What an incredible railway this is. And what a story goes with it, a tale of almost unimaginable hardship and of a railway system which was revolutionary.
Of course I'm talking about the line which runs between Queenstown and Strahan, built in the late 1890's, closed in 1963, re-opened in 2002 and now operated as a tourist attraction by the Abt Railway Ministerial Corporation, a State Government corporation under the name West Coast Wilderness Railway.
I am indebted to 'ausleisure' for this brilliant photo which really captures some of what this railway is all about.....a track cut into the side of impossibly steep hills, the deep King River gorge below, a trestle bridge over a cutting and the 'rack' of the Abt railway system running centrally between the rails.
As I've oft said before, we are not really into organised tours, but here in Queenstown there are two touted as 'musts', the West Coast Wilderness Railway and the Gordon River Cruise. Neither are cheap, but having now done them both we would chorus loudly in unison, "Save your shekels, beg borrow or steal, do whatever it takes, but don't miss these tours!"
Before departure we had a decision to make.......which of the three trips on offer was to be for us. Given that two of these leave from Strahan, and the third from Queenstown, this did not present a difficult choice, particularly seeing that one of the two trips out of Strahan was an all day return to Queenie and back and we had already 'been there, done that'.
So, it was the 'Rack and Gorge' option for the Mobile Marshies, a four hour jaunt from Queenstown to Dubbil Barril (correct spelling!) and return, up and over the highest and steepest section of the line.
But the choices kept coming. We could either stump up $110 each and take the 'second class carriage' or shell out $179 to join those in the premier carriage where the paid for privileges included a glass of welcoming bubbles, canapes, 'morning tea' type munchies and a light lunch. We chose the former. An extra $69 for one glass of fizz, a muffin or two and a sandwich did not seem to add up.
To our enormous relief the day of departure dawned fine and sunny. Whilst a bleak and foggy journey may well have more accurately mimicked the conditions those building this railway were forced to endure for much of the time, and would have added something of a wild charm to the journey, we actually wanted to see as much as we could.
With nibbles and a drink stashed in our back packs, we were off to the station
where this old fashioned, hand operated turntable is still in use (as it was at Dubbil Barril...photos later).
Needless to say, this place is geared to glean as many tourist dollars as possible (an observation not a criticism) so this al fresco setting near the main entrance came as no surprise.
In we went.
We had no need for food, so we passed on the station cafe, where one can lounge on leather
or prop on pine.
We did neither and made our way to the ticket office, embodied as could be expected in a very well stocked souvenir shop. We already had our tickets but, true to form, 'herself' felt the need to browse, on the hunt for another significant stubbie holder.
The sibilant sound of hissing steam and the wail of a whistle soon filled the morning air. Our 'puffing billy' had arrived.
I had just enough time to gallop up onto the observation platform at the far end of the long platforms of this large station to grab this shot of our waiting carriages before we were called to board.
In my haste, I nearly made the mistake of hopping on at the earliest opportunity until I realised that this was the carriage set aside for those who had decided that champers and muffins were for them. Leather seats and tables were a dead give away.
With Liz waving an admonishing arm at me from further along the platform, I recognised my attempted social blunder and we joined a small band of fellow 'touring plebs' in the correct carriage (apologies for the fuzzy shot). Note the bloke sitting in the foreground. He was wearing one of the funniest 'T' shirts I had seen for ages.
He was obliging enough to pose for me at one of our station stops. What a wag!
All the carriages on the West Coast Wilderness Railway have been beautifully refurbished. Ours even included old brass luggage racks now carrying rolled up granny rugs. We were more than pleased to have had no need for this form of comfort today.
We had only just settled in when another blast of steam through the engine whistle heralded our departure, south past the mine disaster statue
and on out into the southern 'suburbs' of Queenstown where the end of The Esplanade separated the railway track from the ever orange Queen River.
