Friday, December 23, 2005

Now Where's the Site Gone!

Here’s the latest news from home. Sadly not much has been happening. However the one thing that has left me wondering is the sudden disappearance of the Indian Steam Railway Society (ISRS) website. It was there a few months back and now its gone! Perhaps they are really facing a cash crunch. Somehow I think I could be of help. But the problem is that they want INR 2000 for membership and that is a wee bit expensive. I haven’t been to the Railway Museum here for several months and am quite desperate to get there. Personally I am rather bothered by the sudden disappearance of the site. If they have no money it would really be a terrible thing.

Also I haven’t got the next issue of the Indian Steam Railway Magazine. Perhaps there will be no such magazine as the ISRS will be too short of funds to bring out such a mag. What I am planning to do is approach them with an idea that might help them in getting some moolah in their account. A rather simple plan. Sell cards! That should do it. Will send out a mail to those guys later this month. Till then keeping my fingers crossed.

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Death of a Man

It is difficult to overstate the contribution of Dr Peter Beet, who has died aged 68, to the railway preservation movement. His talent for bringing out the best in people and his ability to look to the future were invaluable in his quest to save as many steam locomotives as possible from the breaker's yard.
Peter's formative years were spent in Kendal, in the Lake District. At night, he would listen to the sounds of locomotives on the west coast. His first sighting of a Royal Scot engine in crimson lake livery had a lasting impact. From then on, he always wanted a big red engine. His schooling in Harrogate brought him into contact with the LNER Pacifics, and this cemented his love for big engines.

While at medical school in Leeds, he often visited the steam shed at Tebay, developing friendships with many of the enginemen. They let him clean and fire the locomotives, including the tank engines that banked heavy trains over Shap. This taught him about locomotives and how they worked.

Peter became a GP in Morecambe, Lancashire, in 1964. That year saw the withdrawal of the remaining Stanier Pacific locomotives, which were among his favourites. He tried unsuccessfully to save the City of Lancaster and another locomotive - thwarted, he said, "by small-minded and myopic people within the rail industry, who regarded anyone who wanted to buy a steam engine as a crank".

But Peter learned from this. Shortly after the closure of the former Furness branch line to Lakeside, the Lakeside Railway Estates Company was formed. Chaired by Peter, its aim was to buy and operate the line right through to Ulverston. The venture was supported by the then transport minister, Barbara Castle, though a requirement to fund the construction of several motorway bridges along the line effectively killed off the project. None the less, a new company bought the 3½ miles of railway from Haverthwaite to Lakeside in 1973. Reopened that May, it still operates.

With the end of steam on the national network approaching, Peter redoubled his efforts to save locomotives; he was instrumental in the preservation of 23, many of which still operate on special trains on the rail network. When Carnforth engine shed closed in 1968, he set out to preserve the site; it became Steam Town and, by the early 1970s, it was both the home of many famous steam locomotives and the base for some of the first mainline steam operations from Carnforth to Sellafield and to York.

Peter bought the former LMS express locomotive No 5690 Leander for restoration, first to full working order, then to full mainline condition. In October 2002, I was invited onto its footplate with Peter and his son Chris for the first lighting of the fire since the engine had been in their ownership. He had finally got his big red engine.

As Peter's remains were lowered into the grave in Kendal, perhaps by chance yet right on cue, a train whistle sounded in the distance.


From The Guardian