Last year marked the bicentenary of the opening of the Stockton & Darlington Railway (S&DR) in 1825. In 2026, as part of ongoing commemorations, we saw the opening of the first part of the S&DR Trail of Discovery.
What is The S&DR Trail of Discovery?
The Trail is a walking route that will eventually cover the entire length of the S&DR’s inaugural run. The full 26-mile route can be seen on the map below:
The first part of the trail opened in February 2026. This section takes walkers from Phoenix Row in Witton Park down to Shildon, a distance of eight miles. This is also the only part of the route that wasn’t worked by Locomotion No1 on the first day of the S&DR.
Where was Locomotion No1?
Witton Park and Shildon are separated by two hills. George Overton, the initial surveyor of the S&DR had suggested a circuitous route to connect the two sites. This would have allowed almost level running, permitting steam locomotive haulage. But Overton’s line would have required an enormous amount of earth moving and, back then, this was slow, expensive, manual work. George Stephenson, who took over from Overton, had other ideas.
Taking the direct route
Stephenson would build inclines to cross the ridges. An engine-powered rope and drum system would haul waggons to the summit of each incline, then the waggons would be let down the other side using gravity. Think of it as the world’s first rollercoaster ride, but with coal waggons. And far more dangerous. A small group of us decided to pay a visit to the place where it all began. We assembled at Phoenix Row, the starting point for the epic inaugural run of the S&DR.
A map of the route
The following map shows the route of the first eight miles of the inaugural journey of the S&DR:
Small beginnings
Phoenix Row is a modest hamlet. It didn’t even exist when the S&DR came into being. But, at 7:00am on 27 September 1825, 12 waggons of coal, hewn from the nearby Witton Park Colliery, were linked together with hooks and chains. The train was attached to a hemp rope connected to the winding drum at the summit of Etherley Incline, and the ‘go’ signal was flagged between the train and the summit. Here’s our walking crew assembled at that historic site: John Raw, Michael Brownbridge, Catherine Yates and Colin Garthwaite. Always bring a spaniel.
Running up that hill
And so, on that first day, the climb up northern Etherley Incline commenced. Our group followed the route of that train uphill. At first, very short lengths of track were used on the S&DR. This meant that the clickety-clack that we’re familiar with today would have been more amplified. The stone sleepers would have provided poor sound insulation too. Nowadays, the embankments of the incline are covered in trees. When first built, it was all bare earth. On that first day in September 1825, the sound of those 12 coal waggons being winched uphill would have rattled across the Wear Valley.
The train continued up the incline. The 1 in 33 gradient is almost imperceptible to the naked eye, but your legs tell you that you are climbing.
Boundary wall
The S&DR delineated its property boundary by building dry stone walls either side of the track formation. Many sections of wall have survived in this vicinity. Etherley is a remote spot, and vandalism is rare.
The summit
Not much remains at the summit of the Etherley Incline. But the one of the two reservoirs that were built to feed the stationary steam engine can still be detected in the undergrowth.
The first descent
Having climbed the Etherley ridge from the north, the train was let down the other side by gravity. Each of the coal waggons had rudimentary brakes, and the S&DR workers would soon become skilled at jumping on and off waggons, applying just the correct amount of brake to both keep the momentum, and to stop the train from running away. But on day one, they took things slowly. This is a look back up the slope, with the houses of Low Etherley on the horizon.
Scheduled monument
Etherley Incline is now a scheduled monument, but for nearly two centuries the track bed was neglected. Here, the Trail of Discovery is diverted away from a section that is prone to flooding. There’s a long-established woodland here, and it’s a peaceful place.
West Auckland Railway station
On the inaugural day there weren’t any stations between Witton Park and Shildon. However, a station was opened at St Helen’s in 1833. But this name presented a problem; railway staff kept mis-directing parcels meant for St Helens in Lancashire to this one. So, when the North Eastern Railway rebuilt the station in 1878 they renamed it West Auckland, even though it isn’t situated there. But St Helen’s causes confusion to this day. Sometimes there’s no apostrophe, sometimes the last letter is missed out completely. All three versions are correct.
High Tea
We stopped off at West Auckland station garden, where George provided us with tea and scones.*
*Terms and conditions apply. Not all visitors will be provided with tea and scones.
Gaunless Bridge
We said goodbye to George, and continued eastwards. The S&DR had to cross the Gaunless River just past St Helen’s station. George Stephenson (no relation) rose to the occasion and built the magnificent Gaunless Bridge. However, the bridge wasn’t built to cope with the weight of steam locomotives. It was removed by the NER in 1901 and replaced with a more utilitarian version. After a long time in storage, the bridge was repaired, then re-erected at the Locomotion museum in Shildon. We’ll see it later.
Well done, that man
But the abutments of the Gaunless Bridge remain in situ. George Stephenson was advertising his engineering prowess here, and his work is superb. The stone buttresses curve away left and right, finished with columns at either end.
Photobombing
You may notice that the pic of the Gaunless Bridge appears to have been photobombed. By a coincidence, two surveyors were measuring the site for a replacement bridge that will be built across here this year, using the original abutments. At the moment, the Trail of Discovery diverts from the S&DR track bed and crosses the river upstream. But, from the end of 2026 onwards, walkers will be able to cross the river here. Fun Fact: ‘Gaunless’ has the same word root as the north country dialect word ‘Gormless’, i.e. useless. Historically, the river wasn’t considered useful. But several water mills were built along the Gaunless, and it turned out to be not so gormless after all.
