Train Spotting

Any locomotive first sightings were later carefully underlined in red ink in our treasured Ian Allen ABC listing books which were always kept safely at home

No-one more than about 14 years old engaged in train spotting in the 1940s because most such males were either at work or away fighting the war. In the 21st Century, however, train spotting seems to be primarily a hobby of men of a certain age who congregate at the platform ends of mainline railway stations. These men, or as they are often rudely called ‘anoraks’, often seem to carry their own refreshments with them in their bags and they can be seen comparing notes on their laptops and digital images on their cameras as they await the next arrival. In 2008, one of the most likely stations in Yorkshire to see train spotters spotting trains is Doncaster on the East Coast Main Line.

It is difficult for people today to understand why train spotting was such a common and absorbing pastime for young lads in the 1940s. The fact is that there were not many exciting things for boys to do during the war years and there is no doubt that the steam locomotives of that era were magnificent and exciting examples of British engineering prowess. However, unlike today, train spotting was not often done at railway stations. One had to buy tickets at a penny a time in those days to gain access to the platforms and pocket money was always in very short supply. In stations, the trains were inevitably either at a standstill or travelling very slowly and there was nothing very exciting in that! On the rare occasions when I went onto the platforms at Wakefield’s Westgate and Kirkgate stations I was seeking an invitation from a driver to climb onto his footplate for a quick look around while the fireman was outside oiling the locomotive’s mechanism or supervising the re-watering of the tender. An invitation into the cab was exciting!

Granddad Winter had always promised to take me, after the war, on a railway trip from Leeds to Gloucester to enjoy the ride and to visit some of his relations. We drew diagrams of the route, marking the tunnels, the stations, and the running times, and he told me about the many points of interest along the way including the extensive engine sheds at Derby, the famous crooked spire of Chesterfield’s Church of St Mary and All Saints, and the well-known breweries at Burton-on-Trent. I was particularly interested in his description of the Dore and Totley Tunnel south of Sheffield on the route to Manchester. He told me it was over three and a half miles long, the longest under-land tunnel in Great Britain, excluding the London Underground.

Because there was an extensive network of railways in and around Wakefield, my friends and I had a number of favourite locations, all of them located close to signals. We had no printed timetables but that didn't bother us because we rarely seemed to stay in one spot for more than an hour.  In between trains there was always something else to do, such as kicking a ball around or having a friendly wrestle, as boys have probably done since time immemorial. One of my favourite places was just south of Walton Station on the LMS Midland route from Sheffield to Leeds. We knew when trains were expected because we could see signals in both directions. A ‘double up’ usually meant that an express was imminent; a single ‘up’ usually indicated a freight train or a local train which was far less exciting. At the point where we parked our cycles there was a long wooden bench seat, a wide grass verge, and a footbridge over the tracks. We watched long distance expresses roar by, wondering at the destination boards affixed above the windows of the coaches – London St Pancras, Glasgow St Enoch, Carlisle, Inverness, Liverpool, Newcastle.  In those days we lads could accurately pinpoint all those famous cities on a map of Great Britain, which is more than many youngsters of today can do.

The position of our house at the railway end of Cotton Street made it ideal for train spotting. It was gloomy and drizzly on 20 April 1948, the day we moved from Wakefield to Leeds, one of those days when a combination of railway smoke, naturally-formed radiation fog, and the ever-present thick cloying industrial haze, created a toxic greeny-grey gaseous mixture which hung low over the tall trees in Holmfield Park giving everything a ghostly appearance. The scene might have been thought pretty had not the atmosphere been unhealthy and evil-smelling and had not the suspended sooty particles within it clung to everything, clothes and exposed parts of the body included. Nevertheless, according to my diary, I opened my bedroom window at about 7-o-clock and leaned out, sucking in great breaths of the throat-lacerating air and gazing sadly for the last time at the nearby railway lines. I could recognise most locomotives types simply by listening to the noise they made. I watched the early morning three-coach train from Wakefield Kirkgate to Barnsley pass by on the Up Fast, the furthest of the four tracks from me. The ancient 0-6-0 locomotive at the head, running tender first as it often did, was working hard on the slight up gradient as the train accelerated under the gantry signals towards Horbury Junction, adding yet more pollution to the already saturated air. I waited a few more minutes for the Liverpool to Newcastle express to come past in the opposite direction on the Down Fast low level track. It was on time, of course, and as usual it was packed with passengers even at that early hour. The Stanier Black 5 locomotive at its head was throttled right back, its connecting rods and cylinders making a very distinctive clattering noise as the nine-coach express coasted at a mere 30 mph or so towards Kirkgate’s number 1 platform, less than a half a mile distant. The driver was hanging out of his cab window keeping careful watch on the station’s approach signals. His, and the fireman’s and guard’s, duty would be over when they stopped at Kirkgate. There they would hand over to a new, fresh crew for the next sector of this frequent and important cross-country route which linked the international ports of Liverpool and Newcastle with the thriving industrial centres of Manchester, Huddersfield, Leeds, York and Darlington.

Over the eight years since 1940 I had become a bit of an expert on the running of the London, Midland and Scottish Railway. With my special pals, Peter Moore and Geoffrey Holt amongst many others, I had spent countless hours at local vantage points collecting engine numbers in my note-book.  We were even well known at Wakefield Shed (head code 25A) close to Kirkgate Station and often spent time wandering around the tracks outside the main shed building collecting numbers. No hard hats or high visibility jackets for us – or anyone else. The Health and Safety people these days would have a fit! Any locomotive first sightings were later carefully underlined in red ink in our treasured Ian Allen ABC listing books which were always kept safely at home. Although I had listed several hundred different LMS and LNER locos, I could remember them all and knew immediately when I was seeing a locomotive for the first time. The very first Ian Allen LMS ABC book was published in June 1943 and the LNER one in November the same year. I had one of each – truly prized possessions. One of my friends still has his copies in 2007. They must be worth quite a bit now to collectors but they cost only about one shilling when they first appeared in W H Smith’s station book shops.

My interest in train spotting came to an end when we moved to Leeds in 1948. How I wish, though, that I had kept my Ian Allan ABC books. I never got a ride on a train until 1946 when our family went on a day trip to Blackpool.

I visited my spotting location at Walton in 2005 just for old times’ sake. The bench seat at Walton has fallen apart but, bizarrely, the rotten timbers are still there, scattered around. The grass verge is now overgrown with weeds. When I used to train spot there, the verges were kept neat and tidy by railway workers. The footbridge is now dilapidated and is supposed to be sealed off at either end but it is still possible to climb the rickety steps and walk across. Walton station was closed in the early 1960s as part of the Beeching cuts. I imagine the railway tracks were lifted soon afterwards, but 40 years on it is still possible to make out where they lay and they are clearly marked on Ordnance Survey Landranger Map 111.

Back to the top