Great British Railway Journeys Text Only. Michael Portillo
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would have loved. In his day the railways were kept safe by railway staff called policemen – although they were not part of any constabulary – who had positions at key points along the lines. There were no signals and the policemen’s job was to ensure that there was a 10-minute gap between the trains, holding them up if not. They also walked the lines to check for debris. Now, though, the Network Rail helicopter full of gadgets and gizmos does much of that work, including using infrared cameras that show whether the heating system on the points is working properly. The helicopter regularly surveys the 20,000 miles of Network Rail track, a feat that would have kept thousands of Victorian policemen busy.
However you approach York, it is a beautiful city. Entering it by rail, though, there is the added beauty of the station itself. Designed by architects Thomas Prosser and William Peachey, it was built in 1877 and was the largest station in the world. It’s now one of the busiest, with 400 trains passing though it every day, bringing many of the 4 million visitors who come to York each year.
There’s plenty to see. Although best known as a medieval city, York started out in AD71 as a settlement beside a huge 50-acre Roman fortress which housed 6,000 soldiers. It was more than just an important military base: for a short time when the Emperor Severus lived there in 209 the entire Roman Empire was ruled from York.
The most enduring legacy of the Romans is the magnificent city walls, including the Multangular Tower. Although many of the walls were there for Bradshaw to see, since then the city has continued to yield up its Roman secrets, and excavations go on today.
From York our route took us towards Hull via Pontefract. We were in search of liquorice, because in Bradshaw’s day Pontefract was famous for the black sweet, with plants being farmed in the fields surrounding the town. It’s thought that monks had started to grow liquorice there some 600 years ago when they discovered that the area’s deep, loamy soil was perfect for the plant’s long roots. They used the roots for medicinal purposes, extracting the sap and using it to ease coughs and stomach complaints.
After the Dissolution of the Monasteries in the sixteenth century, local farmers continued to cultivate liquorice and a thriving cottage industry was established. Then, in 1760, Pontefract apothecary George Dunhill made a breakthrough. He added sugar to the recipe and created the liquorice cake sweet.
Before the railways, almost all the liquorice grown was used locally, but the arrival of the trains saw it transported nationwide. More of the surrounding land was turned over to growing it. There’s scant trace of it now, though.
Tom Dixon’s family grew liquorice for over 200 years, and in their heyday they supplied Boots – it was a chief ingredient for their throat sweets. Tom told us that his great-grandfather had even sent liquorice down to Queen Victoria, who was said to adore it. He did so without realising that liquorice brought on high blood pressure, which is what led to her demise.
The death of Pontefract liquorice came much later. It was grown in the fields around Tom’s house until the late 1960s, when the last harvests took place. Indeed, Tom is said to have Pontefract’s last liquorice bush. Like so many products that boomed for a while with the arrival of the railways, it had become cheaper to import it from elsewhere as travel costs fell across the board. For liquorice, the primary markets became Spain, Italy and Turkey. Curiously, liquorice was known locally as a stick of Spanish – it had originated in Spain.
After the short stop in Pontefract, we were back on the train heading east towards the city and North Sea port of Kingston upon Hull, better known today as Hull. Bradshaw explains that this was one of the earliest routes used for the popular day-trips which started in 1840 and were known as Monster Excursions.
One of the first Monster Excursions took place in August 1840 when a special Sunday train set off from Leeds to Hull. Organised by the Leeds Institute, it had an incredible 40 carriages transporting 1,250 passengers for the day. Trips like these not only did a huge amount to publicise the idea of railway excursions, but also made Hull a recognised destination. This information might have some locals snorting into their sleeves, but, thanks to Bradshaw, we can glimpse a surprising view of Victorian Hull.
‘It presents the eye an interesting spectacle of numerous vessels floating to and from the port of Hull: while that opulent and commercial town in its low situation close to the banks and surrounded by the masts of the shipping in the docks seems to rise like Venice from amidst the sea; the whole comprising a scene which for beauty and grandeur can scarcely be exceeded.’
Believe it or not, Hull was an attractive resort in Victorian times, the sort of place Queen Victoria was happy to visit. In 1854 she stayed in what swiftly changed its name to the Station Hotel, shortly before enhancing it with the prefix ‘Royal’. Built in 1851, it was probably the first railway hotel of its kind, literally straddling the platform. It also gets a mention in Bradshaw, along with the zoological gardens, the camera obscura, the music hall, the Crystal Palace and the fireworks held every Monday evening during the season!
Hull’s sheltered location on the Humber estuary led to it developing as a prosperous port. Initially the wealth came from whaling, which until the 1840s was subsidised by the government. At much the same time as the subsidy disappeared, the railway line arrived, opening up the opportunity of new markets. The whalers turned to fishing and Hull soon became one of the biggest white fish ports in the world.
The railway was crucial to Hull’s growth. There were some 300 miles of railway track transporting fish within the city boundaries, and 20 fish trains left Hull every day for destinations all over the UK, including Manchester’s new fish market. Consumption grew from three to 80 tons a week and at a quarter of the price it had been previously.
Hull remained an important white fish port until the 1970s, when the industry collapsed following the Third Cod War. In 1975 Iceland placed a 200-mile exclusion zone around its coastline. Britain refused to recognise the barrier and its trawlers continued to fish in the newly created Icelandic waters. When they were confronted by Icelandic ships the Royal Navy became involved. Although a few shots were fired, it was mostly a war of ramming and stand-offs, peppered with net-cutting incidents.
97 PER CENT OF OUR COD IS IMPORTED AND, WITH THE TEMPERATURE OF OUR COASTAL WATERS RISING, THAT’S UNLIKELY TO CHANGE
Almost wholly dependent on fishing, Iceland took its action in the face of diminishing stocks. Britain also realised that fish catches were dipping, but resented the strategic action taken by its small, northerly neighbour. A compromise was eventually reached which permitted a small number of British ships to trawl in the disputed waters while limiting their catch.
The writing was on the wall for the East Coast fishing fleets. In 1977 there were 127 trawlers working out of Hull, but within two years that number had gone down to just six. Today, 97 per cent of our cod is imported and, with the temperature of our coastal waters rising, that’s unlikely to change.
If there is an upside to the rising temperature of our coastal waters, it is that other fish like sea bass can tolerate the North Sea. In fact, over the last decade the east Yorkshire coastline has seen a steady increase in the number of sea bass, so we decided our next stop would be Bridlington, 25 miles up the coast, to find the antidote to over-fishing.
Bradshaw describes Bridlington thus: ‘This attractive resort lies on the Yorkshire coast, but at that point where the line turns westward from Flamborough Head and then sweeping round to the south forms a capacious bay called Bridlington Bay ... the Esplanade is a spacious level green commanding a beautiful view of the Holderness coast which stretches in a curve as far as the eye can trace.’
The arrival of the railway in 1846 had turned the sleepy fishing village into a popular resort for West Yorkshire’s industrial workers and, with much of that Victorian esplanade still intact, it still attracts thousands of holidaymakers every summer.
Fisherman Frank Powell pursues his trade in a way that’s about as far away from giant trawl nets and factory ships as you can get. He chooses to fish sustainably, so much so that he doesn’t even leave land. He fishes for sea bass from the shore, using a system that relies on the tide, and he only takes a few fish each time. What’s more, Frank uses a net that only keeps fish of a certain size, making it a method of fishing which