I never meant to end up on the Isle ofWight - I was planning on spending Bank Holiday Monday in Portsmouth instead. But the weather was steadfastly overcast, wrecking the view from the top of the Spinnaker Tower, so I was easily diverted. And when I saw a sign for the Isle of Wight Ferry at the end of the station platform, sailing in 10 minutes, I thought what the hell. The IoW's diamond-shaped, you know, so it seemed more than appropriate to pay a visit. So I purchased my ticket to Ryde, and hopped onto a big yellow catamaran for the short trip across the Solent. I had nothing pre-planned, just a whistlestop tour down the east coast of England's largest island. By tube train...
Ryde Pier Head: The Fast Cat pulled in at the end of the pier, with the town of Ryde still about half a mile away across the water. The pier's the earliest (and fourth-longest) in the country, built to save ferrygoers a long trudge over wet sand to reach the coast. A brief trudge through the pavilion and I arrived almost immediately at the pier-head station, its central platform wide enough to hold an entire boatful of Victorian luggage. And yes, this might have been 70 miles from London, but that was indeed a genuine 1938-stock two-carriage tube train waiting to depart [station photo]. One short 8-mile stretch of the island's railway network managed to survive Beeching's axe in the 1960s, and tube trains are the only practical stock that can still negotiate the Ryde Tunnel. Each Island Line train still boasts its own guard who operates the doors manually, using big buttons at the end of the carriage, just like it used to be. And the doors still close with a slow satisfying mechanical clunk - there are no health and safety beeps here. Clunk. The train trundled off slowly along the rickety-lookingwooden pier, the sea sploshing away beneath, and with passing traffic visible through the side windows along a parallel roadway. And you don't get that on the Bakerloo line.
Ryde Esplanade: On dry land at last, the train pulled in at a less than glorious single platform beside the hovercraft terminal [station photo]. A surprising number of people got off, given how short a distance we'd come, but a lot of them had suitcases. Ryde's the largest town on the island, no doubt because it's the most accessible from the mainland. Outside on the Esplanade I discovered a group of scooterriders showing off their beloved two-wheelers, here on the IoW for Ryde's annual bank holiday Scooter Rally. I think I missed the main event, but the town's pubs and cafes were still relatively full of parkas and helmets. I chose to explore the rising High Street rather than the windswept sandy beachfront, maybe a sightseeing error, but it gave me a flavour of what it's like to live here through a grockle-free winter (yeah, retail-ly bearable).
Ryde St John's Road: As the train rattled through a 400m tunnel beneath the town, it was easy to believe that the next station might be Swiss Cottage or St John's Wood. But no, this was St John's Road - the Island Line's depot station where locogeeks can hop out and peer at the spare trains. The fleet of six are brightly painted, some even bedecked with dinosaurs(!), but there are plans afoot to recoat them all in London Underground heritage red.
Smallbrook Junction: A part-time halt in the middle of the countryside, completely inaccessible by road, at the point where the line to Newport used to branch off [station photo]. Now it's the eastern terminus of the Isle of Wight Steam Railway, an august body which runs steam locos over the four miles between here and Wootton. Utterly useless for commuting, but quite charming to ride. None of the carriages they use was built more recently than 1924, so the travelling experience had a particularly authentic feel. On the up train I had the pleasure of sharing a compartment with a bouncy toddler urinating into a juice bottle, and on the down train I was trapped up against the window by a slobbering St Bernard too huge to turn itself around without assistance. A memorable trip, then. It being Bank Holiday weekend the IoW Steam Festival was in full flow beside the engine sheds at Havenstreet [station photo]. What a pleasure it was to stand in a drizzly field watching vintage traction engines, old green buses and damp families eating hotdogs. Well, it could have been, given better weather. Instead I queued for the ride back to Smallbrook and awaited the next tube train south. [more tomorrow]
Mile End Park, 3-ish Approaching from afar, one lonely pallet of concrete blocks was the only clue that something was afoot. That and the lady stopping everyone cycling along the canal towpath in case they got in the way of the performance. But a hive of activity was hidden beyond the tennis courts, planned to within an inch of its life, as an army oft-shirted volunteers grappled with their unlikely raw material. 540 breeze blocks in total, laid out in a sinuous line along the footpath, across the grass and over the edge of a wall. Every 10th-or-so block had been placed lengthways rather than upright, to prevent any premature topplage causing the entire line to collapse. It rained.
Mile End Park, 3:30-ish No sign yet of the signal for the off. A small crowd had gathered along the line, most of them near the start beneath the trees. One retired couple had brought a camera to record the magic moment, but had discovered to their cost that you can't replace a rechargable battery with an ordinary one. One of the lanky straggle-haired sportsmen hanging out on the tennis courts emerged to ask what all the concrete was for, and seemed duly impressed by the response. As time ticked by, the line was at increasing risk from volunteers and members of the public nipping oh-so-carefully across and through it. Only once did an accidental touch cause a block to wobble and fall, but the cascade didn't get far before a quick-thinking volunteer halted the flow. One especially elderly lady watched from a wheelchair, and waited, and waited, and nodded off, and had to be wheeled back to her flat without seeing a thing.
Mile End Park, 4-ish I could tell that the performance was finally imminent when the last gap across Copperfield Road was bridged with bricks. 'Get ready', yelled the man in the yellow waterproof, and his t-shirt army raised the 10% of blocker-blocks to the upright position. I had a good position lower down the line with a clear view of the snaking line. Or at least I did to start with. Once the first brick had tumbled and a merry cheer been raised, the crowd spontaneously followed the ripple downhill [video][video]. They charged towards me, like a human tsunami, enveloping the phenomenon they were so keen to see. It was easy to outrun, so I could only work out roughly how far the topple had reached by observing which way the joggers were looking. At last it passed into near sight, each brick precisely knocking the next ...click click click click click click click... and I grabbed one underwhelming photographclick.
Mile End Park, 4:01-ish At the edge of the park the first risky bit. The line passed through the railings, then a sheer drop down to street level, then across Copperfield Road and back up onto the pavement [video]. A carefully positioned block raised the flow up to doorstep height, then onward through the ground floor of Matt's Gallery. Unseen by the crowd it exited through a window along a beam above the canal, then fell into a boat conveniently tied up along the towpath. End of part one. Everybosy rushed round to the narrow road bridge to try to glimpse the boat as a few cracked blocks set off downstream. There'd be no more toppling for a few hours - this was no long unbroken domino chain - but momentum was maintained. The organisers smiled, job well done, and within 15 minutes all 540 blocks were back on their pallets.
Island Gardens, 6:30-ish: I didn't hang around to watch this bit. However, thanks to the wonders of the internet, I can offer you this photo and this video.
A warehouse somewhere, autumn-ish: They'll be splicing together the entire performance to make a film, and then all the blocks are going back to the manufacturer to be be recycled. Ain't art fun?
