#dean forest railway

[greendreamer]

Continuing my Dean Forest Railway-themed crafts, this repainted dish. Which includes D9555 otherwise nicknamed Teddy. I intended this dish to be storage for my thimble repaints but I've liked it so much that I ended up display as it is.

Completed ~27.11.2022~

[bookloversofbath]

Layouts and Illustrations :: Peter Smith

[guerrerense]

Inaugural run of T3 Class 563 por Nigel Stride Por Flickr: Saturday 7th October 2023 saw the first public run in 75 years of LSWR T3 Class 563. In March 2017 the National Railway Museum generously gifted the sole surviving Adams’ designed engine to the Swanage Railway Trust and ever since day one the exciting ambition has been to return her to steam. After an extensive strip down and investigation at the Flour Mill workshop in the Forest of Dean, the engine was found to be in a surprisingly good mechanically overhauled condition by Eastleigh Works and although the firebox was life expired, as expected, the boiler barrel was also in an excellent condition with little corrosion inside or out. Pictured here at Dickers Crossing on a beautiful afternoon befitting the historic occasion.

[moreeverydaythings]

Day 1475 Wye (Why) am I doing this?

The next in my railway station to railway station walks is Chepstow to Knighton. This is part of the Offa’s Dyke Path along the England/Wales border. The constant zig zagging over the border did pose a problem for tagging the photographs. Often I might be stood in Wales but photographing a scene in England or vice versa which meant I didn’t know whether to tag photographs England or Wales or Herefordshire or Montgomery etc.

I would be joined by my friend, R, who also joined me last year on the Wolds Way which was a walk through my childhood. This time it was R’s choice and having been born in Wales and as a Welsh speaker, R wanted to walk the length of Wales. Work commitments (well let’s face probably more like lack of fitness) meant we were not attempting all 177 miles of Offa’s Dyke in one go. Instead we would walk the first official 82 miles from Chepstow northwards to Knighton.

R and I agreed the following walk rules:

1.      Not one extra metre

One of the issues with the Wolds Way has been that some of the overnight accommodation was some distance from the trail. This time we had organized all accommodation right on the trail. Not only did this rule apply to the logistics, it also applied to our navigation skills. On the Wolds Way we had wandered off the trail a number of times adding miles on to our walk. This time we committed to 100% concentration and no mistakes! Unsurprisingly, we managed to break this rule within the first hour!

2.      Carry our own bags

We both agreed that, just as like the Wolds Way, a big part of the challenge is to carry our own rucksacks with everything we need. Well not tents and food obviously. Imagine my surprise therefore when R phoned me at 7 am the day we were due to meet suggesting that I arrange for someone to carry our rucksacks and citing my own dodgy knee for the reason. Much as I was tempted especially having struggled to lift my rucksack onto the train, I did politely point out “how the f*** am I going to arrange this when we start the walk in less than 2hours”.  And so this rule was complied with throughout!

3.      No pub stops during the day

Obviously, pub stops were allowed at the end of the day. Indeed, we’d be staying in pubs. However, they were only to be a reward for the day’s efforts. We broke this rule on days 2 and 4 but in each case it was a fully justified emergency!

4.      Lunch is for wimps

Yes I’m fully aware that it is necessary to remain properly fueled. However, with carrying a heavy rucksack any stop for more than a few minutes results in me stiffening up and struggling to get moving again. We largely complied with this. Although arguably technically broken at the same times as rule 3, as I didn’t have anything to eat on either occasion, I’m claiming compliance with this rule.

We met at approximately 9am at Chepstow station. Because of rule 1 (not one extra metre), I’d organized a taxi from the station to take us to as near to the start as a car can make it. It took me seven phone calls to find a taxi in Chepstow so note to self, if I ever wanted to start a taxi business, there’s clearly a market in Chepstow.

Chepstow is in Wales but the start of the walk is England but the route goes back into Wales at Chepstow before returning to England on the Forest of Dean side of the Wye Valley and then back into Wales for the last couple of miles into Monmouth. Got that! Well actually this was one of the less zigzagging across borders days!

