for a ‘real’ engine with a chimney at a respectable distance.

The early ’70s saw a succession of crises – broken crankpins, a cracked mudhole door, a cracked axle, a fractured steam pipe, and, in 1972, the last straw came, when a pin decided to detach itself from an expansion link while running an enthusiasts’ special, causing damage to the motion which led to an enforced slumber for three years.

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Next time:** {#block-906d5e64-1989-427d-95db-2afbcc849aff}

● Alf covers _Chaloner_’s resurrection, its recent heavy rebuild, and some of its most incredible journeys. {#block-4ea4eae8-331b-481c-8cdd-9a632dd03bdd}

It’s 80 years since the Stanier ‘8Fs’ first appeared – the 8F Society’s Jim Norman takes a closer look at an iconic design.

The Stanier heavy freight engine began production in 1935; the pioneer engine was noted on the Engine History Card as built on June 19 1935. But its origins go back far beyond this, and its subsequent building and use were in much greater numbers and to much further locations than Tom Coleman at Crewe Drawing Office ever imagined.

On its formation in January 1923, the LMS inherited many eight-coupled freight engines from the LNWR (553), L&YR (295) and Caledonian Railway (8). The largest goods engines from the Midland Railway were the ‘4F’ 060s. There was, therefore, a shortfall on the Midland Division and, to some extent, north of the border.

The meeting of the Rolling Stock Committee on November 29 1923 to decide the 1923/24 building programme approved 100 280s at an estimated cost of £500,000. J.H. Follows, the Chief General Superintendent, reported to the Traffic Committee:

“_... with regard to the 2-8-0 type superheated freight tender engines, that he had asked the CME to supply an engine to meet certain demands, and that, should such an engine not be found practicable, another type would be required to be substituted’. The CME explained to the Rolling Stock Committee that ‘he was endeavouring to design a particular type of engine to meet certain requirements, but he was not yet sure as to what particular type would be required to run over all sections of the Amalgamated Company, and he proposed to report further at the next meeting._” How much work was carried out on this isn’t known, although E. Stewart Cox did some calculations on the bridge curve (checking axle loads) between November 6 and 19 prior to meeting of the replacement Locomotive and Electrical Committee on July 23 1924, where it was reported, “_It had not been possible to arrive at a design of engine which could be utilised on all sections of the line. He stated that Mr Follows and himself had agreed that the 100 engines should be Midland No. 4 class 0-6-0 freight engines, in view of the urgency of the Chief General Superintendent’s requirements._”

In 1927 or 1928, the matter of a heavy goods and mineral engine for the Midland Division arose and it was intended to develop the Derby-designed S&DJR ‘7F’ 2-8-0 for the purpose. To justify the choice, trials were arranged against an ex LNWR ‘G2’ 0-8-0 between Toton and Brent. These, however, demonstrated the superiority of the ‘G2’, so an 0-8-0 design based on it (its boiler anyway, but little else) was prepared and 100 were approved at the committee’s meeting on December 20 1928, entering traffic in April the following year. They were strong and free steaming, but their mechanical integrity was very poor and ultimately led to their early withdrawal. In the brief reign of Herbert Lemon as CME (1931), both H.P.M. Beames (then Deputy CME) and S.J. Symes (Personal Assistant to the CME) each put in separate proposals for a 2-8-0, but neither went anywhere. Since by this time William Stanier had been appointed CME and had his own ideas on locomotive development, this is hardly surprising. The meeting of September 19 1931 to decide the 1932 building programme had approved a further 20 ‘Austin 7s’, as the 0 8 0s were known, but this was later reduced to 15, the other five to be built as 2-8-0s in the 1933 programme.

Stanier was at the committee meetings of July 27 1932 and presented a review of the 1932 programme. He also offered the proposals for the 1933 programme, which was the first one to include locomotives of his own design. Of the standard class ‘7F’ 0-8-0s, it was reported, “_From experience which has been gained with engines of this type in traffic, it was considered that material advantages in reliability and haulage capacity would be obtained by introducing as a standard a locomotive of the 2-8-0 type instead of the present 0-8-0. With this object in view only 15 of the 20 0-8-0 engines in the 1932 programme were to be built, and the remaining five should be built as 2-8-0 engines and included in the 1933 programme._” Also in this programme were ten ‘Converted Prince of Wales’ type, which would eventually metamorphose into ‘Black Fives’, but these and the five 2 8 0s were cancelled in favour of an additional 15 ‘Rebuilt Claughtons’, or ‘Patriots’ to the enthusiast.