À Paris: le métro
Yes, obviously I travelled on the Metro while I was in Paris. It's hard not to, if you want to get around, given how densely packed the network is. They say you're never further than 500 metres from a Metro station in Paris, but then there are more than 300 of those, and the city proper is a fraction the size of Greater London. Into that space they've crammed 16lines, which isn't easy given the local soil, plus five Crossrail-type lines called the RER that don't stop so often. Yes, obviously I travelled on the Metro quite a lot while I was in Paris. You'd expect nothing less.
A typical station
Unlike the Underground, where very few stations look the same as one another, an awful lot of Metrostations have a fairly identical feel. Most of the Paris subway system was constructed by the cut and cover method, and almost precisely follows main roads. That means it's rarely very far down from the street to the platforms, which are generally arched white spaces with a broad tiled roof. Tunnels are usually double tracked, rather than the single tracks we're used to in London, so the platforms face each other across the void. They're also fairly sparse. A few seats, or maybe benches, are dotted along each wall, rarely the same pattern twice. Throw in a vending machine, maybe, and a series of posters - mostly for just-released films, it seems. As for next train indicators, station layout means there isn't much to obstruct them, certainly little in the way of microphones and dangling detritus. They're also very simple, announcing how many minutes it is until the next train arrives, and the train after that. When the countdown reaches zero the digits flash, and the train rumbles in.
What takes some getting used to is that trains run on the right (like the traffic above), not on the left (as in the UK), and more than once I ended up on one platform whereas I should have been on the other. That shouldn't have been possible if I'd have been following the signs properly. All lines are designated by number, and direction by the name of the station at the end of the line. That's tricky if you don't know Paris well - I had to keep consulting a map to check which terminus was appropriate. But otherwise the signage is pretty clear. There are usually separate tunnels/stairways for entering a platform and for exiting it. This keeps the circulation moving, and can lead to a warren of intertwined passageways in some of the more complex stations. But on the whole, if you can negotiate one metro station you can negotiate them all. The uniformity of the system smacks of being designed municipally at roughly the same time, unlike the Underground which started out as very distinct commercial enterprises. That gives London a more endearing hotchpotch of peculiarities, but Paris the edge in everything actually hanging together.
Some atypical stations
• Cité (line 4): Digging beneath the Seine proved very awkward for Paris's early tunnel builders, so lines tend not to cross it unless they have to. Cité is the only station on the Île de la Cité, that's the island where Notre Dame is built, so is one of the deepest stations on the network. There are lifts, which is unusual, or you can descend a three-flight staircase down into the void - reminiscent of the shaft at Wapping. The platforms are peculiar too, encased within an arch much higher than usual, and with ornate drooping lamps.
• Arts Et Métiers (line 11): The platforms have been done up to look like you're on a submarine, complete with portholes. Blimey. • Bastille (line 5): Things you don't expect to find on a station platform... the foundations of France's most notorious prison. But there they are on the southbound, the remains of the Bastille, jutting out from the wall. They look a bit like a stone sandwich, and are protected by a metal rail to prevent passengers using them as a bench, or worse.
• Franklin D. Roosevelt (line 9): Don't they have great names, some of these Metro stations? Riding through here feels like sliding into an electrical transformer, such is the effect of the glass 'coil' lights above the platform. And the font used for the station name has a very Fifties feel, almost Muscovite. You'd never get TfL showing such lettering variation across the network.
Some atypical lines
• Line 1: This is the oldest, and busiest line on the Metro, dating back to 1900. It's also got the most modern trains, converted from driver-controlled to fully-automated three months ago. Just like on the DLR you can sit right up at the front and watch the tracks and stations zooming towards you! Boris probably has his eye on this conversion - if it can work in Paris, why not use it to reduce the threat of industrial action in London?
• Lines 2 and 6: These two lines are roughly semi-circular, together creating a ring around the city. They're also unusual in that for much of their length they run above ground, along the central reservation of an orbital road, on a viaduct. A great way to see real Paris neighbourhoods up close, rather than only the commercial haunts in the centre.
• Line 4: London doesn't have the monopoly on engineering works. The southern end of this line was closed at the weekend, but that's because a brand new terminus station is opening at Montrouge at the end of the month. They extend and build more, those French.
• Line 14: The first new Metro line in 65 years, this opened about the same time as the Jubilee line extension. It has similar looking platform doors, but is entirely driverless, and the gaps between stations are a bit longer.
Line 3bis:la ligne la plus courte
Ever since I first saw a Paris metro map, this brief line has intrigued me. It's stuck out on the eastern edge of the city, linking two other lines. It goes nowhere special, and is only four stations long. It goes by the peculiar name of line 3bis, and (seriously?) it's less than a mile in length. And yet it has a regular service, trains every five minutes or so, such is the public spiritedness of Paris' transport board. So when I found myself in the area, courtesy of Oscar Wilde, I had to take a ride.
Gambetta station starts as a series of subways leading down from the roundabout outside the local town hall. I could tell I was in the almost-suburbs when a man at the top of the escalator thrust a double glazing leaflet into my hand like I was a proper Parisian. One passage leads to line 3, the other to line 3bis, the latter emerging above a dim tiled chamber. I can best describe it as Clapham North but on a sharper curve, ie a narrow island platform between two single tracks, and with no posters of any kind for decoration. This was the last line in Paris to get next train indicators, here announcing that I had only two minutes to wait at this curiously bleak outpost. In came the train, a bit shorter than most on the network, and less sophisticated too. These are the only carriages not to feature flip-up seats, because passenger levels never reach standing room only. Indeed there were only two of us in my carriage, this at the height of a Saturday afternoon, plus the driver clearly visible through the glass of the door ahead. He sounded the siren to warn that the doors were about to shut, then rang his bell and off we went. Go on, admit you'd like to hear what that sounded like. Here you go, this audioboo journey from one station to the next should satisfy your curiosity.
The two intermediate stations - Pelleport and Saint-Fargeau - exist solely to ensure that every part of Paris lies with 500m of the Metro. They're quite deep, accessed directly by passenger lifts open to the street above. I wish I'd had time to explore those too, but alas not. Instead we whizzed on along the line, picking up and dropping off almost nobody apart from a few residents who planned to make a connection. The terminus at Porte des Lilas arrived quickly, genuinely less than five minutes after we'd left Gambetta, as we pulled in alongside another service ready to head the other way. Honk. Our empty train then continued into the tunnels ahead... which conceal Paris's most unusual abandoned station. Another peculiarly short line (7bis) was due to link up with 3bis ahead, but the authorities changed their mind at the last minute and curtailed it in a loop. That left Haxo station unwanted inbetween, and not only did it never open, they never finished connecting it to the surface either. That might one day change, if plans to complete the link 100 years late ever come to fruition. In the meantime Haxo lies Aldwych-dead beneath the outskirts of town, and line 3bis shuttles back and forth mostly unnoticed.
