WaltersRail : British Rail: 1972

Saint Paul's in London Fog.

On a recent (May 2026) trip to Donner Summit, where I finally climbed the Pacific Crest Trail up Mount Judah, I ran into an English railfan (or trainspotter) who was interested to learn that I had lived in the south of England for six months in 1972.

"Yes," he said, " that was when British Rail ran the diesel hydraulics on the Western Division."

He was even more interested to learn that I had taken a few photographs of those long departed oddities. We exchanged information and I later sent him some of my images -- taken with an Argus C3 rangefinder when I was first learning how to obtain decent photographs.

Argus C3

Some of the images were taken on GAF ASA 400 slide film, another long departed oddity. The grain in the images is striking, almost like early 20th century pointillism. The C3 did not have a light meter, so all of my exposures were scientific wild ass guesses (SWAGs).

Since the photographs are rare, especially for an American audience, I thought I might present some for public consumption. These are not all good images. In some, the moving locomotives are a little blurry. In others, the grain looks like falling snow. Also, I have no notes to document the photographs, so several of my captions may contain mistakes.

Most, though not all, of the images were taken on British Rail's Western Division, the former Great Western Railway.

If anyone from Britain should read this, I would be most appreciative of corrections in the comments.

Penzance

I start with Penzance because I remember it most clearly, the very tip of southwest England -- Land's End. In those long ago days, the buildings and coast had an almost Mediterranean flavor, bright and sun-swept, not at all like the traditional drab brown of early 1970's Britain. The tracks really did stop at Penzance, because there was nothing to the west but water.

Penzance in 2025 from Google Maps.

In 1972, England was still suffering from grievous injuries suffered in the two World Wars. Survivors of both were still alive and were willing to talk about their experiences, even to a stranger from a strange land. The country was on its knees, especially to the eyes of an American who had grown up in the post World War II boom. The hotels and hostels that we slept in during the winter did not have heated bedrooms. To stay warm, you sat close to the fireplace in the main hall, then took a hot water bottle to bed with you beneath a mountain of sheets, spreads and comforters.

This train is leaving Penzance on British Rail's Western Division. I believe that the switches and signals were quite literally manually operated by the gentleman you can see in the tower. Each switch or signal was connected by a cable to a waste-high lever coming out of the floor. The signalman controlled each switch or signal by moving the lever forward or backward. The system was like a tracker organ, in which each pipe is connected to the keyboard by a cable.

The engines pulling this train are British Rail Class 52 diesel hydraulics, a type of engine that never caught on in the United States, mainly because of lack of durability and pulling power.

Diesel engines are reliable and robust but produce peak torque (maximum rotational power) in a narrow rpm range, operating best when running at constant speed. Heavy trucks with diesel engines may have as many as 18 forward manual gears to keep their engines turning at a relatively constant rotation.

Fitting a diesel-powered railroad engine with a multi-geared manual transmission sufficient to allow the motor to run at a fairly constant rpm from a standing start would be impractical for multiple reasons, four of which are that the transmission would (1) require 40 or more gears, (2) be as large or larger than the motor, (3) require constant maintenance and (4) be impossible for any human to shift by hand.

The most common solution to this problem is the diesel electric engine, which uses the diesel motor to power an alternator that sends current to electric traction motors. This design has dominated American railroads since the end of the steam era. But the diesel electric design is not the only option.

Most highway vehicles today in the United States operate with automatic transmissions. (In fact, it is almost impossible to find a car or truck with a standard shifter.). Most automatic transmissions (though by no means all) operate with fluid torque converters, in which the engine is connected to a device containing fluid. The engine turns the fluid, which then rotates the drive wheels. Shifting is accomplished by a control unit operating clutches and gears outside the fluid.