The 2-8-0s next appeared in the meeting of June 28 1933, which approved the building programme for 1934 and included two ‘experimental’ 2-8-0s, although what was experimental about them wasn’t stated, and these did see the light of day as ‘8Fs’ Nos. 8000/01. The 1935 building programme was authorised on June 17 1934 and included 10 ‘7F’ (as they are originally designated) 2-8-0s. Delays with the ‘experimental’ engines meant that they arrived on June 19 and June 28 1935 respectively, almost immediately followed by No. 8002 on July 9. After over 12 years of vacillation and delay, the need for a modern and versatile heavy goods engine had finally been answered.

At the time of that meeting in June 1934, the first of the ‘Black Fives’, No. 5020, was less than two months away from entering traffic on August 2 1934. As with previous proposals for ‘Pacifics’ and 2-8-2 goods equivalents, the 2 8 0s’ design would be based on this sharing of cylinders, valve gear, ancillary equipment and boilers. Unfortunately, this last did not work out, as the resulting engine would be excessively heavy at the back end, a problem solved by moving the boiler forward by one foot. This, though, created other issues: the boiler had to be raised by two inches to clear the ashpan and shortened by that same one foot at the front, parallel ring. Unlike the GWR, the LMS built boilers to fit its engines rather than the other way around, so although there were now two boiler classes instead of one, the same (expensive) flanging blocks could used so a more balanced engine resulted. But the shorter length also required a change in tube diameter, down from the ‘3B’ (‘Black Five’) boiler’s 7/8in to 3/4in for the ‘3C’.

Before the start of the Second World War, the LMS built 126 ‘8F’ engines, all at Crewe except Lot No. 132 (Nos. 8027-8095), built at Vulcan Foundry.

The first 12 engines had vertical throatplate fireboxes with the regulator mounted in the smokebox, so were devoid of a dome. From No. 8012 onwards, the throatplate sloped into a short combustion chamber, thereby shortening the tube length, and a dome containing the regulator was provided. No. 8003’s frames were modified to accept this later boiler, thereby releasing a spare boiler for its 11 compatriots. Nos. 8000-8005 were built without vacuum equipment but all others had it from new, the first six soon gaining it also.

The need for heavy goods engines was felt most strongly on the Midland Division and it was there that the class, in its early days, was mostly destined. Exceptions were Nos. 8002-05 and 800911 which went to Willesden, while Nos. 8006-08 were allocated to Crewe. All had been reallocated to Midland sheds within a couple of years. It was 1939 after the initial needs had been satiated that permanent allocations to the Western Division were made. None were at this time sent to the Central Division (former L&YR) or Scotland.

The Stanier engines were intended for similar work as the ‘Austin 7s’ on heavy mineral traffic but their versatility on fast fitteds, empty coaching stock and similar was soon discovered, causing their power rating to increase to ‘8F’ and vacuum fittings added to Nos. 8000-05. Goods and mineral work is largely ignored in the railway press but the ‘8Fs’ were soon doing the bulk of Midland traffic outside that needing the Garratts and, as their numbers increased, some could be spared for Willesden and Crewe sheds, and allowed the ‘Austin 7s’ to be transferred to lighter duties, kinder to their frailties, at ex-L&YR sheds. The Vulcan batch was completed in November 1937 but Crewe was lagging; no new ‘8Fs’ appeared in 1938 but restarted with No. 8096 in January 1939.

