Britain's railways were once the envy of the world.
You could get a train from almost anywhere to almost anywhere else.
They were the network that supported an industrial superpower.
Here we go.
EXPLOSION
I've never seen anything like that.
But today, 4,000 stations and
8,000 miles of track lie silent.
This station feels truly lost.
So I'm setting off to discover more of Britain's lost railways.
Wow. This is something else.
They tell a story...
Look at this!
..of how we once lived...
Oh, I love that.
..and how we once worked.
This is one heck of a piece of engineering.
And they help reveal how our world has changed today.
Yes!
This time I'm in Derbyshire.
Matlock to be precise.
The start point of Peak Rail.
Four miles of steam heritage railway.
And all that's left of a quite remarkable railway line.
I've come to explore perhaps the most unlikely and outrageous
railway line ever built in Britain.
They had to tackle some of the most challenging terrain imaginable.
And this wasn't just some small rural branch line.
This was the express route between London and Manchester!
This is the story of an ambitious railway company that built a main
line through the heart of what's now the Peak District National Park.
From Matlock,
I'll be following a line that was tough to design and
even tougher to complete, all the way to Buxton.
But 50 years after its closure, the legacy of this railway remains
etched into the Derbyshire landscape and it's become perhaps
the most celebrated lost line in the country.
Here we go. Just drop that in there.
Woo! That's an inferno in there.
How much coal will you go through on your journey here compared
to what they might have been doing back in the day
when they were running steam engines on this line?
I think probably a fifth of what the real railway
would have used.
They were bigger engines, they were heavier trains,
and they had a much more aggressive timetable.
So the speeds that they would go at would be higher than we do.
Speedy or not,
since 1997, Peak Rail has brought steam back to this short section
of my route.
WHISTLE BLASTS
It brings me to the edge of the Peak District National Park
and a very important spot for the company that first built
this line over 150 years ago.
Rowsley South Station is where I'm meeting Peak Rail's
project director, Paul Tomlinson.
Oh, hello. Hi, Rob.
Pleased to meet you.
And welcome to Peak Rail. I mean, it's popular.
We have people getting on and off the carriages.
Yes, absolutely.
I mean, we carry something like 45,000 people a year
and we have aspirations to do an awful lot better
than that in the future.
I'm stopping here because Rowsley South today
is a railway treasure trove,
and Paul is an expert in the whole history of this line.
This is a Class 25 locomotive diesel electric.
It's of a type that was starting to appear in some numbers
on this line around the time of its closure. Lovingly restored, I'd say.
So, yes, they've made a superb job of it.
For over a century,
this was the locomotive depot of the Midland Railway Company.
On that very same spot today is Peak Rail's own engine shed.
This is the centre of our empire.
This is the workshops.
This is lovely, Paul. This is what I want to see.
It smells good in here as well. It most definitely does.
Well, tell me a bit about the history of this line.
It's not straightforward, is it?
Well, basically, it comes down to the rivalry between the
Midland Railway and the London and North Western Railway.
So this was built by the Midland Railway. Indeed it was.
And the Midland were determined to get a main line through
from London to Manchester.
The London North Western had already done it, but the Midland, well,
they were determined to match them.
And that meant coming through the Peak District.
By the mid 19th century, the London and North Western controlled a route
from London Euston to Manchester.
But with their headquarters in Derbyshire, the Midlands
set their sights on a route that would connect Manchester
with London St Pancras.
But it wasn't for the faint-hearted.
When you look at the landscape and you see it on a map,
you see that you've got river valleys, steep river valleys,
and the railway was kind of crisscrossing all of that.
Yes, it was. And in the northern part of the line,
there is this six-mile stretch where you have six tunnels
and bridges in a very short space.
Six bridges, six tunnels over a six-mile stretch of track?
Some of the tunnels are very short,
but that doesn't mean that they're any less demanding to build.
Does that tell you a little bit about just how profitable
the railways could have been at that time?
Oh, absolutely.
It was all about money, because at the end of the day,
the people who were building and operating these railways
were not railway enthusiasts.
They were hard-nosed businessmen.
But it has given me what I'm assuming is going
to be a very enjoyable walk, though, Paul. Most definitely.
It is beautiful scenery,
even if - as a Derbyshire person - I say so myself, and I'm sure
you'll really enjoy it.
