A Grand Day Out
As Christmas is upon us, here is a story from the balmier times:
During the summer we were running in a locomotive that had been idle for a number of years awaiting its turn to go under the spanner and have its power unit fettled.
The repair itself was unremarkable (just rather long winded), and the result is something we are all rather pleased with. The next job is to re-plate those parts of the bodywork that have succumbed to the metal moth, and pick a colour scheme in which to paint her (as many will know; the most important part of any restoration project - Yeah right!).
Once she was trundling up and down the stretch of yard between the station throat and the start of the housing estate reliably, it was clear she was fit for more of a challenge.
Consequently Simon negotiated a turn on the S&T (Signal and Telephony) department’s monthly freight duty, and a few weeks later a very tatty locomotive drew the short freight out of the sidings and took her first steps on the running lines for over five years.
The train consisted of an un-braked seven plank open wagon, a vacuum only short four wheeled well wagon, and a guards van (caboose the Americans call them). The 7 plank had a number of signalling artefacts with in it (I’m no expert and I’m not going to guess what they were for), and the well wagon was empty. Not exactly a heavy load, but with several stout lads (huuummmm, we are all gentlemen of ample stature) in the loco and a few more enjoying the sunshine on the guard’s veranda with the S&T team, were certainly providing more load at the drawbar than the loco had seen for a while.
At the first loop we were due to wait for the down passenger train to pass. To make ourselves useful we assisted the S&T department remove some point rod guides from the undergrowth. This proved to be quite hard work in the sun, and all of us got up a healthy sweat. One particularly difficult briar snared John the S&T team leader as he lent over to cut it with a knife the length of a Japanese sword. At almost the same time the guide in my hands came apart dropping its concrete base on to my foot. Thank God for steel toecaps! Unsurprisingly both injuries, his forearm and my grazed boots, became the butt of the day’s jokes.
The 0-6-0 on the passenger serviced wheezed past and we passed the time standing clear by waving at the children on board, and grinning like mad Cheshire Cats.
At our next stop the original contents of the seven plank were unloaded into the S&T’s stores and rod guides rearranged to even out the load. Then we were set back into the yard to put the well wagon next to a refurbished signal post.
After waiting twenty minutes or so and hearing lots of raised voices from the vehicle compound a cloud of blue smoke appeared over the fence and shortly afterwards the near-demic yard lorry appeared with its Hiab. This device would probably fail the Afghan MOT let alone a British one, even the crane leaks like a sieve from every control and piston, fortunately it is confined to the yard and generally kept from public view. However after a few false starts to stop the post from twisting when lifted, it was safely loaded onto the well wagon and secured.
The delay in getting the lorry started had lost us our path on the mainline, and we would now have to wait for the next opportunity. This proved not to be hardship, as the buffet was open and an opportunity to sit in the shade have a cold drink, watch the world go by and tell jokes and tall stories couldn’t be missed.
Consequently we were very chilled when the yard phone rang around an hour and half later, and five minutes after that we were underway again.
In both the loco and the van the temperature had risen again, the seats were hot, the metal work was hot, the plastic control handles were hot and sticky.... we had all the windows open and where safe to do it, the doors were open too. But under the sun the temperatures continued to rise.
When we arrived at the western terminus we were held outside for the road into the yard. The signal hung at a slightly drunken angle and when cleared only moved a few degrees to indicate the road (the cables had started to expand in the heat, and hadn’t yet been adjusted).
As the mid day heat hadn't abated the S&T department decided to just abandon the wagons in the yard and unload them in the evening cool. So after a short shunt to release the guards van, so we could return it to the other end of the line we were ready to retrace our steps.
The return journey went well, we exchanged tokens at the mid way point and were only about a mile and a half from our start point before the excitement started.
As we rounded the corner and reduced speed to cross the viaduct over the river, canal and ring road it was clear the preceding steam service had dropped some ash right in the middle of the longest span (over the river). About four sleepers in that area where well alight with the residue of dropped oil, adding to the fuel available.
Simon pulled our little train up short and about six of us descended to the track bed and inspected the fire. The extinguisher from the guards van dealt with two sleepers, but ran-out shortly after being applied to the third. Three bottles of drink and an improvised beater (made from an old thread-bear piece of carpet) finished off the blaze on the third sleeper. Unfortunately the carpet had caught light itself and that combined with the beating action and its old age had reduced it to a useless gossamer.
