How Much Of Hs2 Is Built

So, you’re sitting in traffic, staring at the back of a lorry, and you wonder: what’s the deal with HS2? Is it a giant, abandoned train set? A national joke? Or, gasp, actually being built? Let’s check the scoreboard, but without the jargon.

The elephant in the room (and the track)

First, the honest truth: HS2 is not finished. It’s like that friend who said they’d be ready in ten minutes, but you’re now on hour three, and they’re still looking for their other sock. The original dream—a shiny new line from London to Manchester and Leeds—got chopped in half by the government. The bit to Leeds? Gone. Poof. Like a leftover pizza slice at 2 AM.

But here’s the kicker: a surprising amount is actually built. You see, HS2 isn’t one thing; it’s a series of massive, muddy projects. If you drive past the outskirts of London, you’ll spot giant concrete viaducts rising from the earth like a giant’s game of Jenga. They’re not ruins. They’re real structures, complete with workers in hi-vis vests who look like they’re rehearsing for a dystopian sci-fi film.

The London bit: a tunnel with a personality

Around London, they’ve dug miles of tunnels. I’m talking hamster-tube-sized passages for trains that will eventually zip under the city. Imagine the world’s longest, most expensive subway chase scene, but without Jason Bourne. The tunnel boring machines have names like “Cecilia” and “Dorothy”—which is the most British thing ever. You bought a £100 billion train, and you gave the digging robot a name like your nan’s cat.

So far, the tunnels from Euston to Old Oak Common are mostly done. That’s like saying you’ve finished the first three chapters of a 10-chapter book. You’re not at the cliffhanger yet, but you’ve definitely gotten past the boring (pun intended) introduction. The actual station at Euston? Still a demolition site that looks like a car park exploded.

The middle bit: where the magic (and mud) lives

Now, drive up the M40 or the A43, and you’ll see the real action. Near the Chiltern Hills, they’ve carved out a 10-mile-long cutting through ancient woodland. It’s like a scar on the landscape, but nature is already creeping back—foxes, badgers, and the odd confused jogger. Yes, the environmental protests were epic, complete with people living in treehouses. But now? The pylons and cranes are the new residents.

The viaducts here are massive. One near the M25 looks like a concrete rainbow that forgot to curve. It’s so big you can see it from a plane. I drove past it last month, and my passenger said, “Is that HS2 or the remains of a fallen space elevator?” I said, “Both, mate. Both.” That’s the spirit: we’re building something that looks like it belongs in a sci-fi movie, even if it’s moving at the pace of a snail on a treadmill.

Birmingham: the party hub

Birmingham is where the first phase is supposed to open—by 2033, they say. That’s the same year my friend promised to finish his ‘novel’ about a detective cat. But honestly, the Curzon Street station site in Birmingham is actually taking shape. You can see the steel frames rising like a giant metal spider’s web. It’s not a train station yet; it’s a very expensive sculpture for cranes to admire.

The boring machines that dug the tunnels from Birmingham to London are now parked up like retired racehorses. They’ve finished their journey, which is more than I can say for my last train from Crewe to Birmingham New Street. That train broke down twice. So, progress is relative. If HS2 is delayed, it’s still faster than most of my actual morning commutes.

The total score: a 30% miracle?

Experts say that about 30% of the entire planned network (the London-Birmingham leg) is structurally complete. That includes foundations, viaducts, and tunnels. It’s like saying you’ve built the frame of a house but haven’t put in the windows, doors, or the kettle. It’s enough to make you nod and say, “Oh, so it’s sort of a thing.”

But here’s the funny part: no trains have run on it yet. Not one. Not a single test run with a toy whistle. So, we have a £55 billion racetrack with no horses. It’s like buying a Ferrari and leaving it in the garage because you’re still building the garage. The engineers are currently testing signals and overhead wires. That’s the equivalent of teaching a cat to swim—technically possible, but you have to be very patient.

What about the scrapped bits?

Remember the Manchester and Leeds parts? Gone, but not forgotten. In the North, you can still see ‘HS2 preparation sites’—fenced-off fields with signs that say “Future High Speed Rail.” They look like abandoned film sets for a zombie apocalypse. Local councils are now repurposing those fields for normal trains. It’s like planning a massive birthday party, inviting everyone, and then ordering a single cupcake.

So, how much of HS2 is built? Enough to be real, not enough to be useful. It’s the ultimate British compromise: we built a very impressive, very expensive half-finished model railway. You can see the viaducts, you can feel the debt in your wallet, but you cannot ride it. Not yet. But hey, at least the tunnel boring machines have names. And that, my friend, is something to smile about.

So next time you’re stuck in traffic, give a little wave towards the horizon. Behind the fog and the hedgerows, somewhere, a concrete pillar is rising. It’s HS2. It’s real. And it’s about as done as a teenager’s homework on a Sunday night. But we’re getting there. Slowly. Expensively. And with an awful lot of hi-vis.