Torque converters have been used in the past to power railroad engines. The technology started in Germany and was similar to automobiles:

When the train speed has increased sufficiently to match the engine speed, the fluid is drained out of the torque converter so that the engine is virtually coupled directly to the locomotive wheels. It is virtually direct because the coupling is usually a fluid coupling, to give some “slip”. Higher speed locomotives use two or three torque converters in a sequence similar to gear changing in a mechanical transmission and some have used a combination of torque converters and gears. (http://www.railway-technical.com/trains/rolling-stock-index-l/diesel-locomotives/)

Because diesel hydraulics were significantly lighter than diesel electrics and therefore consumed less fuel, they seemed like a possible alternative when British Rail was planning its conversion from steam. In those days, the individual divisions of British Rail had significant autonomy, and the Western Division decided to order several diesel hydraulics.

The two World Wars were still vivid memories, so ordering engines from Germany was never a consideration. An English manufacturer held a license to construct diesel hydraulics and was awarded the contract. That manufacturer, however, could not construct the lightweight skin employed by the Germans, and so the finished engines did not enjoy any significant weight advantage over diesel electrics.

In all, 74 Type-4 diesel hydraulics were built for the Western Region between 1961 and 1964. All were given two-word names, the first being "Western," and in "Western Lady" and thus the type became known as "Westerns."

Train 1B45 arriving at Penzance Station behind a Western. I believe this train was called the "Western Campaigner" -- service from London Paddington to Penzance. I think the designation "1B45" meant: the "1" referred to the class of service -- high priority passenger; "B" referred to the region of the railroad; 45" referenced the route. British trains today may run with similar symbols, but the meanings have changed.

Another train arriving from the east with diesel hydraulic power. The signal tower shown above is in the middle of this image. As nearly as I can tell from Google Maps, the tower is long gone, as are the mechanically operated semaphore signals.

The diesel hydraulics were short-lived, in part because their non-standard design increased maintenance costs -- the same reason why repairs for a house designed by Frank Lloyd Wright are astronomically expensive compared to a dwelling of standard construction. Also the locomotives were not as powerful as comparable diesel electrics, because electric traction motors have infinite torque and require no transmission. Finally, because there was not significant weight reduction, fuel costs were comparable to diesel electrics.

But the technology had been proven in Germany, and British Rail was keen to terminate steam. When the Westerns were introduced in 1962, the Western Region operated 226 diesel hydraulics and only a handful of diesel electrics. By 1966, however, the numbers were 345 and 269. By the early 1970's, British Rail decided to terminate the technology, and the last Western ran in mainline service in 1977.

While exploring British Rail facilities around the Penzance Station, I stumbled across this sign from the days before nationalization.

The original Great Western Railway linked London with the west of England and most of Wales. Founded in 1833, it ran its first trains in 1838. The initial route between London and Bristol was completed in 1841.

Construction started in 1836 at two locations; between Bristol and Bath, and Reading and London, eventually connecting the gap between. Stations were constructed at Bristol (Temple Meads) and London (Paddington), plus a locomotive works in Swindon.

The original track was broad gauge (7 feet ¼ inch) instead of the standard 4 feet 8½ inches. By 1848, 250 miles of broad gauge track radiated from Bristol. At Gloucester, the Great Western broad gauge from the south met the Gloucester and Birmingham standard gauge track from the north. In 1846, Parliament passed an Act preventing the Great Western from building new broad gauge lines. Soon thereafter, a compromise allowed the company to construct with three rails instead of two, allowing trains of different gauges to travel the same route.

The 1921 Railways Act combined the Great Western with other independent companies in its territory. The company kept its original name until 1947 when it was nationalized and became the Western Region of British Railways. Thus, the sign above almost certainly predates the Second World War and perhaps even the First. I'm not sure how much of a penalty 40 shillings would have been in those days, but a month in jail seems a bit rough.

I believe this is a British Rail Class 118, used extensively in Devon and Cornwall and remaining in service there until 1994. The operating controls and diesel engines were contained in the same cars as the passengers. 15 three-car sets were built by the Birmingham Railway Carriage and Wagon Company and began operating in 1960.

Nationalization

Railroads in Britain were constructed and operated by private companies for about 100 years. The Transport Act 1947 nationalized almost all the railroads, including the assets of what were called the Big Four -- Great Western Railway; London, Midland and Scottish Railway; London and North Eastern Railway; and Southern Railway.

