Clay Cross railway station was a railway station built by the North Midland Railway in 1840. It served the town of Clay Cross in Derbyshire, England.
It was originally planned to have been built within the Clay Cross Tunnel, however it was clear that it would be impossible to ventilate it effectively, so instead it was built at the northern entrance - nearer to Tupton.
The original station was the usual Francis Thompson Italianate design. In 1879 the line from the Midland Counties Railway was built through the Erewash Valley meeting the North Midland at the station, which had platforms serving two passenger lines, with two goods lines passing to the east, which continued the whole way down the Erewash Valley. The station was rebuilt in the Midland Railway style and, at some time, it was enlarged to serve four tracks, with two outer platforms and an island platform in the middle.
The station closed in 1967. There are no visible remains. There is talk of re-building the station, but plans are only in their infancy.
North of Clay Cross, there developed very busy Coal sidings, particularly those serving the Avenue Coal Carbonisation Plant. A locomotive shed was built at Hasland in 1861 with at one time as many as sixty engines. In the 1960s it supported sixteen Garratt 2-6-6-2 locomotives used for the coal traffic from Yorkshire.
The next station northwards was at Chesterfield.
Famous quotes containing the words clay, cross, railway and/or station:
“The earth is covered thick with other clay,
Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent,
Rider and horse,—friend, foe,—in one red
burial blent!”
—George Gordon Noel Byron (1788–1824)
“All pathways by His feet are worn,
His strong heart stirs the ever-beating sea;
His crown of thorns is twined with every thorn;
His cross is every tree.”
—Joseph Mary Plunkett (1887–1916)
“Her personality had an architectonic quality; I think of her when I see some of the great London railway termini, especially St. Pancras, with its soot and turrets, and she overshadowed her own daughters, whom she did not understand—my mother, who liked things to be nice; my dotty aunt. But my mother had not the strength to put even some physical distance between them, let alone keep the old monster at emotional arm’s length.”
—Angela Carter (1940–1992)
“How soon country people forget. When they fall in love with a city it is forever, and it is like forever. As though there never was a time when they didn’t love it. The minute they arrive at the train station or get off the ferry and glimpse the wide streets and the wasteful lamps lighting them, they know they are born for it. There, in a city, they are not so much new as themselves: their stronger, riskier selves.”
—Toni Morrison (b. 1931)