And no ordinary steam engine either! A truly massive one. The Bulleid Pacific ‘Sir Keith Park’ 34053 at the Spa Valley Railway in Tunbridge Wells. Just for engine name enthusiasts, it has been renamed ‘303 Squadron’ for a year, in honour of Polish Battle of Britain fighters… Anyway, yesterday, for Battleaxe, there was maximum excitement, maximum fear, maximum heat, maximum physical effort (I have aches in my arms today). All photos in this post are either from Philosopher or the internet. I couldn’t take any because I was wearing thick leather gloves, so sorry, there are no photos from inside the cab at all. It was a lovely sunny evening, and the Kent countryside was looking beautiful – what I saw of it.
Well, Battleaxe has undoubtedly said many times how much I love steam engines – my father was an engineer at the Great Western Railway in Swindon, and worked on many famous engines. I had booked for an engine-driving experience at the Swanage railway, but Covid intervened. Following Covid there was a delay before any driver experience opportunities appeared again, but eventually found one at Spa Valley in Tunbridge Wells. I booked way back in Febriary – it was mighty expensive, and they said you’d get an opportunity to drive a ‘small’ engine at the end of its day’s work. By this, I assume they meant a tank engine, or other type of shunter. Thought this would suit me at my advancing age…
Anyway, the Spa Valley is obviously going through slightly hard times (mostly due to the price of coal, I was told), and now they only have two engines working on each operating day, a heritage diesel and a steam engine. The small print on my ticket said that the railway reserved the right to swap the experience between steam and diesel, and I feared the worst, especially when I discovered that yesterday was a ‘special’ steam day, and the Sir Keith Park was the only steam loco in use. I felt worse when we arrived at the station and spoke to an old geezer who said that he ‘doubted if they’d let me drive that great big old thing.’ He told us to wait on the platform until the steam engine returned from its last run, and then ask the driver. I was pretty sure we’d be facing a huge row accompanied by tears and raging when they tried to palm me off with the diesel…
I was feeling pretty anxious anyway, but anxiety trebled when the engine hove into view, pulling the final train of the day, and I saw how big it actually was… at least it parked by the platform to let the passengers off, and I wouldn’t have to face the prospect of not being able to climb up into the cab. Had engaged in much joking with WI chums about needing hunky railway men to bunk me up…
Anyway, of course, the engine is a star. No sooner had it halted than it was surrounded by eager admirers – railway men, engine enthusiast blokes, fathers holding up their little boys, all sorts taking photos. I fought my way through the crowd and feebly squeaked at the driver that I was supposed to have an engine driver slot at 5pm. To my relief, (or not), he just said it was OK, I would be in this engine, with him. Then I thought Oh God what have I done. Not only had I got to drive that huge, terrifying beast, but had to set off in front of an audience. There was a delay while they uncoupled the carriages and they were hauled away by the diesel, and the engine let off hissing scary clouds of steam.
The driver, who was called Johnny, asked me to climb up into the cab so he could show me the controls while we were waiting. Up I got – and oh my life was it hot up there… the door to the fire was open, and glancing in you saw this vast Hades-like seething red bed of burning coals, giving out so much heat that it made the eyes water. And of course, I was all covered up, with big boots etc. He showed me various levers, and I was so scared I didn’t take in a single word he said.
Got out again and almost told Philosopher I felt ill and could we go home… but of course I didn’t. Battleaxe is made of sterner stuff. Eventually Johnny said we were ready to go. Two other men got in as well as me – the footplate of big locos is quite spacious, if boiling hot… One older geezer in an authentic boiler suit said he was going to do the stoking because ‘the fire is a bit big’. I was relieved because the original publicity said I’d have to shovel coal as well as drive, but I almost felt like I could fall into the fire, and it was soooo hot! The other bloke said Johnny would need help with signals… I thought at first he was just blagging a ride.
Maybe he wasn’t blagging, because as soon as Johnny told us to start I discovered that some of the big metal levers were so stiff I could hardly move them. The brake was OK, except it emitted jets of boiling steam, but the regulator/throttle was incredibly hard to move. I could pull it out a little way, but not fully, and then just about push it in, shoving with all my strength. I had to have constant help. Even worse was a rotating wheel connected to lots of notched cogs that changed the engine from forward to reverse, and vice versa. I could only just do it… and even the whistle, which I had been really looking forward to, was really high up and difficult… I could only get a feeble burp out of it. Or maybe that was me… Of course, there is no power assist in steam locomotives. Your movements are directly linked by cogs, wheels and rods to the actual workings of the thing.
