It often feels like, as soon as the calendar ticks over from 22 to 23 September, that autumn, having
hidden its face for months upon months, all of a sudden decides to come out all at once. Auburn
leaves begin to fall, telling the time until winter like an hourglass; the days get shorter and the
nights come earlier, the air gets that particular autumn crispness, and, of course, it begins to
rain.i
Not that iâm complaining. Autumn is, in my view, the most wonderful season of the year: yes, summer
is nice and warm, and winter is the time for comfort and gezelligheid with family and
friends, but autumn is when our festivities are perhaps the closest to how they were millennia ago.
Echoes of the last harvest festivals of the year still ring (school assemblies for the young,
pumpkin spice for the jaded), and whatever you want to call it â Halloweâen, All Hallowsâ Eve,
SamhÂain, Day of the Dead â the atmosphere about that midautumn celebration
beats even Christmas for the best time of the year; for a whole month, the western world lets itself
get a little morbid for a changeii, and the celebrations have the good sense
to get out of the way quietly once November shuffles along.
So. Happy autumn, everyone! Enjoy it while it lasts.
It's been far too long, hasn't it? (Rest assured, i have been continuing my walk along the Blyth and
Tyne railway â just at a rather glacial paceâŚ)
Last time on The Garden: the axe falls on the Blyth and Tyne line, and i foolhardily decide to walk its lengthâŚ
Our journey begins at NorthÂumÂberÂland Park, in North Tyneside. Though itâs the
first station weâll be visiting, it was the last to be constructed, having only opened in 2005 â and
itâs quite easy to tell, even after sixteen years of wear and tear; the place is outfitted with
modern amenities, lifts, ticket machines flush with the wall, and, more lately, pandemic-themed
graffiti opposite the platform. This unassuming metro station will, according to the county
councilâs plans, serve as the interchange between the old and new lines, heavy rail and metro
meeting one last time before splitting apart and going their separate ways.
Setting off from there, the first thing that caught my eye were twin giants: a frosted glass-covered
car park and a red-brick Sainsburyâs, unexpected icons of the modern British condition. It didnât
get much better from there; down the road lies an American-style strip mall lined with bookmakers
trying to get people to piss away all their money.
This sorry-looking trolley was, i presume, abandoned from the local Sainsburyâs.
This southernmost tip of NorthÂumÂberÂland is criss-crossed by innumerable public footpaths, cycle
paths, bridleways, and other routes for non-metal-box-related transport; ducking onto one of the
reclaimed
âwaggonwaysâ once used
to transport coal, i found myself on the site of the second station on the list.
The leafy suburb of Backworth has a habit of burying its history.
A hoard of offerings from Roman times
was found underground in the 1810s, the last vestiges of the colliery that once was are long gone,
and the tale of this sorry ex-station is rather similar. Opened in 1864 to replace a nearby station
closing the same day, BackÂworth station served its community for over 100 years, surviving the
Beeching cuts. But when the Tyne and Wear Metro was announced to come to town, the old station
finally closed⌠for good. It wasnât until the opening of NorthÂumÂberÂland Park that there would be
a replacement.
As i wandered through the village's verdant streets, i couldnât help but think of its resemblance to
the straight, cycle-friendly streets of my old hometown. A little greenery can go a long way.
The graffiti reads âMonty Brown is a grassâ. I would never say such unkind things about Mr
Brown.
Network Rail were hard at work at the site of the aforementioned original BackÂworth station, whose
plot of land now sits vacant, marking the cityâs last hurrah; the further i walked along the dirt
back roads, the further the sounds of bustling cars receded, until, ducking under a shady underpass,
i found myself utterly alone amongst pastoral fields (and the overwhelming scent of manure).
That peace and quiet was swiftly interrupted by a troupe of boy racers on motorcycles and
quad-bikes, but you canât win them all, you know?
After the county borders were hacked up in 1974, this line became the divider between rural
Northumberland and ostensibly-urban Tyne and Wear.
