Cockermouth to Eskdale Great British Railway Journeys

In 1840, one man transformed travel in Britain.

His name was George Bradshaw

and his railway guides inspired the Victorians to take to the tracks.

Stop by stop, he told them where to travel,

what to see and where to stay.

Now, 170 years later, I'm making a series of journeys across the length

and breadth of the country to see what of Bradshaw's Britain remains.

My Bradshaw's is now steering me through Cumbria.

You might expect me to be headed for the Lake District,

but first, my journey takes me along the sea,

on the railway which, as Bradshaw says,

"Skirts the best part of the Cumberland coast."

Actually, it all looks pretty good to me.

On today's part of my journey,

I'll be taking a train from coast to mountain-top.

A little smut hits the eye to remind you of the joys of steam travel.

Gaining rare access to an industry that divides opinion worldwide -

nuclear power.

And it is absolutely massive.

The golf ball itself is probably about 60m high.

And attending the revelation of an extremely rare Cumberland luck.

This is, I must say, a rather emotional moment, isn't it?

This journey began on the Scottish border and is taking me

across the spectacular scenery of England at its narrowest point,

coast to coast, finishing up on the picturesque Isle of Man.

Today's run starts in

Cockermouth, near the Cumbrian coast,

and then I'll travel south

to the nuclear facility at Sellafield,

ending the day in marvellous countryside at Ravenglass.

I'm now headed for Cockermouth, which Bradshaw's informs me

is situated at the junction of the Cocker and the Derwent,

and he reminds me that the poet William Wordsworth is a native

and apparently is commemorated at St Mary's Church

with a memorial window.

Cockermouth stands on the north-western edge

of the Lake District.

A railway to carry coal from the West Cumberland pits

for shipment by sea was opened between the town

and the coast at Workington as early as 1847.

Once a passenger railway arrived in 1865,

the town flourished, as Victorian tourists flocked to the lakes

where the poet Wordsworth once lived.

As a Romantic writer, much stimulated by nature,

Wordsworth absorbed the landscapes surrounding the town

profoundly into his verses.

Sadly, Cockermouth station was closed in 1966,

so I've alighted at Workington, the closest point on the railway.

Reminiscing on his childhood, Wordsworth wrote,

"What joy was mine! How often in the course

"Of those glad respites, though a soft west wind

"Ruffled the waters to the angler's wish,

"For a whole day together, have I lain

"Down by thy side, O, Derwent! Murmuring stream."

If Bradshaw could enthuse about engineering,

why shouldn't the poet wax lyrical about water?

The isolated yet awe-inspiring landscape and the water

and mineral wealth contained within it, had proved attractive to

Victorian and modern-day visitors, artists and industries alike.

Water is key to Cockermouth,

being situated at the confluence of two rivers.

I've come here to visit a brewery, established at this spot in 1828,

precisely because of the purity of the waters

that Wordsworth eulogised.

In the 19th century,

British beer and brewing set the gold standard around the world.

In fact, Bass Ale from Burton-on-Trent is credited

as the world's first global brand,

as it was exported to so many countries.

Head brewer Jeremy Pettman is meeting me in the pump room.

There you have the brewery well - 80 feet deep.

I understand that the quality of water

is very important in the making of beer.

That's right, Michael. The water quality's absolutely paramount.

The water comes off the fells, it permeates down through

the rock strata to the east of the town itself.

It forms an artesian well source at the bottom of the brewery here.

We think that the water's been used since Norman times

and actually supplied the castle next door to the brewery.

By the 1870s, science and potent new technologies

had revolutionised the brewing industry.

It had metamorphosed from a cottage industry to a highly scientific

process utilising advances such as steam power and cooling systems.

Even microscopes, which were first introduced by brewers

trying to perfect beer yeast.

Staggeringly, after cotton spinning, brewing was one of the most

important industries in Britain in terms of sheer numbers employed

and the cash that it generated.

As I came in, I noticed your buildings are historic.

Do you pride yourselves really on brewing beer as it

used to be done in the 19th century?