• The Waterloo & City Railway opened to the public at 8am on Monday 8 August 1898. It was the first railway line to reach Bank, then called the 'City' station, arriving two years before the Northern and Central lines.
• The Waterloo & City Railway was taken over by the London and South Western Railway in 1907, amalgamated into the Southern Railway in 1923, nationalised as part of British Railways in 1948 and transferred to London Underground Ltd on 1st April 1994. This makes it the Underground's youngest line.
• From Bank the line passes directly under Queen Victoria Street, runs beneath the District line from Mansion House to Blackfriars, then crosses obliquely beneath the Thames to the west of Blackfriars Bridge before passing directly under Stamford Street to reach Waterloo.
• The Waterloo and City line runs 7m (23 feet) beneath the bed of the River Thames.
• The Waterloo & City is London's shortest underground line, the distance by train between Waterloo and Bank stations being a mere 2.226km (1.37 miles).
• According to the latest Working Timetable, 561 trains run each weekday and 361 trains every Saturday. A maximum of five trains are needed to run the service.
• W&C trains are only four carriages long - the shortest on the Underground.
• For operational reasons the Waterloo & City line is coupled with the Central line - they have much the same trains (and the same manager, who's called Tricia).
• The line is wholly in tunnel and physically isolated from all other railways. To get trains in and out, as is very occasionally required, a large crane has to be used. It'squiteaspectacle.
• The new trains introduced in the 1940s had no windscreen wipers. Didn't need them, obviously.
• The Waterloo & City is colloquially known as The Drain. It's believed that the term originally applied to the sloping stairway at Bank, parallel to the travolator, and has nothing to do with the tunnels smelling bad.
• The gradient on the Bank Trav-o-lator is 1 in 7.
• You can follow the Waterloo and City line on Twitter at @wlooandcityline. It doesn't usually have a lot to say for itself. In an especially interesting recent blogpost, Ed has analysed these tweets and decided that the line's Myers-Brigg type is ESFP.
• The two platforms at Waterloo are numbered 25 and 26 (at Bank 7 and 8).
• Journey time between Waterloo and platform 8 at Bank is 4 minutes. It's quicker from platform 7 to Waterloo (3½ minutes), but slower from Waterloo to platform 7 (4¼ minutes).
• The W&C is a favourite target for would-be transport planners who love dreaming up fantasy tube lines. How great it would be, they say, to extend the line to Moorgate and beyond, or make it part of the DLR, or absorb it into Crossrail 2, or run a completely new line out to wherever. Alas, not a chance. Other tube tunnels and the Bank of England's vaults preclude extension at the eastern end, while the depot is in the way at Waterloo. In addition the existing platforms are too short for a modern railway, and the Victorian tunnel would need an over-expensive overhaul. The Waterloo and City line is forever destined to shuttle between its two termini and no further (although an intermediate station could be built at Blackfriars if TfL ever had money to burn).
• That red hoop visible along the interchange passage with the DLR at Bank has an unusual history. A plaque alongside explains. "This Greathead Type Tunnelling Shield was left at this point 18 metres below ground level in 1898. Exposed by Edmund Nuttall Limited in 1987 during the construction of the Docklands Light Railway City Extension."
• At Bank the tracks are either side of an island platform, but at Waterloo it was necessary to use side platforms to leave room for the pillars holding up the main-line station.
• During a five month closure in the summer of 2006, refurbishment materials were ferried along the line by four battery-powered locomotives named Walter, Lou, Anne and Kitty.
• Your interesting W&C facts here
✉ Manx Electric Railway Los Angeles may have its Hollywood sign, but Douglas has the Electric Railway. Fifteen illuminated letters beam out across the bay, welcoming passengers to the far end of the promenade for a heritage ride. The Manx Electric Railway runs up the eastern side of the island from Douglas to Ramsey, with its main intermediate station at Laxey roughly halfway. It doesn't run direct either, following a sinuous 17 mile route along the coast, around headlands and across the tops of steep wooded valleys. Local residents could use it - there are innumerable request stops - but generally don't, it's far quicker to drive or take the bus. But the MER is ideal for tourists who want to take it slow and enjoy the view, plus there's an interchange at Laxey for those taking the train up the mountain. Just avoid the rush hour if you want to get a seat.
The first train of the morning looked to have plenty of space, but the luxury coach pulled up alongside should have been a warning. An entire walking party duly poured into the observation trailer from the platform side, squishing in with rucksacks and poles, creating a situation reminiscent of peaktime on the Northern line. And then we rattled off up the hill, past the bungalows and apartments on the edge of town, a hooter buzzing for every sideroad and farm track we crossed. The railway's twin tracks and electricity poles closely follow the main road, occasionally crossing it, before eventually careering off alone through clifftop fields. The first important stop is at Groudle Glen, the original 1890s terminus, where you can alight for yet another heritage railway, or a pootle down to the ruins of a Victorian pleasure garden. The walking party alighted at Fairy Cottage, which I was disappointed to see was a corrugated iron shelter, and then everybody else on board departed at Laxey. Which left BestMate and I with the entire service to ourselves, soaring over crystal blue bays and past goat-infested fields, to a tiny request stop at the top of a waterfalledglen. A proper treat and, if you avoid the busy stretch at a busy time, about as far away from the Northern line as it's possible to get. [7 photos][map]
✉ Douglas
The capital of the Isle of Man spreads out along a broad curved bay on the southeast corner of the island. Arrive by ship, say aboard the Steampacket from Liverpool or Dublin, and you'll disembark in the shadow of the Sea Terminal. This 1960sconcrete creation resembles a raindrop splashing in a bowl of water, or maybe a gasring, and may be the most Modernist chunk of architecture on the island. It's under threat of demolition, naturally, as the Manx government recently launched plans to replace it with "a new landmark gateway to the island" incorporating cruise liner facilities and commercial opportunities. Cruise liners are a growth area for the town, with one anchored offshore on Sunday disgorging its holidaymakers by shuttle across the bay. They might have enjoyed a walk along the promenade, with its arc of grand hotels and fluttering Manx flags, or taken a ride on the Horse Tram (which is yet another of the island's heritage railways).
