Memories of my first childhood train journey
Nothing prepared me for the massive black and orange coloured locomotive that pulled into the station.
I was 12 years old before I had my first ride on a train. It was a trip all the way to Dublin to spend my Confirmation money. Right from the start, I was awe-struck. Images and sounds from all the stories I had ever heard came to life that day, as I finally got to experience the many things my older siblings had mentioned from their travels away from the Ox Mountains.
But nothing prepared me for the massive black and orange coloured locomotive that pulled into the station. It was a big square ball of throbbing, hissing power, more akin to an enormous diesel-fired electricity generator than anything else.
The first public commuter railway system in Ireland launched in 1834 and ran between Dublin and Kingstown, now Dún Laoghaire. In the following years, rail lines spread from Dublin, initially reaching out to Cork, Belfast and Galway, and then to smaller towns and villages.
Unlike many European countries, there was no overall plan to develop a rail system for Ireland, which led to disputes and confusion. An economic collapse in the late 1830s and the Great Famine slowed railway growth for several years. In 1848, there were only 360 miles of track, however this had extended to almost 4,000 miles by 1920.
In the finish, one of the reasons for the spread in the railway network, particularly in rural Ireland, was an incentive offered by the British to make the concept of Home Rule more attractive to the Irish… “Stick with us, kids, and you can have nice things, like railways.”
Ballina station opened in May 1873, following the opening of the Manulla to Foxford line in May 1868. It was built as part of the Midland Great Western Railway and connected to the Westport line through a branch line from Manulla Junction.
Elsewhere, 1895 saw the opening of the railway between Athenry in Galway and Collooney in Sligo. This line ran through the unforgiving east Mayo countryside. The final section of this line, between Claremorris and Collooney, had to be completed as a light rail structure because of dwindling funds and the undulating landscape.
Although prototype diesel locomotives ran in Britain before World War II, the railways here in Ireland changed more rapidly from steam to diesel. This was because of Ireland's limited coal reserves and an ageing steam locomotive fleet that left Córas Iompair Éireann (CIE) with more complaints than positive reviews.
The new locomotives proved an instant success, the only drawback being the single cab, which necessitated the locomotive being turned at the end of each journey. The second batch of 37 locomotives, delivered in 1962, were fitted with a cab at each end to overcome this problem and these bad boys unloaded an enormous 1,100 horsepower. When the hammer was fully down, they could reach speeds of up to 80mph. I think it must have been one of these monsters that I encountered on my maiden voyage.
For me, riding that train proved to be a kind of coming of age. I was leaving behind long summer days, the hayfield and short trousers. I found myself speeding towards Dublin through exotic places such as Dromod, Mostrim and Enfield. The generous double, no treble, high-backed seats were from another age and while there may not have been genuine walnut on display, the seats had a deep-pile fabric covering of patriotic dark green. As the carriage seemed to stand still, fields and farms and whole villages whizzed by. Suddenly, the parallel meeting of another train, thundering in the opposite direction, caused a 120-mph explosion of earth, wind and fire prompting an immediate trip to the Leithreas as well as a frightening reminder to CLOSE THE FLIPPIN WINDOW!
I quickly discovered undertaking a trip to the toilet was not for the fainthearted. I had to negotiate the dark annex between the carriages where the deafening clatter of steel wheels and jangling chains was reminiscent of a scene from a World War II movie. It seemed, a misplaced foot could plunge the unsuspecting toilet-goer to a certain and bloody death amid rails, sleepers and iron spikes. It occurred at this stage that remaining seated and soiling myself was a preferable option, but I forged ahead.
I then squeezed my way through the dining carriage. This was my first experience of being in a compartment filled with body odour, cigarette smoke and the smell of beer. A line of men propped up the all-to-one-side bar which was serving minerals, beer and baby Powers. There were dining tables further up the carriage and from memory, they were covered with white cotton table cloths. I had the feeling that such tables were reserved for doctors and lawyers and TDs.
When I eventually got to the toilet, the train had stopped. I was immediately confronted by a sign saying “DO NOT FLUSH WHILE THE TRAIN IS IN THE STATION.” My long wait had to relieve myself had to continue until the train moved off again. The reason for the DO NOT FLUSH notice was because back in those days, the toiled flushed out directly on to the railway line. This method of sewage disposal worked reasonably well if the train was travelling at 70mph but presented those waiting on a station platform with a most objectionable experience if dumped out while the train was at a standstill.
When I eventually got to Dublin, my sister met me off the train and boy, was I happy to see her. The two main things I wanted to search out while in Dublin were the bullet marks on the giant columns of the GPO and the Ha'penny Bridge over the Liffey. These things still hold a fascination for me; they have survived despite all the changes that have happened around them.
I enjoyed a few days of double-decker bus rides and savoury mince dinners; experiences that few boys from the Ox Mountains had ever enjoyed in 1973. A week later, I made the same train journey back home to the Ox Mountains. This time I was more prepared; I sat near the toilet and made my way there just as the train was leaving Mullingar. The rattle and hum of the train was having little or no effect on me this time. However, I was a little bemused at the length of time that a guy with long hair and a girl in a short skirt spent kissing each other in a dark corner next to the toilets.
Over the decades, certain railways have disappeared and trains and their efficiencies have changed. While the railways system remains heavily subsidised, it is still a pleasant way to travel. I will take that same line to Dublin again this Saturday to see a musical in the Bord Gais Theatre. The train will be light and bright but will have no dining carriage.
Back in the day, it was such an experience to stand on a railway platform and feel the ground shake beneath your feet as one of those old black trains arrived in your station. That alone was worth the price of the ticket… and yet, you still had your trip to look forward to.