This is a traditional brewery.

Whilst we've done a lot of improvement work over the years,

we've tended to maintain that traditionality.

We're a heritage industry, this is heritage brewing

and we're very proud of it.

The weather systems that cause an above average rainfall

in this area, and hence plentiful pure water,

can also be unpredictable and violent,

as Cockermouth found to its cost in recent history.

We all remember the terrible floods that afflicted Cockermouth in 2009.

What happened here?

Where you're stood at the moment, the well was completely covered.

You'd probably be somewhere waist deep,

maybe just above waist deep in water.

That obviously covered the well, it made it unusable.

The water actually came up in very quick fashion,

probably two, two and a half hours, and by one o'clock,

we had to pull the plug on the brewery itself

and literally just walk away and leave the water to its own devices.

Thankfully, after nine weeks of hard work over Christmas

and the New Year, the brewery resumed production.

I think it's time to sample some beer,

and see whether I can taste this Cumbria water, so loved by the poet.

We are exactly, as Bradshaw described it,

at the junction of the Cocker and the Derwent.

-All the best.

-Your very, very good health.

-Cheers.

-Cheers.

The only thing that worries me is rain is coming on

and lovely though your water is, I don't want to get any in my beer.

Not a problem.

There's a saying around here that every drop of rain that falls

is another pint of Cockermouth ale.

Good saying.

Despite its powerful potential for destruction, the abundant water in

this beautiful landscape has clearly inspired both writers and brewers.

I've travelled to Whitehaven railway station,

nestled on the Cumbrian coast, to catch the train to a place

where the local water is used for something much more controversial.

An industry that both fuels our modern world,

but also furious debate.

Sellafield was once just a country railway station that

Victorian tourists used to access the delights

of local seaside resorts.

But its nature changed in the 1950s when it became home to Calder Hall,

the world's first commercial nuclear power station.

Power is at the heart of any modern society.

During the Industrial Revolution that so enthralled Bradshaw,

the steam engine moved man forward for the first time

from pure dependence on muscle and sweat.

I'm on my way now to see a new source of energy

developed during the 20th century whose impact was every bit

as revolutionary as the steam engine had been in its day.

In Bradshaw's day, the energy for homes,

industry and railways came from the burning of coal,

which provided a staggering 95% of Britain's energy needs.

But today, oil and natural gas are the nation's major fuel sources,

with nuclear power providing a sixth of our electricity.

It's hoped that these reactors will eventually make it possible

to produce power 20 times more cheaply than conventional methods,

and will, incredibly, make more fuel than it uses.

Nuclear power stations generate electricity from energy produced

by the fission, or splitting, of uranium atoms.

But its enormous potential comes with a problem.

Nuclear power generation produces spent fuel, containing

dangerous radioactive waste, which has to be dealt with safely

and stored for many hundreds, if not thousands, of years.

Sellafield now specialises in reprocessing spent nuclear fuel

and decommissioning facilities, and both local water

and the railways play a vital role in this controversial work.

I'm meeting Chris Halliwell, as this nuclear plant

is painstakingly disassembled or decommissioned.

As I understand it then,

we are now alongside a prototype nuclear reactor,

and you have decommissioned it, taken it out of service.

-How important is that?

-It's a significant achievement, Michael.

It's the first power-generating nuclear reactor in the UK

to be fully decommissioned.

What does decommissioning mean?

We've effectively shut down the station.

We've removed all of the fuel elements that were inside.

That machine there is controlling a robotic arm

that you can see on the other screen here.

That disappears down into the reactor,

very deep, and that's what we've used to cut up and remove

all of the various components inside the reactor core.

The spent nuclear fuel is stored in large cooling ponds.

They're fed with water siphoned from Wast Water,

the Lake District's deepest lake,

which Wordsworth described as "long, stern and desolate."

These waters have now been harnessed to a modern use.

How long has that little job taken you?

It's taken the best part of 20 years to complete the reactor

to where we are now and we finished about May 2011.

