Amateur Ramblings

Blaques

Yonbeek (Olly) asked me if he could use my perpetually-almost comprehensive pictures of all of the blue plaques in the Leeds postcode area for a university project he was doing. I said yes.

Now he has completed his website. Take a look here.

A Few Lines On A Fictional Island

When I was doing research into places to go in North-West Wales, I found that some of the narrow gauge mountain railways were used by Wilbert Vere Audry as inspiration for some of his Railway Series books. And coincidently, after the abandonment of said holiday we found ourselves at Thomasland itself, the ultimate commercial evolution of the Rev's writing.

So I decided to have a little read up about Rev. Audry's life and times. And one of the interesting things I found out is that he developed extensive, historically plausible back stories for his books. And a map of the fictional island of Sodor, on which his tales of anthropomorphised steam locomotives are set.

 

Sodor is supposedly located between the Cumbria coast and the Isle of Man. Pre and post this neat Amos Wolfe rendition there have been a variety of versions, including Audry's own sketches, tourist maps, a Google Earth rendition of the island and even a Harry Beck style transit map.

The High Road

Browsing the Internet on my mobile telephone one evening, my eyes stopped on the following passage on the Wikipedia entry for Castleton:

Castleton used to be on the A625 road from Sheffield to Chapel-en-le-Frith, on the way to Manchester. Leaving Castleton, the western road used to go over Mam Tor, but after continual collapses and repairs (Mam Tor is called the 'Shivering Mountain' because of its very loose shales) it was eventually abandoned.

Did someone mention an abandoned road?

 

The above map shows the area around Castleton as is was nearly half a century ago, as recorded in the ever-fascinating AA Book of the Road 1966 edition. You can clearly see that the main road through Castleton is called the A625. The route from Sheffield, through Hathersage, continues to Chapel-en-le-Frith.

 

But what's this? The current map as depicted by Multimap shows no sign of the A625. Instead, the route through Castleton is labelled the A6187, and takes a different route to the west of the village. Look, no kink!

The explanation is that kink, or rather, the ground upon which it lay. The original 19th Century route from Castleton to the west threaded though Winnats Pass, a difficult mile long 1 in 5 climb between two pillars of rock. In 1847 the Manchester & Sheffield Turnpike Company decided to bypass this route, and built a more gentle road up the western slopes of nearby Mam Tor.

 

I don't know if the 1,700ft peak was known as the Shivering Mountain in 1847, but if t was the Manchester & Sheffield Turnpike Company missed a vital clue as to the certain failure of their project. The above southerly view shows a shady scar, known as the Mam Tor Landslide. This is essentially a 4,000 year old landslip, which when last measured ten years ago was found to be still moving at an average annual rate of 25cm.

The instability of the ground, plus the increasing amount of traffic (especially heavy lorries from the mid-20th century) resulted in major repairs being required in 1912, 1933, 1946, 1952, and 1966. In 1974 and 1977 major landslides put the road out of action for many weeks at a time; after the latter event some sections were reduced to single carriageway.

But keeping the road open was always going to be a Sisyphean task, and Derbyshire County Council recognised they were fighting losing battle in 1979. Interestingly, they chose to simply abandon the road that crossed the landslip area (just half a mile or so of tarmac) from the hairpin bend just beyond the disused Odin Lead Mine to Blue John Cavern at the top of the hill. The road was re-numbered in the year 2000; the new A625 turns south-west just before Hathersage, and joins the A623 beyond Froggatt.

The map above is the most recent Ordnance Survey map of the area. Compare this to an Ordnance Survey from around 1930 (below), and one from 1899 (double below).

 

 

And now I suppose you might like to see some pictures? Well, seeing as you've been good enough to read this far...

Gemma and me at the bus turning circle, near Blue John Cavern. This is the end (or start) of the road at the top of Mam Tor. It was a little windy.

I walked about two-thirds of the way down the road. Here is the view of the hairpin bend, just before a major section of missing road. I was amazed at how in places, the road just wasn't there; the asphalt and foundations had simple crumbled into tiny pieces and dribbled down the hill.