Steam power was discontinued after nationalization, and many lightly used branch lines were abandoned. Due to falling passenger usage, governmental subsidies were required to keep the railroads alive.

During my stay in 1972, British passenger trains seemed to be suffering the same fate as their American cousins, for which Amtrak had begun operations (also pursuant to government subsidies) in 1971. The British passenger trains I rode were generally old and noisy. At least some of this was due to the lingering ravishes of the two World Wars.

Freight service was virtually non-existent. Goods trains were tiny -- ten to fifteen little cars pulled by a single engine. The contrast with American freight trains (of 100 or more cars pulled with five or more locomotives) was striking.

The goods trains were tiny because the British railroads covered tiny distances compared to their American counterparts.

The Union Pacific Railroad, for example, serves as of June 2026 an area larger than from London to Moscow (approximately 1,500 miles) to Rome (approximately 1,400 miles) to Lisbon (approximately 1,100 miles) back to London (approximately 950 miles).

UP's mileages are: Chicago to New Orleans (approximately 1000 miles) to Los Angeles (approximately 1,700 miles) to Seattle (approximately 1,000 miles) back to Chicago (approximately. 1,800 miles).

And UP serves only about two-thirds of the continent. (The mileages for BNSF are comparable.)

As of the date of this article (June 2026) UP is seeking permission from the Service Transportation Board to absorb Norfolk Southern, which if granted would provide the first Atlantic to Pacific railroad in United States history. By the time you read this, permission may have already been given. (Canada, of course, has two coast-to-coast railroad companies: Canadian National and CPKC, both of which also stretch to the Gulf of Mexico.)

Privatization?

Dissatisfaction with government service (or lack of service) led to a form of privatization in the 1990's. I say "form of," because the model ultimately adopted was a tentacled monster as unwieldy and unfriendly as its predecessor.

(I have done my best to understand what privatization meant to British Rail, but the process was so convoluted that I may have gotten some details wrong. If anyone cares, please, correct me in the comments.)

Under the Railways Act 1993, British Rail was sold in various irrational pieces to different private parties, with regulation transferred to a newly created Rail Regulator. Ownership of the infrastructure -- track, signals and big stations -- passed to a new privately owned company. Maintenance was sold to 13 different companies. Ownership of passenger trains was transferred to three separate companies, which then leased the rolling stock to passenger train operating companies awarded contracts by the Office of Passenger Rail Franchising.

Ownership and operation of the miniscule freight operations passed to two companies -- English Welsh & Scottish and Freightliner -- both of which apparently operated on track owned by other companies.

So one company owned the track, another maintained it, another owned the rolling stock, another ran passenger trains, and yet another operated freight service. I cannot imagine a more convoluted scheme.

Re-Nationalization

Since privatization, I have traveled twice to Britain and ridden some the best trains (Eurostar) and some of the worst (the school children express to Harlech discussed below). The rolling stock was a significant improvement over British Rail, and there were no bomb threats from the Irish Republican Army. The grand stations in London were still towering monuments to the old British Empire. Overall, to this uninformed American, privatization seemed an improvement.

But time marches on, and so does . . . progress? Britain has decided to re-nationalize at least some aspects of its railroads. Is this the equivalent of rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic?

According to an article in the Guardian, February 2, 2026:

It [the government] will soon manage most of the publicly owned operators in Great Britain, combining them with Network Rail, which owns the tracks, signals and big stations.

However, Great Britain’s trains will remain privately owned.

Apparently, some privately operated trains will be run over nationalized infrastructure. Rolling stock companies, who own, maintain and lease carriages and engines, will remain in private hands. Freight service will also remain in private hands, which I guess means freight trains will be privately owned and run on nationalized track. By the time you read this, the specific details of re-nationalization may be clearer.

Will this make a difference in the quality of rail service in Britain? The Guardian paints a mixed picture:

“Irrespective of the ownership changes, the government’s got a major headache with the fact that rail is gobbling up so much public subsidy,” said Stephen Glaister, the emeritus professor of transport and infrastructure at Imperial College London and a former chair of the Office of Rail and Road.