Many of the 441 nuclear power stations in the world today will

come to the end of their operational lives in the next few decades.

Being able safely to recover and store radioactive waste

is fundamental to the future of nuclear generation.

Do we have to content ourselves with watching this on television,

-or can we get down there?

-Absolutely not, Michael.

Perfectly clean and safe to go downstairs.

If you want to follow me, we can have a look.

I've been given incredibly rare access to the inside of the reactor

that Chris and his team are decommissioning.

Here we are, Michael. We're inside

the golf ball, the famous iconic structure at Sellafield,

and most people are familiar with it from the outside,

but very few have had the opportunity

to see it from this angle.

It is absolutely massive.

What kind of dimensions are we dealing with here?

The golf ball itself is probably about 60m high and we're now

sat on top of the reactor itself

and that extends maybe 25m down below us.

This was a prototype, so how does this compare in size

to the production models that were built?

It's an exact one-fifth scale replica

of a full-size advanced gas reactor.

Nuclear materials travel across the length and breadth of Britain

hundreds of times each year, with spent nuclear fuel being carried

by train to Sellafield for reprocessing.

Brian Howell, from the Nuclear Decommissioning Authority,

is meeting me at Sellafield's dedicated railway sidings.

This is clearly a very special train. What exactly does it carry?

These trains carry specially designed flasks that contain

a potential range of nuclear materials

brought to Sellafield to be reprocessed.

You're taking spent nuclear fuel from power stations,

whether in the UK or abroad.

The stuff's brought here, reprocessed,

and the stuff that's useful is then sent back to the UK or to

-the customer abroad wherever it is, and all by rail.

-Yeah.

In the UK, railway is the preferred route of transport.

A tried, tested, safe route.

How do you know they're safe,

because they could be involved in a rail accident, couldn't they?

Since 1992, we've travelled over ten million miles transporting

nuclear materials without an accident.

However, a number of years ago, they did do, obviously,

a thorough series of safety tests.

That included crashing a locomotive with two carriages

into one of these flasks.

After the crash, the locomotive was virtually written off.

However, the flask only had a couple of scratches

and a minor dent in it, so that gives us the confidence

that this is an extremely safe way of transporting these materials.

Transporting nuclear fuel by train has led to special engineering

within these wagons to protect their radioactive cargo.

If I could see inside those boxes, what would I find?

Inside the box is, in essence,

another highly engineered box which we call a flask,

that is designed to be very secure for impacts

and those kind of reasons, and then within special compartments

within that flask, the fuel is actually protected and loaded.

The fuel flasks can weigh anything from 50 to 150 tonnes

once fully laden and sit on specially engineered

low-loader wagons.

They arrive at the site many times a month by rail,

from the docks at Barrow-in-Furness or from rail-connected

power stations elsewhere in the UK.

With many nuclear facilities, they'll be in fairly isolated

or remote parts of the UK, where perhaps the road network

isn't everything you'd want it to be to transport nuclear materials.

Rail is a tried and tested route

and we think it's the best route for the kind of job that we have to do.

Despite the controversies that surround the use of nuclear power,

I can't help thinking that Bradshaw would have been impressed

that the Victorian technology of metal wheel on metal rail

coexists with processes that rely on human mastery of the atom.

After an absorbing day, I'm heading off to find a hotel for the night.

As ever, I've sought Bradshaw's advice for where to stay.

"Along the coast from Whitehaven, on or near the railway,

"is Muncaster Hall, the seat of Lord Muncaster."

What a place to stay.

This location is spectacular.

In fact, John Ruskin, Victorian poet, artist and critic,

described Muncaster as "the gateway to Paradise."

But Bradshaw's sparked interest in Muncaster not only for the view.

Inside the house, it says, is Henry VI's cup,

who took refuge after the Battle of Hexham in 1464.

Extraordinarily, that cup still exists over 500 years later.

The ancestral family are the Penningtons who, incredibly,

have resided in the castle since 1208.