It was at about this point in the trip that the staff on the train began to regale us all with a series of oral vignettes to bring us the story of the line (which continued at intervals throughout the entire journey), focusing specifically on the rivalry between Crotty and Kelly. In each carriage a passenger 'volunteered' to wear a representative hat and took on the persona of each man. This all sounds pretty corny, and I'll admit to being a less than entirely receptive guest initially, but it was done well enough to be quite entertaining.
And this is probably as good a point as any to take a look at where we were going. I've added
an arrow to this map to show our destination point at Dubbil Barril. What is more interesting however, is the gradient chart in the bottom right hand corner. Our trip this morning was to take us from the right side of this chart up to the crest of the large peak and the station atop the ridge at Rinadeena Saddle and thence down the other side. Although it's impossible to read it on this map, Dubbil Barril lies at the very bottom of the gradient beyond the crest.
So from this you can see that the trip we chose out of Queenstown was that which tackles the steepest section of this 35 km line. Beyond Dubbil Barril the track to Regatta Point in Strahan was laid through comparatively flat country.
I've also included this Google Earth offering in an attempt to show just how forbidding this country is. The high ridges and steep sided gullies are relentless.
Whilst it is impossible to see the railway line, if you look back from the Strahan Harbour and the dark strip which crosses the sandy section you will just be able to make out the course of the King River as it meanders back through the gullies past Rinadeena and on to its confluence with the Queen River.
What I would now ask you to remember is that all those who originally came to settle in Queenstown used the King River as their thoroughfare through this impossible country, or, even more boldly, bashed through the bush. And also bear in mind, there was no road connection to the town until the 1930's. What a bloody hardy lot these folk were as later photos will show.
A bridge crossing over the unmistakable Queen River
took us clear of Queenstown and into the bush, and although it was pretty thick, this was but the beginning.
At least here the country was flat and there was some clearance between us and the scrub.
Steam hissed by constantly as we coasted on the slight downhill section between Queenstown and Lynchford.
Past that station the timber was becoming thicker, providing a canopy over increasing masses of tree ferns.
Continual curves were now a constant and the space between the line and the trees was reducing
and once we had passed the Halls Creek siding the climb into the mountains was on in earnest.
As the track snaked its way across the slopes, in many spots the ground on the lower side fell away almost vertically. Although this photo does not do the scene justice, here we were peering down a drop of at least 200 feet.....and we were right on the bloody edge!
And as you can also see, by now the bush was so thick as to be virtually impenetrable. It almost defies belief that some of those heading to the newly discovered gold fields of Penghana actually slogged through this country on foot.
Before we get into the serious business of climbing the range to Rinadeena, let me again bring you an excerpt from 'Aussie Towns' which I think says it all.
"It was always a slightly crazy idea. Trying to build a railway through rainforest and rugged terrain from Queenstown to the coast verged on the insane but, in 1893, in an attempt to convince investors in London, the directors of the Mount Lyell Mining Company changed their name to the Mount Lyell Mining and Railway Company and planned a railway to the sea. [remember our friend Mr Anthony Edwin Bowes Kelly?]
The route of the track was to follow the King River for about 7 km, then, at a gradient of 1 in 20, it would climb around the side of the gorge for 5 km before dropping at a gradient of 1 in 15 for about 4 km and then proceeding to the coast at Teepookana.
The Parks Tasmania website explains: "The German-patented Abt railway system was selected as the best alternative to overcome the difficult terrain of the King River Valley.
A central cog on the engine engaged the teeth of a third rail known as the ‘rack’ which was positioned midway between the two outside rails. This allowed locomotives to haul loads over sections two and a half times steeper than was possible for conventional lines."
I am indebted to 'ausleisure' for this brilliant photo which really captures some of what this railway is all about.....a track cut into the side of impossibly steep hills, the deep King River gorge below, a trestle bridge over a cutting and the 'rack' of the Abt railway system running centrally between the rails.
