Welsh Guardsman and the Gwili Railway
How the delightful spectacle of this Austerity tank engine, led to me discovering a curious link with a lost railway line that I stumbled across years before....
Strange how life is often a complex pattern of interweaving stories....
My very first contact with this glorious railway line actually came about through my interest in farming, some 30 years ago. It was, however, only a few years ago that I stood and watched this loco at Bronwydd Arms, on a day where the sun was coming and going between brief showers. The valley would be dark with overcast clouds, then briefly lit up by the most glorious sunshine, somehow seeming far brighter for the overcast skies before and after.
In one of those moments when the sun was out, it illuminated the loco and the very authentic working surroundings most beautifully, the sun glinting sharply off the perfectly polished ‘Welsh Guardsman’ nameplate. Even though the whole loco had clearly been lovingly cleaned, the rest of it still wore a certain air of work about it, most in keeping with its strong industrial pedigree.
There was something so striking about this combination, it seemed to capture all that this loco represented. There was a delightful mix of pithy industrial heritage, understated grace and beauty, quiet national pride, and even remembrance to it. I knew I had to try and capture that in paint.
The full name of the loco hardly does justice to its attraction:
Robert Stephenson & Hawthorn, Works No 7170, WD 71516 Welsh Guardsman 0-6-0ST
It belongs to a significantly sized class of tank engines, generally known as ‘Austerity’ Tanks. They don’t perhaps have the glamour of the great Southern or LMS pacifics, which is hardly surprising as they were not designed for their looks. They were built instead to fulfil the nation’s wartime needs for solid, dependable locos, built with economy of materials and operating costs fully in mind.
If we allow our eye to register their outstanding and stoic success in this role, as part of their aesthetic, then their true beauty begins to shine through.
The original design was by Hunslett and, to meet demand, construction was subcontracted to other manufacturers too. 377 of them were ordered during the war, and by the time production finally ceased in 1964, some 485 of these engines had been built.
They truly formed the backbone of shunting yards throughout the country and went on after the war, almost literally becoming the ‘pit ponies’ of the coal industry, working at coal mines until as late as the mid 1980s.
This particular example was built in 1944, for the War department, and served in Northumberland before moving to Welsh mines at Graig Merthyr and Cynheidre for the rest of its original working life, retired in 1976. It was saved for preservation in 1980 by the Welsh Industrial & Maritime Museum.
The loco worked at the Gwili for some years before moving to its current location, at the Severn Valley Railway.
The name ‘Welsh Guardsman’was given to it after its restoration, having previously been only identified by its WD number. The naming dedication was performed at this spot too, Bronwydd Arms, which seemed to add extra meaning to painting it here.
Bronwydd Arms is (for the moment) the starting point for journeys on the superb Gwili Railway heritage line. This intriguingly named station appears to be named after a nearby inn (which has since been demolished), in the small hamlet of Bronwydd, which, rather poetically, translates to ‘wooded breast (of a hill)’, presumably referring to its delightful situation.
To arrive at Bronwydd Arms station is like being transported back in time. The Gwili railway team have done a superb job over the last 40 odd years of rebuilding a stretch of this old line as a working steam railway.
It is a fabulous and friendly heritage railway to visit, and the engaging sight of the tank engines working up and down the valley as the line skips playfully alongside the beautiful river is a nostalgic delight. The experience has been improved even more by the recent and impressive opening of a whole new reach of track that takes the railway back to the edge of Carmarthen, to Abergwili Junction. It was here the line once met another (now disappeared) line that ran from Carmarthen to Llandeilo.
What of the old line in the other direction though? It climbs up on the edge of the Cambrian Mountains beyond where the immense efforts of the Gwili team have already restored their working track as far as Dan y Coed and then used to sail down all the way to the west coast.
It was, in fact, very nearly at that end of the original line, just near Aberystwyth, where I first stumbled upon its remnants, through the farming interests I mentioned at the start.
