All steamed up in the cold.

On the 7th October 1927 a new steam railway engine was born at the Derby Works. Her working number was 4422, but after several years of hard work up and down various tracks, she was promoted to 44422. After many further years of faithful service, she was scrapped in 1965 and languished in rusting and unappreciated despair until being rescued by conservationists and lovingly restored.

On Sunday 27th December 2009, the weather was beautiful as I drove my son to a friend's house. After dropping him off, I thought it was a perfect day to go for a cycle ride with my wife, but after discussion and concerns of icy conditions and possibly getting killed in a hideous peddling accident, we settled for a walk in one of our favourite walking spots - Ferry Meadows in Peterborough.

As we drove nearer Peterborough, the sky suddenly had a sheet of angry battleship grey clouds - and some more - drawn across it. Then rain spots appeared on the windscreen and I began to fear our walk was doomed. However, persevering onwards and keeping a good British stiff upper lip, we arrived at Ferry Meadows with no rain descending. It was just bitterly cold and the ice on the car park was treacherously slippery. "Be careful how you tread or you'll slip arse over head" sagely advised a fellow walker as he returned with his wife to their car. As neither I or my wife take any pleasure in, or had any desire to slip arse over head, we decided to take his advice.

After a while my wife had wrapped her scarf so many times around her face and neck that it was like walking with a half wrapped mummy. She told me she wasn't cold. Of course she wasn't - she was frozen! I, however was not cold at all. I had wrapped up with extra layers and felt warm while the cold air on my face was nothing short of refreshing.

Deciding independently that we should keep it to a short walk rather than an ice-trek lest I end up having to carry an ice-corpse, I guided our steps in a large circuit designed to take us back, eventually, to the car park.

Suddenly, we heard a sound of something I never expected to hear, and that was the "chuffing" and whistle of a steam train as it made its way along the Nene Valley Railway which cuts through the park. Indeed, there are a series of footpaths which allow the walker to follow the route of the steam railway until it arrives at it's terminal station in Peterborough. The railway begins at Wansford Station which is easily accessed from the A1 which runs straight past. I gave up on any hope of getting a photo of the steaming loco as it was too far away and I could only watch in frustration the smoke rising in the distance marking out its progress along the track.

Presently, we came upon a lake with lots of gulls in a commotion over a feeding frenzy. Realizing there was a photo opportunity here, I quickly trudged gingerly and very carefully to the waters' edge and took a series of shots.

A short distance further on we came to the sailing club cafe and restaurant. Deciding to get a coffee we grabbed each other's hand and pigeon toed warily over the ice towards the door, lest we should slip arse over head and have a spoiled day. Now you might think that on such a dark, cold and miserable day there would be very few people walking in the park. Well, you'd be wrong. The cafe was packed and it was only the fact that a family vacated their table just as we got served, that we were able to "bag" it tout-suite. The coffee was hot and very welcome. The cafe was very noisy as everybody seemed to chatting very enthusiastically about goodness only knows what. We didn't stay for long but strode purposely on our way again in our quest to be re-united with the car. I had some photos which I never expected as well as being warmed and refreshed by the coffee, so what else could I expect or want?

As we walked along, we heard again the sound of an approaching steam engine on the Nene Valley track. This time, it was returning in the opposite direction and even better, I had time to get the the hump-back bridge ahead of us from which I could get a photo. However, there was only just time so I had to be quick and try not to slip arse over head on the skating rink slippery ice! I managed to get a good spot, a little to one side of where it was headed under the bridge. And there it was, No. 44422, proudly pulling a whole load of carriages carrying a whole load of steam enthusiasts on a special excursion. I snapped away taking several shots, as I only had the one chance, although I suppose I could have photographed it from the other side of the bridge steaming away from me, but it didn't appeal so I didn't bother. My wife, somewhat wisely had stayed off the bridge as it was extremely slippery with ice, to say the least. Before I knew what was happening, I demonstrated how slippery it was when both feet simultaneously lost their grip and I began an accelerating slide down the bridge shouting "aaahhhgggg" as I went while my wife nearly doubled up in hysterical laughter. Nonetheless, I finally managed to steady myself without crashing to the ground, my main concern being to protect the camera from harm rather than myself.

We made our way the final few hundred yards back to the car. I was really pleased that I had added another steam loco picture to my ever growing collection, but be assured, I'm not an anorak, no....really I'm not. It was good to get home and read up on some more steam railway history............, but not in an anorakish way of course!

Train Spotting

I mentioned in a previous posting that I like to photograph steam trains…….sometimes…………when I get the chance…….I’m not an anorak you understand. Well, last Saturday my wife decided to have a day out in London with our youngest son. As we have a dog at home and no one to look after it and as we need to save money at the moment (just bought another car), I decided to stay at home. Except that I didn’t.

