‘duke’ over shap
IAN MURRAY recalls the thrilling experience of travelling with Duke of Gloucester on its preservation debut run over Shap - and how it made short work of the formidable bank.
The Riddles ‘8P’ proves its mettle against a ‘Duchess’ and an ‘A4’
Duke of Gloucester had much to prove. An indifferent British Railways service record had scarred its reputation, but main line performances after its remarkable preservation resurrection had begun to quell some of its more vociferous critics. The imaginative 1995 Shap Trials would pitch No. 71000 against ‘Princess Coronation’ No. 46229 Duchess of Hamilton and ‘A4’ No. 60007 Sir Nigel Gresley. The intention was to run individual, single-headed trains over the famous bank, with as equal a load as possible. Additionally, they would be restricted to 60mph at Tebay so that the ascent would begin with as much equality as possible. There would remain many variables (as events would later show) but the prospect was mouthwatering. The ‘A4’ opened the trials on the West Coast Main Line - and its performance was ultimately considered to be underwhelming. There was a recognition among the ‘Duke’ team that the ‘Duchess’, back on home ground, would give No. 71000 a run for its money, and there was, therefore, a clear desire to set a time which would stretch No. 46229. I was fortunate to have a place on the second run with No. 71000 and, although I wasn’t closely involved with the engine back then, I felt privileged to be helping place the distinctive lozenge-shaped ‘Royal Scot’ headboard on the front of its smokebox the night before the October 2 run, at Crewe Heritage Centre. I found it hard to take in the fact that we were standing so close to the ‘Duke’s’ old depot at Crewe North and that in just a few hours’ time, we would be heading north to, hopefully, dispel some of the myths which had grown around No. 71000 during the locomotive’s short working life. To be fair, some of the criticism was justified and not merely myth, arising from Duke of Gloucester being a one-off, and requiring a different style of driving and firing to the LMS ‘Big Lizzies’, which the men were used to. Certainly, modifications to the front end and the ashpan damper doors, undertaken during the locomotive’s long and difficult restoration, seemed to have helped correct its shortcomings, if all that I’d heard and read was correct. The fact that we were to run up the busy West Coast Main Line the following day again seemed unreal. There was a tendency (at least on my part) to still visualise the sets of troughs, the bankers at Oxenholme and Tebay, the signal box at Scout Green and the locomotives simmering in a number of sheds, ready to leap into action if a problem arose. The following dawn was cloudy, and a plume of steam, obviously from the ‘Duke’s’ safety valves, encouraged us to break into a run. We scampered down onto the platform to find the ‘Duke’ and its support coach already coupled up to the main body of the train. We quickly found the support crew, with whom I would be travelling, and they seemed to be in good spirits. I also sighted our driver for the day - Ray Hatton, or ‘Panky’, leaning from the cabside. He was clearly fixated on one thing - getting away on time. The excitement of those milling around was now palpable. There was also the strong feeling of “this is it” - as well as an undercurrent of anxiety for things to go well. Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, I flattened myself against the curved side of the support coach, with my head between the opened sliding window vents. Having drawn the whole train out onto the main line, the ‘Duke’ was opened up and, for the first time that day, we heard the harsh sound of its exhaust. Acceleration was lively, despite the 434-ton load (consisting of 11 coaches). All too soon the brakes went on for the crossover from the slow tracks to the fast lines and shortly thereafter there were other permanent way hindrances. Eventually, the ‘Duke’ got a clear path and began to pick up speed. Warrington and Wigan North Western stations flew by. The brakes were re-applied as we approached Preston. We rolled under the overall roof at about 15mph, whereupon the driver opened up and sounded the whistle. At the same time, the safety valves lifted and unsuspecting platform bystanders were treated to the marvellous sight and sound of the ‘Duke’ stamping through the station, making the maximum noise and fuss, all of which echoed and reverberated under the glass canopy. We pulled into the loop at Barton for a quick water stop. With a wave to the road tanker driver and a blast on the whistle for the benefit of onlookers, No. 71000 moved off and regained the main line. Now there was a definite sense of purpose. With all the preliminaries taken care of, excitement and anticipation for the main show was growing. The engine accelerated hard, heading across the flat Lancashire plain. The further north we went, the more the weather closed in. By the time we reached Lancaster and swept through on one of the middle roads, the rain was beating down. It was as if the gods of the Fell Country had decided to provide a typical wet autumn day and shiny rails to boot, to test the claim that the ‘Duke’s’ restorers had solved the problems of Riddles’ ‘8P’. It was shaping up to be an interesting climb.