A large rock (which I think was several smaller stones bonded together with cement) at the side of the Severn Estuary signifies the start of the Offa’s Dyke national trail. The early stage of the walk is relatively easy going and are largely on pavements which take you through a housing estate. Here about 30 minutes in we go the wrong way. The route really should be signed better so end up walking twice as far on a circuitous route through the estate. That’s rule 1 broken already!

From Chepstow the walk climbs up through fields and small woods enabling us to take a last look back towards the Severn Estuary and Severn Bridges before entering into the darkness of the Forest of Dean up above the Wye Valley. I had been expecting spectacular views down into the valley, particularly of Tintern Abbey. Unfortunately, the forest only permits the occasional glimpse. Therefore, it is a case of heads down and just walk. Not that the walking is easy either. The path contains a series of steep descents to the valley floor followed by an equally steep ascent back up to the ridge. At the bottom of one steep decent we enter the village of Redbrook. By this time we had just about exhausted our supply of energy drinks and R spots a pub about 200m down the road in the opposite direction to our destination. I have to remind R of both Rule 1 (Not one extra metre) and Rule 3 (No pub stops during the day). Instead therefore we have to rehydrate with cans of coke from the village post office.

The final descent into Monmouth is a real killer with gravity pushing you downwards and your tired legs trying to resist. Our stop for the night is the lovely Punch House pub in the heart of Monmouth. It is a beautiful warm evening and the pub has plenty of large tables set out in the town square where we enjoy good food and good beer. The only slight spoiler is that we are surrounded by a group of Brummie golfers. Not that I have anything against Birmingham and its inhabitants. Indeed, having lived in Birmingham for more than 20 years, they are both very close to my heart. But Golf and its ridiculously petty rules! FFS!!! I could write a book on everything that’s wrong with golf. However I’ve promised to be more positive and just say, each to his own, and leave it at that…for now!

[124daisies]

Lydney Town Station, Dean Forest Railway, Lydney

[pippapip]

at Dean Forest Railway https://www.instagram.com/p/ChiqP-1KBqm/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[valgasnewsthings]

24.Steve Reinemund.

An ex manager for PepsiCo, which worked a dean for business school in university Weik-Forest ,and woke on 5.30 am  and read press.And till work he need to read The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, Financial Times and Dallas Morning News.

25.Andrea Jung.

Manager for Avon products, at 5.OO am Wake up, and visiting fitness centre, and on 8.00 sit for computer.

 26. Jon Corzine is the latest manager for Goldman  Sacht and MF Global, at office stayed on 6.00 am ,and till this he run for 8 km, and as last left office.

27. Jeff Jordan an ex manager for Paypal and Open table shared,that visited office on 5.00 am and left on 19.00, and these long times dedicated for Opentable and played role his  left from PayPal.

28. Richard Branson is a baser for corporation Virgin Group, and in any sphere he showed an own talents. At school, he began a success business as issue journal Student. After a record label    released, Mike Oldfield and Sex pistols     issued by Virgin Record. After his business very widened till Railway business, Virgin Atlantic is Avia company, space tourism as Virgin Green Fund are investigations in company are restoring sources for energy Virgin Media are telecommunications, entertainments, for families As virgin health bank, Virgin comic animations, keeping are stem cells in navel blood of children at private or public banks of stem cells after birth. And this a not full list, last record he put on 1986 as on an own ship put record as a most fast transferring Atlantic Ocean, on 1987 and he fast transferred by air ball .And in blog he shared,that wake up on 5.00, swim around his island, run, and use surfing or catting, and for hour is big tennis,after breakfast with family. Go in bed on 23.00, 6 hours for sleep are enough for him.

via Blogger https://ift.tt/iI57Sjk

[taintedxaura]

5541 in steam on approach to St Mary’s Halt- Lydney UK

[forestpines]

