Unique history of Mayo's railway network from times past

By Noel Hoban

Since September 2024, I have taken our kind readers through many facets of railway history.

From the logistics of the ETS system, to rebuilding Manulla Junction from the ashes, to the magic and madness of Castlerea, and back to the history of my hometown, Castlebar.

In this, my penultimate article for this paper, I want to revisit the lines and stations of times past.

When training for my signal cert in Inchicore, once lunch was scoffed in the Black Lion Inn, I’d go down the yard of Inchicore and climb on the cabs of old B-class and Sulzer engines which were awaiting scrappage.

This was in the late 90s, and standing on the footplate of these engines, I imagined the time capsule of history they encased. 7

The tracks they furrowed, no longer there, the drivers that navigated them, long gone to their just rewards.

The stations they serviced, no longer open, and the incidents involved, lost in the valley of time.

This article is dedicated to the faceless, traceless tracks.

A legacy never to be forgotten in railway history.

THE BURMA ROAD

The section of railway between Claremorris and Collooney was constructed by Southern and Western Railways in 1895 and earned its name due to the difficult terrain it traversed.

This included much bog land and rock-faced structures and had as many as thirty-eight gate crossings.

The original Burma Road was a rough trail cut out in Myanmar to assist supplies and escape routes for British troops in Asia.

During these days, there were two stations in Claremorris Yard, the main structure and one on the southern end of the yard.

The latter commended the continuance of the Sligo line onto Athenry, connecting to Galway and Limerick.

In fact, the journey from Limerick to Sligo was the farthest journey by rail in Ireland, standing at 176km.

This whole section is now referred to colloquially as the Railway Corridor and has been the subject of many calls for it to be reopened.

I recall a driver telling me one morning he en-countered a van stuck on a level crossing, inside which was a young man bringing an old lady for her pension.

The young driver jumped clear, but the pensioner was killed instantly.

On the 19th of December 1916, two trains collided at the rear of what's now the Cill Aodain Hotel in Kiltimagh. I will deal in depth with this in my final article, The Darkest Days, due pre-Christmas.

In June 1963, the last passenger train ran on this route, while the line was finally closed to freight on 30th of October 1975.

There was one movement in 1988 when an engine pushed two “out-of-service” coaches to Kiltimagh Station to assist with their local museum in the town.

In railway parlance, this would be referred to as a wrong-directional movement.

THE KILLALA LINE

What is most striking about rail advancement back then is the lack of cohesion and connectivity regarding the main centres and towns. This can be put down to several reasons.

1. Funding procured from the British Parliament by Lords and Gentry, who often concentrated on their own particular areas. This could have been a precursor for parish-pump politics, something we badly need to revisit again.

2. Labour and difficult terrain meant delays along with rows within the different railway com-panies operating at the time.

To explain my point, Manulla Junction and Foxford opened in 1868, while it took another five years for Ballina to open.

It would take a full eleven years before a connection between Castlebar and Ballina materialised.

Even today, if you surveyed people on Main Street, Castlebar and asked if there was a train to bring them to Ballina, your overriding answer would be in the negative. It still remains the fourth secret of Fatima in a way.

The Killala Line was the brainchild of Sir Charles James Knox Gore, who owned vast parcels of land, along with Beeleak Castle, on this scenic route.

While Lucan was attributed to cattle movements in his rail motives, Alex Balfour was for his rich Irish exports from Achill.

Sir Alex had this grandiose plan for a rail link to Belderrig/Blacksod, where, with their deep bays, a direct shipping link for passengers and rail could be developed.

Firstly, the line had to get to Killala, and that it did on the 2nd of January 1893. The trajectory brought it through a tunnel at Convent Hill, over a bridge at the entrance to Leigue Cemetery, before it made its merry way on the Culleens side of the Killala Road.

Further down, near where McGrath's Industrial Waste is today, it transgressed the road and continued down this scenic sea route.

Local folklore recalls how an engine was somehow toppled from the tracks into the bay during the Troubles, and possibly still lies there to this day.

Two hotels sprung up in Belderrig in wanton anticipation for “Nova Scotia here we come.” Plans were in the early stages for more hotels and terminals, and would have made the area the Las Vegas of Ireland.

However, storm clouds were gathering, and the darkest of these was the old, well-worn cry, To Hell or to Connaught, which sadly exists today.

There were other mitigating circumstances developing over the scenic mountains at Mulranny.

The Balfour-Achill line was developing at pace, and a counter-plan to approach Blacksod from the Mulranny side was also gaining pace.

This involved negotiating very difficult terrain and great expense. Back in Killala, money was even less flush and had ran out before it reached Ross.

The old adage that it's between two stools you fall, clicked, and on the 18th of June 1934, the Killala line closed to all traffic as it was deemed to be unprofitable. Personally, I've never known a railway to make a profit — it's a public service.

One final snippet before we leave Killala was that Sir Gore's main request in donating land to the project was that he would travel on the Great Train.

Sadly, he passed away in the Shelburne Hotel on the previous night, and his remains were on the first train into Killala as per his final request.

CLAREMORRIS TO GALWAY

In all of my thirty years with Irish Rail, I have been a firm advocate for the opening of this line.