Peter Frost-Pennington and his father-in-law Patrick

have kindly agreed to show me the cup.

This is, I must say, a rather emotional moment, isn't it?

Yes, people aren't usually allowed to see it. You're very privileged.

I am very privileged indeed.

It's very dirty because we never dare wash it.

It must never leave the place.

And here it is. The Luck of Muncaster.

I feel that I am present at a very special, unique ceremony.

This glass drinking bowl is a rare example of a Cumberland luck -

an object ensuring good fortune for those who possess it.

According to my Bradshaw's,

it was given by Henry VI after the Battle of Hexham.

What was the story?

He was running away with his two friends

and he was found at the tower outside that window

having tried to get shelter in the next-door valley,

but he was denied it.

He was found by the two shepherds

and brought here for two or three weeks.

When he left, he left his drinking bowl behind saying...

as long as it shall remain whole and unbroken,

the Penningtons would always be living and thriving at Muncaster.

What an awesome object, and how moving that it's survived so long.

The evident care that the Penningtons have over centuries

lavished on the bowl is now matched by the hospitality

lavished on their guest as I'm invited to join the family's supper.

Having wined and dined in elegant style.

I'm starting a new day at Ravenglass,

the only coastal village in the Lake District National Park.

The nearest station to Muncaster Castle is Ravenglass.

My Bradshaw's says, "12 miles distant

"is Wastwaster, and the Fells, the principle of which is Scafell,

"3,160 feet high." Luckily, there's a railway

that takes me most of the way.

Big mountain, small train.

'The Ravenglass and Eskdale Railway

'proved popular when it opened in 1875,

'between the sea and Scafell, the highest of the Cumbrian peaks.

'The Victorians used it to enjoy the spectacle

'and majesty of the mountains.

'But, like many railways, it started life with an industrial purpose.

'Peter van Zeller is today's train driver.'

-Hello, Peter.

-Hello!

Great to see you. I'm really looking forward to this ride.

What's the history of the railway?

The railway was built to carry iron ore, for steel making.

They thought it was really suitable for the first steel-making processes.

'Once the iron ore had been ferried from the mines

'on the mountain at Boot to the coast at Ravenglass,

'passengers hopped aboard the empty wagons for the return ascent.

'The railway closed in 1913, after quarrying stopped,

'but a group of rail enthusiasts

'from a miniature railway engineering company

'saved and restored the line during the First World War.'

In the Bradshaw's of the 1920s,

you'll find this ran every day, Christmas Day included.

It carried the mails, it carried everybody's goods,

because the passengers weren't enough to keep the thing solvent.

What about your locomotive? What kind of vintage is that?

This one was built in 1923.

It looks like a miniature of a full-size engine,

but it was designed to do a real job.

It would pull 20 tonnes of stone through the winter,

or turn up and pull the 150 passengers

who might come off the main line railway,

with equal ease.

And it's still doing it 90 years later.

'The railway's dual purpose of ferrying quarried granite

'down from the mountains in winter

'and carrying tourists up in the summer

'kept the line operating until the 1950s.

'Victorian tourists could absorb a breath of fresh air

'in open wagons over seven miles, through two magnificent valleys,

'to the foot of England's highest mountains.

'Today, it's a heritage railway,

'affectionately known in the Cumbrian dialect

'as 'la'al ratty', or 'little railway'.

'I've been looking forward to my trip up to these daunting slopes.'

Travelling with a steam engine in an open-top carriage

is a very special experience.

Of course, you have the constant odour of the smoke in your nose.

It feels at times as if it's raining,

because the vapour from the stack is falling on my face,

and every now and again, a little smut hits the eye,

to remind you of the joys of steam travel.

'I'm told that beyond the last stop,

'the Victorians would also visit Wastwater,

'described as, "a rather fierce and deep stretch of water

'"that has claimed many lives."

'I think for today, the train journey will suffice.'

-That was wonderful. I really enjoyed it.

-Good. Splendid.

Thank you very much indeed.

This seems like a model railway. It feels like a toy.