Douglas is as close to UK-ordinary as the island gets, with parks and schools and housing estates. The main shopping street has several well-known household names, although I was disappointed to see that TK Maxx hadn't rebranded with an 'n' instead of that first 'x' - surely an opportunity missed. Residents have to get their entertainment where they can, hence the Gaiety Theatre sometimes welcomes acts from the mainland (it's John Newman next month), but more likely puts on a Gala Concert or Abba tribute. Sir Norman Wisdom was a huge fan of the island and spent the last 30 years of his life here. A hotel bar on the seafront is named after him, and a bronze likeness sits on a bench outside the front window, cloth cap on head, should you fancy a photo. If you can stand his cheery demeanour, this 5 minute TV clip promoting his favourite island gives a pretty good overview of the place. [12 photos][map]
✉ Ronaldsway
The island's main airport is perched on a flat plain by the coast, so you're likely to fly in low across the waves before touching down. Ronaldsway's departure lounge was opened 20 years ago by Nigel Mansell, another motorsport-related resident, and there's a decent view from the windows of planes taking off if you can't stick watching Channel 5 movies on the big screen telly. That scary-looking dark tower opposite belongs to King William's College, the private school with the nigh impossible general knowledge quiz the Guardian prints every Christmas. [1 photo][map]
✉ Castletown
Before Douglas took the administrative crown, the island's capital was Castletown. And that was for several centuries, when the Isle of Man had its own line of royalty and an entirely separate history to the rest of the British Isles. The Kings of Mann had a castle built here to protect them against the Vikings, the Scots and the English, with the current structure dating back to at least the 12th century. Castle Rushen is one of the best preserved medieval castles in the world, what with a dynasty to support and few marauding armies ever getting this far. And as such it's therefore a fine place for a visit, indeed its completeness is likely to make crumbling ruins elsewhere seem almost ordinary. Taking the tour involves climbing a spiral staircase in stages to the roof, or indeed several roofs, and enjoying the view down over town, harbour and Co-Op. More effort has been made on the descent to depict how the Lords of Mann might have lived and entertained, with some finely decorated rooms and a steward who'll tell you all about 17th century banqueting in fine detail until you manage to thank him and walk away.
The Queen is now the Lord of Mann, but only infrequently pops over to exercise her rights. Across the road is the Old House of Keys, formerly one of the houses of the Manx Parliament which, as you may know, is the oldest continuous parliamentary body in the world. This rather understated building was its home in the 19th century, then became a bank, and is now an intriguingly democratic tourist attraction. Visitors are invited to vote on historic motions from the island's past, including the one which gave women suffrage in national elections earlier than any other country in the world. A couple of othermuseums on the seafront give tourists alternative options for infotainment (the world's oldest yacht, anyone?), although the town centre itself is a bit small, and I can see why those elected representatives relocated. [4 photos][map]
(If protracted non-London reportage is getting you down, rest assured that later in the week I'll be bringing you all the latest news from Sutton)
Five tube stations have the word Ruislip in their name, but only one marks the end of a line. That's West Ruislip, way out in zone 6, where Central line trains from Epping terminate. In case you've never been, I have, and here's what I can tell you about the place.
1) The station
There are nicer stations than WestRuislip, but there are far worse. Central line trains run either side of an island platform with a central canopy, and departing passengers need to check the signs carefully before boarding. The peculiarity here, shared with South Ruislip down the line, is that Chiltern trains have separate platforms alongside. They don't stop that regularly, not outside peak times, but it's nice to have the opportunity to travel further. We'll come back to this. The front of the station has a broad façade with a gently bending porch beneath a lantern roof. It could easily be something TfL had designed, except this place was built by British Rail in the 1960s. Immediately to the right of the entrance are your usual food stores and takeaway, but to the left is a minor police station, which suggests this area is a hotbed of crime. It doesn't look it. Immediately opposite the station is a golf course, and a Harvester-style restaurant which runs comedy nights and slimming classes to pack 'em in. We're right on the border between Ruislip and Ickenham, which is why this station used to be called Ruislip & Ickenham, then West Ruislip (for Ickenham) before losing the Icky bit. A lot of fresh flats are being built just down the road at Ickenham Park, on the site of what until fairly recently was RAFWest Ruislip. But mostly what's down the road is Metroland, and a very pleasant corner of Metroland too.
2) The extension West Ruislip wasn't scheduled to be the end of the Central line. When the western extension was mapped out in the 1930s the line was due to go further, all the way to Denham in Buckinghamshire. But the war came along and interrupted things (which is one of the most overused phrases on this blog) and the original plans had to be curtailed. The problem was the golf course across the road from West Ruislip station, and all the undeveloped land beyond it. After World War 2 this became part of the Green Belt, which meant no houses could be built beyond, and without houses there was no point in continuing the railway. If you look over the side of the bridge opposite the station you can see where thedream ended. Two dead end sidings terminate at a pair of unconvincing looking buffers, while a single track links up to the Chiltern line beyond. The Central line could have been the only tube line to exit Greater London twice, but it wasn't to be.
3) The missing station Denham station already existed when the Central line extension was killed off, but one intermediate station never materialised. That would have been Harefield Road, a halt approximately halfway along the unbuilt section, shortly before the Chiltern railway crosses the Colne Valley. What a fantastically remote and unlikely spot for a station this is. A lonely bend in a minor road, surrounded by fields and woodland, and not a house in sight. The only folk living within half a mile are farmers. There is one other business here, that's Uxbridge Skip Hire, who run their operations down a bleak track which goes by the name of Skip Lane. Public access is along a pavement from nowhere, or the U9 bus runs through - Hail and Ride only. As for the town of Harefield itself, that's two miles away, and an absolutely 'no' to walk to after dark. There is no conceivable economic justification for a station in this location, indeed there's an air of Blake Hall about the place, for those who remember the pointless platform at the Ongar end of the line. But that's the point. Harefield Road station was meant to generate development, not to serve it. Had the Central line extended, these fields off Harvil Road would have been swallowed up by acres of semis and bungalows, and a parade of shops, and a school, and who knows what else besides. Instead the Green Belt has done its job and this place remains mostly unspoilt, at least until HS2 appears and carves a whopping cutting out of the adjacent woodland.
4) The missing link A few hundred yards south of West Ruislip station the Central line passes over the Metropolitan and Piccadilly lines. It doesn't stop, indeed there's no convenient way to change from one to the other. When Tube Challengers come this way they have to run, unless the hourly U10 is passing by, that elusive bus of legend. It would be foolish to add a new interchange station here - West Ruislip is much too close - so the trek to Ickenham or Ruislip remains. But there have been mutterings, even semi-coherent plans, to link the lines together. Hillingdon council would love nothing better than to divert Central line trains away from West Ruislip and off towards Uxbridge. That would bring three different lines into the heart of the town, and offer commuters a greater choice of routes into the city. I'm not convinced that Uxbridge station could cope with the additional trains, and I don't think residents of West Ruislip would be very happy either. But a link wouldn't be as difficult to achieve as many other pie in the sky interchange schemes. The two lines are already joined via a track round the back of Ruislip depot, where large numbers of Central line trains are stabled overnight. It'd take some major reorganisation to create two-way passage, and the carriages full of ballast currently stored up the sidings would need to be shunted elsewhere. London Reconnections discuss the issues here, in some detail. This potential junction is quite hard to see, except from a train, although if you stand on the road bridge at Austin's Lane you can see the dead end buffer where the Central line might one day merge. I wouldn't hold my breath waiting, to be honest. Until which time West Ruislip station will continue to be the end of the line that shouldn't have been the end of the line, imperfect but immovable.
Sorry, the interesting post was yesterday. This is the...