No. 8125 was built on June 22 1939 and for 1940 a further five were authorised on June 28 1939; they were postponed to the November 23 1939 meeting, now in wartime, and a further 95 ‘8Fs’ added (Nos. 8126-8225), these 95 ordered from North British. Delivery was very protracted and was in any case absorbed within the orders from the War Department, which in December that year had chosen the ‘8F’ as its standard type as the most modern 2-8-0 available and with a wide route availability and proven reliability record. That a senior LMS man, Robert Riddles, was the WD’s Director of Transport Equipment might also have played a part. They were intended for use in Europe but the fall of France in 1940 ensured that none were sent there; instead those built by North British (WD300-337) and Beyer, Peacock (WD400-420) were loaned to the LMS and GWR until requisitioned back to the WD and sent abroad in 1941, this time further afield to the Middle East. Few modifications had been made to these engines to suit them to either France or the Middle East: frames became mild steel instead of high tensile but increased in thickness by 1/16th inch to 11/16in; connecting rods shortened and piston rods lengthened by 5in to avoid the need to split the crosshead taper during piston and valve examinations and, usually, there was the provision of Westinghouse air brake equipment. Later engines for the Middle East were fitted for oil firing and had an additional stop valve inserted ahead of the clack valves so this could be shut down should it stick open due to the atrocious quality of the water. A further batch was sent in place of an existing order for a different type of engine to Turkey, the main change being to right-hand drive.

The need for new engines was such that all four railways took part in the building programme, the LMS of course at Crewe and Horwich; the LNER at Doncaster and Darlington; the GWR at Swindon, and the Southern at Eastleigh, Ashford and Brighton (some of these built for LNER orders). Additionally, Vulcan Foundry, Beyer, Peacock and North British of the private builders received and fulfilled orders so the total number of ‘8Fs’ built was eventually 852. The last was Darlington-built No. 8752 delivered on October 2 1946 as LNER ‘O6’ No. 3147, then No. 8752 after transfer to the LMS on December 10 1947.

In Britain, the class had worked on the GWR and LNER, the LNER having ordered some new ones for its own specific use. Post-war, these engines were all transferred to LMS or BR (LMR) stock. Additionally, WD engines still in the Middle East had been withdrawn in poor condition and, given the locomotive shortage at home, Ron Jarvis was dispatched in September 1947 initially to Palestine and 199 Railway Workshop then on to 169 Railway Workshop Company, RE, at Suez to view what was available to see if any were worth bringing back for overhaul and eventual return to traffic. Thirty-nine were selected along with four spare tenders; they arrived home in April and May 1948.

In 1952, there was a shortage of engines in the Middle East with many out of traffic with defects needing the attention of a full works repair. Five of these, but without tenders, were returned to Derby for full overhaul, but while there the political situation in Egypt deteriorated, leading to the 1956 Suez Crisis, and they were never to return to the desert sun. The protracted overhauls were completed and the engines moved to the Longmoor Military Railway, where they were surplus to requirements and little used. Three were offered to British Railways, which had a shortage of heavy goods engines, and they were numbered 48773-75 and allocated to Polmadie from September 7 1957, making 666 ‘8Fs’ in BR service. The other two stayed with the army at its base at Cairnryan.

From 1948, the class again settled into the unexciting routine of running heavy mineral and mixed goods trains. Although such traffic attracted little press or enthusiast attention, it required good engines and more footplate skills than running an express passenger train and these trains were run daily throughout the country. Few achieved any fame, but among those that did were the ‘Long Megs’ from the northern part of the ‘Settle and Carlisle’ line to Widnes, and the ICI hoppers over the Derbyshire peaks to Northwich, 1,000-ton trains over severe gradients. Both these trains were a normal part of ‘8F’ duties.

But above these, their lives were enlivened by faster traffic, such as fast fitted freights, empty coaching stock, local passenger work and even Saturday excursions. They had a decent turn of speed and some received 40% reciprocating balance allowing them to run (officially) at 50mph, a speed they could easily and often did exceed. They generally stayed on the Western and Midland Divisions but also eventually explored Scotland and made some inroads into L&YR territory, although these were largely strongholds of the Riddles ‘Austerity’ 2-8-0s and, in Scotland, 2-10-0s.

The ‘8Fs’ were well used and there was much hand-wringing when No. 48616 was written off after a severe collision at Turvey on June 17 1960. Such was the need for these engines that the next withdrawal was two and a half years later on December 22 1962, when No. 8009 succumbed. The three Scottish engines, Nos. 48773-75, were also withdrawn about the same time but snapped up by the London Midland Region and reinstated. There were no more withdrawals until 1964 (26), 95 went in 1965 and a further 162 in 1966. A further 231 went in 1967 and no fewer than 150 were still in traffic at the start of that final year of BR steam, 1968.