Looming hills
As we rushed through the sad remains of Carnforth station at 75mph, a phrase from one of O.S. Nock’s books sprang to mind: “With 250 miles in the fireman’s arms and legs, the hills of Lakeland were looming in the cab spectacle glasses” and I stuck my head out into the wind, rain and steam to look forward to where those same hills were waiting for us. The start of the long climb to Grayrigg was reached. The driver lengthened the cut-off and opened Duke of Gloucester out to some effect; the staccato roar from the chimney top was so loud it rendered conversation in the support coach impossible. We had to cup our hands around ears and shout to make ourselves heard. I looked at the support crew and considered the obstacles they had overcome to make this day possible. I wondered how many times they must have felt that a day such as this would be never be anything more than a dream. I put my face out of the window again. Cinders beat against my glasses as I watched the ‘Duke’ follow the sinuous curves of the track. Where there were rock cuttings, the rain was cascading down in torrents, and the locomotive’s exhaust would batter back with even greater intensity, but there was no suggestion of the 4-6-2 losing its feet. Small occupation overbridges would snatch away the sound for a second or so until the support coach dived through the
The further north we went, the more the weather closed in.
‘Panky’ began to beat the cabside as if he were a jockey.
lingering steam, whereupon the exhaust roar would return with seemingly greater intensity. Apart from a permanent way slack of 60mph just before Milnthorpe, our speed remained in the high 60s for the next 13 miles. Oxenholme sheds, or rather the place where they once stood, flew past and we hammered through the curving platforms. Oxenholme! What images that name conjures up... I remembered the number of photographs I had seen over the years taken at that location, in particular the streamlined ‘Pacifics’ sweeping down the incline with that famous backdrop of trees, the small signal cabin and the skyscraper LNWR lower quadrant - all now long gone. Also, the story told by O.S. Nock of how, as a boy on his way home to Barrowin-Furness, he was changing trains at Oxenholme when he realised that the Down 2.00pm Corridor was due and he decided to wait and see it pass. He could hear it coming for many minutes and when it finally charged through the station it was double-headed by a ‘Precursor’ and a ‘Claughton’. The name of the former engine is given as Sirocco and as ‘Ozzie’ himself said: “hot wind from the south indeed!” The sight and sound of the ‘Duke’ emerging out of the rain and mist must therefore have been dramatic for the bystanders beneath the canopies, but they would have been aware of our approach for some time, as no amount of rain would have muffled the continuous, machine gun-like noise from the chimney.
Rain and thunder
Out onto the curve at Hay Fell we strode, No. 71000 holding 61mph, the exhaust startling birds and other animals, and the rain falling relentlessly. That speed was maintained for the remainder of the climb to Grayrigg summit, after which it rose to 67mph before the locomotive was throttled back for the run through the Lune Gorge. The 20-mile climb from Carnforth to Grayrigg had taken less than 19 minutes, during which the ‘Duke’ had averaged about 63mph on 60% cut-off, with boiler pressure dropping to about 200lb/sq in by the summit. The noise was the loudest - and the best - syncopated music I’d ever heard. Speed was allowed to fall as we ran past Lowgill and on towards Dillicar; as mentioned, participants in the trials were required to pass Tebay at no more than 60mph. The remains of Tebay station came into view, with the expanse of open ground where the bankers for Shap used to snooze between outings, but there was little time for reminiscing now - Shap was immediately ahead. The rain was falling with even greater determination; visibility was deteriorating; and my face and bald head were stinging, owing to the combined assault of cold, rain and cinders. I clung grimly to the window vent. As we reached the foot of the incline, Duke of Gloucester was opened up with a vengeance. The characteristic rasping chatter sang out as the engine took the long rising left curve, past the Tebay Relay room and on towards the M6 overbridge and the cutting immediately beyond. ‘Panky’ looked back at the full length of the train and all the smiling faces - and grinned back! Suddenly, out came his left arm and, gripping an imaginary riding crop, he began to beat the cabside as if he were a jockey. I found myself laughing out loud at the absurdity of the whole thing - a train full of