SNCF's "en voyage" sector is currently "between liveries" with the expiry of rights to use the old blue/purple "en voyage" look before the adoption of anything new. Repainted locos are therefore being outshopped in plain silver, like that rather fetching Bombardier number at Gare d'Austerlitz.
SNCF's glorious Bo-Bo electrics are still kitted-out in the silver/orange "zig-zag" livery, a fragment of which is seen on this brute at Nimes station.
Its bulk is further emphasised by the low level of French station platforms. That feature has been a failing until now, but has become a God-send as new technology enables double-deck coaches to be easily used -- here a TGV arrives at the same platform in Nimes, on its way to Paris.
I did this holiday entirely by train: I couldn't face the stupid airport security theatre (take your shoes off... empty your pockets... come here to be felt-up by some bored-looking guard); the long queues in what are actually cheap-as-chips but over-priced and very hostile shopping malls, full of screaming consumers bored out of their skulls or desperate to buy the latest designer label, arguing and bickering, secure in their relentless Narcissism... er. Sorry. Got off the point a bit.
The point is, I did London-Paris-Toulouse, but (perversely) not using TGV. The journey took about seven hours, and I arrived vastly, infinitely more refreshed than if I'd flown (in a total journey that wouldn't have been very much less).
The journey involving a change at Paris is an advantage: it enables you to break your trip in somewhere like this -- the famous Le Train Bleu at Gare du Lyon, which is possibly the most gloriously absurd OTT restaurant in the world. Dead classy.
We are all in thrall to airline travel, but I felt more relaxed after these journeys than flying for even a quarter of the time -- which is surely the point of being on holiday.
I returned to Paris by TGV, less than three hours from Nimes, with an absolutely delightful lunch at Terminus Nord (opposite Gare du Nord, and well worth trying), and then a Eurostar to London. Glorious.
One of my favourite holiday discoveries was the international railway that ran through the Pyrenees from Pau in France to Canfranc in Spain. The middle, cross-border section -- from Oloron to Canfranc -- was abandoned in 1970.
Constructed in the 1920s (and opening in 1928), heroic civil engineering works remain all along the vallée d'Aspe, the road running parallel (and largely empty) to the railway line for much of the way.
This was the scene of one of the most significant of the early environmental protests in the twentieth century, opposing controversial proposals to carve a motorway out of this route along with the construction of a massive new road tunnel at Somport.
As a result of the protests the plans were hugely watered-down: today, the new-ish 8km road tunnel is in use, but it is almost deserted. The roads leading to it were upgraded but never to more than good single-carriageway-standard with a crawler lane for lorries on lengthy uphill sections.
I drove through the road tunnel several times, and for most of them I didn't pass a single oncoming vehicle, or have anything in my sights ahead of me or in my rearview mirrors.
Part of the settlement with the protesters also involved a commitment to reopen the railway line, a commitment that has not been fulfilled. Deserted stations, like these at Urdos and Les Forges d'Abel, abound.
Canfranc, on the Spanish side of the border (no time for me to visit it so no photos, I'm afraid), was one of the largest stations in Europe -- a vast international station with customs halls and immigration offices. Today it stands abandoned, a vast hulk with a tiny modern station opposite it (which is the terminus today for Spanish trains).
On the French side, occasional local trains still travel south from Pau but terminate at Oloron.
I usually find abandoned railways rather melancholy places, but this one was especially engaging -- the remaining infrastructure is so well preserved it feels like little effort would be needed for trains to run again. But, given how little road traffic I encountered, it's difficult to see how an economic case could be made.
Unless and until then, we can all enjoy the majestic setting and engineering delights of this railway.
6 comments:
HOORAY! for the railway pictures and the glorious French countryside!
Can't wait to find an excuse to go although the weather in those parts can be pretty grim as it clearly was for you
Weather in the Pyrenees can be vicious -- including very heavy snow or dense, freezing cloud.
If you look at the 2nd photo in the abandoned railway sequence, that was taken in torrential rain (it was so wet I couldn't risk taking the camera out of the car), and the last photo shows low cloud over the valley (on one day we were actually submersed in cloud. Which was both very wet and very cold...). There's a reason why this place is so very green and lush!
Equally, I was here a couple of years back on summer days that were scorchingly hot and bright. It's quite like British weather -- pot luck.
What a wonderful commentary to go with the always engaging photographs. Very satisfying...
Nice photos. I beg to differ on the 'fetching Bombardier number at Gare d'Austerlitz'. It is a BB26000 (Sybic = synchrone bicourant) and was delivered by Alst(h)om.
I am mortified with shame at my inability to identify correctly the manufacturer of this French locomotive. I confess, Bombardier was a guess (it reminded me of the TRAXX family), and I'm pleased to have been corrected.
Actually it was a particularly stupid error: given French pride, if guessing I should always have chosen a French manufacturer rather than a Canadian one. The chances are always that they have "bought national".
And this is therefore proof I have been infected by that casual British laissez faire approach that assumes you simply buy the cheapest product no matter where it comes from (and sod the quality).
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