The ‘8Fs’ arrived late to fill the LMS’s needs in the heavy goods and mineral trains area but then did more than anyone expected, proving fast enough to work faster traffic also. Many sheds used them on fast fitted diagrams alongside ‘Crabs’, ‘Black Fives’, ‘Jubilees’ and ‘Baby Scots’. They served in large numbers up to the very end of BR steam. They were strong, free steaming and, usually, good riding; their less desirable attributes were that they were heavy on water consumption due to the relatively medium degree superheat, and could also be light on their feet and slip if provoked. But they were popular with crews and fitters alike and could be entrusted with anything given to them, even deputising for a failed express passenger engine on occasion.

The number of ‘8Fs’ preserved is open to debate as there are several preserved examples abroad in Turkey, Israel and Iraq, plus others still extant but derelict. Of the two ex-Turkey examples, No. 45160 (running as No. 8274) is right-hand drive and currently in store at a private site. It was built by North British as WD 348 and allocated the LMS number but never carried it. It was later exported to Turkey as a kit of parts. The other ex-Turkish example is No. 45170, under restoration at the Bo’ness & Kinneil Railway.

Ex-British Railways examples are No. 48151 (under overhaul at Carnforth, having been a consistent main line performer); No. 48173 (under restoration at the Churnet Valley Railway); No. 48305 (operational at the Great Central Railway); No. 48431 (on static display at the Keighley & Worth Valley Railway); and No. 48624 (under overhaul at the GCR). Additionally, No. 48518 was rescued from Barry scrapyard but used as a parts donor for a new-build GWR ‘County’ 4-6-0. It was consequently dismantled and the frames cut up in mid-2013.

The other preserved example is one of particular interest to this writer. It is one of the three ex-Longmoor engines, variously WD 307, LMS 8233, Iranian State Railways 41-109, WD 70307, WD 500 and BR 48773, which had seen service in the Middle East, where it suffered the indignity of being derailed by a camel. Following its work on BR where it worked up to the final day of normal traffic, August 4 1968, it was purchased directly from BR that month and moved to the Severn Valley Railway. Currently displayed at Highley with footplate access at many SVR special events, it has covered 147,000 miles in preservation on the SVR, other heritage lines and out on the main line. Due to its war service in Persia (Iran) and Egypt the engine has become a war memorial and carries plaques recording its dedication at Highley on September 27 1986 to the memory of all British military railwaymen who gave their lives on active service in the Second World War.

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INFORMATION** {#block-7572f11f-4223-434a-8610-c4548f2cbf51}

The owners, the Stanier 8F Locomotive Society Ltd, are working to raise the funds needed to restore the engine to working order. Visit the website: _:a[www.8fsociety.co.uk]{href='http://www.8fsociety.co.uk/' }_ {#block-2725cd1a-e525-43ff-a386-0aca9098d9ed}

WEDNESDAY FEBRUARY 26 was a watershed day for ‘Merchant Navy’ No. 35005 _Canadian Pacific_, with the Bulleid 4 6 2 moving under its own steam for the first time since 2008 as its £1.5 million, lottery-supported overhaul comes to an end.

The 1941-built locomotive was due to be launched into traffic at its Mid-Hants Railway home on March 19, followed by four days of initial public services on March 20-23. ‘CanPac’s’ revival gives Britain four working ‘Merchant Navies’ for the first time in the preservation era, alongside Nos. 35006 _Peninsular & Oriental S.N. Co._, 35018 _British India Line_ and 35028 _Clan Line_.

Withdrawn in 2008, work overhaul _Canadian Pacific_ started in September 2011 when it was moved to Eastleigh Works. The overhaul was supported by a £1,254,000 grant from the National Lottery Heritage Fund and involved replacing the inner firebox, among other significant repairs. MHR volunteers have spent over 10,000 hours overhauling not only No. 35005 but also a pair of 1947-built Bulleid carriages – Third Open No. 1456 and semi-open Brake Third No. 4211.

