There is a romance about steam trains. They seem to embody all the glamour and high drama of a bygone age. Try to imagine the classic romantic film, Brief Encounter, without the backdrop of whistling trains and swirling steam.
However, the romance ended for steam in 1967. Steam locomotives were decommissioned and sent to scrap yards all over the country. But many people refused to let their passion for these huge metal beasts die, and ploughed their energies into preservation projects such as the Bluebell Railway, in West Sussex.
It was on the Bluebell Railway that I got the chance to reach out and touch the past. I got to live the traditional dream of schoolboys and drive a steam locomotive.
It was to be an early start, so I stayed at nearby Honeybridge Park in my Lunar Quasar. At 7.45am I was standing on Sheffield Park station waiting for Footplate Days and Ways' taster day to begin. Anyone with a keen interest in steam trains will know the station is part of the Bluebell Railway.
The station has been restored to its former glory. Ticking clocks, open fires and wooden floorboards take you back in time. As I was imagining all the emotional hellos and goodbyes the station would have witnessed, I was called over to a hut. We were about to be briefed.
Clive Groome, who runs the Footplate Days and Ways courses, was dressed in blue denim overalls and a black peaked cap, he was every inch an engine man.
A former British Rail driver, Clive started out as an engine cleaner in 1951. Ten years on he progressed to driver. "I learned to drive an engine from the men who had been taught by the first engine drivers," he said. When the age of steam came to an end Clive drove diesel and electric trains, but left after a few years. "All you had to do was flick a few levers and the train drove itself, it just didn't have the same appeal to me as the steam locomotives," he said. Clive did a degree in history and worked as a lorry driver. But steam was in his blood and it brought him to the Bluebell as a volunteer.
I joined the six other would-be train drivers in the hut for Clive's safety briefing. Safety is paramount; the engine we were driving – Eddistone (No 34028) which, along with its tender, weighs 180 tonnes – was one of the biggest and most powerful in the Bluebell Railway's collection. Conscientiously checking things like the water level is vital. "If there is not enough water the boiler can blow up and you would not be around to regret your mistake," he said. He also warns that checking the track ahead is vital as the view directly in front of the engine is very limited, "You need everyone's eyes. It is a dangerous environment and it takes a long time to stop an engine of this size." However, Clive reassures us by saying that he and the rest of the team are there to ensure we do not make any mistakes.
Steam locomotive theory is the next topic. Words like 'cylinder cocks', 'regulator', and 'superheated' are bandied about. Clive carefully drew diagrams to explain these terms, but I was already beginning to feel out of my depth. To make me feel more at home Clive uses a caravan analogy: "Starting off is like putting a car towing a caravan in top gear and trying to move off. A lot of power is required." Getting a train moving requires you to fill the cylinder 75% full of steam, which gives a lot of power. When you have got the engine moving, you can cut down the amount of steam in the cylinder to make the engine run more efficiently.
After hearing all about the working of the 60-year-old Eddistone, we walk over to the engine sheds. There it was sighing and groaning like a giant metal beast waking from its slumber. Of course, it was just the sound of the metal expanding and steam building up, but number 34028 did seem alive.
I was intimidated by the sheer size of the thing. Its driving wheels were taller than me and the huge boiler seemed to stretch for a mile along the track. Climbing onto the footplate was like scaling a large building. On the footplate I was faced with a bewildering array of dials, levers and gauges. All seven of us managed to squeeze onto the footplate. We stood there being warmed by the fierce fire burning in front of us. Ruth, Clive's daughter, had been up at dawn to get the engine stoked up. She continued to tend the fire as Clive ran us through the controls.
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