“The government are making promises to make fares even cheaper and services even better, but both will cost more public money.”

The data available on nationalised operators so far offers a mixed picture on performance. Several have experienced improving train punctuality and a reduction in cancellations but the performance of others has worsened over the past year.

It sounds as though re-nationalization will be almost as convoluted as privitization. One wonders if Britain is still capable of accomplishing anything rational.

Harlech

I wonder if anyone reading this has ever been to Harlech -- pronounced in Welsh something like "hah-lasck" The "ch" is called a uvular, a consonant articulated with the back of the tongue against or near the uvula, a fleshy extension at the back of the soft palate that hangs above the throat. The sound was common in old and middle English, is still heard in contemporary Scotland and occasionally in modern England, but has disappeared completely in American English.

Although it is only 96 miles from Birmingham, Harlech lies in another world, separated by small virtually uninhabited mountains. To the east lies England, to the west . . . well, Wales, the land of no vowels. Welsh place names defy pronunciation by an American: Dyffryn Ardudwy, Llangwnnadl, Uwchmynydd. By comparison, Harlech almost makes sense.

Go ahead, you foolish American. Try to pronounce these names.

Harlech is a tiny village, notable for its ruined castle on a cliff that rises above a small nest of houses in the lowlands to the west. 700 years ago, the sea extended to the foot of the cliff. In the 21st century, the ocean has receded about one-half mile.

Harlech Castle was begun in 1283 by Edward I of England and later captured by Owain Glyndŵr. In the 1480s, it became a stronghold of Henry Tudor. Today it is a magnificent ruin towering over the small village.

Harlech Castle.

I first visited Harlech in the winter of 1972, riding the train from Birmingham, quite an adventure. We rode into town on a bus-on-rails at no more than 40 miles per hour, empty except for myself, my traveling companion, the train driver, a conductor and two elderly gentlemen who appeared to be asleep. The day was gray, cold and damp, typical Welsh weather I am told. I took the image above after stepping off the train.

My friend and I were young, and we immediately climbed the cliff where I took the following images. By the time we reached the top, the sun miraculously appeared for about two minutes, also not unusual for Wales, again I am told.

Some of the sheep were surprised to see me. Others not so much.

A tiny mixed train.

We spent the night in a small hotel where we sat in front of a large fireplace with a young fellow from London who was traveling alone. Short, light-haired, complexion as white as a picket fence, he talked non-stop, occasionally pausing to breathe.

After about 30 minutes, he stopped, as though receiving instructions telepathically from a higher power.

"So you're from the States?" he said.

We nodded.

"From New England? I've been to New England. Once. In the fall."

He then elaborated on the process that causes maple leaves to turn vibrant colors in September.

"The English influence is very strong there," he said.

"We're from California," I said.

Actually, I was from Oklahoma. My companion was from Massachusetts. But we both went to school in California.

I said, "The Spanish influence is strong is California."

"Oh," he said, his tone changing instantly to disdain. "Oh." Then a long pause.

"Papists!" he said.

Thus ended the conversation. He stood up and retired to his room.

This is Minffordd (pronounced something like "mean firth" in Welsh, home to the narrow gauge Ffestiniog Railway. An engine and two small cars are passing. The railway is still in service as a tourist attraction in Snowdonia National Park.

I returned to Harlech in 2012 with my wife and son. The latter was interested in castles, so we made a day trip from Birmingham. Before we reached our destination, the train stopped, and about 100 school children (ages 10-12) boarded to ride home. What had been a pleasant journey over beautiful country turned into the equivalent of squirrels chasing each other madly through the trees.

We stopped every ten miles or so to allow some children to depart. Eventually, we reached Harlech, where my family and I and the last of the school children climbed onto the station platform, the children still screaming, jumping and the other things that children do. That was when I decided that teachers of young children are among the greatest and best that humanity offers.