MHR CEO Rebecca Dalley said: “This fantastic restoration of the historic locomotive _Canadian Pacific_ is a testament to the dedication of our volunteers and the unwavering support of our partners. _Canadian Pacific_ is not just a locomotive; she represents the rich heritage of British engineering and the enduring spirit of our railway community.”

BELEAGUERED REPLICA Peppercorn ‘A1’ No. 60163 _Tornado_ finally returned to the main line on March 7, with an engine-and-coach move from the Nene Valley Railway to Carnforth.

The move to the former 10A MPD comes as the A1 Steam Locomotive Trust reached an agreement with West Coast Railways and the Railway Touring Company to provide the 2008-built ‘Pacific’ for “a significant number of tours each year during the current certification that covers us to 2028.” The agreement provides WCR with a much-needed air-braked, main line-certificated locomotive for its railtours, as Carnforth’s resident ‘Battle of Britain’ No. 34067 _Tangmere_ is currently its only main line-capable air-braked steam locomotive, while simultaneously providing guaranteed work for No. 60163 which – until the WCR deal – did not have a main line Train Operating Company. However, as part of the deal, _Tornado_ will be repainted from its current early British Railways lined apple green livery back into late 1950s condition “to align with the appearance” of WCR’s trains, although the trust did not state whether this would be a reversion to lined BR blue or darker BR green.

A1SLT chairman Steve Davies MBE said that, after _Tornado_’s arrival at Carnforth, the ‘A1’ would “be fully examined and if all is well it will be prepared for its loaded test run. Clearly this is subject to a successful light engine test run and completion of appropriate audit and acceptance activities with WCR.”

However, owing to the timeline for this work and potential risk factors, the trust agreed with the East Lancashire Railway to postpone _Tornado_’s planned appearance at the line’s Legends of Steam gala on March 14-16. Davies said: “This is not something we do lightly, especially after such a long time out of operation, but it is important that we ensure _Tornado_ is properly tested and available for the 2025 season and is operated with confidence. We are making arrangements with the ELR to agree the dates for a visit as early as is practical, and we hope to announce the new dates soon.

“We know that there will be disappointment that we will not be operating public trains at the ELR this month, but be assured that _Tornado_ is now moving towards a much-awaited re emergence onto the national network and a busy programme of railtours across the UK, plus visits to preserved lines too.” It has been a challenging few months for _Tornado_ and the A1SLT. After returning to steam at the Great Central Railway in August 2024 following the completion of its much-delayed overhaul. A planned return to the main line in September that year was postponed owing to a warped fire grate and issues with the locomotive’s newly fitted European Train Control System (ETCS) equipment.

The Peppercorn-designed 4-6-2 moved to the Nene Valley Railway in October for a much-delayed visit, but was taken out of service over the New Year period to have its grate replaced “following a bad reaction to some imported coal,” the trust said, adding: “The grate was not replaced at overhaul but, along with quite a few other locomotives, _Tornado_ has suffered with damage to the carriers and other components, so a replacement was required.” However, in late January, the locomotive’s ETCS equipment was signed off for use on the national network “after many, many months of effort, and a considerable delay against plan.”

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2025 marks the bicentenary of the Stockton & Darlington Railway. However, to understand why it is so significant, we first need to explore – perhaps perversely – what it is not. Historian ANTHONY DAWSON explains.

2025 marks 200 years since the opening of the Stockton & Darlington Railway. For a railway that enjoys worldwide renown, naturally major celebrations and events are planned throughout the year across Britain, and enthusiasts the world over are gearing up to commemorate this illustrious milestone.

But while every enthusiast would arguably agree that the S&DR is special and that the bicentenary of its opening is a landmark worthy of celebration, how many of us truly understand why the S&DR is so momentous? Indeed, putting the Stockton & Darlington’s importance into context isn’t exactly straightforward, nor can it be boiled down to a particular ‘first’. Therefore, to understand why the Stockton & Darlington is so important, we need to look at what it wasn’t.

Simply, to paraphrase Winston Churchill, while the S&DR was not the beginning, it was the end of the beginning. Although it wasn’t the first of anything, as early railway historian the late Andy Guy put it, it was ‘better than the first.’