The (post-1974) border town of Seghill occupies only the tiniest fragment of the
collective English consciousness, popping up briefly in an anti-scab minersâ folk song called
âBlackleg Minerâ:
Itâs in the evening after dark, when the blackleg miner creeps to work With his
moleskin pants and dirty shirt there gans the blackleg miner!
[...]
So, divvint gan near the Seghill mine Across the way they stretch a line, to catch the
throat and break the spine of the dirty blackleg miner
[...]
So join the union while you may Divvint wait till your dying day, for that may not be
far away, you dirty blackleg miner!
For our purposes, itâs chiefly notable for the fact that itâs the first disused station on the list
whose buildings are still intact and in use, this time as a corner shop, from which i of course
bought a copy of the local rag â prominently including a
Q&A about the restoration of service on the line, which i
thought a fitting reminder of why i set out on this silly old journey in the first place.
After getting some well deserved rest, i headed on off towards the next town over, awaiting what
fresh stories i would find...
Next time on âWalking the Blyth and Tyneâ: your author is reminded of her own mortality, finds
himself in the company of a noble family, and shudders at the thought of having to go to Blyth,
of all places on Godsâ green Earth
Itâs March of 1963. The island of Great Britain is in the throes of its coldest winter in two
decades, senior frontbench MP Harold Wilson was recently handed the
reins of the Labour party, the Beatles have just released their debut album, and, somewhere in the
bowels of Whitehall, Dr Richard Beeching is writing a report that will change the countryâs
connecting tissue forever.
Dr Beeching, you see, is the chairman of British Railways, the state-owned company in charge of rail
transport, and theyâre in a spot of financial trouble. British Railways are in charge of running
fifteen thousand miles of track shuttling between about four and a half thousand stations, and the
only way they can do that is via generous subsidies from Her Majestyâs Government â something which
the governing Conservatives, as a rule, are never too happy about.
So, pen in hand, he takes a metaphorical axe to the network, marking about half of the islandâs
stations for closure. Itâs not pleasant, but it has to be done â and, after all, people can just
take the car to their nearest station if their townâs is shut.i Iâm sure it
wonât be too bad.
That's how, a year later, the last passenger trains ran along 5,000 miles of railway across England,
Scotland, and Wales, including those connecting the mining heartland of industrial Northumberland.
The Tyne and Wear Metro, opened in 1980, allowed some of these lines to reopen in Newcastleâs
suburbs and (relatively) affluent coastal communities. But just a few miles north, the former Blyth
and Tyne Railway has lain dormant ever since the axe fell⌠until now.
In recent years, the stars have aligned, and both the county council and Westminster have agreed to
reopen the line, finally bringing these proud towns back together. The Blyth and Tyne Railway, now
rechristened by the more attractive name of the
Northumberland Line, is set to reopen by 2024. To celebrate this historic moment, i thought iâd see what has become of
the stations and towns that were. Iâve identified fourteen stations, past, present, and future,
along the line, and iâll be walking between each of them in turn, seeing what stories they tell. The
list includes:
Northumberland Park, the metro station ready and waiting to become the new
lineâs interchange
Backworth (the second)
Backworth (the first), already long closed by the time the axe fell
Seghill
Seaton Delaval, planned for reopening
Hartley Pit / Hartley, two old stations just metres apart
Newsham, planned for reopening
Blyth, on an old branch line
Blyth Bebside, planned for reopening
Bedlington, planned for reopening
North Seaton, now subsumed within Ashingtonâs town area
Ashington, planned for reopening
Woodhorn, listed on early plans for reopening but mysteriously disappeared since
Newbiggin-by-the-Sea, no longer in existence but with the route there safeguarded just in case
As the month winds up and summer draws to a close, it's time again for the menstrual (not that kind!) look back on the month that was.