As I've oft said before, we are not really into organised tours, but here in Queenstown there are two touted as 'musts', the West Coast Wilderness Railway and the Gordon River Cruise. Neither are cheap, but having now done them both we would chorus loudly in unison, "Save your shekels, beg borrow or steal, do whatever it takes, but don't miss these tours!"
Before departure we had a decision to make.......which of the three trips on offer was to be for us. Given that two of these leave from Strahan, and the third from Queenstown, this did not present a difficult choice, particularly seeing that one of the two trips out of Strahan was an all day return to Queenie and back and we had already 'been there, done that'.
So, it was the 'Rack and Gorge' option for the Mobile Marshies, a four hour jaunt from Queenstown to Dubbil Barril (correct spelling!) and return, up and over the highest and steepest section of the line.
But the choices kept coming. We could either stump up $110 each and take the 'second class carriage' or shell out $179 to join those in the premier carriage where the paid for privileges included a glass of welcoming bubbles, canapes, 'morning tea' type munchies and a light lunch. We chose the former. An extra $69 for one glass of fizz, a muffin or two and a sandwich did not seem to add up.
To our enormous relief the day of departure dawned fine and sunny. Whilst a bleak and foggy journey may well have more accurately mimicked the conditions those building this railway were forced to endure for much of the time, and would have added something of a wild charm to the journey, we actually wanted to see as much as we could.
With nibbles and a drink stashed in our back packs, we were off to the station
where this old fashioned, hand operated turntable is still in use (as it was at Dubbil Barril...photos later).
Needless to say, this place is geared to glean as many tourist dollars as possible (an observation not a criticism) so this al fresco setting near the main entrance came as no surprise.
In we went.
We had no need for food, so we passed on the station cafe, where one can lounge on leather
or prop on pine.
We did neither and made our way to the ticket office, embodied as could be expected in a very well stocked souvenir shop. We already had our tickets but, true to form, 'herself' felt the need to browse, on the hunt for another significant stubbie holder.
The sibilant sound of hissing steam and the wail of a whistle soon filled the morning air. Our 'puffing billy' had arrived.
I had just enough time to gallop up onto the observation platform at the far end of the long platforms of this large station to grab this shot of our waiting carriages before we were called to board.
In my haste, I nearly made the mistake of hopping on at the earliest opportunity until I realised that this was the carriage set aside for those who had decided that champers and muffins were for them. Leather seats and tables were a dead give away.
With Liz waving an admonishing arm at me from further along the platform, I recognised my attempted social blunder and we joined a small band of fellow 'touring plebs' in the correct carriage (apologies for the fuzzy shot). Note the bloke sitting in the foreground. He was wearing one of the funniest 'T' shirts I had seen for ages.
He was obliging enough to pose for me at one of our station stops. What a wag!
All the carriages on the West Coast Wilderness Railway have been beautifully refurbished. Ours even included old brass luggage racks now carrying rolled up granny rugs. We were more than pleased to have had no need for this form of comfort today.
We had only just settled in when another blast of steam through the engine whistle heralded our departure, south past the mine disaster statue
and on out into the southern 'suburbs' of Queenstown where the end of The Esplanade separated the railway track from the ever orange Queen River.
It was at about this point in the trip that the staff on the train began to regale us all with a series of oral vignettes to bring us the story of the line (which continued at intervals throughout the entire journey), focusing specifically on the rivalry between Crotty and Kelly. In each carriage a passenger 'volunteered' to wear a representative hat and took on the persona of each man. This all sounds pretty corny, and I'll admit to being a less than entirely receptive guest initially, but it was done well enough to be quite entertaining.
And this is probably as good a point as any to take a look at where we were going. I've added
an arrow to this map to show our destination point at Dubbil Barril. What is more interesting however, is the gradient chart in the bottom right hand corner. Our trip this morning was to take us from the right side of this chart up to the crest of the large peak and the station atop the ridge at Rinadeena Saddle and thence down the other side. Although it's impossible to read it on this map, Dubbil Barril lies at the very bottom of the gradient beyond the crest.