Out Of The Train Window by Forest Pines

[leatherbootlace]

You know, I really wish we got to see more about what heritage railways are like in RWS/TTTE. I mean, sure, we briefly get a glimpse of the Bluebell and the Dean Forest Railway in the RWS, and we stop by the NRM for a bit as well, but apart from that we barely hear a word about them. I mean, we’ve got the likes of Joe Jinty #47274 working alongside a few ancient Victorian designs from the past century and the pinnacle of steam traction, and to an extent, they all have to deal with the fact that they’re the ones who survived the Cutter’s Torches. Like, surely there’s got to be something interesting there to write about Awdry!

- What’s it like working alongside an engine who replaced your class? Or one that you replaced to begin with?

- Is the Steam Engine Hierarchy dead in the water? Is there some jackass trying to bring it back to life?

- Is there some taboo about running with the identities of deceased engines?

- Has anyone developed a cult of personality yet?

[newmummyblog]

Perrygrove Railway Review

In September we had our first visit to Perrygrove Railway in the Forest of Dean. It was a brilliant day out and we all loved riding the railway as many times as we liked! That’s certainly not been on option at any of the other train rides we’ve been to.

Perrygrove Railway has play parks at both ends of the railway, and walks between other stops. There is a cafe, which had nice coffees – we…

[greendreamer]

3823, Warrior, for a while Fred. An engine that chooses chaos every day. Has yet to run in preservation. She is a bit loud and willing to use force to prove her point. A true austerity.

A custom that has opened a door for me. A willingness to modify. All because I wanted to give her her Giesl Ejector style funnel.

~ Completed 18.12.2022~

[airmanisr]

Norchard by Peter Leigh Via Flickr: 5541 pushes the stock into the station Dean Forest Railway

[guerrerense]

'Vigorous Departure' - Norchard, Gloucestershire - 3.9.2022 por Kenneth Simms Por Flickr: Please enlarge for a closer view. Back in time briefly...to last Saturday 3rd September 2022 on the Dean Forest Railway, Gloucestershire where we see 'Pristine' GWR Churchward designed 'Small Prairie' 4575 Class 4MT 2-6-2T No. 5541 'Storm' up the steep gradient after just leaving Norchard Station's lower level platform with the 10.15am service for Lydney Junction. She was built at Swindon Works in 1928 and withdrawn from BR Western Region service Laira Plymouth on 10th July 1962 after covering 921,589 miles - then sold to Woodham Brothers Barry for scrap in September 1962. She was rescued and moved by rail to the Dean Forest Railway at Parkend in October 1972. After restoration she was first steamed in November 1975. Since then, she has undergone three further major overhauls resulting from the ongoing expiry of subsequent 10 year boiler certificates - thereafter returning to service in April 2014. What a 'Delight' it was to see this great little engine perform so brilliantly on this excellent preserved railway when as a guest of the Bachmann Collectors Club Members Day Visit.

[feigeroman]

Thomas OCs (sort of): Vanguard

Number: 13 Class: Bagnall New Standard 18 0-6-0ST Built: 1951 Arrived on Sodor: 1994 Service (Shed): Arlesburgh Branch (Arlesburgh) Livery: NWR Goods Black

In the years since their arrival on Sodor, Donald & Douglas had proven themselves to be a most versatile pair, capable of working just about anywhere. They mostly found their footing on the Arlesburgh branch, although one or both of them would often find themselves working on the Brendam branch, or even on the main line. By the late 1980s, however, such a demanding workload was beginning to take its toll on the twins. To help ease the strain on them, Sir Topham Hatt decided to find another engine to take over on the Arlesburgh branch, allowing the twins more time to work elsewhere. In 1993, he borrowed Wilbert from the Dean Forest Railway, in order to assess the advantages of purchasing another Austerity like him.