This left us with the forth sleeper, now burning well and spitting hot cinders at its neighbours in an attempt to get them started too. A mad search of the loco and guard’s van revealed no more material to be used as a beater or any further non-combustable fluids.
In a last ditch attempt to rescue the situation Andy started to unbutton his flies with a view to relieve himself and become a human fire extinguisher, when Simon pulled a much distressed garden hose from the bushes on the embankment before the viaduct.
With the hose un-wound it neatly reached from the loco to the seat of the fire. To guide the water into the hose an oil funnel was found in the tool box which John forced on to the hose to make a rudimentary joint.
Once assembled Andy knelt beside the loco holding the funnel under the radiator drain outlet. Simon opened the drain cock (inside the loco) and sent hot water cascading over Simon’s hands. Much shouting ensued while the water was slowed to a more reasonable rate and it started to trickle down the hose towards the fire.
Ten minutes later the fire was out, the hose wound up and stored away on the loco and we were underway again. All somewhat blacker in face and hands than we had been twenty five minutes earlier.
Flushed with our success and pleased with our ingenuity we failed to take account of some fairly basic issues and as we breasted the hill and started the run down towards the terminus. First the low water level fault light came on. Shortly after this the high water temperature warning indicator illuminated, and within sight of the terminus the loco shut down altogether. Fortunately we were still rolling down the grade and were signalled directly into the yard. With some skilful late braking Simon managed to get us inside and clear of the running lines without coming to a halt or needing to apply more power.
It is a very eerie experience travelling in the cab of a locomotive without the noise of the diesel set in the background. Just the noise of the rail joints and the rush of air as the brake valves are manipulated, most of us didn't make a sound and might as well have been holding our breath.
We used the yard pilot to put the loco away, completed the disposal and left her to cool down. We were all quite relieved when a brief inspection revealed that the safety systems had done their job and saved us from more repairs. In need of cooling down ourselves we spent that evening rehydrating and soaking up the last of the rays in the beer garden of the Station Public House.
Cheers!
Merry Christmas to you all.
During the summer we were running in a locomotive that had been idle for a number of years awaiting its turn to go under the spanner and have its power unit fettled.
The repair itself was unremarkable (just rather long winded), and the result is something we are all rather pleased with. The next job is to re-plate those parts of the bodywork that have succumbed to the metal moth, and pick a colour scheme in which to paint her (as many will know; the most important part of any restoration project - Yeah right!).
Once she was trundling up and down the stretch of yard between the station throat and the start of the housing estate reliably, it was clear she was fit for more of a challenge.
Consequently Simon negotiated a turn on the S&T (Signal and Telephony) department’s monthly freight duty, and a few weeks later a very tatty locomotive drew the short freight out of the sidings and took her first steps on the running lines for over five years.
The train consisted of an un-braked seven plank open wagon, a vacuum only short four wheeled well wagon, and a guards van (caboose the Americans call them). The 7 plank had a number of signalling artefacts with in it (I’m no expert and I’m not going to guess what they were for), and the well wagon was empty. Not exactly a heavy load, but with several stout lads (huuummmm, we are all gentlemen of ample stature) in the loco and a few more enjoying the sunshine on the guard’s veranda with the S&T team, were certainly providing more load at the drawbar than the loco had seen for a while.
At the first loop we were due to wait for the down passenger train to pass. To make ourselves useful we assisted the S&T department remove some point rod guides from the undergrowth. This proved to be quite hard work in the sun, and all of us got up a healthy sweat. One particularly difficult briar snared John the S&T team leader as he lent over to cut it with a knife the length of a Japanese sword. At almost the same time the guide in my hands came apart dropping its concrete base on to my foot. Thank God for steel toecaps! Unsurprisingly both injuries, his forearm and my grazed boots, became the butt of the day’s jokes.
The 0-6-0 on the passenger serviced wheezed past and we passed the time standing clear by waving at the children on board, and grinning like mad Cheshire Cats.
At our next stop the original contents of the seven plank were unloaded into the S&T’s stores and rod guides rearranged to even out the load. Then we were set back into the yard to put the well wagon next to a refurbished signal post.