Marshgate Lane Transport Update
Marshgate Lane bus stop Five months ago, you may remember, the extension of cycle Superhighway 2 had unintended consequences for local bus traffic. As cyclists zoomed through along their semi-segregated lanes, bus passengers suddenly found that one particular stop had been permanently closed due to an almighty cock-up. At the Marshgate Lane bus stop, for unintended administrative reasons, a white line rather than a dashed line was painted along the edge of the blue superhighway. That meant buses weren't allowed to cross the line, so couldn't reach the bus stop, so TfL removed the bus stop altogether. Nearby residents were not best pleased. Buses now sailed past their front gates, a full half mile without stopping, leaving them in an unintended transport desert. Never mind that CS2 was usually empty and buses could have crossed the offending line in safety, the law was the law, and cycling trumped buses.
Well, good news. The Marshgate Lane bus stop has returned, with a minimum of fuss, replanted by the roadside and again accepting passengers. No longer do locals have to alight on the wrong side of the Bow Roundabout, or stay on until well past the Greenway. Now buses stop here again, cutting across the cycle lane to enter the layby, then crossing back into the traffic to continue towards Stratford. I took a ride yesterday and can confirm that the stop is already being well used. Now when 'Marshgate Lane' appears on the scrolling display it's possible to ding the bell and cause the driver to stop, rather than sighing deeply as they speed past up the road. It's not all perfect, though. On the D8 an electronic voice announces "There is a cycle lane behind this bus stop, use the crossing point" when this is patently untrue. A bus stop bypass exists at every other bus stop down Stratford High Street, but not here, because there isn't room. Instead bus passengers have it easy, they step straight onto the pavement, and it's cyclists who now need to watch out.
339 diverted Look carefully at the route numbers on the Marshgate Lane bus stop and you'll see that one has been missed out. The 339 is missing, despite the fact that it runs up Stratford High Street and its buses currently stop here. But that won't be the case for long. Next Saturday the 339 is to be permanently diverted, serving the southern end of Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park from its opening day. At present the 339 does a loop round Fish Island to return via the A12 to the Bow Roundabout. Not from next weekend it won't. Instead (at long last) it'll continue north from Fish Island to Hackney Wick station, and then continue along Carpenters Road towards Westfield. There hasn't been a bus down Carpenters Road since 2007, indeed the road has only been reopened to traffic in the last fortnight. Back then it was the 276 which passed this way, but that route's diversion through Bow is now permanent, and it's the 339 that'll pick up the QEOP traffic.
The first stop in the Park is near the central bridge, below the Copper Box, where it'll be possible for visitors to alight and wander up onto the main concourse. There'll be another stop below the bridge that links Westfield to the Aquatics Centre, a fairly bleak spot at present, then another outside the Aquatics Centre proper. Two bus shelters await their first passengers, though they'll need to check carefully they're waiting at the right one because buses here will be travelling in a counter-intuitive direction. Before long the D8 will be stopping here too, but not until the railway bridge at the southern end of Carpenters Road has been cleared out, and there's absolutely no sign of that as yet. Meanwhile the 339 continues to Stratford City bus station, through the Athletes Village and on to Leytonstone. I believe there are still plans to extend the route to Whipps Cross, but only if sufficient stand space can be found, so no sign yet. Whatever, from runty backroads bus to Olympic Park feeder service, the 339's moment in the sun arrives next weekend.
Pudding Mill Lane station Meanwhile it's all change up Marshgate Lane on the DLR next month. The old Pudding Mill Lane station lies in the way of Crossrail so must be removed, and the new station is nearly complete. It's now a long shiny elevated box, the glass panels along its length complete, and a far cry from the windswept halt at which passengers have waited for 20 years. It's also crawling with workmen, adding fixtures along the platforms, fixing lights on the stadium-sized staircases and riding diggers around the exterior. The concrete viaduct that'll divert the tracks is complete, and the main job which remains is to attach the new tracks to the old so that trains can pass through. That means a lot of engineering works in the weeks ahead, and a lot of line closures to facilitate change.
6th April: closed from Stratford to Bow Church Thursday 17th April: Last day of the old station 18th-25th April: closed from Stratford to Bow Church (leaflet) 26th-27th April: closed from Stratford to Poplar Monday 28th April: First day of the new station 3rd-4th May: closed from Stratford to Poplar 5th May: closed from Stratford to Bow Church 17th-18th May: closed from Stratford to Bow Church
The Easter closure is the big one - a full week from Good Friday until the following Friday, extending along the whole line the following weekend. This is so that the new double-track section can be properly linked, and the rejigged system fully tested before Pudding Mill Lane 2 opens to the public on Monday 28th April. Expect Boris to turn up. I think this is the only new station he gets to open this year, possibly even the last of his Mayorship, unless of course you know better. The largest station on the DLR network will then be ready for stadium crowds and West Ham home matches, once they finally kick off in two years time. It could be rather quiet and echoey in the new place until then.
50 years ago today, on Friday 23rd July 1971, the final section of the Victoria line slipped into service. The first section from Walthamstow Central to Highbury & Islington had opened in September 1968, extending to Warren Street in December and Victoria in March 1969. But it took two more years to finally reach the southern terminus at Brixton, and even then Pimlico got skipped because it wasn't ready yet.
So today I'm continuing my journey down the line, station by station, to see how this cutting-edge forward-thinking initiative is looking fifty years on. If nothing else, it'll be a useful reminder that major transport projects delivered way behind schedule are nothing new, and generally come good in the end.
VAUXHALL
Opened: 23 July 1971 Originally opened: 11 July 1848 Previously known as:Vauxhall Bridge Station (until 1868) Interchange with: South Western Railway trains to Clapham Junction and beyond, including Windsor, Weybridge and Woking. Eight platforms are available to whisk you away, atop a viaduct entirely separate from the tube station.
Tile pattern: Every Victoria line station has its own bespoke mural in the alcoves on the platforms above the benches. Vauxhall's design is a representation of Vauxhall Gardens (London's first and most significant Pleasure Gardens, where Georgian society enjoyed arboreal promenades, outdoor culture and later a tad of debauchery) and was designed by George Smith. Entrances: The main entrance is at the tip of the iconic forked bus station beneath the information window. Four other subways feed in, including one outside the National Rail station and another on the approach to Vauxhall Bridge. The ramp down from Wandsworth Road has two rather nice enamel nameplates embedded in the brickwork. Architecture: Nothing above ground... the 2004-vintage bus station is doing all the heavy lifting. Nearby development: Riverside Vauxhall shot upwards early courtesy of Saint George Wharf, and continues to suffer from a virulent plague of residential skyscrapers of assorted giddying heights, mostly to the southwest. The latest masterplan is to replace the bus station and associated triangle of waste ground with a Zaha Hadid concoction called Vauxhall Cross Island, bookended by a 42 storey tower beside the station and a 53 storey tower to the south, and to remove the gyratory, and to make the bus station less focused, and basically to squeeze every last commercial dollar out of a vastly under-realised site.