As it happened, during Wilbert’s visit, Sir Topham Hatt was unexpectedly contacted by the Royal Navy. It seemed they had an engine for sale which used to work on one of their lines, serving a naval base in the far reaches of Scotland (where exactly this line is remains classified information). This had recently been downsized, and now the Navy were desperately seeking a buyer - apparently the NWR had been mentioned at one point. Sir Topham Hatt agreed to come and take a look, and after spending a couple of days getting to know the engine, he agreed to purchase him at once.

That engine, when he finally arrived on Sodor in 1994, became known as Vanguard, after the recently commisioned HMS Vanguard, which had been constructed at the Vickers Shipyard in Barrow-In-Furness. This continued the military theme set by his siblings, who had been named after the RAF’s V bombers. Indeed, his official naming ceremony was held in the shipyard, alongside his namesake. As the number 13 happened to be sitting blank in the NWR’s books, this was allocated to Vanguard - and that, of course, is where the trouble began.

For those first few weeks, all sorts of trouble seemed to bedevil Vanguard - along with Donald and Douglas, who had been tasked with showing him the ropes - and it seemed as though his unlucky number was to blame. After a string of incidents, Sir Topham Hatt decided to only entrust Vanguard on simple jobs where nothing could go wrong...and sure enough, something did go wrong - while out pulling some empty ballast trucks to a permanent way site, Vanguard’s injectors suddenly failed, causing his fusible plugs to melt, and his firebox to be severely damaged. He was promptly sent to the Works, and it looked as though that would be the end of him... Happily, Vanguard eventually returned to service, as good as new - in fact, slightly better. As it turned out, his streak of bad luck had been caused by problems with his old firebox that’d gone unnoticed - he’d always had trouble with it, he said - and as part of his total rebuild, he was given a brand-new firebox that was less liable to suffer such issues.

Vanguard continues to work happily on the Arlesburgh branch to this day - well, relatively happier than he was, anyway. Having suffered from bad luck for most of his life, he tends to come across as rather pessimistic, bitter and sarcastic. He works under a constantly looming shadow of grief, and he used to worry about his supposed jinx striking back when he least expected it. Fortunately, his time on Sodor has helped him to cope with such fears, and he’s gradually learning to have a much more positive approach to life. Besides that, he’s as goodhearted as any other engine, and while he doesn’t care much about anything bad happening to himself, he always shows a great deal of concern for others - particularly those who’d been affected by his bad luck.

Trivia

Vanguard is my take on the Austerity Engine, an unseen, unnamed character who was intended to appear in the RWS. Unfortunately, due to the publishers’ demands for more stories about Thomas and other established characters, this engine was sidelined, and their story has never officially been told. There have been plenty of fan interpretations - from WildNorWester’s Sheffield to the Extended Railway Series’ Warrior - but this is my version.

He’s also partly inspired by Thirteen, a black saddletank from the magazine story The Unlucky Engine. From this, I derived Vanguard’s livery, number and resulting unlucky streak.

And yes, there’s a great deal of influence from Boomer from TUGS. There’s just some great black comedic potential to be had there.

The reason I didn’t make him an actual Austerity is simply because I wanted something a bit different, to make my interpretation of the character unique. And hey, it certainly looks cool!

[purgatorys-fallen-angel]

Loss

castielcreationchallenge | purgatorys-fallen-angel

  ↳ Prompt: Feature Palette → Greyscale + Blood Red

Summary: Set during season 7: The Winchesters think that Castiel didn’t survive the events in the river, but he did. He wakes up close to a river in a forest in Colorado, naked, alone, confused and without any memories. But what happens if Daphne doesn’t find him? What if Castiel is all on his own and has nowhere to go?

Warnings: feelings, depression, implied character death, hurt, no comfort, loss of identity

Word Count: 1747

For a moment everything was quiet, and Dean scrambled to sit up, leaning against the wall behind himself. His body hurt but he was disciplined enough to ignore it, to not even realize it too much in the face of danger. The face of danger that was Castiel. The angel of the Lord, the soldier of god who Dean had started to consider as a friend, a close friend even.