But before I explore the old Midland line at ground level...
..I've had an idea.
Hey. Can I jump in?
To see just what those Victorian railway engineers were facing,
I'm taking to the air.
We're away.
Ooh, lovely.
So we're going to be flying around 600 or 700 feet above ground level,
which puts us somewhere in the region of
1,800 feet above sea level.
Pilot Sean Humphrey has been getting a bird's-eye view of the
Peak District landscape for the past ten years.
It is just spectacular up here.
The area to our left-hand side over there is commonly known
as the White Peak area.
Covers most of the area pretty much from where we are down to the bottom
edge of the Peak District, just the north of Derby.
And White Peak - why was it known as White Peak?
It's known as the White Peak area predominantly for all the limestone.
Because the landscape here, then, what you get is this almost flat
plain of just beautiful, lush greenery in these fields
and then these really quite deep valleys. Yeah.
Probably 150 to 200-foot deep in some places.
It makes for really dramatic scenery. It does.
The River Wye, below us now, cut one valley through the limestone,
and it was chosen by the Midland Railway as their route across
the White Peak.
There it is. Look.
This beautiful juxtaposition of nature with water carving out
this squiggly path through. And the railway trying to keep
it as straight as possible for obvious reasons.
It's such a contrast between the two.
Just goes to show almost how ludicrous this line was to try
and build a railway line through this kind of landscape here.
Very much so.
But the railway's first challenge was to get permission to
build here at all.
We're coming up on Chatsworth House now the left-hand side.
Unmistakable, really. Look at that.
One of the most famous country houses in Britain.
The Duke of Derbyshire was an avid supporter of the railways,
but he didn't want any of the railways coming through his land.
"Not in my back yard."
Nope. "Not in my back yard." Nimbyism at its best.
Luckily, the Duke of Devonshire's neighbour
was a little more welcoming.
This is Haddon Hall? It is.
The Duke of Rutland allowed the railway to be built,
but wanted to use tunnels so that he couldn't see the smoke and steam
going through his land.
The tunnel actually passes within 100 metres of the
Duke of Rutland's home.
Just trying to figure out where it might have gone.
I can't see any sign of a railway tunnel going through.
And that's exactly the point.
He allowed the railway to be built, but using tunnels so he couldn't see
the smoke and the steam. He obviously did a very good job.
Coming up...
First beast is in the pen.
..I see how the railway changed Bakewell's original industry.
And I'm on two wheels...
Woo!
..for the country's prettiest viaduct.
Oh, yeah. What a spot.
OK, Rob, so I'm now going to drop you off at the Bakewell Showground
just to the south of the town of Bakewell.
I'm in Derbyshire, exploring a very dramatic railway that once
crossed the heart of the Peak District.
What a beautiful part of the country.
Touchdown.
That was wonderful.
Sean's brought me to the town of Bakewell,
the only significant town inside the Peak District.
And back in the day, the only major town on my lost railway routes
between Matlock and Buxton.
Bakewell today is an absolute hub for the national park.
But that's just the very latest chapter in Bakewell's long history.
The railway reached Bakewell in 1862, but the main aim
of this line was always to whisk passengers straight
through this region to get to Manchester or to London.
So how much of an impact did this railway line have on towns
like this?
160 years ago,
Blackwell's main industry was farming.
And despite the rise of tourism and the loss of the railway,
farming still rules here.
Today is Monday, and that means market day.
But this market isn't about fruit and veg.
All right, here we go.
First beast is in the pen.
MAN QUICKLY AUCTIONING
Sold!
I don't know how much that sold for, but it sounds like it was sold.
Trading like this has been going on in Bakewell for hundreds of years.
And not just cows, either.
But to find out what impact having a railway made here, I'm meeting
someone who's Bakewell through and through.
Janet, hello. Hello, Rob.
Nice to meet you. Very nice to meet you.
That's an impressive operation you've got going on in there.
I wish it WAS mine.
Yes, it is very impressive.
Janet Bailey is the manager of Bakewell's Agricultural Society,
now celebrating its 200th birthday.
How important was the arrival of the railway into Bakewell?
Vastly important.
And it left a great big hole when it went.
You can imagine farmers, for instance, they could transport
stock and take their stock to market on the train.
