The Bingley 5 Rise is the highest set of staircase locks in the country. They're on the Leeds & Liverpool Canal and, together with the 3 rise, lift the waterway from Bingley town centre up on to the hillside. They're made to accommodate Leeds & Liverpool Shortboats, which are 14' wide but only 60' long. The staircase is now 250 years old and the Canal & River Trust organised an event to celebrate this.
They emailed us a while ago to ask if we would like to bring a boat. That would be a nice trip, but all our boats are 70' long. Unfortunately the only surviving wooden shortboat is "George" at Ellesmere Port Boat Museum. Instead I was invited to participate in the heritage workshops that they were to hold. I said fine, I'll happily give a talk about wooden boats. In fact I let myself in for doing 2 talks.
With a couple of weeks to go before the bicentenary and a half event I learned that there would be no electricity for my projector. The organiser offered to copy and laminate all my pictures instead.
Saturday 23rd March dawned cold, wet and windy. I put on my best hat and coat and walked the short distance to Ashton station, having bought my ticket online from Trainsplit the previous day. This company gets the cheapest prices by splitting up your journey into individually ticketed portions. I was booked on to the 07.01 train from Ashton to Stalybridge.
Despite my best coat and thick sweater I was cold on the bare platform in the icy wind. The waiting room was locked and shuttered. The booking clerk ( who Network Rail claim is a waste of money ) arrived and unlocked it. I gratefully entered and sat in the relative warmth. Three teens came into the room too, chatting, giggling and illegally vaping. I was dismayed to see that the 07.01 wasn't expected until 07.14 and would not reach Stalybridge until 07.19. My connection was at 07.13. A good start to my journey!
As a result of the delay I was able to catch a faster train to Leeds. My first ride on one of the bullet shaped bi-modal trains. It was very smooth. I got to Bingley about 30 minutes later than planned, but in good time to give my talk.
The canal is separated from the railway by a noisy dual carriageway road. I found my way down to the 3 rise locks. As I crossed on the very narrow tail bridge a wide beam boat was emerging carrying the mayor and mayoress. I followed the towpath to the foot of the 5 rise staircase, which strode up the hill like, well, a flight of big stone stairs.
There's a wide concrete roadway beside the locks, presumably put in for maintenance vehicles. It's certainly steep. The top is very exposed and the wind was vicious. CRT staff and volunteers were milling around amongst the many visitors. I found someone to ask about the marquee where I would give my talks, only to learn that it had blown away. There was intermittent horizontal rain in the wind. I found the organiser and she said she was trying to get an extra gazebo to replace the missing marquee. This didn't sound promising, but she gave me the A4 size pictures that she'd copied and apologised for them not being laminated. I was directed to a former lock keepers cottage that serves as a brew hut for volunteers.
There's a cafe near the head of the locks, so I went to purchase a coffee, queuing behind the mayor and mayoress. With coffee in hand I stood for a while listening to a youthful brass band playing from the shelter of a covered trailer, then went to the old cottage to sort out my pictures. The 'workshops' ( I always dislike the use of that word other than to describe premises for light industrial activity) were due to start at 10am, so, firmly clutching my pictures, I went out to see what was happening. "Pauline" , a Leeds & Liverpool shortboat, was waiting at the head of the locks.
I met the organiser struggling up the steep lockside road. She'd planted an extra gazebo at the bottom of the staircase, so I descended and met a couple of CRT people trying to set up a display of canal related crafts in the meagre shelter provided. There was now intermittent sleet to contend with. One of them was Ruth Garrett, Heritage advisor for the North East.
https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=1795102110998669 We were able to have a good chat about heritage despite the prevailing conditions.
Another person sheltering in the tent was a former CRT employee. A big lad with bobbed hair and beard he had clearly become disillussioned with CRT and was now working with a project that helps travelling people.
When time came for my talk at 11 they were keen that I should give it a go. Things did not seem auspicious for this, but they found a bench for my audience to sit on, then rounded up half a dozen people to sit on it and listen. I used the pictures, already arranged in order, as cues for my talk about the assembling of our fleet, handing each picture in turn to be passed round the, er, crowd.
My efforts seemed to be appreciated and I think I went slightly over the allotted 30 minutes, but nobody seemed to be counting.
I headed back to the lock house/brew hut at the top of the locks to eat my butties. Soon a group of lock volunteers came in for their snap. They were rather unhappy about the celebrity guests. I had heard mention of celebrities but didn't know who they were. It turned out that they were Philip Davies and Esther McVey, both politicians of the far right. This good natured group of volunteers clearly didn't share the political outlook of their guests. On that I was fully in accord with them.
My next spot was at 1pm. This time I was to talk about the restoration of "Hazel". A couple of chairs had been added to the bench and there were still more spectators standing. The wind was still harsh, but there was less rain and intermittent sunshine. Again, my talk went well. Afterwards a local amateur photographer, impressed by my appearance (!?) asked to take photographs of me. He had me posed, leaning on stone walls etc. Next up was Roy McFarlane, the current canal poet laureate. He was going to give a reading, but first he wanted to know all about "Hazel". Perhaps she will be the subject of a poem one day.
When Roy's poetry reading was finished I thought it time to start my walk back to the station. At the exit gate was the organiser chatting with two other CRT people. We thanked each other for the day and I walked on. Soon I was caught up by one of those CRT people who seemed to know me. I've always had trouble with my face recognition software but, since having covid, it's got considerably worse. We chatted amicably, both headed for the station. When we got on to the platform he said he was going to get something to eat, and left via the footbridge. I sat down and wondered who it was, then realised that it was Richard Parry, CEO of CRT. He is known to have an incredible memory for people.
I had to get the train specified on my ticket, so had to let the first Leeds train go. I didn't mind. I enjoy sitting on stations watching people. The second Leeds train was spot on time and quickly rattled me along to that city.
Leeds station is a great sprawling place. It was rebuilt on a strict budget in the 1960s to accommodate additional trains diverted from the closed Central station. There are platforms all over the place, and not very good signposting. I do like it on a sunny day for the light and dark effects though.
I looked at the departure board and saw, with dismay, that my train, the 16.12 to Manchester Victoria, had been cancelled. I was tempted to take a Trans Pennine Express for Piccadilly , calling at Stalybridge. However, my ticket said Northern Trains only, so I studied the departures more. The 1617 to Wigan was shown as via Manchester Victoria, so I made my way to platform 13 to stand in the bitter wind waiting. We finally got away at about 16.35 and the train missed out the first few stops to make up time, which must have really pissed off passengers for those stations. It was my first time travelling on the Calder Valley line between Mirfield and Sowerby Bridge, our first stop. It's always pleasant to travel through Hebden Bridge and Todmorden, then Summit tunnel brought us into Lancashire.
At Victoria I discovered that I'd just missed a train for Ashton and would have nearly an hour to wait for the next one. Instead I used my old geezers 'bus pass to get a tram. They're slower but more frequent. I got off the tram at Ashton and started walking home. I went under the railway bridge at Turner Lane and had started uphill on Alexandra Road when the train that I should have got rumbled into Ashton station.
