York to Eskdale

Monkbar Hotel Courtyard

Newcastle First Class lounge

Newcastle Station

1130 is long past my bedtime

I am never at my best when I’ve had a disturbed night’s sleep. I shudder to think what the noise in the courtyard must be like at weekends. In addition, I have discovered that my king-sized bed was equipped with something I absolutely hate – two single duvets.

So, rather than linger till  my intended 1100 departure time, I head down for an early breakfast. It is a buffet, another pet hate. A coach load of elderly Americans are busy squirreling away (they thought, surreptitiously!) croissants and pots of yoghurt into their bags, presumably for their lunch.

As York wakes up, I enjoy the 20 minute walk up the hill to the station. The choristers from the Minster School being led, crocodile-style across the road, to the Cathedral. Cycling commuters, many still bravely (or stupidly) in shorts, despite a distinctly autumnal chill to the morning.

I’m just in time to catch the Cross Country Service from Birmingham to Edinburgh, although I am only going as far as Carlisle. It’s very pleasant, but not a patch on the comfort levels onboard East Coast trains’ HST’s..

I wave my ticket in front of a camera to gain admission to the First Class lounge at Newcastle and help an old lady make sense of the high-tech tea and coffee machine.

The Northern Rail service to Carlisle is formed of two ancient diesel carriages, long overdue for refurbishment and much in need of a decent clean. But the train is quiet and the journey turns out to be a gem. The route follows the Tyne Valley and its splendid countryside. We trundle through stations with names like Haltwhistle and see endless flocks of sheep and dry stone walls. It’s an unexpected treat.

We are held up by a signal outside Carlisle and although I alert the conductor to my short connection to Whitehaven, that (also Northern Rail) train disappears off to my intended lunch destination as we are pulling in. Such things would not happen in Germany!

So instead of a nice lunch in Whitehaven, I sit on Carlisle station for an hour.

I make sure I am sitting on the right hand side of the carriage, because, after Maryport, you have a splendid view of the seaside. At least I would have done if the windows had not been, like the train, filthy. I fully realise the difficulties of trying to run rural railways, but there can be no excuse for sloppy cleaning.

We pass lovely St. Bees with the impressive buildings and grounds its’ public school, followed shortly afterwards by the enormous nuclear power station at Sellafield/Windscale.

One is left wondering if the line would exist at all, were it not for the constant stream of nuclear and other materials being delivered as freight.

As we have headed south down the Cumbrian coast, the weather has deteriorated to become torrential rain. Dave Jenner, my host at the Ravenglass and Eskdale Railway, agrees with me that the best bet is to settle me in at the splendidly characterful Bower House Inn in Eskdale (www.bowerhouseinn.co.uk) and we’ll do narrow gauge steam trains in the morning.