A few days previous, as I was sat at my desk in my office at work, a head suddenly appeared around the door and it turned out to be a friend who is particularly keen on steam trains. Being an ex-photographer, like myself, he also likes photographing them. He gave me the details of a train which would be passing through Whittlesea on its way to Peterborough the same Saturday. This, I decided was my mission for the day. My wife would go to London, and I would go to Whittlesea.

I arrived at a level crossing just on the southern outskirts of Whittlesea in plenty of time to see the train which was due at around eight minutes past nine in the morning. I was thinking of going to the station, but seeing other people with cameras loitering with intent at the crossing, I decided this must be a good vantage point, so I swung the car into the “siding” and joined the gaggle. The first thing that hit me was they were all pretty old, or at least middle aged. Actually, from what I have seen of train enthusiasts, most seem to be like that. I then realised that I must have fitted in pretty well, as I am pretty old myself.

I got talking as you do. I went to great pains to let them know that I wasn’t an anorak (because I’m not), but did like to photograph the odd train – when I had the chance. I was careful not to actually use the word “anorak” while explaining myself, in case I ended up with my camera shoved down my throat, or rammed firmly where the sun doesn’t shine! I explained that there was a time – many years ago – when I could be found sat on the railway bank marking off the numbers of passing trains in my Ian Allan book. They seemed really impressed – not! Also, I noticed that they had better photo equipment than me. The guy with the long beard and hair tied back next to me (high train-spotter fashion!) had two single lens reflex digital cameras, both with long telephoto lenses on, and both a higher spec than my timid Canon EOS 350D. His cameras were black. Mine was silver. I asked him if he marketed his photographs. He seemed a little disdainful of the question, rather as if I had asked him if he farted regularly! “No” - he replied, but he does have a web site and proceeded to show me some of his prints from the day before. Nice clear photos. His web site is: http://www.jpsgallery.fotopic.net/.

Other middle aged men gathered – women don’t seem to be interested in trains; it’s a very masculine pursuit! A couple had quite expensive looking video cameras. I wondered what they did with all the footage. Did they edit them all together? Was it an on going process with an ever increasing series of trains, one after the other, going on for hours…..and hours…..and hours……and…..? But then, probably not! As I really hate video, I showed my distaste by not entering into conversation with them. They obliged, by not entering into conversation with me.

As I stood, contemplating the track lines, stretching off into the distance ahead of me, I heard one of my companions saying that the train was running 37 minutes late. He had just got the info after phoning his mate further up the line. Damn and blast I thought, but decided not to be discouraged but to wait it out come what may. I had timed things so that I could get out, take the photograph, and get home without the need for the loo. Unfortunately, the cup of tea I had earlier before setting out was having a disproportionate effect on the inner walls of my bladder, and the pressure was steadily building. Well, a mans gotta do what a mans gotta do – only on this occasion it was an open –air pee. Fortunately, we were next to a bit of a woodland nature reserve, so I was able hide myself away and relieve the pressure. I always find I can concentrate a lot better on things when I’m not busting for a pee…….don’t know about you.

I stood, continuing to monitor the conversations. Talk of engine sheds. Talk of shunting yards. Talk of fabled engines in fabled railways. This was all completely out of my league of course, because I am not an anorak. I continued to stand, stare and listen. The barriers at the crossing kept going down, trains passing, then the barriers rising again. Every time the barriers went down, I switched on my camera in case it was the steam train. Lots of trains passed. All diesels. This was not an electric line, so there were no pylons and no overhead power lines. This was good because without these elements, it would add a touch of authenticity to my photos – when the train finally came.

One of my fellow train spotters phoned his mate again. It was clear that the train was now nearly upon us – at the very gates! I quickly checked my camera settings, not wanting to arse it up after going to so much effort. The brightness had changed. The morning had begun dank and gloomy. However, the weather had now definitely brightened and I settled on 200 ISO at F8 aperture priority mode. This gave me a shutter speed of around one six hundredth of a second. As I wanted the train to be nice and sharp in the picture, I knew that with careful panning, this was well fast enough to stop the motion.

A puff of white smoke appeared on the horizon. Then I saw the engine and carriages appear in the distance. I focussed on it through the viewfinder, and proceeded to fire off shots for as long as I could until the train went past me. It came racing towards me, around the bend, though not racing particularly fast (it was late, after all) – more a steady canter than a fast gallop. Right up until this point I didn’t actually know what the name of the engine was, nor had I bothered to ask. Just the fact that it was steam was good enough for me. When the train had gone, I zoomed in on the camera preview screen to look at the name plate on the engine. It read: Union of South Africa.