So from this you can see that the trip we chose out of Queenstown was that which tackles the steepest section of this 35 km line. Beyond Dubbil Barril the track to Regatta Point in Strahan was laid through comparatively flat country.
I've also included this Google Earth offering in an attempt to show just how forbidding this country is. The high ridges and steep sided gullies are relentless.
Whilst it is impossible to see the railway line, if you look back from the Strahan Harbour and the dark strip which crosses the sandy section you will just be able to make out the course of the King River as it meanders back through the gullies past Rinadeena and on to its confluence with the Queen River.
What I would now ask you to remember is that all those who originally came to settle in Queenstown used the King River as their thoroughfare through this impossible country, or, even more boldly, bashed through the bush. And also bear in mind, there was no road connection to the town until the 1930's. What a bloody hardy lot these folk were as later photos will show.
A bridge crossing over the unmistakable Queen River
took us clear of Queenstown and into the bush, and although it was pretty thick, this was but the beginning.
At least here the country was flat and there was some clearance between us and the scrub.
Steam hissed by constantly as we coasted on the slight downhill section between Queenstown and Lynchford.
Past that station the timber was becoming thicker, providing a canopy over increasing masses of tree ferns.
Continual curves were now a constant and the space between the line and the trees was reducing
and once we had passed the Halls Creek siding the climb into the mountains was on in earnest.
As the track snaked its way across the slopes, in many spots the ground on the lower side fell away almost vertically. Although this photo does not do the scene justice, here we were peering down a drop of at least 200 feet.....and we were right on the bloody edge!
And as you can also see, by now the bush was so thick as to be virtually impenetrable. It almost defies belief that some of those heading to the newly discovered gold fields of Penghana actually slogged through this country on foot.
Before we get into the serious business of climbing the range to Rinadeena, let me again bring you an excerpt from 'Aussie Towns' which I think says it all.
"It was always a slightly crazy idea. Trying to build a railway through rainforest and rugged terrain from Queenstown to the coast verged on the insane but, in 1893, in an attempt to convince investors in London, the directors of the Mount Lyell Mining Company changed their name to the Mount Lyell Mining and Railway Company and planned a railway to the sea. [remember our friend Mr Anthony Edwin Bowes Kelly?]
The route of the track was to follow the King River for about 7 km, then, at a gradient of 1 in 20, it would climb around the side of the gorge for 5 km before dropping at a gradient of 1 in 15 for about 4 km and then proceeding to the coast at Teepookana.
The Parks Tasmania website explains: "The German-patented Abt railway system was selected as the best alternative to overcome the difficult terrain of the King River Valley.
A central cog on the engine engaged the teeth of a third rail known as the ‘rack’ which was positioned midway between the two outside rails. This allowed locomotives to haul loads over sections two and a half times steeper than was possible for conventional lines."
In 1894 a total of 400 men started work on the railway and by 1896 34
km of track had been laid. During the construction cuttings, many of
them 20 m deep, had been dug out with pick and shovel; 48 wooden trestle
bridges had been built; and the men had worked for six shillings and
six pence for an eight hour day [but not always happily and enduring wretched conditions as we shall see later].
In 1899 the track was extended to Regatta Point, the southern point of Risby Cove at Strahan. The railway continued to operate until 1963. Lobbying from local businesses, who claimed it was an iconic part of western Tasmanian history, saw the Federal Government pour over $20 million into restoring the railway which started operating as a tourist attraction in 2002."
A slightly crazy idea indeed, but it did work, and in doing so the Mount Lyell Mining and Railway Company built what remains to this day the steepest railway in the Southern Hemisphere and the only remaining functional Abt system!
