Hogwarts Express Halted: A Preventable Failure Years in the Making
For decades, the The Jacobite steam train has traded on nostalgia, cinematic fame and the rugged beauty of the West Highland Line. But as the 2026 season stalls before it has even begun, the romance has given way to a far more uncomfortable question: how did one of Britain’s most famous trains end up in a position where it cannot legally run, despite years of warning?
At the centre of the issue is the continued use of Mk1 carriages—heritage vehicles fitted with traditional hinged doors that do not meet modern mainline safety standards. The Office of Rail and Road has long required central door locking (CDL) systems to be fitted to such stock, a move designed to prevent passengers opening doors while trains are in motion. The rule is not new, nor is it unexpected. Yet as of early 2026, the operator, West Coast Railways, is still seeking an exemption rather than complying outright.
The consequences are now plain. Tickets for the 2026 season—typically available months in advance—have not been released, and the operator itself admits the train may not run at all without regulatory approval. Meanwhile, messaging on official channels offers only vague assurances, with bookings “open sometime in the coming weeks,” a statement that increasingly looks like a placeholder rather than a plan.
What makes the situation more contentious is that this is not a sudden regulatory ambush. The requirement to upgrade Mk1 rolling stock has been known for years. The exemption that allowed continued operation was revoked in 2024, and a legal challenge mounted by the operator failed, with courts making clear that compliance—not exemption—was the route to continued running. In simple terms, the writing has been on the wall for some time.
Instead, the operator has argued that the cost of fitting central locking—estimated at around £7 million—would effectively wipe out profitability. That may be true, but it raises a deeper issue: should financial viability override safety compliance on the national network? Regulators have consistently said no, and the law reflects that position. The railway is not a heritage theme park; it is a live, mixed-use network where Victorian-era equipment operates alongside modern high-speed trains.
This is where the criticism sharpens. By continuing to rely on exemptions rather than investing in compliance, has the operator effectively gambled on regulators blinking first? The pattern suggests as much: suspensions in 2023 and 2024, temporary workarounds using alternative stock, and repeated appeals for leniency. Each time, the underlying issue has remained unresolved.
Supporters of the service point to its impeccable safety record and its enormous economic value to the Highlands, drawing tens of thousands of passengers annually and many more spectators to landmarks like Glenfinnan. But a strong past record is not, in regulatory terms, a substitute for meeting current standards—particularly when those standards are designed to prevent low-probability but high-consequence incidents.
The uncomfortable question, then, is not whether the Jacobite is iconic—it clearly is—but whether its operator has treated compliance as optional for too long. In most areas of the railway, failing to meet mandated safety upgrades would simply mean not running. Yet here, the expectation appears to be that an exemption will always be found, that heritage status confers a degree of flexibility unavailable to others.
If the 2026 season is delayed or cancelled, the impact on local tourism will be immediate and severe. But responsibility for that outcome will not sit solely with regulators enforcing long-established rules. It will also fall on an operator that knew the requirements, understood the timelines, and still finds itself waiting—once again—for permission rather than being ready to run.
And that leads to the core issue: in a modern railway governed by strict safety law, no operator—no matter how historic or commercially important—gets to decide which rules apply to them.

