My wife Patricia and I visited the area in June this year, and had a great time riding the trains, meeting really nice people, and exploring the lovely countryside. We checked into the charming old Lethbridge Arms, a cozy 16th century Inn, in downtown Bishops Lydeard. There are several other B&Bs in the village, too. A short walk along a quiet lane took us to the station, at 16:00, where the last train of the day was loading passengers, behind shiny green-and-black 4-6-0 No. 7828. At the north end of the platform, the road crosses over the tracks on a typical stone and brick-arched bridge which offers a great place to watch and photograph the departing train, which storms out of the station with its 6 brown and cream coaches, to make a good run at the hill. It's quite a grade for a little steamer to tackle from a standing start, she worked hard and put on quite a show. I knew the fireman would not be sitting down for long, and would soon be shoveling that pile of coal into the white fire. I also realized that tomorrow was going to be a great day. We then returned to the Inn, and had a pint of fine local ale, a roast chicken dinner, a sunset walk around the village, and a good nights sleep in a quiet homey room.

The typical big English breakfast started us off well, with a lovely spring morning walk back to the immaculate brick station. I bought 2 `Day Rover' tickets, and had time for a visit to the shop inside, full of books, videos, models, and all the Thomas toys a kid wants. I bought a video and postcards, etc, and met John Pearce at the cash register, and had a nice surprise: on the counter was the latest copy of our WCRA News! Of course that gave me the incentive to introduce myself, which led to further intro's and the offer of a ride in the cab of the engine, 'on the footplate'! Today's first loco is spotless 2-6-2T No. 4160, with Trevor at the throttle. Wendy is on the left side, with the coal shovel in her hands, and her mind on the water-glass and pressure gauge. Remembering just in time that I had a wife, I helped her settle in to the first coach, on the right side, and said I would probably see her later up the line. Lucky for me she is quite understanding, after several years of training, and I think she secretly enjoys the chance to talk to another lady passenger, probably not about trains.

There's a spot to stand in the small cab, back against the wall, behind the engineer, oops I mean driver, keeping out of his way, feet away from Wendy's coal, and just room to help with one of the chores: waving out the doorway to the poor tourists on the roads. The wonderful sounds from the stack and the wheels, the smell of steam and coal smoke, the heat from the backhead, the fresh breeze from the meadows, and the views of the track ahead ' is there anything finer to do on a sunny day'

A few miles up the winding grade, we pass cute little villages, and come to our first stop, another double name mouth-full: Crowcombe Heathfield station. This is the highest point on the line, about 400 ft. above sea-level. It's tempting to get off the train here, because the station and working signal-tower are real beauties. They won the `Best Restored Station` national award for this one. It's small, built of orange stone with cream-colored trim, and has several hanging flower baskets along the eaves. There is a passing siding here, with its own platform, and semaphore signals, so trains can meet here, or as they say 'cross.' So many new words to learn. You could spend a couple of hours here, lots of atmosphere: old signs, cast-iron lamps, gardens, a booking office, and a section of the original ( 7 ft ) broad-gauge track dating from 1860`s, plus, of course, a nearby village with a pub. You could also talk to the bloke in the signal tower, who operates the big levers to move the signal blades and the switch-points for meets. You can hear the bells and buzzers and phones as he works, and gets updates from moving trains.

A short stop, with a few people on and off, we are soon chuffing away again, and note a rare sight in England: 2 level road-crossings. They have automatic protection now, but in early days, they had gates operated manually by keepers who lived in a tiny cottage about a foot from the track. There's a job I could have had! It's an easy 6 mile run down to the next station, Wendy takes a break and helps check the track ahead, enjoying the cool breeze, and I take a picture of her when she can't see me. She knows when the track curves left, that Trevor can't see much of it from his side of the cab. Now we can see the rolling green hills, the Quantock Hills on my side, and the Brendon Hills on the left. There's a nice place for a house up there, with a view of the whole valley, including the track; I wonder if Patricia could get a job here. Soon Trevor shoves the Johnson bar and applies some vacuum brake as we slow into the picturesque little station and stop at Stogumber. TO BE CONTINUED.