Still, I managed to get it into reverse – we had to leave the platform backwards. I took the brake off and hauled the regulator out as much as I could, and the thing started puffing scarily and energetically. Slowly we screeched and hissed away from the buffers… we left the crowds behind, and Philosopher standing on the platform, taking photos…
In hindsight, I knew I was living through one of those big moments in life, like when I met the Queen, or got married. I knew this was special, a once-in-a-lifetime moment, but I felt nothing, on auto-pilot, in a blur of terror. Later, Philosopher asked why I was so scared – ‘you weren’t driving an F1 racing car, the engine was stuck to the rails.’ Yes, but was it? It could only go 25mph on that line, but it felt like 70, and when it approached bends I feared it would run off the rails because I had so little control – and when you first put the brakes on or push the regulator in, it doesn’t seem to react. Apparently when it was a working engine it could go up to 100mph. They said it still could, but there wasn’t enough track!
All I had to think about were the controls, and while Johnny was watching me, telling me what to do and helping where necessary to push and pull things, the other two blokes had plenty to do. I was very glad they were there. The older one looked after the running of the engine, coal, boiler pressure etc., which I suppose a traditional fireman does anyway. The other man did indeed keep watch and shout about signals, and when we passed a station, we slowed the engine and he had to lean out with a token which was exchanged for another by a man on the platform. You do that when its a single track line. All three of them were very jolly, friendly and supportive to me. I think they all genuinely enjoy riding on the engine anyhow.
Driving home afterwards, I said to Philosopher, once again, how lucky we had been in the jobs we had to do in our working lives, not exposed to physical hardship or effort. Being a steam locomotive engine driver may have been the romantic fantasy of many small boys, but in reality it is incredibly, unbelievably hot – and of course it would be simultaneously freezing cold/wet in bad weather. It is very physically demanding as well as being incredibly responsible. I had to wear thick gloves – the metal levers were so hot (and oily/grimy) I couldn’t touch them with bare hands. The three blokes all had leathery, calloused palms.
As time went on, I felt more in control of the thing, and stopped fearing that I was going to show myself – and all womenkind – up, by passing out from the heat, more relaxed and more appreciative of the experience. The engine is indeed a star. There were waving people on every bridge, and we passed a camp-site with lots more waving people. I got so keen on waving back to them that I almost forgot my job…
We went about 5 miles out, then brought the engine to a halt, I changed it from reverse to forward, and we set off 5 miles back home, with substantially more chuffing and smoke belching because much of it was uphill. (Or again, was the belching me? We had lunch in Cote in T Wells before going to the train, and I had scoffed a very beany cassoulet… Had to get the strength up, dears.)
The smoke was often black which alarmed me a bit, but was told they had to use poor quality coal which is imported at vast cost from Kazakhstan.
We were only out about an hour, which felt plenty enough. I staggered off weak-kneed, totally soaked through with sweat, and so pleased I had actually done it. I should think my blood pressure must have been through the roof. The package I orginally bought, from Swanage, was half a day – you had half the time as driver, and half as fireperson. I wonder if in reality I could have actually managed that – but then it would have been a much smaller engine.
Was quite sad to say goodby to the Sir Keith Park – those locomotives do feel like live creatures – certainly with minds of their own. Battleaxe has known that engine before, when I was at boarding school in Oxford. He used to pull the Pines Express, which went from Bournemouth to Manchester. At that time, in the 60s, my parents lived in Macclesfield, so I’d get on with a small group of other girls at Oxford, and stay on until Manchester. I remember how excited we all were (or gloomy when it was going the other way) when the maroon carriages with their green signs ‘The Pines Express’ appeared. Don’t remember much about the engine though. Us gels weren’t supposed to be interested in such things. In Oxford, Matron would get on first and find us an empty compartment…
All in all, I was thrilled to have the opportunity to drive a locomotive like that – rare for a beginner and an older womanish beginner at that – and I really feel I have achieved a life-time ambition, but I’m not sure I’d want to do it again. I was definitely learning – by the end I could bring the locomotive to a halt without flinging all the imaginary passengers to the floor, but there was so, so much to do – and it was soooo hot!
Enough of this! It is later on Sunday and I now have another enormous excitement to write about… but it’ll have to wait. Watch this space!