#### **Was the Stockton & Darlington the first railway?**

That depends on your definition of what a railway is, but Dr Michael Lewis summed it up nicely over 50 years ago as “a prepared track which so guides the vehicles running on it that they cannot leave the track”. A short, simple definition which means it can include the Diolkos of the Classical World, the rutways of 19th-century Australia, and the guide-pin railways developed in Germany and Austria in the Middle Ages.

The earliest evidence for railways in this country comes from the Lake District when German-speaking immigrants led by Daniel Hochstetter introduced them to silver mines at Caldbeck during the reign of Elizabeth I. These railways consisted of longitudinal planks which guided an iron pin secured to the bottom of a four-wheel mine cart, working rather like a slot-car.

But the first railway in England was very likely that built by Huntingdon Beaumont in 1604 to carry coal from his pits at Wollaton near Nottingham down to the River Trent. It was made entirely from wood and greatly improved the transport of coal for onward shipping by water. So pleased was Beaumont with this new technology, he invested heavily in four similar railways around Newcastle, which were built to carry coal down to the Tyne. Beaumont, however, failed to break into the local market. This, coupled with heavy investment in his new railways and his lavish lifestyle, led him to being declared bankrupt, ending his days in a debtors’ prison. But, despite this inglorious start, the seeds were sown. And, following the turmoil of the English Civil War and Commonwealth period, wooden railways began to spread across Shropshire where they took on the name ‘Railed Way’ and the North-East where they were known as ‘Waggonways’ – two different names for the same idea. Indeed, as excavations on the first railway in Scotland – the Tranent to Cockenzie Waggonway of 1722 – have shown, there was very little new in the technology of a wooden railway. It’s essentially a giant ladder laid on the ground. They used old ideas to provide a solution to a new problem.

The 18th Century saw a transport revolution on land and water. The early waggonways carried largely coal and other minerals down to a staithe or wharf on a river or canal for onward shipping. Thus, they grew hand in hand with the canal network and many canal companies even owned their own waggonways as feeder lines. There was a transport revolution on the roads as well with the growth of turnpikes. Taken together, this transport revolution fed and fuelled industrialisation and growing urbanisation, particularly in the north of England. Improved transport links meant coal could go to market quicker. It meant it was cheaper at the point of sale, which meant greater profits and, in turn, greater demand.

#### **So, if the Stockton & Darlington wasn’t the first railway, was it the first to use iron rails?**

Again, not really, no. Iron was first used almost as ‘armour plating’ for the wooden railways, apparently first at Coalbrookdale but possibly elsewhere where lengths of cast iron were nailed, later screwed, to the running surface of the wooden rails to improve their longevity. It was a logical evolution from these cast iron strips to the development of cast iron ‘bar rails’ which developed into both cast iron edge rails and to cast iron L-shaped ‘tramplates’.

Becoming popular from the 1790s, cast iron railways were superior to wooden railways in all but one respect – the rails were brittle and frequently broke. It meant loads carried on them had to be light, and it didn’t help that instead of being supported by transverse wooden sleepers, the ends of these rails were supported on large stone blocks. This meant that they were difficult to keep to gauge, and lacked any elasticity, and from the bumping and jolting of heavy horse-drawn coal wagons, meant rails – and early cast iron wheels – broke frequently.

What was needed was a superior type of rail, ones made from wrought iron. First rolled in any quantity in 1820 at Bedlington Iron Works, the Stockton & Darlington was probably the first railway to use wrought-iron rails on a large scale. Due to distrust of the new material, half of the line was laid with cast iron and half with wrought. It was a major technological breakthrough and one crucial to the development of the locomotive.

#### **So, the Stockton Darlington wasn’t the first railway or the first to use iron. But was it the first railway authorised by an Act of Parliament?**

The Stockton & Darlington was quite late to the game when it came to an Act of Parliament. The very first such Act was obtained by the Brandlings to confirm the route of their railway from coal pits at Hunslet down to staithes on the River Aire in 1758. This was the Middleton Railway which, as we will see later on, was a pioneer in more ways than one. The Act safeguarding the route of the railway also committed Brandling to selling coal at a fixed price in Leeds, as well as sending a regular tonnage down the line.