Lots of the farmers relied on nearby railway lines to get their milk
to wherever it was going.
Throughout the whole railway age - and ever since -
Bakewell's centrepiece event has been the annual agricultural show.
Do you look forward to it every year? Ah, absolutely.
I mean, I'm a Bakewell girl.
Been associated with the show since I was that big.
But it was the arrival of the Midland Railway that turned
the show from a local event into a rural festival.
I can show you this.
This is a history book of the Bakewell Show and there you can see
cheapday excursion tickets to the Bakewell Show 1958.
This is what this is - an advert by British Railways. Exactly.
And there's another one here which has got the timetable
to and from Bakewell to various places like Matlock and...
Look here, so they're offering to bring in people from all stations
within a rail distance of 60 miles around.
Yeah. That's a huge area to cover.
So you're getting all these people in, and would these be extra special
trains they'd put on? Extra special trains just for Bakewell Show.
Look at that - "Travel in rail comfort."
So this would have been bringing in thousands of people.
And then, of course, you had the trains which would bring
the livestock for the farmers to show, etc...
So, yeah, the railway was important to us. Yeah.
So before I leave Bakewell, I need to find where the Midland Railway
once brought thousands of people into the town.
OK. Here we are.
This is the old station building at Bakewell.
From 1862, it was possible to reach here by rail from London.
Now this old photo here was taken just before this line closed.
You can still see exactly where we are.
I mean, the main difference is the track has all been taken up.
This canopy is now gone.
But you can see on the building where that was with these triangular
zigzags across the top.
That's the stone arch bridge in the background back there.
That's still there.
What, 50-odd years ago, if I stood here now, I'd have been in danger
of being hit by a train.
This station had been around for five years before the Midland
finally completed their line north to Manchester.
But from the beginning, Bakewell had some first-class waiting rooms.
Now I'm looking for something very specific here.
I think that must be it.
This is the crest of the Duke of Rutland.
Now the Duke may have been vehemently opposed to seeing trains
crossing his land, but I'm told he was perfectly happy to get
on and off of those trains from here.
This railway and this station gave him easy access
straight to London.
As for me, though, I'm heading north, where the old line has become one
of the most well-trodden routes in the area.
This is now a shining example of how a disused railway
can be reborn into something new.
There's one thing you can guarantee about an old railway -
it's going to be nice and flat.
And so the old Midland line has become a very easy way to explore
the rugged landscape of the Peaks.
8½ miles of my route is now called the Monsal Trail -
perfect for walkers, or in my case today, for cyclists.
Hi, Rob. How are you doing? Good, thank you.
Good day for a little cycling. It's fantastic.
Trail ranger Dave Watts has been developing the old railway's
new purpose for 29 years.
How popular is the Monsal trail here?
It is extremely popular. You're probably looking at
over 320,000 visitors annually.
Are you really? To this trail alone. Huge numbers.
That must be a massive win for you guys for the national park.
It is. And what a great way to come and visit and explore
the Peak District. Exactly.
If you're a walker or a cyclist, or even a horse rider,
it is extremely safe. Yes.
For cyclists, it's a great way for families to bring
their kids into cycling.
If you're less able, it's flat for wheelchair users, pushing a baby
in a buggy. It's a dream, isn't it? It's so accessible.
That's the beauty of the railway. They're always nice and flat.
They've done the hard work. Exactly.
Now we've come to Great Longstone Station.
Ah-ha. Yes.
A little bit of infrastructure here.
Yeah. And you see how nature's actually taken over these platforms.
And just to our left, which looks like a grand house, was the private
access for a Mr Marples -
a Sheffield lawyer, Midland Railway director -
and this was for him to have his own private access-cum-waiting room.
His own private access?
So your normal punters would be coming through the station.
Yeah, normal people from Great Longstone, Little Longstone.
But what an ornate station it was. It is a beautiful station.
And this private waiting room here is not too shabby either, is it?
No. Honestly, these trees wouldn't have obscured the building itself.
All this would've been open.
Lovely gardens here probably.
And his visitors could disembark the train,
access Mr Marples' property... Goodness me.
..and it's thought the train would stop at the station and then pull
forward to accommodate Mr Marples' guests.
I mean, that is proper influence and clout, isn't it?
When you can get a train company to do that.