During one of my summer vacations from college, I spent a couple of weeks helping out on a sheep farm near there with some family friends. One part of the farm was up in the hills, and another set around the most perfectly set valley farm sloping down to the river.
One day, down on the latter farm, whilst sorting ewe lambs from lamb rams amongst the beautiful vernacular old stone barns, we got to discussing the intriguing looking low embankment that ran through the farm close to the river and I was told it was part of the old railway line. Time and circumstance meant that I never got around to researching it further... it was, after all, in the days before you could just find all the answers at your fingertips on a computer.
It was many years later that I made my first trip on the Gwili railway, on a train hauled by this delightful loco. Having enjoyed the day greatly, I was intrigued to discover a little more of the history of the line that the Gwili is built on. With the benefits of the internet now available, it didn’t take too long to follow the route of the original line all the way to its destination at Aberystwyth. I realised that the Gwili was built upon the other end of that that railway that I had seen the abandoned remains of that day on the farm, all those years before.
The workaday beauty of this route, winding its way through picturesque Welsh valleys, is apparent enough by following it on the map. For anyone in any doubt though, it is possible to find online a marvellous cine recording covering a journey along the line nearing the time of its closure in 1964, whihc can be found on the trawslinkcymru website:
Cine recording of a journey on the Carmarthen to Aberyswyth line
It seems like the complex interweaving of this story may not yet be at an end too; the history of the line as a serious piece of transport infrastructure might just have a future.
Many see the line as an obvious route to restore to use, making as it would again the vital missing link between the working infrastructure of the northern and southern railways of Wales.
A few years ago a feasibility study was done on reopening the entire line connecting Carmarthen to Aberystwyth. Apparently most of the trackbed is still in place and there is just the possibility that this might eventually happen...
It leaves the tantalising possibility that, one day, I may be able to board a train hauled by a loco just such as this one and take that journey. It would potter up though those glorious wooded river valleys and then on and up some more, skirting the Cambrian mountains. Eventually, after passing those beautiful vernacular stone barns where I once sorted sheep, it would deposit me on the stunning coastline of Cardigan Bay.
Now wouldn’t that be a great ending to all those interweaving stories?
My very first contact with this glorious railway line actually came about through my interest in farming, some 30 years ago. It was, however, only a few years ago that I stood and watched this loco at Bronwydd Arms, on a day where the sun was coming and going between brief showers. The valley would be dark with overcast clouds, then briefly lit up by the most glorious sunshine, somehow seeming far brighter for the overcast skies before and after.
In one of those moments when the sun was out, it illuminated the loco and the very authentic working surroundings most beautifully, the sun glinting sharply off the perfectly polished ‘Welsh Guardsman’ nameplate. Even though the whole loco had clearly been lovingly cleaned, the rest of it still wore a certain air of work about it, most in keeping with its strong industrial pedigree.
There was something so striking about this combination, it seemed to capture all that this loco represented. There was a delightful mix of pithy industrial heritage, understated grace and beauty, quiet national pride, and even remembrance to it. I knew I had to try and capture that in paint.
The full name of the loco hardly does justice to its attraction:
Robert Stephenson & Hawthorn, Works No 7170, WD 71516 Welsh Guardsman 0-6-0ST
It belongs to a significantly sized class of tank engines, generally known as ‘Austerity’ Tanks. They don’t perhaps have the glamour of the great Southern or LMS pacifics, which is hardly surprising as they were not designed for their looks. They were built instead to fulfil the nation’s wartime needs for solid, dependable locos, built with economy of materials and operating costs fully in mind.
If we allow our eye to register their outstanding and stoic success in this role, as part of their aesthetic, then their true beauty begins to shine through.
The original design was by Hunslett and, to meet demand, construction was subcontracted to other manufacturers too. 377 of them were ordered during the war, and by the time production finally ceased in 1964, some 485 of these engines had been built.
They truly formed the backbone of shunting yards throughout the country and went on after the war, almost literally becoming the ‘pit ponies’ of the coal industry, working at coal mines until as late as the mid 1980s.