No, not Castiel. Castiel was gone. The Leviathans had taken over. And, according to them, Cas was gone. Overpowered by beings much older than angels, and much more powerful.

Dean managed to raise his head and look at Cas, the Leviathans…whatever.

Blood was smeared over his trench coat, his neck, the shirt and even his tie. He was shifting and fidgeting around, as if he was nervous. Weird black, branchlike lines spread over his face. Dean wasn’t sure if that was the Leviathans showing themselves or Cas’ vessel being too weak to contain them. The smile on his lips looked frighteningly haunted but Dean couldn’t focus on that because now he was walking. Slowly. Towards Bobby’s limp body on the floor. Or towards the center of the room. There was no way to predict the Leviathans’ next actions.

“Bobby?”

Much to Dean’s relief Bobby stirred and sat up slowly. Good, he was alive. But that didn’t change anything about their situation. And everything that came to Dean’s mind was stalling, playing for time.

“How many of you ass-clowns are in there?” He raised one eyebrow, trying to be cocky, to look cocky. “Hundred?” When he didn’t get an answer, he furrowed his brows, concern for Cas getting the upper hand now. “More?”

The glance the Leviathans threw at him could have been deadly, but something seemed wrong with Cas’ body. Something was dripping out of the sleeve of his trench coat, coating his hand with a dark black liquid. He was swaying faintly, his entire posture weirdly hunched over.

“Your vessel is gonna explode, ain’t it?” Maybe he shouldn’t provoke an ancient being – or beast or monster or whatever – however, he couldn’t help but tease. “Wouldn’t do anything too strenuous… In fact, I’d call it a day, head on home, huh?” The Leviathans’ presence made him uncomfortable and itchy, his fingertips twitching with the need to do something.

“We’ll be back for you.” Black goo ran down Cas’ – not Cas’, Dean had to remind himself – face, almost dripping into his eye. His voice sounded strained and rough, his gaze snapped from Dean to Bobby and then he just turned around and left through the doorway, the black goo still dripping from his arm to the floor.

“Well, this is a new one.” Bobby stated after some tense silence. But Dean couldn’t focus too much on that. He had to follow the Leviathans. What if Cas was still alive? What if there was just the slightest chance that he had survived? There was no way that he didn’t at least try to save him or help him. There had to be something they could do about that. There just had to be. He was Dean fricking Winchester. He wouldn’t give up that easily.

His body had set into motion before he registered what he was doing, his legs automatically leading him out of the same doorway that Cas had disappeared through just a few minutes ago. Somewhere along the way he remembered to look for Sam and get him out of the building.

After walking just a few steps out of the old industrial building Dean realized where the Leviathans were headed: the municipal waters.

There was no holding them back anymore. The lock on the gate was torn off and the door flung open. Dean’s gaze followed the black and red drops until they ended at the riverbank. Startled, he couldn’t take his eyes off Cas’ trench coat-covered back. He was chest-deep in the water.

They were too late.

They were too late.

Dean had to watch in horror as Cas – no, not Cas, the Leviathans – disappeared in the river, a deep vortex forming and then… black strings curling and moving and shooting away in little zigzag lines. They were free. The Leviathans were free. And thereby they were free to move wherever they wanted to go now as well.

Fuck.

“Damn it.” He didn’t know what else to say. They all knew that nothing good was about to happen.

Bobby sighed. “You said it. Those whatever-you-call-thems –“

“Leviathans.” Sam interrupted. It was the first time Dean heard him speak after they had found him in the hallway earlier.

“Right.” Bobby breathed, his shoulders sagging. “If they’re in the pipes… they got themselves a highway to anywhere.”

“Awesome…” Dean nodded and stared out at the river. Cas was nowhere to be seen. Was there even a chance that he had survived this? That his vessel – body – hadn’t been destroyed?

Apparently not, he thought bitterly when he discovered the dirtied, bloodstained trench coat which was drifting towards the riverbank. He leaned down and slowly lifted it up.

