The Island's Swansong

XVII - Don't Bother That Telephone

As astonishing as the windmill discovery was, there was nothing there. I'd fully explored it within minutes. The wooden stairs had rotted apart, while wood and stone debris littered the exterior of the roof. In another few decades, there would be no windmill to see.

As I continued my trek towards Knapford, I chewed on the fate of the blue number one tank engine. If he had been scrapped, there would've been uproar internationally, not just on Sodor. And if he was sold into preservation, I would've heard about it. Perhaps he was tucked away somewhere on Sodor, and I surmised Tidmouth sheds was the safest bet of all for his final resting place.

Signs of the famous tank engine's incredible life continued to reveal themselves. I'd arrived at the remains of a level crossing. Bertie must've cursed their existence so early on in the famous Ffarquhar branch races. I crossed the lines with no issues (as the gates had collapsed), and to my left, in the distance, I caught my first glimpse of the Knapford skyline.

Pushing onward, the countryside soon gave way to more architectural carcasses. Empty buildings huddled together. There was much more variety than I'd seen elsewhere, except perhaps Vicarstown. More than one line ran through the town (city?), and there were houses, shops, churches, garages and car parks. A partially collapsed red brick church spire stood out to me against the rest of the skyline. I followed the roads west, and found the junction where Thomas' branch line met the main line. The bus depot was there, just as the map suggested. Weeds crept through the tiniest cracks and gaps in the tarmac as I made my way towards the garage, none of which were shuttered down. A quick peek inside revealed no buses. Bertie was nowhere to be found.

With the main line relocated, I stepped over a section of collapsed fence, and followed the tracks up towards where the station should be. Everything looked how I'd come to know it...

...which is why you must understand my shock when I discovered no big station. A retaining wall to my right led to a right hand curve in the track, which I assumed with take me there. But there was none.

A small two-platform station, as seen in the Railway Series, was all there was. No yard, no arching glass roofs, and no courtyard with a lion statue. Knapford, one of the most recognisable locations in the show, was a lie.

Whatever wind had been put in my sails by the discovery of the windmill was knocked right back out. I'd been hoping to find the Fat Controller's office, to look for more files and clues. Some more characters could've been in storage around the yard. But despite its sprawling streets and heavier industrial footprint, Knapford seemed to be no more important a station than Crosby, Wellsworth or Cronk.

Climbing onto the island platform. I dropped my bag, snatched a snack, and sat, collecting my thoughts. It made sense. Tidmouth was always the large station in the books. Knapford harbour would also give the town a second station and some shunting and storage facilities, so there was no need for a sprawling station worthy of a metropolis. A quick check of the map indicated Tidmouth was only a couple of miles away. Pushing onward, I decided to make it my final destination for the day.

Purply and orange hues swirled like watercolours above my head as I approached Tidmouth from the tracks. This was the big station at the end of the mainline. It was monolithic compared to every previous station (bar Vicarstown). It reminded me of the book illustrations, which coincidentally shared many features with the television rendition of 'Knapford'. Three triple sets of tracks passed underneath domed glass roofs, the steel frames of which were a deep green. The central track triplet served as a terminus, with the outer triplets of track passing through the station. One set, I deduced, led up towards the little Western, while the other probably led off towards the shunting yards.