From the same spot, looking uphill. Note the massive steps in the road, which here is slipping down towards the bottom-left of the picture.

A little further up the hill, looking down towards Mam Farm. See how the Chapel-bound carriageway has dropped around four feet, and has then been swaddled in ballast washed out from under the Castleton-bound lane.

Below are a trio of views towards Castleton. You might just be able to make out the out-of-place cement works in the first two.

Here's my beautiful girlfriend sat on the above 'step'.

Next, a downhill view from the same step (check out the white lines still in evidence), and then a close-up of the large crack.

The same step, again from below, models unknown. Even cyclists are forced to dismount at this point.

Finally, look at this hole. JUST LOOK AT IT!

 

I thought that we'd have the place to ourselves, but there were plenty off people walking and cycling on this thirty-one year old tarmac corpse. I wonder what it will be like in another thirty-one years, and how long nature will take to erase any trace of the old A625. I don't feel like the Shivering Mountain is under any obligation to rush. 

Summit Tunnel Fire

I was browsing the Internet a few weeks ago when I came across a fascinating event, which occurred underneath the Yorkshire / Lancashire border.

Just before 6am on 20th December 1984, one-third of the way through the Summit Railway Tunnel near Todmorden, an axle on the fourth tanker of a thirteen-wagon train broke, causing the tanker to derail and fall onto its side. The train was transporting over one million litres of four-star petrol. The fuel began escaping and was quickly ignited upon contact with the hot broken axle.

The train crew saw flames dancing through the ballast and, realising disaster was underfoot, ran for one mile to safely escape at the southern end of the tunnel and raise the alarm. Fire crews from the Greater Manchester and West Yorkshire brigades were quickly in attendance. Fortuitously, both had participated in a joint exercise to train for just such an event only one month before.

The emergency services were able to persuade the train crew to return to the train, where they were able to drive the locomotive and the first three tankers out of the tunnel, thus removing a large amount of fuel from the scene and clearing the way for the fire fighters. What an insane, brave and important action to take. Meanwhile, crews began tackling the fire from both ends of tunnel, and lowered hoses down some of the ventilation shafts.

Just after 9.30am, pressure in one of the wagons rose to a point where it's release valves popped open, allowing pressurised vapour to gush forth. This immediately ignited and the flames were forced by the tunnel wall to be deflected in both directions. The fire crews had to quickly retreat, and all were able to escape the tunnel before the first of a number of explosions.

 

Now left to its own devices, the inferno was able to reach temperatures of over 1,500°C. All ten tankers released their fuel in due course, two after literally melting from the heat. The petrol flooded along the tunnel floor, but now there was not enough oxygen to allow the fuel to burn readily. The needy combustibles found their way up two of the tunnel ventilation shafts in the form of superheated gas. Upon emergence from underground, the gases ignited and became a spectacular column of fire which rose to a height of 150ft into the air.

Furthermore, the gases were estimated to have travelled up the shafts at a speed of 110mph. This allowed hot debris (including molten metal and brick) to escape and subsequently rain down on the hillside, causing further fires to be started, closing the local A-road.

 

The only response that could be offered by the emergency services, in the face of such an extreme scenario, was to try to pump the tunnel full of foam. Twenty-four hours later the worst of the flames were out, but the abundance of fuel and heat continued to conspire to allow small pockets of fire to flare up. It was only now noticed that petrol had escaped into the River Roch, which led to the evacuation of the towns of Summit and Todmorden for fear of explosion.

 

The brigades continued to fight the fire for a further two days, until the flames were declared extinguished just after 6.30pm on Christmas Eve. Fire crews remained at the site until 7 January 1985. Upon inspection, it was found that the damage done by the fire was minimal. Around half a mile of track had to be replaced, as did all the electrical services and signalling. Some bricks in the tunnel and shafts had become so hot that they vitrified and ran like molten glass, but the majority of the brickwork lining of the tunnel was scorched but still serviceable. Once the necessary repairs had been made, the tunnel was opened to the public for a short time before trains reclaims the use of their cross-border bolt-hole.