Films watched
Wes Andersonâs The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) â I want to live inside of this film,
and if that is not possible, i will somehow find a way to hang the entire thing on my wall. A
strong contender for my second favourite film ever. (A+)
Quentin Tarantinoâs Inglourious Basterds (2009) â You do have to wonder if their German
and French was actually any good. (A)
Ilya Naishullerâs Nobody (2021) â A good action film with fun setpieces which iâll
probably forget i ever watched. (C)
James Gunnâs The Suicide Squad (2021) â I went to the cinema for the first time since
the pandemic began to watch this â I think i would have taken just about anything! (B)
Albums listened to
The Beatlesâ Sgt. Pepperâs Lonely Hearts Club Band â I am not entirely sure i could
give this album an objective ranking after all these years of it being talked up, so, uh,
(Classic/10) [Best track:
A Day in the Life]
Chvrchesâ Screen Violence â Itâs.... fine, i guess? Not their best, not their worst.
(C) [Best track: Better If You Donât]
Lucy Dacusâs Home Video â Beautiful. Just beautiful. (B+) [Best track:
Triple Dog Dare]
Green Dayâs American Idiot â By the end of it it all starts sounding a bit same-y. (C+)
[Best track: American Idiot]
Will Woodâs The Normal Album â Chaotic good. (A-) [Best track:
I / Me / Myself]
Miscellaneous photos and videos
The dull but eminently photographable town of Bedlington.
Surreptitiously taken from the Tyne Bridge. I can only hope the shop owner isnât going to sue
me.
The beautiful view from the Metro over the river Tyne.
Richard in a Hat, a blog where a passionate collector of hats posts photos of himself wearing said hats â this
is what the internet was made for, i feel
(via the ever-excellent, but unrelated,
Language Hat)i
Best i could do was 8 out of 15, only one better than the gentleman in the video.
You could make a good webpage out of quizzes like these â i donât know if iâd be willing to risk the
copyright claims, but if anyone else wants a go at it, youâre very welcome to the idea.
The Victoria Tunnel runs beneath the streets of Newcastle, from the Tyne up to the Town Moor. It
traverses not only space, but time, through nearly every corner of Englandâs history: built to
transport coal in the Industrial Revolution, on the site of an old Roman spring, it was used during
the second world war to house those fleeing German bombs. It was even considered for use in the cold
war, before the government realised that some musty old coal tunnels would probably not provide the
greatest protection against a nuclear blast.
And now you can go down it. In 2007, Newcastle City Council decided to refurbish the tunnel and open
a small stretchâof it â the rest is either unsafe for sending humans down or currently in use as a
sewerâââup for public tours. Entry is via a side street along the Ouseburn, where the guides will
cheerfully show you a map and some old photographs of the entrance. Once you get inside the tunnel
itself, hard hats and torches are compulsory, and covid restrictions are still in full force. This
was both a benefit and a malefit: yes, the tour was shorter than it would otherwise be, and masks
get quite uncomfortable when youâre wearing them for an hour in a dank, dark tunnel, but on the
other hand, our small group of family and friends got the place practically all to ourselves,
without having to be shepherded alongside other members of the public.
The water from the ancient Roman spring is directed through a side channel, to avoid it getting
all over the tunnel floor. Sometimes it even works!
The tunnel is just barely wide enough to fit three people side-by-side, and if, like me, youâre of a
certain height, bumping your head on the roof is practically guaranteed. By every blast door,
thereâs a plaque about whatâs above you, and how it factors into the tunnel and the cityâs history,
stories with which the guides will gladly regale visitors (including some rather grim tragedies).
Coming back out the entrance, i felt more informed about this wonderful countyâs industrial history
â just in time to pop over to a gentrified vegan âsuperfood pubâ. The wonders of modern life.
Price: ÂŁ9â11 per adult depending on the length of the tour; ÂŁ4 per child
Address:
Victoria Tunnel Entrance, Ouse St., Valley, Newcastle upon Tyne
NE1 2PF
â just next to the CrossFit gym.