After waiting twenty minutes or so and hearing lots of raised voices from the vehicle compound a cloud of blue smoke appeared over the fence and shortly afterwards the near-demic yard lorry appeared with its Hiab. This device would probably fail the Afghan MOT let alone a British one, even the crane leaks like a sieve from every control and piston, fortunately it is confined to the yard and generally kept from public view. However after a few false starts to stop the post from twisting when lifted, it was safely loaded onto the well wagon and secured.
The delay in getting the lorry started had lost us our path on the mainline, and we would now have to wait for the next opportunity. This proved not to be hardship, as the buffet was open and an opportunity to sit in the shade have a cold drink, watch the world go by and tell jokes and tall stories couldn’t be missed.
Consequently we were very chilled when the yard phone rang around an hour and half later, and five minutes after that we were underway again.
In both the loco and the van the temperature had risen again, the seats were hot, the metal work was hot, the plastic control handles were hot and sticky.... we had all the windows open and where safe to do it, the doors were open too. But under the sun the temperatures continued to rise.
When we arrived at the western terminus we were held outside for the road into the yard. The signal hung at a slightly drunken angle and when cleared only moved a few degrees to indicate the road (the cables had started to expand in the heat, and hadn’t yet been adjusted).
As the mid day heat hadn't abated the S&T department decided to just abandon the wagons in the yard and unload them in the evening cool. So after a short shunt to release the guards van, so we could return it to the other end of the line we were ready to retrace our steps.
The return journey went well, we exchanged tokens at the mid way point and were only about a mile and a half from our start point before the excitement started.
As we rounded the corner and reduced speed to cross the viaduct over the river, canal and ring road it was clear the preceding steam service had dropped some ash right in the middle of the longest span (over the river). About four sleepers in that area where well alight with the residue of dropped oil, adding to the fuel available.
Simon pulled our little train up short and about six of us descended to the track bed and inspected the fire. The extinguisher from the guards van dealt with two sleepers, but ran-out shortly after being applied to the third. Three bottles of drink and an improvised beater (made from an old thread-bear piece of carpet) finished off the blaze on the third sleeper. Unfortunately the carpet had caught light itself and that combined with the beating action and its old age had reduced it to a useless gossamer.
This left us with the forth sleeper, now burning well and spitting hot cinders at its neighbours in an attempt to get them started too. A mad search of the loco and guard’s van revealed no more material to be used as a beater or any further non-combustable fluids.
In a last ditch attempt to rescue the situation Andy started to unbutton his flies with a view to relieve himself and become a human fire extinguisher, when Simon pulled a much distressed garden hose from the bushes on the embankment before the viaduct.
With the hose un-wound it neatly reached from the loco to the seat of the fire. To guide the water into the hose an oil funnel was found in the tool box which John forced on to the hose to make a rudimentary joint.
Once assembled Andy knelt beside the loco holding the funnel under the radiator drain outlet. Simon opened the drain cock (inside the loco) and sent hot water cascading over Simon’s hands. Much shouting ensued while the water was slowed to a more reasonable rate and it started to trickle down the hose towards the fire.
Ten minutes later the fire was out, the hose wound up and stored away on the loco and we were underway again. All somewhat blacker in face and hands than we had been twenty five minutes earlier.
Flushed with our success and pleased with our ingenuity we failed to take account of some fairly basic issues and as we breasted the hill and started the run down towards the terminus. First the low water level fault light came on. Shortly after this the high water temperature warning indicator illuminated, and within sight of the terminus the loco shut down altogether. Fortunately we were still rolling down the grade and were signalled directly into the yard. With some skilful late braking Simon managed to get us inside and clear of the running lines without coming to a halt or needing to apply more power.
It is a very eerie experience travelling in the cab of a locomotive without the noise of the diesel set in the background. Just the noise of the rail joints and the rush of air as the brake valves are manipulated, most of us didn't make a sound and might as well have been holding our breath.
We used the yard pilot to put the loco away, completed the disposal and left her to cool down. We were all quite relieved when a brief inspection revealed that the safety systems had done their job and saved us from more repairs. In need of cooling down ourselves we spent that evening rehydrating and soaking up the last of the rays in the beer garden of the Station Public House.
Cheers!
Merry Christmas to you all.
posted by TonyB at 2:38 pm
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