Nearest station: Is Pimlico. Will be Nine Elms, a ten minute walk down the road. Station layout: 3D diagram here. Ticket hall: Efficient rather than appealing. A grey-tiled concourse for funnelling down and funnelling up, plus a gaggle of barrier staff, plus a little shop for the purchase of travel comestibles. I would have taken a photo but it was swarming with transport police yesterday morning so this seemed unwise. Lower concourse: At the foot of the escalators are two colourful mostly-blue panels called Design Work Leisure, designed by Giles Round in 2017. The passageway beyond looks a lot more 1970s, and bends a bit. Veer right for Brixton and left for central London.
Platforms: Even though these were built two years after those further up the line they look very familiar. Grey tiles with recessed benches, again, joined by interconnecting passageways should you suddenly want to switch between northbound and southbound. Some hoops of the roof covering are currently missing. The northbound platform has a pride roundel and a trans roundel. Trains arrive with impressive regularity. Step-free access: A lift from the ticket hall to the platforms opened in 2016, emerging into a crosspassage that's much wider than anyone would have bothered to build in the 1970s. Inconveniently it's at the end of the platform but the raised hump with level access to the trains is in the centre. Factnugget: The clock at the end of the northbound platform is working but the southbound clock is stuck at 7.24. Some photos: Eight, here.
STOCKWELL
Opened: 23 July 1971 Originally opened: 4 November 1890 Originally terminus of: The City and South London Railway, London's first deep-level tube. Interchange with: Northern line, at south London's most useful tube switchover.
Tile pattern: This is the one everybody likes once they've worked out (or been told) what it is. Abram Games' blue and white zigzag conceals a swan with an orange beak, in honour of The Swan public house opposite the station. There's been a Swan on this street corner for at least 400 years, and for the last 40 it's been a full-on Irish venue with late-night craic (even music pumping out on a Friday morning, to be sure). Also nearby: a) One of eight deep-level air-raid shelters, brightly-painted (since 1942). b) The inimitable Stockwell bus garage (since 1952). c) A British Transport Police Station (since 1987). Immediately outside: A memorial to Jean Charles de Menezes, shot by an undercover police officer on a Northern line train after being mistaken for a terrorist during an appallingly-bungled operation during the heady days of July 2005.
Architecture: Undistinguished mid 20th century brick box. Nearby development: Mostly resistant so far. Station layout: 3D diagram here. Ticket hall: A bit like Vauxhall but at ground level so brighter, and part-blocked by two big pillars. Retail opportunities include a Costa, a keycutting/watchrepair hideaway and good old reliable Station News, which still sells newspapers. Station layout: A bit complex, as befits a Northern/Victoria hybrid. From the ticket hall you take the left hand escalator to the northbound platforms and the right hand staircase to the southbound platforms (though there is an escalator back up again). A separate subterranean trek connects the two. To optimise interchange the new platforms were added alongside the old, with short interconnecting passageways southbound and a bigger intermediate concourse northbound. The downside of the arrangement is that the Victoria line had to follow an indirect S-shaped route between Vauxhall to Brixton to align properly at Stockwell, lengthening journeys. Uniformity: The Northern line platforms were also given a grey-tiled Victoria-style makeover in 1971, but without the recessed tiled benches.
Special instructions: Those heading for the northbound Victoria line pass several signs saying 'Please pass along the platform'. This is despite most passengers one stop up the line at Brixton also boarding at the rear of the train, leaving more seats at the front. The message is somewhat rammed home, however, using extra big text on the new posters in the concourse and with the final exhortation just three adverts from the far end of the platform. Factnugget: Until 1923 the Northern line had a single island platform, slightly to the north, accessed down a staircase where Costa Coffee is now. Some photos: Ten, here.
It's time to take an end-to-end journey on the Metropolitan line. From Aldgate as far as you can go, which is currently Chesham, a journey of just under 30 miles in just under 100 minutes.
Aldgate station just about fits within the eastern edge of the City of London, isolated along with St Botolph's church in the centre of a gyratory. It still says Metropolitan Railway in the tiling above the main entrance, or at least it says M.R. which was good enough at the time. The station lies in cutting beneath a vaulted glass roof, with a series of open staircases leading down to platform level. Best check the ancient Next Train Indicator before you descend, because there's bugger all down there to indicate when the next service is due and where it's going. That's not too much trouble on the two Metropolitan line platforms because all the trains are travelling to at least Harrow and most passengers aren't going that far. But for the suited City gent returning to Bucks after a hard day's high finance, grabbing one of the limited number of seats on the correct train is crucially important.
The lights go off beside the door and we depart, with another train already queueing to slip into our vacated platform. Around the curve is Liverpool Street, where the rear of the train comes to a halt just off the end of the platform. "The rear doors will not open here", announces the disembodied voice, while the red 'Door not in use' sign lights up above the offending portal. And, I notice, also above the opposite door which was never going to open anyway, which is typically inconsistent. Few enter the train at the rear end here, but rather more do at Moorgate, including a gaggle of foreign tourists and a bloke immersed in a book. Barbican still has platform numbers from the Network South East era, and a disused signal box at the Smithfield end of the station.
Farringdon's a mass of scaffolding at the moment in preparation for Crossrail, which at one time was due to take over the line to Chesham but that never materialised. Instead we plod on, still over an hour to go, and plenty of time to complete the Evening Standard crossword. At King's Cross St Pancras several passengers stand back and let us pass because they want Paddington, they don't want to go our way. The same at Euston Square and Great Portland Street, two more stations that are too short for these long trains. We queue erratically to proceed, as the line attempts to keep to its strict published timetable. And finally we curve off beneath Chiltern Court onto the Met proper.
Ah, Baker Street, gateway to the northwest. You don't sense the grandeur of the surrounding buildings from within, not even from the far end of the platforms where the sun streams in. City trains roll in along the central tracks, while lesser services to Herts and Hillingdon wait patiently to one side. The tunnels ahead dip for a couple of miles beneath St John's Wood, rising only to slink over the Regent's Canal and back down again. There used to be three additional stations along here, including one at Swiss Cottage that was once the terminus of the line. The most obvious of these is Marlborough Road, where the cut and cover opens out and gaps alongside for platforms are clearly seen. Modern safety signs have been affixed to the walls, and a metal staircase runs down for staff access, or in case an emergency evacuation is ever needed.
Outbound trains emerge into daylight at Finchley Road, alongside a switch on the wall marked 'Tunnel lighting'. Change here for the Jubilee line, calling at intermediate Brent stations, or stay aboard for the seven minute dash to Wembley. We run alongside a giant shopping centre on one side and fading blossom on the other. Here the Chiltern lines join us, creating a six-lane superhighway to the suburbs. The viaduct at Kilburn offers a brief glimpse across the rooftops towards distant Ealing and the heights of Hampstead. When I was little, riding the train up to town, this was always the special moment where it seemed the whole of London was laid out below, impossibly large, undeniably alluring. It still sets me slightly aquiver. And then back to tree level and the backs of houses, from Zone 2 to Zone 4 in a single leap.
