Polkemmet: Cathedral of Clag

Andrew Barclay "Pugs" hard at work, pulling loaded wagons
from the washery at Polkemmet.
Photograph by kind permission of John Furnevel.

"Polkemmet Dawn" watercolour painting, copyright 2009 the railway muddler

I made it out to East Lothian a couple of times in the seventies, fascinated by rumours of the railway at Whitburn Colliery. I'll never forget my very first sight of the place. Run-down mine buildings, with the famous twin spires of winding gear, a landmark for miles around. Then, the noise. A great eruption, and two fire-blackened locomotives emerged, waging a titanic battle with a string of loaded coal wagons. Smoke and cursing skirled in the air as the strange, mutilated engines worked arcane magic on the mean surroundings, transforming them into a volcanic arena of hot metal, fire and pollution.

The locos themselves had been kept going by the make-do-and-mend tactics of the fitters at the colliery, men who must have been possessed of heroic skills. Thus, there were discarded saddle tanks, funnels, cylinders and wheels lying about as if cast aside by the gods, trying their hand at a little railway modelling. The resultant hybrid engines were true survivors in every sense.

My camera never seemed to work properly at Polkemmet- something to do with the peculiar elemental forces at work, perhaps. I was forced to make rapid sketches of what I saw, which I translated into paint. Not that anything could substitute for having been there.

Some years later, I drove along the M8 between Glasgow and Edinburgh on business, and glimpsed the twin spires in the distance. It set me wondering about going back the next day to have a look at the remains. However, when I drove back, they were gone. Maybe it was my imagination, but where the colliery had stood, there was still a feint smell of smoke, hot oil and sulphur in the air.