The undergrowth became worse and worse and we were being torn to shreds. A bridge appeared in the distance we decided to push on, reach the bridge,
and bail out there if it was still hard going.
As it turned out, we’d reached the end of our torturous journey anyway. The tangled thicket gave way to grass and stone and we quickly made our way under
the bridge to the next section of track.
We stopped as we both heard a low rumble approaching. “That sounds like a train”. The rumble got louder and louder until a
train emerged from around the bend and sped past. We watched from the safety of the tunnel entrance, standing on the
derelict spur, aware that our journey was over as we’d reached the live network.
There was no suggestion of walking back along the track to our car. We decided to brave the streets of Watford instead and climbed
the bank next to the Wiggenhall Bridge. The final indignity was getting tangled up in the barbed wire next to street, much to the
amusement of the passing motorists.
We’d done it, but I was pleased we hadn’t attempted the route in the spring or summer. That would’ve been too much of a challenge.
© Simon Cornwell 2010
