Which is London’s hottest tube line?

Temperatures on the tube in August 2013. Image: TfL.

So which underground line is actually the hottest?

This is the sort of question that holds only idle interest for most of the year, but becomes pretty much life-and-death during a heatwave. Like, for example, the one we’re in the middle of right now.

This week, especially on Wednesday, it’s predicted to be so hot that some route re-jigging may be necessary. As noted by the Evening Standard last year, parts of TfL’s public transport network, can, in the summer months, break the temperature beyond which its illegal to transport cattle. Which is less than ideal.

But some sections, of course, are hotter than others. Using a combination of hard facts, science, intuition, and a bit of guesswork, we've ranked the tube lines from hottest to coolest – or, from those you should avoid at all costs, to those where there's a passing chance you might be able to breathe. Here they are: 

How we did it

The temperatures on board the tube rely on a lot of different factors: the size of the tunnel, its depth, the ventilation available, and the number of trains and people bustling through it. 

One factor, though, tends to override the rest: air-conditioning. Air-con is widespread across the Metropolitan, Hammersmith & City, and Circle lines, which makes them, as a rule, cooler than the Underground network (it's currently being introduced on the District Line, which makes it a little warmer than the others on average). 

All four are also "sub-surface lines", meaning they're far closer to the surface than the rest of the network, occasionally pass through above-ground stations like Barbican, and are generally just better ventilated. All four lines are also introducing walk-through trains: that, too, will improve airflow through the trains.

Air conditioning is also operational on a fair number of Overground trains. The combination of being above ground and air-conditioning puts the Overground in first place, in our opinion (though on an extremely hot day the disadvantages of being in direct contact with sunlight could outweigh the advantages of fresh air). 

The DLR is next: it, too, operates almost exclusively above ground, and stops so often that heat doesn't have much of a chance to build up. Plus, you get to feel like you're driving the train. But – no air con.

Then, we get to what are called the "deep level" lines.These are where things get really steamy, thanks to the depth of the tunnels and the thinness of both tunnels and trains.

You can't install air conditioning on these trains: there isn't enough space in the carriages, and besides, there's nowhere for the heat to actually go once the air-con tries to release it. You'd just turn the tunnel into a heating pipe.

Ranking these lines took a little more guesswork. First, here's a heat map of central London provided to us by TfL, which shows the average daytime temperatures at the end of platforms throughout August 2013: 

Image: TfL. 

The Jubliee line, despite hosting some of the deepest tunnels in the network, does best out of these lines: as you can see on the map, it manages to stay coolest, thanks in part to fans which cool the stations' ambient temperature during the night. (The fact it's a relative newcomer, a large chunk of which was built in the 1990s, probably helps.)


Next up is the Victoria line, which was actually one of the hottest lines on a 2006 version of the map shown above. Since then, TfL has managed to cool it down using "regenerative braking systems" on its trains, which convert the friction of braking back into the power supply, rather than into heat; as well as the regeneration of the line's 50-odd ventilation shafts. New trains on the Victoria line also ventilate carriages by pulling up air from the base of the tunnel into the carriage at passengers' head height. 

The Waterloo and City line is, to be honest, a bit of a mystery. TfL's map doesn't give much information on its temperature, though platforms at Waterloo and Bank are both quite cool. We suspect, though, that a calculation of average daily temperatures don't mean much on a line which used mostly at commuter times.One final clue is that it runs four-car trains, not six, which could reduce the temperature – so we've given it the benefit of the doubt and put it in fifth place. 

The Northern line was once famed for its roasting conditions, but, like the Victoria line, recent ventilation improvements and new regenerative brake systems have lowered temperatures considerably over the past five years or so. Things still get a little sticky around Charing Cross and Bank, though. 

The Piccadilly and Bakerloo lines haven't had the same cross-network cooling mechanisms put in place, so they're still hitting the high 20s or even 30°C in summer months. A TfL spokesperson told me that high speed fans have been installed at Bakerloo platforms at Lambeth North and Marylebone to tackle the heat, though we're assuming that was after this map was made:

And finally, we come to the big hitter. The Sauna line. The line where 30°C starts to feel positively breezy. Appropriately enough, the hottest line is the red-hued Central line – something you can on the map above, and which is backed up by more anecdotal evidence:

This, presumably, is thanks to the Central Line's deep, low-ceilinged trains, plus the fact that TfL hasn't introduced any coolling mechanisms on the line over the past few years. 