Mind you, if you're a director of that train company. Yeah.
The world's your Oyster.
Times have changed, though.
Yeah, try getting that these days.
Good luck!
Leaving Great Longstone,
the geology of the Peak District begins to change as we reach
the engineering highlights of the old railway line.
We're now entering Headstone Cutting.
It's all change here, isn't it?
All of sudden you get those views out across. Yeah.
So now we're coming to a limestone area of the Peak District.
Here we go. Great slabs of limestone here.
Look how deep this cutting gets.
For much of the past 50 years,
this cutting has been closed off to the public.
A lost world from the days of the railway.
This is amazing.
Just think of the effort it would have taken to blast
and dig your way through here for the railway, originally.
Ah! Stunning.
In 2011, Dave and his National Park colleagues set about clearing
and reopening this cutting, along with what it leads to.
This is the Headstone cutting because we're just entering here.
This is Headstone Tunnel. Headstone Tunnel.
It's enormous, this tunnel, Dave. It is.
Woo! A good echo, too.
Headstone Tunnel took the railway underneath Monsal Head,
the high ground, which now gives the Monsal Trail its name.
Let's have a look, then.
How long is this tunnel?
It's 505 metres.
It's the longest of our four tunnels.
It feels like you would've had a double track coming through.
Yeah, a double track.
These arches here, which you can see,
were refuges for workers to escape a steam train coming down.
Yes. If they're working down here and the train comes through.
And you've got all this brick lining all the way across, as well,
which is just beautiful, isn't it? Victorian brick.
Blue brick, which is just facing the bedrock.
It's not actually holding anything up.
I mean, these railway engineers knew what they were doing.
This was the best of the best.
Yes. Yeah. They've left this fantastic legacy, really.
But as railway legacies go, there are few better known
than the one at the end of this tunnel.
Ah, yes!
What a spot.
Standing tall over the River Wye is the Headstone Viaduct.
Wow.
We're straight out of the tunnel.
One engineering feat onto another one here.
Can you imagine when the trains were running through here come
out of that tunnel... Yeah.
..and just come through to this view... From complete darkness,
and then you get all of this.
That is picture-perfect view, that is, isn't it?
Absolutely stunning.
When it was built, the Midland Railway was said
to have ruined the valley.
But that opinion didn't last for long.
And Monsal Dale today, with its man-made addition,
is one of the most famous sights in Derbyshire.
Coming up...
It's not exactly how we picture
our national parks today.
..I find that the Peak District was once full
of more than just railways.
We're entering the kiln here now. We are.
And I discover why one tiny valley needed a very big station.
Nearly everybody descended on Millers Dale.
In the heart of Derbyshire, I've been seeing how the old
Midland Railway engineered its way through a famous landscape.
In 1951, the Peak District became this country's very first national
park, which means that for its first 17 years or so, you had an express
railway thundering through the heart of it.
It's not exactly how we picture our national parks today.
But the truth is, the Midland Railway was just one chapter
in a rich industrial history
that's been part of the Peak's story for centuries.
This is the remains of Monsal Dale station.
It's quite clear that this is the stone edge of the platform here.
But it's hard to figure out exactly the configuration of how the station
would have been.
What I do know is that the track ran so close to this steep valley
on this side here, they had to build the platform on this side
out of wood, sticking out over the edge of this drop.
And that is quite a drop.
In its final years, this station brought walkers
into the new national park.
It was a far cry from one of its earlier roles of bringing
workers to the local cotton mill, but this rural area
was where it all began for the Industrial Revolution.
The world's very first factories weren't in big cities -
they were powered by the rivers of Derbyshire.
Right next to my route,
Litton Mill was up and running a full 80 years
before the railway was built.
It's a really lovely spot down here now.
But the truth is that Litton Mill had an appalling reputation
for cruelty and hardship when it was in full swing.
Litton recruited children from orphanages and workhouses.
The tales of what went on here are claimed to have inspired Dickens
when he wrote Oliver Twist.
And when the mill finally closed in the 1970s, these buildings stood
empty for decades.
But not any more.
Hello. Hi. Hello. Good morning.
Just out for a walk, are you? Just going off with Lenny.
You guys live here, do you?
Yeah, we do. And were you aware this is the old mill
when you moved in? Have you lived here for a while?
