THE VIADUCT

Until now, the valley had slumbered, silent and undisturbed, since before man's reckoning of time. The forest of trees that grew in profusion waved their branches at the skies above. In the glades where trees grew sparsely verdant grasses gave shelter to a multitude of small mammals that scratched, foraged and rooted in the undergrowth for sustenance. Birds made their nests in the thick oaks and tall larches. Fish swam in the brook that ran through the valley bottom. The stream bubbled as it twisted and turned on its leisurely course to the sea. A deep peace lay over all the countryside. The valley provided shelter and food upon which all the creatures that made their homes in the gorge, depended. The vale gave all these things in abundance to its many citizens.
 
But all that was to change with the coming of the railway!
 
First men came in stove pipe hats, setting up their measuring instruments to survey the line of the viaduct. These were quickly followed by gangs of Irish navies in moleskin trousers tied with string below the knee. They were joined by iron workers who set up their forges at either end of the valley. Trees were felled either for firewood or to turn into charcoal. Wagons, drawn by great teams of horses, came to the valley, carrying coal from the mines of Yorkshire to feed the ever hungry maws of the furnaces.
 
Soon the peaceful valley with its clear sparkling waters running deep within its folds was quiet and clear no longer. The water turned to a turgid muddy brown. Stone was quarried from the surrounding hills to provide material for the piers that were to support the viaduct which would carry the railway across the valley.
 
Once the tall piers were in position the ironwork was set up to bridge the mile long valley. Great oak timbers were placed on the metal framework and finally the rails were laid.
 
Four years of man's effort left the valley scarred, defaced and sullied. And once steam trains started running across the viaduct the quiet was again shattered by their shrill whistles and the thunder of their passing.
 
And now, one hundred years latter, the valley was once more returning to the quiet that had prevailed before the advent of the railway. Doctor Beeching, unwittingly, had restored peace to the valley! The hillsides that had been scarred and defaced by the stone quarries had lost their raw exposed surfaces. The seasons of the long years had hidden their scars and time, too, had started the healing balm.
 
The piers now sprouted grasses and flowers between the huge blocks of stone. Saplings were sprouting once more, growing stronger by the year. Storms and floods had enabled the river to purge itself of all the debris that man had thrown into its watercourse over the decades. Fish once again swam in its shining waters.
 
Nature was fast undoing the labour of the many who had striven to build the viaduct so long ago.