Road crossing
We followed the route eastwards for another 20 minutes. At this point, the route is severed by the modern A688 road. However the track bed of the S&DR is preserved beneath the road. On the other side, it enters Broom Mill Farm. The farm has a farm shop and a cafe, which are well appointed, by all accounts. But, what a contrast with the farm itself, which resembles a rubbish tip, with used tyres and builder’s rubble strewn all over the place. The path through the farm has recently been tarmaced by Durham County Council. Prior to this, the route was an unwalkable quagmire for six months of the year. My walking companions assured me that this so-called farm used to be far worse than even this.
Another world’s first
Just beyond Broom Mill farmyard, another world’s first. The S&DR had to find a way to temporarily store trains in between the two inclines, in order to regulate the schedule. They did this by creating sidings to the south of the main track. These are thought to be the first railway sidings in the world. The raised area next to the fence may be the remains of one of them.
Another diversion
The S&DR reached Burnshouse Lane. On the other side of the lane, a sign for Bankfoot Farm tells you that you have reached the bottom of the Brusselton Incline. But sadly, there’s no right of way here. At a time when railway heritage wasn’t valued as much as it is now, most of the track bed was ploughed over and lost forever. My walking companions had reached the end of their journey too, and I continued on to Shildon alone. The Trail of Discovery diverts left along Burnshouse Lane for about 15 minutes, then turns right through 90° on to Haggs Lane.
History is made
After a 10-minute walk along Haggs Lane, a sign direct you on to the Brusselton Incline, and the best preserved section of the S&DR.
Industrial archaeology
The Brusselton Incline became redundant after the line from Shildon to West Auckland opened in 1842. The S&DR kept it open for a few years in case the Shlldon tunnel failed but then abandoned it in 1859. The track formation here hasn’t been disturbed since that date.
Railway artefacts
But, further towards the summit of the incline, the stone sleepers can be seen to better effect. In the photo below, the sleepers can be seen either side of an accommodation bridge. Thousands of such accommodation bridges were built, allowing farmers to access property on either side of railway lines. But this was the first one in the world. In the distance, the Engine House, and other buildings associated with the Brusselton Incline, can be seen.
Menagerie
The farm track through the accommodation bridge leads to Low West Thickley Farm, which keeps emus and goats. You know it makes sense.
Top of the world
Unfortunately, a lot of the buildings at the Brusselton summit were hastily demolished in the 1980s, but some survive. The Engineman’s house is one of the ones that made it.
Another survivor
Unlike at Etherley summit, the 1825 Engine House at Brusselton summit has been preserved. It was superseded six years later, when The S&DR’s Superintendent of Locomotives,Timothy Hackworth built a more sophisticated replacement, which straddled the railway line. But Hackworth’s version is lost to posterity. That’s a shame; Timothy Hackworth, one of the unsung heroes of the S&DR, did a lot more than look after locomotives. He was a brilliant engineer, and a problem solver par excellence.
Water supply
Just at the back of the Engine House, George Stephenson built two reservoirs to feed water to the thirsty stationary steam engine at the summit. In 1857, these were enlarged into one large pond. It’s now used by a local angling club.
A dangerous job
A man was employed with a crowbar to stop the rope from tangling. Tangled ropes could suddenly snap, setting off a whiplash, and sending a train hurtling down a 1 in 30 slope with predictable results. Such an incident occurred in 1831, involving Timothy Hackworth and the S&DR directors. They were paying a visit to the Brusselton summit, possibly to examine Hackworth’s new rope winding mechanism. But then came that dreaded ‘twang’ and the bigwigs’ coal waggon began hurtling towards Shildon. John Summerson saved the day.
Well, that’s rude
But there were no such incidents on 27 September 1825. However, it’s difficult to visualise the journey down that last incline, due to some 20th Century vandalism. The A6072 Shildon bypass slices through the track bed, and the Trail of Discovery diverts ignominiously through a concrete underpass.
Masons Arms
The railway levelled out at the foot of Brusselton Incline, but the train of trucks continued under its own momentum. The track bed is then lost for the next few hundred yards under the Hackworth Industrial Park. Timothy wouldn’t have approved. On that day in 1825, the train of coal waggons was gently braked to a halt, at what became the Masons Arms level crossing. Locomotion No1, then known as Aspire, and driven by George Stephenson, was attached to the train, and it set off on its way to Stockton-on-Tees. You can read more about that journey here. The Masons Arms pub is now the Cape to Cairo cafe.
On the other side of the crossing, this plaque records the significance of The Masons Arms
A working railway
Just beyond the crossing, the S&DR becomes a live railway again, now part of the Bishop Auckland to Saltburn railway line. A trackside sign reminds train passengers that they are travelling along a historic route.
The Gaunless Bridge
One last railway artefact left to see. Just along from the S&DR sign, the Gaunless Bridge was reassembled in the grounds of the Locomotion railway museum in 2023. Take a bow, George Stephenson.
The train home
I headed back up the track, crossed the footbridge, and took the train back home to Teesside.