We've lived here nine years. Nine years.
And were you aware of the fact that this did have a huge industrial
history when you moved in?
Yes. It's not a very nice past, either.
And in fact, when we first moved here, the first night, dropping
off to sleep, and suddenly I could hear singing
and I'm thinking, "Where is that coming from?
"Is it some kids in the village?"
And then I realised it wasn't the kids in the village at all.
It was children - from the past, I'm guessing - singing.
And I've heard it several times. Goodness me.
It gives you chills, doesn't it?
It was a bit spooky.
And there's still a surprising amount of the old mill that's
been left behind.
We're right up alongside this fast-moving river along here.
It's a natural supply of energy.
Exactly. Originally, it was a water wheel.
Luckily, it was made to travel down those big pipes
and drive those turbines.
And then the water continued on under the mill and away.
And the railway's on the other side of the river just up here, is it?
Just about above where the cliffs are. You've got the tree line.
I remember as a child catching the train in Buxton to Millers Dale,
with my jam sandwiches and a bottle of water for the day, a shilling
return on the train,
and then as I got older,
I was catching that London connection,
but getting off in Derby to meet my boyfriend.
Oh, hello.
And missing half a lesson from school to do it.
Did you?!
Incidentally, I've only just found this out.
Which sounds like my cue to be moving on.
Derbyshire is now a renowned beauty spot, but it's filled
with the remnants of successive industrial eras.
And just over a mile down the line,
I'm reaching a point that I've particularly wanted to see.
In order to bridge the 200-metre gap at Millers Dale,
the Midland Railway built an impressive viaduct.
But for well over a century now,
the standout feature...
..is that there are two of them.
Walking along here,
I'm on the original viaduct that was built for when this line opened.
But right alongside me here,
the newer viaduct, which came along just over 40 years later.
Now, if you stop and have a look, you can see they both
have these stonework piers
built from limestone and gritstone.
The main difference is up top.
The original viaduct has these beautiful, huge iron arches
on its spans as it crosses the river below.
But across the way, the new viaduct used a material that had come on
leaps and bounds during that 40-year period.
A material that was more reliable, and had better strength qualities -
steel.
But the question is, why did the quiet valley of Millers Dale
need two viaducts?
The answer - on the other side - is Millers Dale Station, the largest
station anywhere between Derby and Manchester.
And it's here that I'm meeting someone who's known
this place since childhood.
Harry. Hello. Hi, Rob.
Nice to meet you. Very nice to meet you.
Well, even though there's no trains coming through these days,
it's still quite busy here at Millers Dale, isn't it?
People coming through all the time now, almost like the old days.
Well, why was it such a major station?
Because we've got these platforms that we can see here.
Did it extend further than that?
Yeah, it started out as a two-platform station and finished
up as a five-platform station.
The only five-platform station outside of a major city in the UK,
in the middle of the Peak District - seems rather stupid, doesn't it?
It does. So why were there five platforms?
Well, you had the busy quarrying industry right down the line.
You've got the mills at Millers Dale, Litton Mills,
Cressbrook, coal deliveries were made to here, so materials and goods
had to come in. So this was a real hub of industry. Absolutely.
And to have express trains stopping here as well between Manchester
and London was quite exceptional, I think, for such a
small community, you know. Yeah.
You know, nearly everybody descended on Millers Dale.
In the final years of the railway's life, Harry's father was both
station booking clerk and sub postmaster for
Millers Dale Post Office, based right next to the platform.
Do you remember being up and around here as a kid? Oh, yeah.
Yeah, coming on here, watching the trains go in and out.
I would come over and sometimes help the porters,
sometimes get in the way of the porters, you know?
Yeah, I remember it very fondly.
So that's my father back in '67.
Inside the booking hall and the Post Office counter.
There's the rack of tickets behind.
He looks very happy and jolly.
I bet everybody knew him,
and I bet he knew almost everyone around as well.
Oh, yeah, without doubt.
I can even remember the days when as a sub postmaster he would deliver
the post on Christmas Day. There you go.
I mean, that's commitment, isn't it?
Yeah. It was just a perfect community.
But, as Harry says, Millers Dale's importance didn't just stem
from passengers and locals.
And there's one giant local industry
I still haven't investigated.
Old films at the Midland Railway show this industry in action.
