I’ve lived near to railways much of my life. As a young child, I remember crossing a bridge near to my home in Clapham, south London, which spanned a fair number of lines, each running strictly parallel. I was fascinated by these, and the trains which ran along them, often running up to it if I heard a train coming, or standing for a while trying to catch sight of one before it passed underneath, the first seeds of a lifetime interest in railways and their trains.
When my family moved to Snailbeach in rural Shropshire, our gardenponte backed onto the old Snailbeach District Railways line, which was by then little more than a track down towards a field. Originally it linked the lead mine at Snailbeach with the main line at Pontesbury, however by 1950 all traffic had ceased, with the remaining locomotives cut up for scrap.
Some 10 years later, we moved down into the valley, and once again I could hear the trundle of passing trains, looping through Yockleton only a mile or so in the distance, on their way to Shrewsbury or Mid Wales. I sometimes used to run or ride my bike down to the crossing there, the vision of every child who has seen public information films on the matter – STOP LOOK LISTEN – and what would happen if you did not.
Where I live now, the same line passes along the other side of the valley from my house. This is the ‘Cambrian Line’, which splits at Dovey Junction and leads either to Aberystwyth or along the Cambrian Coast Line to Pwhelli. It’s an epic journey (around 3 ½ hours) with much of it spent facing the sea, the huge curve of Cardigan Bay ever present as it bends towards the Llŷn Peninsula. For much of this journey, the line remains exposed, and while flooding is a common issue, occasionally the line itself is washed away.
Only recently it was closed for a number of months in order to renovate the famous viaduct at Barmouth. At these times, as with much of life around the communities which span this line’s route, journeys are made by bus.
At best, the line itself has a bi-hourly service, which is less conducive to travel than hopping on and off a bus. A proposed hourly timetable for the summer months only has brought little cheer, as it gives the impression that such a service is only needed when the tourists come.
I’ve been fascinated by this line whenever I’ve travelled along it. You can walk from Barmouth, across the viaduct, passing the pretty station at Morfa Mawddach (formerly Barmouth Junction) which stands at the head of the Mawddach Trail – itself a former railway line – which leads down the estuary, terminating at Dolgellau.
If you decide to continue along the coast, you’ll reach Fairbourne, a village built by an Englishman where no Welshman would. Currently the inhabitants of this low swept village find themselves in a quandary, as the piles of giant stones placed to protect it from the sea are not seen as viable, with the suggestion that the entire place could be “decommissioned” and returned entirely to the salt marsh.
Often journeys along the ‘Cambrian’ give glimpses into the lives lived through these trains (currently Class 158 DMUs which are due to be replaced in the coming years). I’ve seen someone get on with a pig, and another with a chicken. I’ve watched a schoolkid get off the train at one of the tiny halts along its route, get into her dad’s Land Rover and power up the side of a hill.
In the summer the trains are hot and crowded with tourists, in the winter you can watch solitary seabirds feed amongst the marshes. At Dovey Junction, on the Aberystwyth line, you can observe an Osprey on its perch at the nearby Dovey Osprey Project.
When I learned that the Class 158s were to be replaced, in the midst of lockdown, my heart sank somewhat. I’ve watched these old workhorses more than half my life. I’ve sat on countless and watched a few (in their green Arriva Trains Wales livery) blend into the distant landscape, lit only by their tail lights, and wanted to capture this feeling, and this curious and tenuous line along which these trains run.
Eventually this formed into a collection of songs, marrying these thoughts with the harsh reality of coastal erosion, with its effects on landscape and community, entitled ‘Cambrian’. It’s something I’m incredibly proud of, from the artwork to the songs themselves, it was pieced together at home with my partner Victoria over the last few years.
‘Cambrian’ is released tomorrow, Friday 7 July, on Wayside & Woodland Recordings, available through their Bandcamp site on CD (in a beautifully printed digipak sleeve) and as a digital download.
On Friday they will also be premiering the official video for the title track ‘Cambrian’, drawn from archive Hi8 footage recorded over many years at locations along the line.
You can follow Eric Loveland Heath on Twitter and Instagram.
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