Accessibility: The tunnel was built in the 19th century and without
accessibility in mind, so is not wheelchair-accessible. The Ouseburn Trust do, due to the
pandemic, offer a virtual tour.
Getting there: The Q3 bus from the centre of town
stops nearby; otherwise, getting there poses a bit of a hike, due to its location.
Nestled amongst County Durhamâs moors and Pennine peaks lies Englandâs mightiest waterfall. The
waters of High Force tumble over 22
metres and 300 million years of stone, down into the plunge pool below. The falls were formed where
the river Tees meets the Great Whin Sill, a
tough slab of igneous rock covering much of the north of England.
When the water level is high enough, the force splits into two streams, one going the other way
around the rocksâââafter storms, it can even overflow the plateau entirely. Alas, despite recent
showers, my group were not so lucky.
The Raby family, owners of the estate, charge ÂŁ2 to see the view from the base of the falls. The
falls tower over any mere human who dares navigate down, demanding oneâs respect and attention⌠and
making it unmissable that, at the top of the falls, there are several people who walked their on
their own via the
Pennine Way, not having to
pay a single dime. Drat.
Information for visitors
Address:
High Force, Forest-in-Teesdale, Barnard Castle, County Durham,
DL12 0XH.
Getting there: Public transit connections are few and far between this far into
the countryside, so your best bet is to take a scenic drive via car through the Pennines and the
nineteenth-century village of Middleton-in-Teesdale.
Price: The Raby estate charges ÂŁ2 to access via the bottom, but the top can be
freely accessed by a hike along the Pennine Way.
Opening times: 10:00â16:00.
Accessibility and facilities: The trail is not, to my knowledge,
wheelchair-accessible. The site contains toilets and a hotel for anyone wanting to stay the
night.
The month of July is almost over, so itâs time for the traditional wrap-up of all that happened.
On the nineteenth of the month, with just over half of our population fully vaccinated against the
virus, England finally opened up and embraced full covid anarchy, come what may. For me, the primary
feeling was an overwhelming sense of relief: no more having to suffocate myself with a mask at the
shops, no more will-they-wonât-they, just⌠getting on with life.
Iâve taken the opportunity that is the unlocking to (vaguely) plan a series of posts which may come
to this blog in the near future. Keep your eyes peeled!
Films and TV watched
The Big Lebowskiâ A film about three dudes who just want to bowl. I have
heard great things about this film since roughly the moment i clicked on the âInternet Explorerâ
icon for the first time, and i canât help but feel i would have enjoyed it a little more had it not
had all the hype about it. Itâs an excellent film, and one iâll be rewatching soon, but i suspect
years on the internet inflated my expectations to an unreasonable extent. (Very good/10)
Yeah, well, thatâs just, like, your opinion, man.
Paddingtonâ Watched with some friends over Discord. A fine family film,
and a decent contender for the dictionary definition of âwholesomeâ. We could all strive to be a
little more like Paddington Bear. (Hard stare/10)
Fargoâ A film about a man who just wants to sell a used car. A great
black comedy thriller with even better accents (oh yah). (Super/10)
Whatâd this guy look like, anyway? â Oh, he was a little guy⌠kinda funny lookinâ. â
Uh-huh. In what way? â Oh, just a general kinda way.
Inside â9 â This
comedy-horror-drama-plot-twistiness-is-that-a-genre?-probably-not anthology show just doesnât miss.
Almost every episode is uproariously funny, slightly creepy, and has a twist that will leave you
with your mouth hanging open at the screen.
I had that Mapmaking Itch, but, cursed by bike-shedding paralysis about the alternate history map
idea i hadÎą, i decided to do a little doodle in the back of my journal
insteadâŚ
Donât mind the chicken scratch. I would have done some nice coloured shading, but i couldnât be
bothered to go downstairs to fetch the coloured pencils.