Past the depot at Neasden comes Wembley Park, close but not that close to the looming white arch at the national stadium. Here many of the passengers alight, with rather fewer staying on board for the trek further out. Preston Road and Northwick Park are quieter stations with island platforms, as we start to pass those Metroland staples of pebbledash and cricket. Northwick Park has semi-overgrown raised beds, suggesting that staff here once used to enter the Underground in Bloom competition but no longer bother. Then at Harrow-on-the-Hill the in-car announcement states categorically that the back doors will not open, except they do. Thankfully that's the last we'll hear of this sub-optimal system as the journey progresses.
The Uxbridge branch veers off past a sign announcing 'Morrisons Harrow Now Open'. We've entered a world of allotments and avenues, and weatherboarded platforms above century-old shopping parades. North Harrow has nice tubs while Pinner boasts well-kept borders, plus a newsagent on the down platform sponsored by The Times. Backing onto the line are a succession of semis and bungalows and graffitied flats, most with gardens offering zero privacy from passing trains. The northbound platform at Northwood Hills is mostly advert-free, while at Northwood a suspicious number of the southbound posters are for local public schools. It feels like a real railway out here, running between woods and golf courses, but then we are in Hertfordshire now.
Moor Park serves a community of three-car households, hence the station is lightly used. It's also no longer the key spot for Watford branchers to switch onto a fast train, what with fast trains being an endangered species in the latest timetable. Across the Common Moor and the Grand Union we go, another favourite view, dropping down from four tracks to two as we approach Rickmansworth. With a signalbox and sidings one can well imagine Betjeman pausing here, although his 1972 documentary skipped right over. It's less glamorous up ahead where the M25 rides roughshod over the wooded cutting on concrete stilts, before the Common restores rurality. And someone's recorded "The next station is Chorleywood" with completely the wrong emphasis, which annoyed me, twice.
Only on the next stretch does the countryside finally open out to rolling fields, becoming more built-up again on the approach to Chalfont & Latimer. This used to be where you changed for the Chesham shuttle, but no longer, and mini-platform three is now out of service. Ahead is the longest gap between stations on the entire network, that's 3.89 miles, or twenty times the distance from Leicester Square to Covent Garden. The single-track branch line veers off before an industrial estate, past, hang on, isn't that a field of alpacas? The view down across the Chess Valley should be one of the finest on the Underground except, oh, TfL are currently erecting a silver metal fence along the perimeter of the track despoiling any attempt to enjoy the panorama unobstructed.
There follows a gentle descent into Chesham at rooftop level, crossing the fledgling river and pulling into the town centre at the foot of a hill. The station's charming, with a long sinuous platform one, and platform two long ago converted into a prize-winninggarden. Locals know not to travel in the rear carriage because that means a longer walk at the end of the journey, probably passing the driver walking back up the platform to change ends. Exit is through a tiny lobby, formerly the ticket hall, now well stocked with local leaflets. We're as far away from London as the London Underground ever gets, in a pleasant Buckinghamshire town (walk straight ahead, turn left). No other line can boast so great a contrast at its extremities, but that's why I love it so.
Ryde Pier Head: The Fast Cat pulled in at the end of the pier, with the town of Ryde still about half a mile away across the water. The pier's the earliest (and fourth-longest) in the country, built to save ferrygoers a long trudge over wet sand to reach the coast. A brief trudge through the pavilion and I arrived almost immediately at the pier-head station, its central platform wide enough to hold an entire boatful of Victorian luggage. And yes, this might have been 70 miles from London, but that was indeed a genuine 1938-stock two-carriage tube train waiting to depart [station photo]. One short 8-mile stretch of the island's railway network managed to survive Beeching's axe in the 1960s, and tube trains are the only practical stock that can still negotiate the Ryde Tunnel. Each Island Line train still boasts its own guard who operates the doors manually, using big buttons at the end of the carriage, just like it used to be. And the doors still close with a slow satisfying mechanical clunk - there are no health and safety beeps here. Clunk. The train trundled off slowly along the rickety-looking wooden pier, the sea sploshing away beneath, and with passing traffic visible through the side windows along a parallel roadway. And you don't get that on the Bakerloo line.
Smallbrook Junction: A part-time halt in the middle of the countryside, completely inaccessible by road, at the point where the line to Newport used to branch off [station photo]. Now it's the eastern terminus of the Isle of Wight Steam Railway, an august body which runs steam locos over the four miles between here and Wootton. Utterly useless for commuting, but quite charming to ride. None of the carriages they use was built more recently than 1924, so the travelling experience had a particularly authentic feel. On the up train I had the pleasure of sharing a compartment with a bouncy toddler urinating into a juice bottle, and on the down train I was trapped up against the window by a slobbering St Bernard too huge to turn itself around without assistance. A memorable trip, then. It being Bank Holiday weekend the IoW Steam Festival was in full flow beside the engine sheds at Havenstreet [station photo]. What a pleasure it was to stand in a drizzly field watching vintage traction engines, old green buses and damp families eating hotdogs. Well, it could have been, given better weather. Instead I queued for the ride back to Smallbrook and awaited the next tube train south.
Mile End Park, 3-ish
Mile End Park, 4-ish
A typical station
• Bastille (line 5): Things you don't expect to find on a station platform... the foundations of France's most notorious prison. But there they are on the southbound, the remains of the Bastille, jutting out from the wall. They look a bit like a stone sandwich, and are protected by a metal rail to prevent passengers using them as a bench, or worse.
Gambetta station starts as a series of subways leading down from the roundabout outside the local town hall. I could tell I was in the almost-suburbs when a man at the top of the escalator thrust a double glazing leaflet into my hand like I was a proper Parisian. One passage leads to line 3, the other to line 3bis, the latter emerging above a dim tiled chamber. I can best describe it as Clapham North but on a sharper curve, ie a narrow island platform between two single tracks, and with no posters of any kind for decoration. This was the last line in Paris to get next train indicators, here announcing that I had only two minutes to wait at this curiously bleak outpost. In came the train, a bit shorter than most on the network, and less sophisticated too. These are the only carriages not to feature flip-up seats, because passenger levels never reach standing room only. Indeed there were only two of us in my carriage, this at the height of a Saturday afternoon, plus the driver clearly visible through the glass of the door ahead. He sounded the siren to warn that the doors were about to shut, then rang his bell and off we went. Go on, admit you'd like to hear what that sounded like. Here you go, this audioboo journey from one station to the next should satisfy your curiosity.