 

Some Things I Would Have Been Writing About, Were It Not For The 'Event'

We would have been packing up and driving back today. I still can't believe how crummy the weather has been (and that we picked this week to go camping). Even leaving aside the storm, I don't think that there has been a fully dry day in North-West Wales in the last seven days.

Not that our experience isn't one which has hasn't happened before.

There's quite a lot to see and do in the top left hand corner of the country. We were all looking forward to the following points on the tourist trail:

• Exploring the dunes and beaches at Shell Island - the dunes here are some of the highest in the United Kingdom, and have been known to top 125ft.
• Castles - Harlech, Caernarfon - this corner of the land is liberally peppered with castles and fortifications, built following the successful conquest of Wales in the 13th Century by Edward I. The castles at Caernarfon and Harlech are particularly fine examples, and are both readily accessible from our temporary base on Shell Island, either by car, or by foot and / or train.
• Beaumaris - from the french beaux marais (beautiful marsh). Home to one of Gemma's university friends who we planned to visit, Beaumaris is located just across the Menai Straight on the island of Anglesey. The town features a medieval castle and a victorian pier.
• Anglesey- I came here on a family holiday many years ago; if memory serves, we stayed in a toll house somewhere near the Llangefni. Just across the Britannia Bridge is the village of Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch(which translates as St Mary's Church in a hollow of white hazel near the swirling whirlpool of the church of St Tysilio with a red cave).
• Porthmadog - the town owes it's existence to the large-scale landscaping efforts of William Maddocks, who built The Cob (a sea wall) that served both to reclaim a large area of land for farming and caused the formation of a new harbour. The nearest sizable town to the campsite is made easier to access by the existence of a narrow toll bridge across the River Dwyryd. I remember from when I came here during my second week of university that this was a nice little town. I guess I'll have to wait a while before re-discovering it.
• Portmeirion - a unique experiment near to Porthmadog. A village designed and constructed in the fifty years after 1925 by Sir Clough Williams-Ellis, the distinct Italiante flavour lends itself well to use as settings for television programs - the most famous probably being CBeebies' Gigglebiz (oh, alright, and perhaps the original series of The Prisoner).
• Snowdon - at 3,560ft, it is the second-highest mountain in the UK. It sees one of the highest amounts of rainfall in the land (180 inches annually) and an average temperature at it's peak of just 2.5°C. You can even see what the weather is doing right now here. It can be conquered on foot relatively easily, but the least taxing way to the top is by catching the Snowdon Mountain Railway.
• Snowdonia National Park - an 800-square-mile national park comprising lush farmland, thick forests, pictures lakes and waterfalls, and treacherous peaks.
• Welsh Highland Railway / FfestiniogRailway - two of the Great Little Trains Of Wales, the former currently runs from Pont Croesor (just north of Porthmadog) to Caernarfon, skirting the base of Snowdon, whilst the latter tackles the 14-mile uphill slog to Blaenau Ffestiniog. If we try again in 2011 the Welsh Highland line extension into Porthmadog should be completed.
• Centre for Alternative Technology - a educational showcase for green technology built into a disused slate quarry.
• Llandudno - 'Queen of the Welsh Resorts', apparently. This town was developed during the Victorian period as a seaside destination. I used to go a fair bit when I was younger, I recall. There's an obligatory Grade II listed pier, as well as some fine 19th century architecture. We like going to the likes of Scarborough and Filey, so this destination sounds right up our street.

As well as not getting to go to any of the above, we did not get the chance to use any of the new camping equipment we purchased in the weeks before the holiday. Specifically, we tried and failed to get our windbreak to stand against the wind (surely its sole purpose), and the built but did not use the twin-hob / grill combo stove.

And What Do You Do?

My name is Tom Smith.

I love sports. I play rugby for Wales and (until recently) Northampton. I also dabble in basketball (past and present), and have tried my hand at major league baseball, ice hockey and american football. I was one of the runners who symbolically defied Hitler's Olympics. I trained horses.

