Tubewhore (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} tubewhore) wrote,@ 2007-11-04 12:58:00 |
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| Entry tags: | central line, closed stations, epping, north weald, ongar |
Epping to Ongar
The rain lashed our train as we rattled our way beyond the confines of the M25, chattering amongst ourselves. The only other occupant of the carriage was sandwiched between K and C, and eventually we had to apologise for the Famous Five outing she had accidentally stumbled into. Shivering in the inclement weather, the gallant troupe huddled together against the rain on Epping Station, the far terminus of the Central Line. We're here to ride up and don a heritage railway and hopefully to see a bit of the forest, but the weather is not making tramping about outside a pleasant prospect.
Even before heading outside to catch the vintage bus to whisk us away to North Weald, there were Interesting Things to discover at the station. K noticed part of a message written in the grime on the carriage door. Sadly as the doors stayed open the rest of the cryptic script remained hidden:
And here's Englishness distilled to a single phrase; bodily comfort and the fuel that drives the entire country:
Obligatory signage shot:
A plaque on the wall outside the tation marks this as the start of the Essex Way. K is a little suspicious of 'countryside', being at heart a little street urchin with grubby knees. C, being an Essex lad, offers to show K 'the Essex Way' up close and personal...
Today, is a Special Event Day for the Epping to Ongar Railway, promising Halloween spookiness, and instead of having to take the 501 bus to North Weald, we're treated to a vintage London Bus that rolls up to convey us into the Essex countryside. The 'vintage bus' is something familiar to many Londoners, being in fact one of the old Routemaster buses, which until very recently weren't vintage at all, but a regular part of service stock on London streets, despite not having been in production for over forty years. Their removal was a sad triumph of Health & Safety over nostalgia and good design. Due to their age, keeping them on the road meant a constant scratching around for parts, but the public loved them, and they were an iconic part of London's visual history. There was a distinct pride in keeping the old beasts going through sheer love and ingenuity. When I was working for Transport for London over a dozen of the old buses were bought back from enthusiasts to increase capacity on the 73 route, and we were always being asked where you could hire one for weddings and events. But even public affection couldn't save them from cold, clammy breath of the Disability Discrimination Act. As they can't be converted for wheelchair access or pushchairs, and little old ladies find climbing on the back step hard, they were finally mothballed in favour of single operator buses (no conducters anymore).
They're still hugely popular, and it was great fun to sit on the top deck of one of them again. The nice thing about RML's was they have an open platform at the back, so if you were stuck in traffic you could just hop off the back. And of course if you'd missed the bus you could chase the thing up the road...and of course a certain Darwinian Selection came into force as people hurled themselves into moving traffic. While at TfL I had to write several letters of condolence regarding people killed as a result of mis-timed attempts to board. I take their removal from service as symbolic of the general softening up of the travelling public; hopping off a moving bus without breaking your neck was a gladiatorial sport, and as any fule noes you were doing something dangerous and not allowed - that was half the fun. If you broke a limb it was well and truly your own damn fault. At a certain point one has to take personal responsibility for one's actions and not going looking to sue someone everytime you hurt yourself doing something clearly daft.
Cuddling on the back seat:
They're still hugely popular, and it was great fun to sit on the top deck of one of them again. The nice thing about RML's was they have an open platform at the back, so if you were stuck in traffic you could just hop off the back. And of course if you'd missed the bus you could chase the thing up the road...and of course a certain Darwinian Selection came into force as people hurled themselves into moving traffic. While at TfL I had to write several letters of condolence regarding people killed as a result of mis-timed attempts to board. I take their removal from service as symbolic of the general softening up of the travelling public; hopping off a moving bus without breaking your neck was a gladiatorial sport, and as any fule noes you were doing something dangerous and not allowed - that was half the fun. If you broke a limb it was well and truly your own damn fault. At a certain point one has to take personal responsibility for one's actions and not going looking to sue someone everytime you hurt yourself doing something clearly daft.
Cuddling on the back seat:
Our lovely old bus took us up to North Weald to meet the train. Until the mid 90's the Central Line went out as far as Ongar on a branch line from Epping but was closed due to falling numbers making it uncommercial. However thanks to a local railway group the line has been re-opened as a heritage railway operating only on Sundays and Bank Holidays to trundle people back and forth for no particular reason other than you can, and the view out the window is pretty. Today staff were dressed in Halloween silliness with the usual crop of witches, monsters, reapers and knives through the head. Little paper and glitter bats flutterd in the carriages and carved pumpkins spelt out the station names. Real ale was available on board, and I'd brought pastries and satsumas for a picnic atmosphere as we headed through the autumnal forest, beautiful even in the drizzle.
