The Heart of Wales Line, a nostalgic journey through the Welsh countryside, chugs along its scenic route. Departing from Llandeilo on a crisp December morning, the two-carriage train weaves through captivating fields and rolling hills, a picturesque tapestry that unfolds with every mile. This historic line, over 150 years old, stretches 121 miles, connecting Swansea and Shrewsbury, and touches upon charming towns like Llanwrda, Llangammarch, Llandrindod, Llangynllo, Knucklas, Hopton Heath, and Broome. But amongst these well-known stops lies a hidden gem, a station shrouded in an air of mystery – Sugar Loaf.
Sugar Loaf station is so secluded that its trains only stop upon advance request. The stark reality of its isolation is revealed in passenger statistics: between April 2020 and March 2021, a period disrupted by the COVID-19 pandemic, zero passengers boarded or alighted. This contrasts sharply with the almost two million entries and exits recorded at Cardiff Central, Wales’ busiest station, during the same period. A previous peak of 1,846 passengers between April 2017 and March 2018, largely attributed to tourists seeking the title of visiting the UK’s most remote station, showcased the station’s unusual appeal. However, visitor numbers have drastically dwindled since then, highlighting the station’s truly secluded nature. The following year saw a significant drop, with over 700 passengers, followed by a mere 156 passengers between April 2019 and March 2020, averaging a paltry three per week.
Intrigued by this enigmatic station, reporter Rob Harries embarked on a journey to experience Sugar Loaf firsthand. Stepping off the train, he described a sensation of entering “a different world – one of utter tranquillity and isolation.” The feeling, he added, was akin to “being granted access to an airplane’s cockpit.” The solitude was palpable – no Wi-Fi, no bustling coffee shops, no CCTV, no public conveniences, and a near-total absence of phone signal. The only sounds were the whispers of the wind and the distant bleating of sheep. Even the absence of traffic noise served to emphasize the location’s remoteness.
His initial apprehension about flagging down the return train was quickly eased by the conductor’s reassurance. During his 37-minute solitary wait on the platform, an unexpected encounter occurred. Andrew Jones and Dave Williams, from Integral, who perform annual maintenance at the station, expressed astonishment at Rob’s arrival. Having visited since 2008, they confessed his presence was a novel event, emphasizing the station’s exceptional seclusion. Their surprise even extended to the relatively new steps leading from the station, a modern replacement for the old wooden staircase.
Originally built in the 19th century to provide railway workers living nearby with transport access, the station closed in 1965 before reopening in 1984. Now, its primary users seem to be occasional ramblers. A nearby lay-by once housed a burger van, but the lack of passengers proved a challenge for even the most resilient of businesses. While Rob’s hope for a warm cup of tea was dashed, Andrew’s kind offer to drive him to the nearest village three miles away was a welcome gesture.
Returning to the relative bustle of Llandeilo, a fellow passenger’s query about his Sugar Loaf experience elicited a simple yet profound response: “Quiet…but a pleasant kind of quiet, and beautiful too.” Sugar Loaf station’s story is a testament to the enduring allure of quiet contemplation and the unexpected beauty of isolation in the heart of the Welsh countryside. It’s a tale that invites reflection on the pace of modern life and the simple joys of tranquility, rarely found in today’s fast-paced world.