WATERLOO & CITY: Twenty line facts
Los Angeles may have its Hollywood sign, but Douglas has the Electric Railway. Fifteen illuminated letters beam out across the bay, welcoming passengers to the far end of the promenade for a heritage ride. The Manx Electric Railway runs up the eastern side of the island from Douglas to Ramsey, with its main intermediate station at Laxey roughly halfway. It doesn't run direct either, following a sinuous 17 mile route along the coast, around headlands and across the tops of steep wooded valleys. Local residents could use it - there are innumerable request stops - but generally don't, it's far quicker to drive or take the bus. But the MER is ideal for tourists who want to take it slow and enjoy the view, plus there's an interchange at Laxey for those taking the train up the mountain. Just avoid the rush hour if you want to get a seat.
✉ Douglas
✉ Castletown
1) The station
West Ruislip wasn't scheduled to be the end of the Central line. When the western extension was mapped out in the 1930s the line was due to go further, all the way to Denham in Buckinghamshire. But the war came along and interrupted things (which is one of the most overused phrases on this blog) and the original plans had to be curtailed. The problem was the golf course across the road from West Ruislip station, and all the undeveloped land beyond it. After World War 2 this became part of the Green Belt, which meant no houses could be built beyond, and without houses there was no point in continuing the railway. If you look over the side of the bridge opposite the station you can see where the dream ended. Two dead end sidings terminate at a pair of unconvincing looking buffers, while a single track links up to the Chiltern line beyond. The Central line could have been the only tube line to exit Greater London twice, but it wasn't to be.
3) The missing station
A few hundred yards south of West Ruislip station the Central line passes over the Metropolitan and Piccadilly lines. It doesn't stop, indeed there's no convenient way to change from one to the other. When Tube Challengers come this way they have to run, unless the hourly U10 is passing by, that elusive bus of legend. It would be foolish to add a new interchange station here - West Ruislip is much too close - so the trek to Ickenham or Ruislip remains. But there have been mutterings, even semi-coherent plans, to link the lines together. Hillingdon council would love nothing better than to divert Central line trains away from West Ruislip and off towards Uxbridge. That would bring three different lines into the heart of the town, and offer commuters a greater choice of routes into the city. I'm not convinced that Uxbridge station could cope with the additional trains, and I don't think residents of West Ruislip would be very happy either. But a link wouldn't be as difficult to achieve as many other pie in the sky interchange schemes. The two lines are already joined via a track round the back of Ruislip depot, where large numbers of Central line trains are stabled overnight. It'd take some major reorganisation to create two-way passage, and the carriages full of ballast currently stored up the sidings would need to be shunted elsewhere. London Reconnections discuss the issues here, in some detail. This potential junction is quite hard to see, except from a train, although if you stand on the road bridge at Austin's Lane you can see the dead end buffer where the Central line might one day merge. I wouldn't hold my breath waiting, to be honest. Until which time West Ruislip station will continue to be the end of the line that shouldn't have been the end of the line, imperfect but immovable.
Five months ago, you may remember, the extension of cycle Superhighway 2 had unintended consequences for local bus traffic. As cyclists zoomed through along their semi-segregated lanes, bus passengers suddenly found that one particular stop had been permanently closed due to an almighty cock-up. At the Marshgate Lane bus stop, for unintended administrative reasons, a white line rather than a dashed line was painted along the edge of the blue superhighway. That meant buses weren't allowed to cross the line, so couldn't reach the bus stop, so TfL removed the bus stop altogether. Nearby residents were not best pleased. Buses now sailed past their front gates, a full half mile without stopping, leaving them in an unintended transport desert. Never mind that CS2 was usually empty and buses could have crossed the offending line in safety, the law was the law, and cycling trumped buses.
Look carefully at the route numbers on the Marshgate Lane bus stop and you'll see that one has been missed out. The 339 is missing, despite the fact that it runs up Stratford High Street and its buses currently stop here. But that won't be the case for long. Next Saturday the 339 is to be permanently diverted, serving the southern end of Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park from its opening day. At present the 339 does a loop round Fish Island to return via the A12 to the Bow Roundabout. Not from next weekend it won't. Instead (at long last) it'll continue north from Fish Island to Hackney Wick station, and then continue along Carpenters Road towards Westfield. There hasn't been a bus down Carpenters Road since 2007, indeed the road has only been reopened to traffic in the last fortnight. Back then it was the 276 which passed this way, but that route's diversion through Bow is now permanent, and it's the 339 that'll pick up the QEOP traffic.
Meanwhile it's all change up Marshgate Lane on the DLR next month. The old Pudding Mill Lane station lies in the way of Crossrail so must be removed, and the new station is nearly complete. It's now a long shiny elevated box, the glass panels along its length complete, and a far cry from the windswept halt at which passengers have waited for 20 years. It's also crawling with workmen, adding fixtures along the platforms, fixing lights on the stadium-sized staircases and riding diggers around the exterior. The concrete viaduct that'll divert the tracks is complete, and the main job which remains is to attach the new tracks to the old so that trains can pass through. That means a lot of engineering works in the weeks ahead, and a lot of line closures to facilitate change.
Aldgate station just about fits within the eastern edge of the City of London, isolated along with St Botolph's church in the centre of a gyratory. It still says Metropolitan Railway in the tiling above the main entrance, or at least it says M.R. which was good enough at the time. The station lies in cutting beneath a vaulted glass roof, with a series of open staircases leading down to platform level. Best check the ancient Next Train Indicator before you descend, because there's bugger all down there to indicate when the next service is due and where it's going. That's not too much trouble on the two Metropolitan line platforms because all the trains are travelling to at least Harrow and most passengers aren't going that far. But for the suited City gent returning to Bucks after a hard day's high finance, grabbing one of the limited number of seats on the correct train is crucially important.
Outbound trains emerge into daylight at Finchley Road, alongside a switch on the wall marked 'Tunnel lighting'. Change here for the Jubilee line, calling at intermediate Brent stations, or stay aboard for the seven minute dash to Wembley. We run alongside a giant shopping centre on one side and fading blossom on the other. Here the Chiltern lines join us, creating a six-lane superhighway to the suburbs. The viaduct at Kilburn offers a brief glimpse across the rooftops towards distant Ealing and the heights of Hampstead. When I was little, riding the train up to town, this was always the special moment where it seemed the whole of London was laid out below, impossibly large, undeniably alluring. It still sets me slightly aquiver. And then back to tree level and the backs of houses, from Zone 2 to Zone 4 in a single leap.
Only on the next stretch does the countryside finally open out to rolling fields, becoming more built-up again on the approach to Chalfont & Latimer. This used to be where you changed for the Chesham shuttle, but no longer, and mini-platform three is now out of service. Ahead is the longest gap between stations on the entire network, that's 3.89 miles, or twenty times the distance from Leicester Square to Covent Garden. The single-track branch line veers off before an industrial estate, past, hang on, isn't that a field of alpacas? The view down across the Chess Valley should be one of the finest on the Underground except, oh, TfL are currently erecting a silver metal fence along the perimeter of the track despoiling any attempt to enjoy the panorama unobstructed.
