THE ‘RIGHT TYPE OF TOURIST’
Those behind the Lynton & Barnstaple Railway Company must have viewed the GWR’S proposal with dread. The GWR’S publicity machine could have very well turned Lynton into the next Torquay. Newnes now knew he was diabetic and increasingly saw Lynton as a place of convalescence. He wanted to attract tourists for sure, but they had to be the right type of tourist – and there couldn’t be too many of them. Narrow gauge, claimed the railway company, would enable a railway to Lynton to be built cheaply, and transporter wagons could avoid the problematic break of gauge. Locals saw Barnstaple as their regional ‘capital’ so that was the right destination for a railway, even though Lynton Town Council’s 1895 traffic report stated that the number of tourists that arrived from Ilfracombe or Minehead was double the amount from Barnstaple. Sir James Szlumper’s estimate of the cost to build the Lynton & Barnstaple came in at just £50,410. The GWR quoted more than double that, at £104,359 7s 9d for its standard gauge line from Filleigh. GWR engineer Crawford Barlow claimed that Szlumper’s figures were unrealistic, but no one was listening. Sir George Newnes was Lynton’s saviour, and whatever railway he backed was the one that would get built. The fact that contractor Nuttall tried to claim an extra £22,000 to blast rock under Exmoor that he didn’t expect to find suggests that Barlow, son of St Pancras roof’s designer William, may have been right all along. Bankruptcy for the contractor seemed to be an omen for the railway’s financial future.
The Lynton & Barnstaple Railway Bill received Royal Assent on June 27 1895. Trains started running on May 11 1898. You only have to look at the stations to see that the Lynton & Barnstaple Railway was doomed from the start. Bratton Fleming and Parracombe were the largest villages on the route. Bratton Fleming station was sizeable enough but still a way from the village itself. Parracombe’s station was closer to the village but was only given a very basic halt. The stations best associated with the L&B are the three ‘Swiss chalets’ at Blackmoor Gate, Woody Bay and the terminus at Lynton. Lynton’s station was poorly sited, unless you were Sir George Newnes – he reputedly chose the location because he couldn’t see it from his house. You definitely can’t see it from the town and weary travellers arriving from Lynton faced a trek of a mile or so down a very steep hill to reach the town. The less said about starting a journey from Lynton – and the climb up Sinai Hill – the better! Blackmoor Gate was the biggest intermediate station and served a crossroads, a hotel and a cattle auction. Newnes’ grand plan for a road connection to Ilfracombe was short-lived. Stage coaches took too long, but speeding fines from the two new motor coaches led to them being sold to the GWR after only a few months. Matters at Woody Bay, the smallest of the Swiss chalets, were worse. London solicitor Benjamin Greene-lake bought the Wooda Bay estate with a view to turning it into a holiday resort for well-to-do patrons. Greene-lake built hotels, constructed roads and even started work on a pier. He gave the nascent Lynton & Barnstaple Railway land at a remote spot called Mortehoe Cross for a station to access the new resort. The fact that this station was three miles away from the sea didn’t seem to bother anyone; the railway would simply build a connecting branch line. The dream died when Greene-lake was sent to prison in 1901 on embezzlement charges. The estate was sold and Woody Bay station served only the adjacent hotel. The Lynton & Barnstaple Railway paid a dividend of ½% to its shareholders just twice: once in 1913 and again in 1919. As the 1920s progressed, it consistently made a loss and the decision was taken to sell the L&B to the London & South Western Railway.
In the event, it was the four-month-old Southern Railway that paid £39,267 for the assets of the Lynton & Barnstaple Railway. But the spending didn’t stop under Southern ownership. It ordered a new locomotive from Manning Wardle, eight new bogie wagons from J.F. Howard of Bedford and even two war surplus breakdown cranes. Arguably more used to maintaining electrified commuter railways than narrow gauge backwaters, the Southern insisted on expensive track renewals, re-laying the whole line at least once during its ownership and even installing concrete sleepers. What the Southern couldn’t halt was the attitudes of British holidaymakers. The average working class British family wanted big, bold resorts that were easy to get to and offered sandy beaches and lots of activities. North Devon villages with pebble beaches were not at the top of the list, no matter how picturesque they were or how many interesting rocks there were nearby, especially when they required changes of trains and long walks up hills to get to the station. Private car ownership was another nail in its coffin. The Lynton & Barnstaple simply couldn’t compete with the modern world. Despite the fact that the Southern’s marketing department went into overdrive on the L&B, the railway continued to lose £5,000 per year. Yet the Civil Engineering department still felt that £2,000 needed to be spent on upgrading the track each year for six years. The die was cast: Lynton & Barnstaple Railway would close on September 29, the last day of the 1935 summer timetable.