I remember Taoiseach Enda Kenny presenting me with a detailed Rail Review plan to give my views on.

I said then, and I repeat now, there's no other town or city in Ireland where the railway station is situated bang in the centre.

Shops, hospitals, and universities are all within a five-minute walk or less. Cancer or dialysis patients instead must sit in discomfort in traffic jams in the 9th most gridlocked city in Europe.

Add to this, Galway is the 7th fastest growing city in Europe, so it's sad that this project is not up and running.

It could be done for the price of a few rooms in the white elephant Children's Hospital, but hark!

Do I hear the chant “To hell or to Connacht” again?

The line itself opened in stages, with the Athenry to Tuam extension completed in 1860. The Tuam to Claremorris section was completed on the 30th of June 1894.

Sadly, it closed to passenger traffic on April 5th, 1976, but freight trains did occasionally use it until 1997.

The coal and oil train to Asahi would occasionally use this track. Sad to relate, traffic in Galway will only get worse due to obligations from the “Save the Caterpillar” loony brigade. It's tantamount that this section of the line opens at the earliest opportunity.

THE ACHILL EXPERIENCE

In the 17th century, a storyteller called Brian Rua prophesied that the first and last trains to Achill would be the coffin trains. But first, the rail line had to reach Newport, and that it did in 1894.

It must have been some sight to see the steam locos emerge from the tunnel on the Kilmeena side of Newport before transgressing the impressive viaduct spanning the Black Oak River in Newport Town.

Objections poured in almost immediately to have the line extended to Mulranny and on to Achill. This extension was part of the Balfour Lines, and Mulranny station opened in August 1894. The Great Western Hotel was opened in 1897, and a special all-in ticket could be purchased for rail and hotel.

Major rows between MGWR and the British Parliament delayed Achill opening for another year.

Most people would be irked if their train was a few hours late today, but imagine the people of Achill when their first train was delayed by months.

Four hundred men waited to go to England for work to feed their families. In desperation, they boarded four schooners to get to Clew Bay, where a giant liner was docked.

Many of the young, on spotting the giant SS Elm, moved to one side of the schooner, ironically named “Victory.” The schooner capsized with 32 fatalities as a result.

The rail company put on a special train to carry the remains to Mulranny, where a change to a per-way loco was made. Though not passed for passenger traffic, the train slowly made its way to Achill, where the line was skirted by hundreds of people holding black flags.

These were post-famine poor times, and to immigrate was vital to feed their families. At home, it should never be equated with the migration to Ireland today, which, to the greater part, is a very different gravy.

Between 1934 and 1936, economic reasons with our new government in Dublin meant the line was scaled back in services.

In 1937, the line closed for good, but not before the red head of Brian Rua struck a final death knell. In the Scottish village of Kirkintilloch, ten field workers from Achill were burned to death in a paltry hut tragedy.

The final train left Dublin for Achill with relatives and the remains of their loved ones.

The train made an unscheduled stop at Manulla Junction, where locals boarded to offer their condolences. And so the curtain fell on one of the most scenic, iconic, yet tragic lines in the world's rail network.

EPILOGUE

On a recent train journey from Roscommon, I was instantly reminded of the hundreds of stations closed throughout the system.

As the train left Roscommon, shortly we were speeding by the relics remaining of Ballymoe Station, where my late Uncle Mickey Joe was signalman.

Next up was Castlerea, and soon we passed the remains of Ballinlough, another former busy spot where Uncle John spent a lot of years.

Departing Ballyhaunis, we passed Bekan, another station of yesteryear. Clairmorris had two stations, and on to Manulla Junction, which is now an empty oasis compared to its former glory.

After Castlebar, there was Islandeady Station, before reaching Westport. It's little wonder it took the best part of five hours to reach Dublin back in those heady days of steam.

Ballyvary is another station with lots of history, coupled with the stunning architecture of the station house.

A Coras Iompair Eireann architect was on vacation in Switzerland when he decided the next station house he designed would be of similar stature.

The man's name was George Wilkinson, and he built it in Italianate style in 1856. Jimmy Green was the last station master of Ballyvary, having been transferred from Mulranny on its closure.

His son Mick Green had a long, distinguished career in Westport as a train guard and was the epitome of a gentleman.

My father, John, started his 40-year rail career there, and a very busy station it was. The last train to service Ballyvary was the 1810 to Ballina on the 16/6/1963.

The last three passengers to alight were Mick Byrne Snr, Thomas Byrne and Ned McHale from Falfada. Just by doing this, their names are forever etched in the annals of Ballyvary’s rail history.

My final railway journey down memory lane will deal with the darkest days of Irish railways.

In the meantime, I want to thank everyone for their kind and positive feedback. It means so much to me and gives me the strength to bring those memories to your attention.

I hope this piece helps put a face and a trace to what should never be lost in the tunnel of time.

Special thanks to Ray Lawlor for printing and arranging for publication. Thanks to Sean Brown and Castlerea Museum for the photographs. Special mention to Tommy Byrne for information on Ballyvary.

* Noel Hoban is a former manager of Castlebar Railway Station.