Three bridges, Four Tunnels by Heather Wastie

Linocut of the Three Bridge by Louise Blakeway

Three bridges, Four Tunnels

Inspired by three bridges in close proximity on the canal at Bumble Hole, Netherton. Netherton Tunnel Bridge spans the main route while Boshboil Arm Bridge and Windmill End Bridge both lead to dead ends. These two bridges sit opposite each other and mark the line of the original canal before Netherton Tunnel was built to bypass the congestion caused by Dudley Tunnel.

Boshboil Arm Bridge by Louise Blakeway

Boshboil Arm Bridge

Swirls and blobs of black and white
tussle and bubble on the cut.
The single shallow arch,
lattice-pierced with crosses,
casts its iron signature
across the Dudley Number 2.

And when I ask, I learn of seams of coal,
black gold at Windmill End
when factories and mining thrived
and water in the bosh tubs hissed and steamed,
cooling the coke, fresh baked in ovens,
solid fuel for furnaces.

Boshboil Arm is severed now 
Who’s to blame, who’s to blame? 
Dudley Tunnel was too slow
Such a shame, such a shame
No path for horses, feet of men
Legging through, legging through
Someone saw a speedier route
Cut the queue, cut the queue

Windmill End Bridge by Louise Blakeway

Windmill End Bridge

When planners sliced through contours
to gouge a straighter, faster way
and built the monstrous Netherton,
the smaller tunnels sighed.

The earth itself was shaken
as water wove a path between
the collieries and claypits and
knew the land would slide,
that Brickhouse, Warren’s Hall and Gawn, 
Oldhill, Pearson’s, Eagle, Lion
would soon yield to the thump of time – 
the clatter would subside.

From Stourbridge to Birmingham,
the old worn route from Windmill End
sucks in its sides at Gorsty Hill
and pulls up short. Denied
a passage into Lapal,
it thirsts to stretch to Selly Oak
and onwards into Edgbaston.
Its tears have never dried.

Netherton Tunnel by Louise Blakeway

Netherton Tunnel

Step inside the tunnel portal
watch the towpaths disappear,
let them draw you into darkness.
Now, what do you hear?

Soaked in sound of tumbling water,
whispering voices tell of light,
a flame-like glow that shone inside,
and men who ventured in one night,
took no women, took no children,
bottles of whisky in their hands,
found the tales they heard were true,
wanted then to understand
why they’d seen a pool of daylight 
when they couldn’t see the sky.

The tunnel voices know the answers; 
Ask them, and they’ll tell you why.

© Heather Wastie

May 2020, commissioned for Creative Black Country's Bostin’ News project.

Heather commissioned Louise Blakeway to produce the linocuts pictured to accompany the poem.