Getting such an Act was very expensive and required having a Parliamentary Agent and introducing a Private Members’ Bill. It would then have to go through both Houses and committee stage and, unless the Bill could demonstrate it was for the public good, could be thrown out at any stage. It was a big risk, but ultimately worth it. Even though the Middleton had an Act, it didn’t mean it was a public railway. It was owned by the Brandlings, to carry their coal to market. It wasn’t open to any other users, and wasn’t a public right of way.

#### **So if the Stockton & Darlington wasn’t the first railway authorised by an Act of Parliament, surely it was the first public railway?**

Not really. All the railways built in the 17th and 18th centuries were private railways, built over private land. But, for a railway to be public – to be public right-of-way – that meant it needed an Act of Parliament. It also meant that, until 1825 when the law was changed, an Act was also needed to form a joint-stock company.

The first public railway in England was the Lake Lock Railroad, formed in 1796. Opened in 1798 and linking collieries near Wakefield to the Aire & Calder Navigation, the LLRR was a public railway because it was open to any user upon payment of a toll and because its capital was held in publicly traded shares. In order to get around the law, the LLRR was operated under the auspices of a Trust Deed. It is probably the earliest example of a company established to build and operate a railway. The LLRR didn’t operate the railway itself, but rather allowed colliery owners to run their own trains on it, for which a toll was paid. In fact, anyone could run their wagon on the LLRR so long as they paid the toll and it was of the right gauge.

The other contender for the first public railway in England is the Surrey Iron Railway of 1803, which did have an Act of Parliament – as every other public railway would require. The first public railway in Scotland was the Kilmarnock & Troon of 1812, which was also the first public railway to use steam locomotives. Another first traditionally claimed for the Stockton & Darlington. Sorry.

#### **Okay, so was the Stockton & Darlington the first to be designed and built for mechanical operation?**

Well, yes and no. It was the first public railway designed to be worked mechanically. But it wasn’t the first to be operated mechanically. The Middleton Railway in Leeds was worked by locomotives from 1812 and, according to an American visitor writing in 1825, the entire transport system to get coal to the staithes was mechanical. The only human involvement was in the act of hewing the coal underground. Everything else was by machine.

Despite this technological progress, Middleton wasn’t designed or built to be worked mechanically. It had been an ordinary horse-worked railway until the arrival of John Blenkinsop in 1808 who did much to redesign the railway and ultimately mechanise it. The first railway to be designed from the beginning to be worked mechanically was the Hetton Railway of 1822. This was designed by George Stephenson and used a combination of stationary engines, rope haulages and level sections worked by locomotives. It was a masterpiece which clearly demonstrated the future direction of railways.

#### **So, you’ve said the Stockton & Darlington wasn’t the first railway or Act or public railway. Surely it was the first to use locomotives?**

Again, it depends how you define ‘use’ but the very first steam locomotive was run on the Pen-y-darren Tramway near Merthyr in South Wales in February 1804. It was a single-cylinder machine, with the cylinder immersed in the boiler. It had a return flue boiler and a geared drive. Despite popular depictions of it having a large flywheel and lofty chimney, it wouldn’t have been able to fit through the tunnel if it had possessed such features.

Trevithick’s locomotive operated at 50lb/sq. in and was based on his existing high-pressure stationary engine design. He built around a dozen such machines during the early 19th Century but ended his days, like so many pioneers, in penury.

However, the first railway to commercially use steam locomotives was that old pioneer, the Middleton Railway in Leeds, in 1812. Designed and built by Matthew Murray, four of them were built for use in Leeds, where they lasted – despite one blowing up – until the early 1830s. Three were built for use around Newcastle-upon-Tyne; three under licence for use near Wigan, and once for service in South Wales. A working model was sent to the Tsar of Russia and copies were built in modern-day Belgium and Poland. This means not only were they the first locomotives in commercial use, but the first built in any number and the first to be used in many countries around the world. A real triumph of engineering.

