Before all you rail employees get too complacent, here's a true story of what happened to me some years ago on flying a light aeroplane home from the Cotswolds and having to do the last bit by train.
Sometimes, even the driver, never mind the guard, doesn't know where the train is headed.
What chance the hapless passenger?
The flight up from Kemble had been ‘scraping the cloud base’, but that wasn’t a problem until the Midlands, where the general base was lower and there were isolated clumps much lower – increasing from about 10 % ‘no go’ to about 60% in the space of about 10 miles, most going almost all the way down to the ground (we were only at about 2000 feet). We overflew Wolverhampton Business Airfield (WBA) in ‘difficult’ conditions, which we (ever the optimists) expected to lift any moment. It rapidly got worse, solid cloud to the ground ahead and to the sides with ‘sucker gaps’ between. We are VMC only and didn’t fancy an aerial maze challenge with no guarantee of a solution, so we did a 180 and called WBA for a join. It was about 18:30 and they were closed, but the police helicopter on the ground answered and gave last known wind and runway in use.
As we taxied in we noted a Piper Arrow with 2 people unloading luggage. After we’d parked on the apron, the pilot of the Arrow jogged across to us and asked if we had a taxi organised. I explained that we had nothing organised at WBA, were bound for Manchester Barton, hadn’t expected to be here, and had descended from the sky for want of better options. “I’ve just arrived from Bournemouth with my mum in the Arrow” he said. “I’d offer you a lift to Wolverhampton station, but my car is only 2-seat. I’ll phone my dad. My parents live close by”. We considered staying in a local hotel, but we had no change of clothes, and no guarantee that the weather would be any better tomorrow (it wasn’t , as it happened). Getting home seemed the best plan.
It turned out our saviour was one of a family of PPLs (Private pilots) determined to help fellow PPLs in trouble. Good Samaritan PPL Dad arrived about 20 minutes later to drive us to Wolverhampton – no small distance. I got on my mobile (WAP can be useful!) to check train times. I live in Wilmslow from where my wife could pick us up and drive us to Barton to collect our cars, and at 19:30 there was a direct train from Wolverhampton to Wilmslow. If we missed that, we’d be in for a long wait, a train to Manchester, and a taxi from there to Barton.
Our Good Samaritan delivered us to Wolverhampton station at exactly 19:30, would accept no payment for petrol, so we expressed sincere thanks and legged it for the platform.
No train. Apparently there had been a fire down the line; trains were late, or diverted. We were advised to watch the indicator boards for our now delayed train, which was shown due in 20 minutes but might be later or at a different platform. So we went back to the booking office and bought tickets.
20 minutes later, a train arrived at the advertised platform – Stafford, Crewe, Wilmslow, Manchester Airport, Manchester Piccadilly. I had my doubts; I was expecting some sort of Virgin cross-country train, but this was a First North Western local train. But it was at the correct platform, at the correct time, and advertised to stop at the correct stops. So we boarded.
Once underway, the guard appeared asking to see tickets. “What time do we arrive at Wilmslow?” I asked, so I could give my wife an ETA. “This train doesn’t stop at Wilmslow,” he said. “Monday to Friday it does, but Saturday it routes Stafford, Stoke, Macclesfield, Manchester Piccadilly”. I explained about the platform destination indicator, and he said that things were a tad chaotic tonight, and the train we wanted was probably a Virgin train travelling close behind this one. “No problems. Next stop is Stafford; hop out and ask the guy in the red Virgin jacket for the Wilmslow train. It’ll be right behind”.
So as we drew to a stop in Stafford I did just that.
“When is the next train to Wilmslow?”
“You just got off it”
“But the guard said this train’s routing via Stoke, not Crewe”
“Not according to my sheet” said Red-Jacketed Virgin man.
The guard arrived.
“This train’s routing via Crewe, isn’t it?” asked RJVM.
“No. Via Stoke” says guard.
Impasse. And by now there is a sizable group of interested passengers around us – some hoping for a Stoke-Macclesfield routing, others for a Crewe-Wilmslow routing.
So I said “I’ll ask the driver”, and walked up to the front of the train followed by the Guard, RJVM, and the other passengers, made a ‘lower your window please’ gesture to the driver, and asked “are you routing via Crewe, or via Stoke?”
“Good question” he says. “My chitty says we’re going via Crewe, the Guard’s says via Stoke. Hang on. I’ll check”.
He picks up the phone handset in his cab and consults ‘Control’. After a lengthy conversation, he announces, “We’re going via Crewe”.
Chris, my scouse fellow Chippy pilot immediately responds “would you like to phone a friend?”
So we re-boarded, but I still wasn’t sure we were Wilmslow bound until we’d passed Norton Bridge Junction, where we’d have turned right if we’ been headed for Stoke. At Crewe, I was able to give an ETA to my wife, who met us at Wilmslow station 15 minutes later and drove us to Barton so we could return home with our cars.
Next day we took a 172 to try to retrieve SL, but hit bad weather at Nantwich and had to turn back. It wasn’t until the Wednesday that Chris managed to fly her home.
Is anyone running our railway system? My impression from this episode is that the guys at the sharp end are doing their best, despite the best efforts of those ‘running’ the railway. But hey, it was a good laugh!