The Central Line's Twitter feed has this helpful advice for travellers on the sweltering trains:

We have some more: avoid the Central line at all costs. Seriously. Science says so. 

 
 
 
 

In South Africa's cities, evictions are happening despite a national ban

An aerial view shows a destroyed house in Lawley, south of Johannesburg, on April 20, 2020. The city has been demolishing informal structures on vacant land despite a moratorium on evictions. (Marco Longari/AFP via Getty Images)

On the morning of 15 July, a South African High Court judge ruled that the city of Cape Town’s Anti-Land Invasion Unit had illegally evicted a man when it destroyed the shack where he was living.

That afternoon, the Anti-Land Invasion Unit was out again, removing shacks in another informal settlement.

Evictions were banned in South Africa for nine weeks, after the national government placed the country under a strict Covid-19 lockdown in late March. At present, eviction orders are automatically suspended until the country moves to a lower “alert level” and can only be carried out with a special order from a judge.

Yet major cities including Cape Town, Johannesburg and eThekwini (created through the merger of Durban with several surrounding communities), have continued to use municipal law enforcement agencies and private security companies to remove people from informal housing. In many cases those operations have been conducted without a court order – something required under regular South African law.

Around 900 people were evicted from three informal settlements in eThekwini during the eviction ban, according to the Church Land Programme, a local NGO. Its director, Graham Philpott, says it’s also aware of evictions in other informal settlements.

While evictions aren’t a “new experience” in these communities, the NGO released a report on lockdown evictions because they were “so explicitly illegal”. “There was a moratorium in place,” Philpott says, “and the local municipality acted quite flagrantly against it. There’s no confusion, there’s no doubt whatsoever, it is illegal. But it is part of a trend where the eThekwini municipality has acted illegally in evicting the poor from informal settlements.”

Evictions also took place in Cape Town and Johannesburg during so-called “hard lockdown” according to local activists. In eThekwini and other municipalities, the evictions have continued despite restrictions. In Cape Town, authorities pulled a naked man, Bulelani Qholani, from his shack. That incident, which was captured on video, drew condemnation from the national government and four members of the Anti-Land Invasion unit were suspended. 


The cities say they’re fighting “land invasions” – illegal occupations without permission from the land owner.

“Land invasions derail housing and service projects, lead to the pollution of waterways, severely prejudice deserving housing beneficiaries and cause property owners to lose their investments over night,” Cape Town’s executive mayor, Dan Plato said in a statement. (Plato has also claimed that Qholani did not live in the shack he was pulled from and that he disrobed when municipal authorities arrived.)

South African municipalities often claim that the shacks they destroy are unoccupied. 

If they were occupied, says Msawakhe Mayisela, a spokesman for the eThekwini municipality, the city would get a court order before conducting an eviction. “Everything we’re doing is within the ambit of the law,” Mayisela says. But “rogue elements” are taking advantage of Covid-19, he added.

“We fully understand that people are desperately in need of land, but the number of people that are flocking to the cities is too much, the city won’t be able to provide housing or accommodation for everyone overnight,” he says. 

While eThekwini claims to be a caring city, local activists say the evictions show otherwise.

In one case, 29 women were evicted from shacks during the hard lockdown. With nowhere to go, they slept in an open field and were arrested by the South African Police Service for violating the lockdown, Philpott says.

“These evictions are dehumanizing people whose dignity is already compromised in many ways,” says S’bu Zikode, the president of Abahlali baseMjondolo, a community organization whose Zulu name translates to “the people of the shacks”. 

“It has reminded us that we are the people that do not count in our society.”

Municipal law enforcement and private security contractors hired by cities regularly fire rubber bullets, or even live ammunition, at residents during evictions. Some 18 Abahlali baseMjondolo activists have been killed since the organization was founded in 2005, Zikode says, most by the eThekwini Land Invasion Unit and Metro Police.