That said, however, prior to 1825 no one had ever attempted to run a locomotive as far as George Stephenson did; the furthest they had ever run was a few miles. George threw down the gauntlet to his detractors and locomotive naysayers and, such was the faith in steam power, that he designed and built a steam railway to be worked by locomotives not just for a couple of miles but for tens of miles. Twenty-six miles, in fact.

#### **But these railways so far have all been coal-carrying lines. Was the Stockton & Darlington the first passenger railway?**

Unofficial passenger carrying goes back into the 18th Century, on what were private mineral lines. The first public railway, as authorised by an Act of Parliament and which authorised the railway to do so was the Swansea & Mumbles Railway of 1807. This was a horse-drawn service, working to a timetable and, in 1812, saw the first railway station open in Swansea.

The first passenger service on a public railway in Scotland was in 1813, on the Kilmarnock & Troon. Again, it was horse-worked but like the Stockton & Darlington tickets could be bought from local inns along the line – as well as refreshments and parcels left there to be carried by the railway as well. There was a long history of public passenger railways before 1825; therefore, the Stockton & Darlington was tapping into an existing idea.

#### **So, if not the first passenger railway, then was the S&DR the first to use steam for passenger trains?**

Again, it depends how you define this. Yes, the opening train of the Stockton & Darlington was indeed pulled by a locomotive, and which included a purpose-built passenger carriage and passengers travelling in coal waggons, but that was a one-offevent. It wasn’t the start of a regular steam-worked passenger service. Indeed, the Stockton & Darlington’s passenger service was horse-worked until 1833.

However, even if it was only a one-off event, the S&DR’s inaugural train still can’t claim to be the first time that passengers had been conveyed by rail behind a steam locomotive. For that, we need to go right back to the beginning, to February 21 1804, when Trevithick’s Pen-y-Darren locomotive undertook its trail-blazing journey. On that day, it pulled a train of coal waggons carrying workmen and, so flushed with success were they, that a proposal was made to couple up a private carriage behind the engine and pull that. Sticking with Trevithick, his _Catch Me Who Can_ of 1808 was pioneering in two ways – it was the first purpose-built passenger locomotive, as well as the first to haul fare-paying passengers when it operated on a circle of track close to what would become the site of Euston station in London. Furthermore, the first steam-worked train on the Middleton Railway also included passengers.

The first regular steam-worked passenger service wasn’t begun until 1830 – not on the Liverpool & Manchester Railway, but the little Canterbury & Whitstable Railway which opened that May. Like the Stockton & Darlington, the line was worked by a combination of stationary engines and a single locomotive – the now preserved _Invicta_, designed and built by Robert Stephenson & Co in Leeds immediately after _Rocket_ – and it was operated to a regular timetable, pre-dating the opening of the Liverpool & Manchester Railway in September 1830 by some months.

#### **So, other than not being the first railway, nor the first iron railway, nor the first railway authorised by an Act of Parliament, nor the first to use locomotives, be designed for mechanical working, or the first to carry passengers, what has the Stockton & Darlington done for us?**

The Stockton & Darlington could not have existed without the two centuries of railway history which came before it. During those two centuries, crucial ideas and crucial technologies were worked out from the track to locomotives, to carrying passengers and legal structures. So, while the Stockton & Darlington wasn’t really the first of anything, it was the culmination of that previous development and evolution. It represents the bringing together and synthesising of existing ideas into a new concept. A public railway, authorised by Act of Parliament, to carry passengers, to use steam locomotives and use iron rails. In many ways it was, as Andy Guy noted in 2016, ‘better than the first’.

But it wasn’t the first. It wasn’t the first railway, first steam railway, nor the first main line railway. But what it did do was put the railway squarely on the map and in the public consciousness showing what a steam-worked railway could do, laying the foundations for everything that came afterwards. The Liverpool & Manchester and the birth of main line railways as we know them simply wouldn’t have happened without the Stockton & Darlington. So, when we ask, ‘what exactly has the Stockton & Darlington done for us?’, the answer is rather a lot. Even it perhaps wasn’t totally the pioneer it is sometimes made out to be.

SIX STEAM locomotives – five standard gauge, one narrow gauge – will be in action at Stoomtrein Maldegem-Eeklo’s annual steam festival on May 3/4.

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