This particular example was built in 1944, for the War department, and served in Northumberland before moving to Welsh mines at Graig Merthyr and Cynheidre for the rest of its original working life, retired in 1976. It was saved for preservation in 1980 by the Welsh Industrial & Maritime Museum.
The loco worked at the Gwili for some years before moving to its current location, at the Severn Valley Railway.
The name ‘Welsh Guardsman’was given to it after its restoration, having previously been only identified by its WD number. The naming dedication was performed at this spot too, Bronwydd Arms, which seemed to add extra meaning to painting it here.
Bronwydd Arms is (for the moment) the starting point for journeys on the superb Gwili Railway heritage line. This intriguingly named station appears to be named after a nearby inn (which has since been demolished), in the small hamlet of Bronwydd, which, rather poetically, translates to ‘wooded breast (of a hill)’, presumably referring to its delightful situation.
To arrive at Bronwydd Arms station is like being transported back in time. The Gwili railway team have done a superb job over the last 40 odd years of rebuilding a stretch of this old line as a working steam railway.
It is a fabulous and friendly heritage railway to visit, and the engaging sight of the tank engines working up and down the valley as the line skips playfully alongside the beautiful river is a nostalgic delight. The experience has been improved even more by the recent and impressive opening of a whole new reach of track that takes the railway back to the edge of Carmarthen, to Abergwili Junction. It was here the line once met another (now disappeared) line that ran from Carmarthen to Llandeilo.
What of the old line in the other direction though? It climbs up on the edge of the Cambrian Mountains beyond where the immense efforts of the Gwili team have already restored their working track as far as Dan y Coed and then used to sail down all the way to the west coast.
It was, in fact, very nearly at that end of the original line, just near Aberystwyth, where I first stumbled upon its remnants, through the farming interests I mentioned at the start.
During one of my summer vacations from college, I spent a couple of weeks helping out on a sheep farm near there with some family friends. One part of the farm was up in the hills, and another set around the most perfectly set valley farm sloping down to the river.
One day, down on the latter farm, whilst sorting ewe lambs from lamb rams amongst the beautiful vernacular old stone barns, we got to discussing the intriguing looking low embankment that ran through the farm close to the river and I was told it was part of the old railway line. Time and circumstance meant that I never got around to researching it further... it was, after all, in the days before you could just find all the answers at your fingertips on a computer.
It was many years later that I made my first trip on the Gwili railway, on a train hauled by this delightful loco. Having enjoyed the day greatly, I was intrigued to discover a little more of the history of the line that the Gwili is built on. With the benefits of the internet now available, it didn’t take too long to follow the route of the original line all the way to its destination at Aberystwyth. I realised that the Gwili was built upon the other end of that that railway that I had seen the abandoned remains of that day on the farm, all those years before.
The workaday beauty of this route, winding its way through picturesque Welsh valleys, is apparent enough by following it on the map. For anyone in any doubt though, it is possible to find online a marvellous cine recording covering a journey along the line nearing the time of its closure in 1964, whihc can be found on the trawslinkcymru website:
Cine recording of a journey on the Carmarthen to Aberyswyth line
It seems like the complex interweaving of this story may not yet be at an end too; the history of the line as a serious piece of transport infrastructure might just have a future.
Many see the line as an obvious route to restore to use, making as it would again the vital missing link between the working infrastructure of the northern and southern railways of Wales.
A few years ago a feasibility study was done on reopening the entire line connecting Carmarthen to Aberystwyth. Apparently most of the trackbed is still in place and there is just the possibility that this might eventually happen...
It leaves the tantalising possibility that, one day, I may be able to board a train hauled by a loco just such as this one and take that journey. It would potter up though those glorious wooded river valleys and then on and up some more, skirting the Cambrian mountains. Eventually, after passing those beautiful vernacular stone barns where I once sorted sheep, it would deposit me on the stunning coastline of Cardigan Bay.
Now wouldn’t that be a great ending to all those interweaving stories?