EVERY day, across all corners of the countryside, alarms ring out at ungodly hours as a vast army rises to donate that most precious of commodities—their time—to one of Britain’s 170-plus heritage railways. Whether to serve refreshments, pull ancient points levers, tend floral displays, blow whistles or sandblast ancient, rusting components back to life, they do it free of charge and for the love of trains.
All of the ‘lost lines’—which were mainly, although not all, victims of the cuts by one Dr Beeching, a short-term chairman of British Railways (BR)—have been reclaimed by enthusiasts steadfastly keeping them open in the face of redevelopment and a frail economy. There may be comical comparisons with The Titfield Thunderbolt, a 1953 film in which villagers fought against a BR closure, but their hard work is not whimsy. The heritage railway trade is estimated to attract some £400 million annually to the UK economy.
Enthusiasts are steadfastly keeping “lost lines” open in the face of redevelopment and a frail economy
A few lines—which would have been lost forever had it not been for the enthusiasts—have even recently been reincorporated into the national network. The Okehampton to Exeter line on Dartmoor was officially returned to the Great Western Railway
