Standedge Tunnel stands out as one of the most extraordinary experiences of my cruising around England. Few of us forget our first tunnel, but it's seen-one-seen-all as far as most canal tunnels are concerned.
Not so Standedge. It has great variety of appearance in its 3 miles, and there's drama and human interaction in passing through it, too. Little wonder that it ranks as one of the Seven Wonders of the Waterways. Some say there should be twelve, and Standedge is on that list too. Martin Clark's website has a good - nay, excellent - pictorial history of the tunnel, as well as the story of its restoration.
They tow your boat through via an electric tug. In the front is the passenger vessel, with a single driver at the open bow section, crocodile-file (two-abreast) seating for twenty in the glassy cabin, and an open stern deck. On the passenger vessel is a driver, steering with a couple of joysticks as though it were a long but unexciting video game, and a guide whose nominal purpose is to be trained in first aid. However, his chief job satisfaction is in giving you a history and running commentary.
Behind is the stubby tug unit, with another steerer, and, behind that, they tow your narrowboats, up to five in a snaking chain tied closely together, each boat separated with an inflatable fender.
Each towed boat is also covered with thick, coarse unrolled rubber, and astern on each (except the first) stands a British Waterways man whose sole job is to fend off the unforgiving rough stone walls of the tunnel with his boots. And they must do this for up to three hours at a stretch. This last job must be the least satisfying of the entire Standedge caravan...
Every half-mile or so, you come to 'cross-adits' which connect with one of the disused railway tunnels, now a maintenance roadway. Two BW employee drives through this in their white van and check that the floating caravan has arrived, before tootling off to the next checkpoint. I'm told that it's a dead end for him; once the driver reaches the last checkpoint, he has to turn around and drive all the way back and drive over the mountain, but he still reached Marsden before we did!
The first furlong or so of our trip was almost anti-climatic. It's a late Victorian extension, a simple box tunnel that extended the original portal so as to allow a railway line to pass over, and I thought: "Is that all there is?"
But soon the tunnel proper starts, and it gets exciting and inspiring: you can see the rough-hewn rock, the remnants of soot, the chisel chippings, the mason's marks, and the white scars from the original old gunpowder blasting. These marks are almost like the ancient glyphs on a Karnak tomb; they feel like real history.
Initially I was too busy listening to the commentary of the guide (Brian) to look closely. But when his knowledge dried up, I was fascinated to see the varied appearance of the tunnel. It's not just rock, rock, rock. There's regular brickwork, 'gunning' (sprayed concrete that gives it a rather absurd and artificial fairground 'ghost train' look) and 'jack arches' of brick from Telford's corrections after the initial bores from either end went wildly awry and missed each other by 39 feet.
Along the central section is a long dogleg where this costly mistake was finally corrected, and at each end of this is/are cavernous sections, tall and wide, known as the 'cathedrals'.
Our steerer at the front was Alan Dickinson, whose baseball cap and laconic manner of steering as if it was all a video game gave him a boyish look. Later at the tunnel exit, with his hat off, he looked a little more mature and I could see the responsibility etched in his eyes. Alan focused hard on his job, but two thirds of the way through he leaped back into the cabin as a huge stream of water cascaded from above, where a reservoir leaks through the rocks. This is a regular event he seems to relish. Perhaps it breaks the monotony.
Towards the Marsden end, our guide Brian began to point out the 'legging' plates that once told the old leggers how far they were in the tunnel. With half a million candlepower lighting our way, it was hard to put ourselves in the feeling of those men who originally 'walked' the boats through the tunnel, feet on the roof, but the legging plates helped. These were screwed into the tunnel roof, one chain (22 yds) apart, and there were 108 of them.
Each wooden plate had the chain number carved into it in large letters so that the number could be felt in the dark. Only a few of them remain, and most of these are crumbling. Many of the others simply fell off during restoration, and one of our crew said he kept one at home 'on top of the fridge'. They must be very historical.
Perhaps the most awe-inspiring part of the Standedge trip was simply the regular salutation from the van driver, who was encumbered with the duty of checking us safely through the tunnel from the cross-adits. This simple precaution reminded me that Standedge is not quite your conventional tunnel trip. This safety is a fierce obsession with British Waterways and the railway companies, with a total four (count 'em, four!) tunnels piercing that hill. A few weeks ago they held an accident training exercise in the tunnels, something that apparently left many local residents concerned that something serious had actually happened.
When we emerged into glorious sunshine at the Marsden end, at the foot of Saddleworth Moor, it felt like the world had been born anew. And the tiny hole in the mountainside looked just as Michael Pearson describes it in his Pennine Waterways Companion: 'Like a mousehole in a wainscot'.
When it was over and all the BW staff dispersed, we were left to ponder our passage quietly. I thought of the two staff who took us from Dobcross up the nine locks to the Diggle side of the tunnel, and of the seven staff who saw us through. Each of them was working almost a full day. With a total of only four narrowboats today, it can't have have cost them far shy of a couple of hundred pounds per boat to get us through the tunnel.
Perhaps they can simply mark it all down as part of the marketing budget, to show that for tourists the Huddersfield Narrow Canal is well worth visiting. Which it is. I wouldn't have missed it for anything. This restoration has been worth every penny of other people's money!
Comments