As I write, I wonder if trains still run to Harlech in the 21st century. This website (https://tfw.wales/places/stations/harlech) produced the following timetable:

Arrival time  Station name
18:38           Harlech
18:43           Llandanwg
18:45           Pensarn (Gwynedd)
18:48           Llanbedr
18:52           Dyffryn Ardudwy
18:55           Talybont
18:59           Llanaber
19:02           Barmouth
19:07           Morfa Mawddach
19:10           Fairbourne
19:18           Llwyngwril
19:25           Tonfanau
19:31           Tywyn
19:40           Aberdovey
19:43           Penhelig
19:56           Dovey Junction
20:04           Machynlleth

As you can see, the short distances between the stations allow the transit of school children from the countryside. Also, I dare any American to pronounce these names. Even the ones that look easy you will get wrong.

Edinburgh

Edinburgh Waverly Station -- 1972.

Speaking of names you will get wrong, I visited Edinburgh (roughly pronounced "Ehdinbura") in the dead of winter -- cold, grey, windy, damp -- everything I had been told to expect from Scotland. Yet the harsh weather could not hide the city's beauty. In its own somber way, Edinburgh in 1972 was one of the most beautiful cities I will ever see.

Edinburgh was like an ancient oak that has withstood the ravages of time to become the king of the forest, standing proudly and beautifully above the surrounding trees that bow in recognition of its splendor.

As I paced the sidewalks, I imagined David Hume sitting in his armchair, realizing for the first time that free will and determinism are compatible, that although our actions are controlled by the same laws of nature that control the cosmos, we still make choices every day of our lives and are, in fact, quite free to choose whatever suits us (or doesn't, in the case of bad choices, which we make from time to time, often with disastrous results).

Edinburgh.

My companion and I arrived by train about four in the afternoon in late January. At that northerly latitude and that time of year, the sun goes down about three. The sky was dark but the city alive with Scots scurrying in all directions as though rushing toward some monumental undertaking that I would never understand.

We had no place to stay and so spent the next few hours looking for a room -- which we finally found in the home of an old woman (probably 20-30 years younger than my current age) who laughed at almost everything we said.

"Yanks!" she said over and over, laughing, as if she had never heard people speak as did we.

For our part, we understood only about half of what she said.

She gave us hot water bottles to take to our beds, where we wrapped ourselves in blankets as thick as storm clouds.

The next morning, she brought upstairs a small electric space heater, because the knew that we were freezing.

"Yanks!" she laughed. "This will keep you warm."

Before we went downstairs for breakfast, my companion (whose name I will not mention to avoid his embarrassment) hung a fresh pair of underwear on the back of a chair above the space heater -- because, he said, he was fed up with "freezing my balls off."

While we were eating downstairs, a horrible odor descended from the upper level. We all rushed upstairs to discover that the underwear, made of synthetic fiber, had begun to melt and was dripping onto the space heater.

The smell was almost identical to the odor produced when my old dog would urinate on the coils of the space heater that my father placed in the garage to keep him warm.

"Yanks!" the old woman laughed. "Stupid stupid Yanks!"

Station Potpourri

I took images of several stations during my time in Britain. Unfortunately, any identifying notes disappeared years ago, and my 75-year-old memory grows more unreliable with each passing hour. I have attempted identifications, but error is likely. Anyone providing corrections will be memorialized in song.

A typical station in 1972 along the Western Division. In the distance you can see the signal tower and the hand-operated signals.

A rare goods train at Taplow, pulled by an aging diesel hydraulic. Today, "6" would represent a Class 6 train, low-priority freight service. "V" would indicate the Western Region. (Only in England would a region starting with "w" be indicated by "v".) "07" would identify the route, which I believe would run to an aviation fuel terminal near Heathrow Airport. I have no idea whether the same designations would have applied in 1972.

Maidenhead at night. Maidenhead sits on the other side of the River Thames from Taplow.

Deep in a London Fog.

Pangbourne in the sun.

I cannot decipher the station sign.

Goring.

Victoria Terminal.

More Taplow.

I have no idea where this is. It looks like Wales. The tracks were rusted and looked inactive. My best SWAG is that this line was either already or soon to be abandoned.