We rattled back to Epping, stopping 800m from where we'd got off the tube. There are plans to build a picnic area here and possibly to connect up to the station at Epping. Currently the train just stops for a bit, then starts on the way back to North Weald, and on to Ongar in the other direction. We get out at Ongar, the furthest one could get. Our train is only going to be in the station for a few minutes so it's either five minutes in Ongar or an hour. We decide to have a look around, even in the rain, and maybe find a pub. After all, when are we next going to be out beyond the city limits? We stride off to find a rather lovely church, actual Tudor buildings now the home of a balloon shop, and a closed suburban town enjoying a quiet Sunday afternoon indoors in the warm.
The chap manning the railway shop was expressive in his disgust at just how much the bloody pumpkins had cost this year. Sainsbury's should sponser them perhaps? But the pumpkins do add that final touch of Halloween jollity.
Yes, it make me feel tough to clamber on large piece of machinery; I don't need any Freudian analysis thank you...
I suspect vampires live here, guarded by human slaves.
My shots of Ongar itself were dark so, for a different perspective on the dayfailing_angel has a set up at flick here:
After a short sojourn in the pub we took the train back to North Weald and the bus back to Epping. On board, we asked the easiest way to get into the forest itself and the driver offered to drop us off on route back to North Weald for the next train out. However, time was marching on for me, and I had a different connection to make at Paddington, so would need to leave my companions to kick through the leaves, play on pretend speeder bikes and build witches houses without me. However, we only really processed this information only once the bus was underway, meaning I was heading the wrong way for a long wait at North Weald. So taking advantage of the Routemasters unique advantage over modern buses, one last time, I waited till the bus was stopped at traffic lights and blithely hoped off, waving goodbye as I trundle back down the hill to Epping station. God I miss those buses!
I did briefly toy with the idea of taking an Epping train all the way to West Ruislip which is the furthest one can travel on the London Underground in a single jouney - 34 miles taking 81 minutes, but it would be cutting it close to get back from West Ruislip to Paddington. I had time, but perhaps notthat much time, so instead contented myself with collecting one more station, Loughton, before the homeward journey
All told, I shouldn't have got so cold and wet out in the rain, but a lovely day of talking nonsense with friends on a silly Sunday adventure into the windy wilds of Essex. Two proper stations collected, and two closed stations, last seen on the official map here in 1986.
We rattled back to Epping, stopping 800m from where we'd got off the tube. There are plans to build a picnic area here and possibly to connect up to the station at Epping. Currently the train just stops for a bit, then starts on the way back to North Weald, and on to Ongar in the other direction. We get out at Ongar, the furthest one could get. Our train is only going to be in the station for a few minutes so it's either five minutes in Ongar or an hour. We decide to have a look around, even in the rain, and maybe find a pub. After all, when are we next going to be out beyond the city limits? We stride off to find a rather lovely church, actual Tudor buildings now the home of a balloon shop, and a closed suburban town enjoying a quiet Sunday afternoon indoors in the warm.
The chap manning the railway shop was expressive in his disgust at just how much the bloody pumpkins had cost this year. Sainsbury's should sponser them perhaps? But the pumpkins do add that final touch of Halloween jollity.
Yes, it make me feel tough to clamber on large piece of machinery; I don't need any Freudian analysis thank you...
I suspect vampires live here, guarded by human slaves.
My shots of Ongar itself were dark so, for a different perspective on the day
failing_angel has a set up at flick here:After a short sojourn in the pub we took the train back to North Weald and the bus back to Epping. On board, we asked the easiest way to get into the forest itself and the driver offered to drop us off on route back to North Weald for the next train out. However, time was marching on for me, and I had a different connection to make at Paddington, so would need to leave my companions to kick through the leaves, play on pretend speeder bikes and build witches houses without me. However, we only really processed this information only once the bus was underway, meaning I was heading the wrong way for a long wait at North Weald. So taking advantage of the Routemasters unique advantage over modern buses, one last time, I waited till the bus was stopped at traffic lights and blithely hoped off, waving goodbye as I trundle back down the hill to Epping station. God I miss those buses!
I did briefly toy with the idea of taking an Epping train all the way to West Ruislip which is the furthest one can travel on the London Underground in a single jouney - 34 miles taking 81 minutes, but it would be cutting it close to get back from West Ruislip to Paddington. I had time, but perhaps notthat much time, so instead contented myself with collecting one more station, Loughton, before the homeward journey
All told, I shouldn't have got so cold and wet out in the rain, but a lovely day of talking nonsense with friends on a silly Sunday adventure into the windy wilds of Essex. Two proper stations collected, and two closed stations, last seen on the official map here in 1986.