I currently play cricket for Lancashire and Middlesex. I have played professional football for Tottenham Hotspur; Preston North End, Southampton and Queens Park Rangers; Northampton Town, Leicester City and Manchester United; Kilmarnock; Partick Thistle, Ayr United, Clydebank and Hibernian; and perhaps most famously for Liverpool. I now play for Ipswich Town and Portsmouth right now. I was a pioneer of Aussie rules football.

I like photography. I like photography. I like photography. I like photography. I am a geographical location:

 

I have been known for my flauting, saxophany, and filking, and right now I am the singer in a popular beat combo. I am a disc jockey in Little Rock.

I like my politics: I have been the governor of Newfoundland and Labrador, and Carolina. I was a congressman in Pennsylvania, Indiana, Maryland, and Illinois. I have mayored in Jersey City and Philadelphia. In the UK, I've been a Labour MP.

I spend some of my time now writing (plays and novels). I paint, and I paint some more. I was the Bishop of Carlisle at the end of the 17th century, and I was a general in the American Civil War. I was a mountain-man who told 'tall tales'.

I found time in my hectic 17th century cloth-making life to found the first bank in England outside of London. I built lighthouses in Scotland. I have worked as a physician, a soldier, academic and barrister, and if you need any agricultural, engineering or hydraulic supplies, I can help you out with that. Or, do you need medical advice? I can help with that also.

I am many more things that I have't got the time or space to tell you about.

That is who I am. Who are you?

Earth From The Air

This is a photograph taken from a satellite. it shows The United Kingdom (and northern France) covered in a coat of white, the result of days of snow and sub-zero temperatures. Tonight is forecast to be the coldest so far of the current cold snap, with predictions of -20°C (that's -4°F) in some parts of the country. Leeds is the dark-grey patch sheltering to the east of the Pennines.

Via BBC News.

Alphabet from the Air

I really like Thomas de Bruin's Google Earth Alphabet series, and admire the time it must have taken to put the mosaics together.

There's upper case, lower case (pictured above) and numbers and punctuation. It makes me want to fire up Google Earth and compile an aerial alphabet of Yorkshire. (Via BoingBoing.)

Also on the subject of a letters, Dave Gorman has put together a collection of single-letter shutter graffiti by an artist called Eine. Very urban!

 

Welcome to a journey through time and space

One glitch the Google seem happy not to iron out of their Street Views is distortion of near-by objects, such as vehicles. I noticed a couple of nice examples of this phenomenon. One is in my nan's street, so out of respect for Big Daddy I'll not be showing it here. The other is a little further along Sovereign Street (pictured in Wednesday's post), and shows a bus coughing up it's payload of festival-goers whilst seeming to eject it's own radiator into another dimension.

Another anomaly I came across this week is the case of the vanishing A-road.It can be clearly seen on Google Earth that the A1 seems to plough underground just north-east of Wetherby (I think the actual cause is a jump of five years between maps).

The view from the street

In the month where the residents of a cul-de-sac in Broughton, Buckinghamshire (pictured above from a satellite) formed a 'human chain' to prevent a street-mapping car from going about it's business, Google's Street View has been high on the cultural radar.

Actually I can understand the residents concerns about privacy, but still, I am slightly addicted. I understand around twenty or so British towns and cities have been (partially) mapped. My street is not featured; the camera car appears to have made a brief foray into our estate before giving up (although there is no evidence that a human chain was formed). My mum and dad's house is not featured, as is none of the Black Country, and most of my friends have escaped having their homes captured for posterity.

I have been able to pinpoint the date when the street car came to our town. The screen-grab (found whilst looking at my office) shows people returning from last year's Leeds Festival. This ended on Sunday 24th August. A clock on a nearby building (not pictured) indicates it is 4.10pm.

Whilst browsing over the weekend, I found that my nan's house is included on Street View. I showed her, and explained the technology to her. Eyes that had witnessed the mass- introdution of cars, air travel and television considered what they were now seeing. 'I think it's all a bit Big Daddy', she stated. Aah, nanisms, will we never grow weary of you?