(Mayisela says that if city employees have broken the law, Abahlali baseMjondolo can file a complaint with the police. “There is no conclusive evidence to the effect that our members have killed them,”  he says.)

Other Abahlali baseMjondolo activists have been killed by what Zikode calls “izinkabi,” hitmen hired by politicians. Two eThekwini city councillors were sentenced to life in prison 2016 after they organized the killing of Thuli Ndlovu, an Abahlali baseMjondolo organizer. A member of the Land Invasion Unit who is currently facing a charge of attempted murder after severely injuring a person during an eviction remains on the job, Zikode says.

South Africa’s 1996 constitution is intended to protect the public from arbitrary state violence and guarantees a right to housing, as well as due process in evictions. But for Zikode, the South African constitution is a “beautiful document on a shelf”.

“For the working class and the poor, it’s still difficult to have access to court. You’ve got to have money to get to court,” he says. 

The actions by municipal law enforcement are breaking down social trust, says Buhle Booi, a member of the Khayelitsha Community Action Network, a community group in the largest township in Cape Town.

“There’s a lack of police resources and those very few police resources that they have, they use to destroy people’s homes, to destroy people’s peace, rather than fighting crime, real criminal elements that we see in our society,” Booi says.

For him, it’s a continuation of the practices of the colonial and apartheid governments, pushing poor people, most of whom are Black, to the periphery of cities.

Around one-fifth of South Africa’s urban population live in shacks or informal dwellings, according to a 2018 report by SERI. Many more live in substandard housing. City governments maintain that the shacks destroyed during anti-land invasion operations are unfinished and unoccupied. But Edward Molopi, a research and advocacy officer at SERI, says that this claim is an attempt to escape their legal obligations to get a court order and to find alternative accommodation for affected people. 

The roots of the current eviction crisis go back to apartheid, which barred non-white people from living in cities. Between the 1940s and 1970s, tens of thousands of people were forcibly relocated from neighbourhoods like Johannesburg’s Sophiatown and Cape Town’s District Six to remote townships.

In the 26 years following the end of apartheid, deepening economic inequality and rampant unemployment have limited access to formal housing for millions of South Africans. Government housing programs have mostly focused on building small stand-alone homes, often on the peripheries of cities far from jobs and amenities.

While these well-intentioned projects have built millions of homes, they’ve failed to keep up with demand, says Marie Huchzermeyer, a professor at the Centre for Urbanism & Built Environment Studies at the University of the Witwatersrand in Johannesburg. Government-funded housing projects “will never on it’s own be enough,” she says. “It has to be accompanied by land release.”

Government policies call for the “upgrading” of informal settlements and the formalization of residents’ occupation. But “there are still very, very, very few projects” of that nature in South Africa, Huchzermeyer says. “Even if it’s an informal settlement that’s been around for 20 years, there still seems to be a political wish to punish people for having done that.” The government wants people to go through the formal process of being given a house, she says – and for them to be thankful to the government for providing it.

At the municipal level, change will require “real leadership around informal settlement upgrading and around ensuring that land is available for people to occupy,” she says. 

Despite the end of enforced racial segregation, spacial apartheid remains a factor in South Africa. There are few mixed-income neighbourhoods. Those who can afford to often live behind walls in sprawling low-density suburbs, while the poor live in overcrowded slums and apartment buildings.

The creation of the apartheid city “didn't happen by chance,” says Amira Osman, a professor of architecture at the Tshwane University of Technology. “It was a deliberate, structured approach to the design of the city. We need a deliberate, structured approach that will undo that.”

Since last fall, Johannesburg’s Inclusionary Housing Policy has required developments of 20 or more units to set aside 30% of those units for low-income housing.

The policy, which faced significant opposition from private developers, won’t lead to dramatic change, says Sarah Charlton, a professor at the Centre for Urbanism and Built Environment Studies, but it is “an important and significant step.”

Zikode isn’t optimistic that change will come for shack dwellers, however.

“People in the high positions of authority pretend that everything is normal,” he says. “They pretend that everyone is treated justly, they pretend that everyone has homes with running water, that everyone has a piece of land – and hide the truth and the lies of our democracy.”

Jacob Serebrin is a freelance journalist currently based in Johannesburg. Follow him on Twitter.