But I'm rather moved by the idea that once, it had a timetable,

that people relied on it, and that it carried their post.

'I've alighted from this beautiful little steam service at Irton

'to visit a Victorian mansion with extensive landscaped gardens,

'known as Gatehouse.

'Bradshaw describes the countryside

'in Westmoreland, which is now part of Cumbria,

'as, "a region of lofty mountains, naked hills,

'"and bleak, barren moors."

'So I'm intrigued to know

'how a garden could be conjured from such forbidding landscape.

'Local designer Chris Jones is my guide.'

-Hello, Chris.

-Hello.

Good to see you.

What a wonderful estate. What's the history of it?

Like so many of these Northern estates and mansions,

it was basically Northern merchant wealth in Victorian times,

where they wanted to escape the cities,

and establish country seats for themselves,

become country squires, if you like.

'Gatehouse was built in 1896 as a country retreat for the Rea family,

'wealthy Liverpudlian coal and shipping merchants.

'Like many rich Victorian industrialists,

'they wanted both to escape the grime and squalor of the city,

'and to make their mark

'by constructing a thing of beauty and grace

'that would make them the envy of their peers.'

What did they have to do here?

They bought the local farm. All of this was a meadow.

First of all, they flooded the meadow,

and created this tarn, or lake.

They landscaped the whole area.

All of this planting here was put in by them.

They have cascades, they have formal gardens.

They had orchards, and so on.

'Railways, and steam-powered liners, reaching all corners of the globe

'allowed for exploration and discovery,

'opening up the world for well-heeled travellers.

'Back in Britain, the upper classes were keen to recreate

'the unfamiliar and wonderful flora they'd seen.

'So, the Victorian era became the golden age

'for exotic plant collecting, and for radical garden design.'

It was actually designed, at least in part,

by Thomas Mawson, the leading landscape architect of his day.

He came up with the expression 'landscape architecture',

because, prior to that, it would be the architect themselves

who established the gardens.

Thomas Mawson objected to that,

saying they didn't have the sensitivity to create a garden.

'Thomas Mawson reshaped the landscape. Then, in 1914,

'he created a Japanese garden

'for Lord Rea's sons, James and Russell.

'All things Eastern became extremely fashionable during this period,

'as Japan was opened up to the West during the 19th century.

'To have a Japanese garden on your estate was considered

'the height of sophistication.'

So, Michael, can you imagine a nice summer's evening,

the Reas and their guests coming on a woodland promenade,

after their dinner, in their finery,

and being presented with THIS, all of a sudden?

A unique Japanese garden.

The guests must have been very impressed.

These Reas have done something novel, really original,

-and opulent too.

-I think that's right.

A lot of these gardens were inspired

by the 1910 Japan-Britain exhibition,

so you've only got a few gap years there,

so there weren't that many around at the time.

Here we are on a typical Japanese bridge.

What are the characteristics, otherwise, of Japanese gardens?

They were more interested in texture, form.

It could be the rustle of the bamboo, any of those qualities.

It's a different sensibility to British gardening.

The Japanese gardens themselves are meticulously cared for.

Meticulously groomed, and they're pieces of art.

'Chris has been working on the garden for the last 12 years

'and has high hopes that, one day,

'he and a dedicated band of volunteers

'will achieve a tranquil perfection

'that would not feel out of place in Japan.'

As the Industrial Revolution advanced,

poets and artists were gripped by Romanticism.

A love of lakes, and cascades, and chasms.

As Victorians saw their landscape changed by factories and cities,

they too longed for nature in the raw,

and crowded onto trains to take to the hills.

'On the next step of my journey,

'I'll be exploding the myths behind Cumbrian Slate.'

HOOTER WAILS

BANG

That was a much bigger bang than I'd expected.

'Submerging myself in a top-secret world.'

Not much room here, I can tell you.

'And discovering why Victorians loved 'the Hanging Town'.'

-And this is a short drop rope.

-Meaning they'd be strangled.

-They danced on the end of the rope.

-Indeed.

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