“Okay.” How was he supposed to feel about that? “So he’s gone.”

“Yup. Rest in Peace.” Bobby added. “If that’s in the cards.”

Dean didn’t answer. He just folded the trench coat, hoping that Cas would actually really rest in peace. Even though he had seriously messed up, he deserved some peace, didn’t he?

“Dumb son of a bitch.” His voice sounded more strained than he had expected, but he couldn’t care less.

“Well, he was friends with us, wasn’t he?” Bobby looked at Dean, observed him. “Can’t get much dumber than that.”

And he was right, Dean knew he was. Everyone they knew died, eventually.

***

Castiel

***

Something was wrong.

Everything was cold and dark and grey and red. The floor seemed hard, sharp edges cutting into his skin. Where was he? He shifted slowly, moving his limbs. His legs felt weird, somehow weak and numb. His fingers didn’t feel any better, he had to curl and uncurl them several times to be able to move them again. Only gradually he opened his eyes, trying to take in his surroundings. Grey clouds covered the sky, yet the light seemed unbearably bright and blinded him.

With a groan he sat up, his body sore and shaking from the cold. He was sitting at a riverbank, his legs still partly in the water. Now that he was more conscious, and his eyes had slightly adjusted to the light he could make out the small grey stones he was sitting on. Despite the clouds everything besides the river seemed dry. He had no clue where he was or what had happened. He didn’t know why he was naked and why he was sitting next to a river in the middle of nowhere. A few cuts on his feet and legs were covered in blood. It probably looked worse than it actually was and some of the deeper wounds were already starting to heal. Was that normal? Should he be healing that fast? Or were the cuts just older? Something about the situation made him feel uneasy and alarmed, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was.

The headache that throbbed behind his eyes got worse with every second that passed, but he tried to ignore it and focus just on the moment and everything around him. It didn’t look like he was close to any kind of civilization, there were some trees scattered across the area around the river, but the ground was mostly covered by stones and pebbles in all sorts of greys. He had to find shelter, had to find somewhere safe and warm to stay for the night. Who knew how cold the area he was in could get during the night.

Suddenly he had an overwhelming urge to look back up at the sky. Maybe he could point out the cardinal points, it shouldn’t be too hard. Or he could simply follow the river or look for a road close to it and follow that. But the next village or city could be miles away. He would need hours and he didn’t have anything to drink or eat. But just giving up and waiting at the river until maybe someone would come by and find him wasn’t a good solution either, at least not a reasonable one.

With some effort he pushed his arms into the ground until he was able to stand up. The first few steps were wobbly and shaky. It was harder than expected to coordinate his movements. Gravel, branches, dirt and razor-sharp rocks hindered his walking capabilities. His still bleeding feet left blood red stains on the pebbles and stones but he was positive that the next rain would wash them off.

Orientation. He needed to get some orientation, or he’d be lost for sure. Now determined, he stumbled away from the river and towards what he thought was the east. More trees came into view and he could make out a few paths that led somewhere. Somewhere that hopefully was a village or at least a house.

Of course, there was nothing. Just trees and bushes and stones and dirt and more bushes. After the dense thicket of branches there came nothing but dirt and then…. A railway.

For a moment he just stared at it. Then he lifted his head and squinted to inspect his surroundings. The railway was dirty and old with just one track. It appeared as if it hadn’t been used in years. However, somehow, he was convinced that if there was a railway, there had to be a road close by. There just had to be. And he was right, there was. It was barely recognizable as one. No asphalt, no street signs, but it was the best shot he got. Only… which way was he supposed to go? Left, or right? It didn’t really matter. How was he supposed to know where exactly he was, or which way was better to find the nearest village. He was clueless and helpless and alone.

And for some reason he felt a strange longing for something – or someone – that he couldn’t explain. Because he couldn’t remember. He simply didn’t know if the loss he felt was justified or not. All he knew for sure was that he was alone, bleeding and the sun was starting to set, which made him shiver all over. It was getting colder.

He was lost…