Peter Pans, willing an obsolete prime mover, pulling obsolete rolling stock, to put up a performance better than that achieved over 40 years ago. It was, of course, dramatically inferior to what is achieved day in and day out by today’s motive power. That said, 185mph on Eurostar couldn’t quicken my pulse or lift my spirits like this, and yes, there could be no doubt as to the romance of steam power and the spirit of teamwork necessary to achieve what we all hoped lay ahead. However, nothing would be achieved unless the firemen were willing to get their shirts wet. Smoke and steam flattened out on the concrete underside of the motorway bridge and we blasted into the narrow rock cutting. The noise was tremendous, hammering back from the black rain-sodden rock. The cutting gave way to an embankment as the track took the long right-hand curve towards the overbridge at Greenholme. The rain swirled across the low fell country in vast sheets, and the clouds seemed lower than ever, but even on this exposed stretch of line the ‘Duke’ remained surefooted and was still holding 57mph. A large and sodden gallery of photographers came into view as the road bridge drew near and multiple flash guns burst into action. We dived under the bridge and on through the short cutting beyond, before the track began to swing left again and the locomotive came back into my view.
Act of defiance
The gradient was now making its presence felt, but I suspect that the driver was feeding the reverser forward bit by bit to counteract the effects as, though there was clearly some slowing of our progress, it was only slight. The exhaust was shooting ever higher and there was a real feeling of defiance in the face of both gradient and weather. I was now looking out for the site of Scout Green signal box, that lonely outpost halfway up Shap bank. We hammered up the exposed embankment and suddenly there was the roadway, the space which the box had occupied for so many years. Briefly, my thoughts turned to the many engines and crews that had toiled past that spot, particularly Hardwicke on its epic ‘Race to the North’. We were now on to the upper section of the four-mile bank but the ‘Duke’ was still holding 51mph and showing the white feather from the safety valve that proved it was on top of the job. The noise by now was incredible as No. 71000 literally charged its way towards the summit showing complete mastery over its task. There was no doubt that the massed ranks of cold and wet photographers would instantly forget their discomfort at the sight, sound and fury emerging from the worst that Shap could throw at us. Remarkably, over the last half-mile to the summit, in the shelter of the rock cutting, the ‘Duke’ actually increased speed from the 51mph held from Scout Green box to 55mph at the summit! The train leaned to the right-hand curve past the site of the summit box and, on closing the regulator, the locomotive immediately blew off from both safety valves. What a marvellous vindication of the soundness of Riddles’ basic design and Tom Daniels’ fabulous use of Caprotti valve gear and a triumph for the changes made by the restoration team, which corrected some of the small errors that blighted the ‘Duke’s’ short BR career. What a triumph also for the footplate crew, who had shown complete mastery of their steed. There was jubilation in the support coach, a clear recognition that the run the previous Saturday by Sir Nigel Gresley had been bettered and that a real gauntlet had been thrown down for the ‘Duchess’, which had yet to run. Everyone wanted to know the speed at the summit, but no one really cared that much as the experience of the whole climb from Carnforth onwards was something that we all felt privileged to have participated in; the memory would be unlikely to fade with time. With the summit behind us, speed increased rapidly, but no-one took much notice. More water was taken at Penrith. I leaned out of the window and continued to reflect. Although we were stationary and the locomotive was silent (apart from the odd hiss and gurgle) my head remained filled with the continuous roar of the climbs. We reached Carlisle without further drama. The boiler top was dirty, the smokebox and chimney dulled and streaks of filth covered what had been pristine paintwork. The ‘Duchess’ later failed to beat the ‘Duke’s’ feat, allegedly because one of the safety valves was blowing off light, although it bettered the time set by the ‘A4’. The ‘Duke’ had laid the ghosts to rest. More than two decades on, it appears likely that the ‘Duke’ will be back in action during the spring of 2019 when we will once again be able to marvel at the performance of this unique machine. Shap again, anyone?