Long trains, wagon after wagon filled with the spoils
of this region's natural resource -
limestone.
Right next to the railway line here. Look at this.
It looks like something straight out of a sci-fi movie.
It's actually a Victorian lime kiln.
Giant structures like this were used to turn local limestone into
quicklime, used to fertilise soil, make cement, steel and even glass.
And the process started at the very top of the kiln.
Hello. Hello.
Here to meet me is Peak District archaeologist Anna Badcock.
So we're right on top of one of the lime kilns here.
We are. There's two, actually, side by side.
And they were constructed in the late 1860s.
So shortly after the railway was built.
That's not a coincidence then, is it? No.
Because they're built right alongside.
They're here because of the railways.
The railway allowed that limestone industry to just mushroom
because of access to fuel, which could be brought in on the railway
and then access to markets with the product at the end.
So then if quicklime comes out the bottom, what's going into the top
to make that? So, blocks of limestone, various sizes.
So these wagons would be loaded with the limestone and the fuel
and they'd just go round.
Tip in. And tip in.
And the Peak District is known for being an area
abundant with limestone.
So that would have been locally sourced? Yeah.
The evidence of quarrying is just everywhere all around us.
And so those faces that you can see in the distance...
Yeah, the sheer stone faces here. Yeah. So that's all human-made.
This one site could produce 50 tonnes of quicklime a day,
but only once workers had stepped inside to set the kilns and ensure
a temperature of 1,000 degrees C.
You can see how it's been cut through solid rock, can't you?
Can we go in? Yeah.
So this is the eye of the kiln and this is where wood would be laid
to set the fire to start it all off. OK.
And then can you imagine layers of limestone and coal, limestone,
coal, stacked all the way...
All the way to the top where we were earlier.
Where we were earlier. All the way through.
And it would slowly burn up.
And it's the same on this side. Exactly. It's a mirror image.
That little thing's a toot hole.
So that's where they would have tested the temperature,
make sure it's firing at the right temperature.
I think that's coal.
That is coal. That is the fuel.
That's from the last time this would've been fired up.
That's a bit of old coal. Yep.
Goodness me. Still here.
And then underneath, this is where the quicklime would come out.
It is. So it would be shovelled out into barrows and then out
onto the railway. Straight on to the railway.
Yeah. Couldn't be any closer.
I mean, it's not the best working conditions.
It would be horrible. Hot, smoky,
and you've got... Dusty and then it's caustic,
so the quicklime will burn your skin.
So it must have been really, actually,
very horrible working conditions.
The fires were finally put out at this kiln in 1944, just seven
years before this land of heavy industry was transformed
into our very first national park.
Coming up...
There's a 3,000bhp engine in there.
..I find a railway industry that's alive and massive.
Oh!
And in Buxton, I run into the Midland Railways' arch rival.
And their station is still here!
Well, there is no doubt about it.
The simplest route between London and Manchester is definitely not
through all this, but the Midland Railway
built their line here anyway.
And mighty impressive it's been, too.
I've been crossing the Peak District by following a quite
remarkable lost railway.
But before my journey ends in Buxton, there's one
more Derbyshire industry to see, and this one's alive and well.
Tunstead is the largest limestone operation in the UK.
Work's been going on here for almost a century.
And right alongside, a short section of railway is still working, too.
So this is still part of the old Midland Railway
that is in operation.
That's right. The railway has been here since the late 1800s.
TRAIN HORN TOOTS
And this train that's just blown its horn now
will be going through the batch loader plant.
When the rest of my line closed in 1968,
a few miles looping around the quarry was kept open to carry
freight to Buxton and beyond.
Tunstead manager John Fotherby now controls 9km
of quarry sidings, five separate loading plants, and four locomotives.
So this engine here weighs about 130 tonnes and there's a
3,000bph engine in there.
The trains that go out of here go to two and a half thousand
tonne gross. So each one of these wagons is fairly sizable,
as well, then. This wagon here, when it's fully laden,
will be 90 tonne in total.
This whole train will take 45 trucks off the road. Wow.
The amount of pollution that would chuck out compared
to one train delivery is unbelievable.
The limestone is then processed into lime.
Where does that end up?
Lime product ends up in your toothpaste, in your food,
but major construction the lime's been used in
is the Mersey Gateway that's recently opened in Liverpool.
The Shard, O2 Arena - it ends up literally everywhere.
Concrete and cement for constructions all around the country
are made with limestone from here, and one more train load
is about to be filled.
So that's going to be quite noisy up there, isn't it?
Dumping loads of tonnes of limestone. It's going to
be a very noisy affair and we're going to have to get
out of this area very shortly.
Luckily, the control room is on hand, from where you can survey
the whole process.
Go ahead, Dave. Set her off.
Ooh. Hello.
Straight away, there's rumble.
That there is 66 tonne of material dropping into the wagon in one go.
HE CHUCKLES
Each wagon is filled in just five seconds
as the train creeps forward.
The whole train will be through here in about 20 minutes.
Wow.
But to get this far, a lot of work has already been done.
A fleet of dumper trucks carry 100 tonnes of rock at a time,
to where it's crushed, blended and carried to the railway
sidings by conveyor.
It's got a little platform here so we can get the best
views in the house? Just for you today, you see.
Gives us a brilliant view of the quarry.
The size of this quarry, when you come up here,
it's just phenomenal, isn't it?
Yeah. This is massive.
This whole site is about 2,000 acres in total.
John's brought me to see the dramatic start
of the quarrying process.
There'll be a 45,000-tonne blast going off today.
45,000 tonnes?
In one blast? That's right.
Yes, that's one of the smaller blasts we have here
at Tunstead Quarry.
So it's not the old plunger job to get the explosion going, is it?
No, no, it's not going to be coyote looking for roadrunner
with TNT there.
No, it's all done by electronic explosives -
electronic detonators - nowadays.
It's actually ten tonnes of explosives used in this blast today.
Is it really? Goodness.
RADIO: Tend to all stations.
SIREN WAILS
That's the blasting siren now going off.
Phil and his team are just getting ready now.
There's a blasting supervisor there with the transmitter
in his hands, ready to push the button.
This is tense.
RADIO CHATTER
That is something. I've never seen anything like that.
That was a good one today.
Yeah, it seems to echo a little bit around the quarry, as well.
Now the dust all cleared,
you can see just what's come out of that rock face.
What was a solid rock is now all this great big pile of rubble.
That's right. A few trainloads of earth. Yeah, indeed.
Prime limestone material.
Just two miles from the giant quarry,
perched on the very edge of the limestone plateau,
is my destination - the spa town of Buxton.
This feels like a well-deserved refreshment.
Yep. That's definitely water.
It's warmer than you might think, but I guess that's to be expected,
coming up from the ground.
Geothermal water certainly put Buxton on the map,
but it was the railways that made the town what it is today.
Just over 50 years ago, you'd have found the Midland Railway
station right here.
There's not much left of it.
But we do know exactly what the station looked
like because its twin is still with us.
Buxton is where the Midland Railway ran into its arch rival -
the London and North Western - and their station is still here.
The Midland had hoped to build their line straight
through Buxton to Manchester.
But as they got here, the LNWR were finishing their own line
to Buxton FROM Manchester.
Look, you can see.
London and North Western Railway Company carved in stone
above this wonderfully intricate window.
Both stations were designed by Joseph Paxton, who'd made his name
creating the Crystal Palace in London.
Perfect railway symmetry.
Amazingly, they each had their grand opening on the same day in May 1863.
The Midlands had their dinner at 2pm and the LNWR just an hour
later at 3pm.
Allegedly, Paxton made it along to both.
In a quirk of Victorian railway building, Buxton ended up
a terminus to two lines.
But did that stop the Midland reaching Manchester?
Oh, no. They simply backtracked down their own line and created
a new route, missing out Buxton entirely.
You've got to admire the Midlands' determination, but I don't think
Buxton was any worse off.
The population of the town tripled within just 20 years
of the railways arriving.
And the country got its second main line between London and Manchester -
one full of the beauty and drama of the Peak District.
That one's no longer with us, but what a train ride
it must have been.
Next time...
It's the story of the very first railways.
..I'm in the northeast to see how coal kick-started the railway age.
That could be 200 year old.
I'll pay a visit to the 1820s...
All the mechanics of this are right on show.
..and see how lost mining railways are getting a new lease of life.
C'mon! Yeah!
Subtitles by Red Bee Media