As we now know a train through this country would have been impossible without the use of Mr Abt's invention. Here we had our first sighting of 'the rack', the third rail between the lines,
and from this point on until we reached Rinadeena Station, progress was reduced to a cranking, clattering crawl as our little steam engine's cogged wheel engaged the teeth of the rack and we literally hauled ourselves up the steep slope. This was just extraordinary.
I have no way of knowing our speed over this section, but it appeared to be about walking pace. Given it took us over half an hour to cover the less than three kilometres from the bottom to the top of the ridge, that would seem a fair estimate.
And just as I cannot bring you really good shots of the gullies, annoyingly it is ditto for the steepness of the incline up which we were heaving along. Believe me when I tell you, it was steep, and the drops below us were nothing short of breathtaking. This shot, courtesy of the Wilderness Railway website may give you some idea.
Huffing and puffing in clouds of steam we finally eased to a halt at Rinadeena where we disembarked for a break which hopefully, from the company point of view included coffee and cake in the cafe! I took the opportunity to gallop off up these stairs
to the viewing platform above and the vantage point which gave me good look along the platform
and the line beyond the station siding,
where the beginning of our imminent descent was patently and slightly alarmingly obvious.
But never let it be said that amongst all this engineering there wasn't time to commune briefly with nature!
We were to enjoy another stop-over here on the return journey, and then I did take full advantage of a surprise offer.....more later.
It was during this stop that I managed to also work out where one of the cog wheels, on which we were now so utterly reliant for both progress and safety, could be seen amongst all the other bits and pieces which made up the underside of the engine,
and this seems as good a time as any to learn a little more about the remarkable Mr Abt and his revolutionary railway system.
The West Coast Railway website provided all the answers:
" Dr Carl Roman Abt was a Swiss engineer, inventor and entrepreneur who would have a profound impact on the people of Tasmania’s west coast.
Dr Abt worked under the renowned German railway engineer Niklaus Riggenbach, who had developed a railway system that featured a central rack and rail, that enabled locomotives to climb steeper sections of track. The Riggenbach system was widely used, but expensive to build and maintain.
Dr Abt decided to invent a system that would improve upon the Riggenbach mechanism. His ground breaking rack and pinion design was inspired by the cogs of a clock, and involved a third central rail of solid bars with vertical teeth that engaged with small cogwheels – known as piston wheels – on the underside of the locomotive engine [see previous photo].
The system enabled trains to haul loads up steeper hillsides, and created a braking effect on the downhill side. The Abt system was also safer, and cheaper than the Riggenbach system [I was more than a little relieved to read about the 'braking' effect....it's one thing to haul up a hill, quite another to descend at a safe and sensible speed!].
The Abt system spread all over the world – in Japan, Spain, South America – and in a remote, wilderness corner of western Tasmania.
In that remote place, Bowes Kelly of the Mount Lyell Mining Company heard about the Abt system. It was untested in Australia, and Kelly had no idea if it would work in the daunting terrain of Tasmania’s mountainous west coast, but he bought a section of rack rail and one of the special steam engines fitted with the cog wheels.
His decision would revolutionise the railway and change the fortunes of the west coast [and was one which was utterly typical of the man]."
Whilst this photo which I garnered from 'wikipedia', shows a slightly different cog and rack set up to that on our engine, the principle is exactly the same.
So, after our short sojourn on the mountain top, we were off down the other side on an even more awesome gradient. We soon got our first glimpse of the King River and the deep gorge along which it runs.
What stunning scenery, but this was most decidedly not the spot to lose one's footing.
As I gazed out over this breathtaking gorge I was trying to imagine just what it would have been like to have been a navvy on the end of a pick or shovel in the late 1800's, hacking the bed for this track out of the rock of the steep slope, often in freezing rain and fog, with a drop like this just waiting to claim the life of the careless. Was it any wonder they eventually went on strike?...but more of that later.
After almost two hours we arrived at the station at Dubbil Barril. The worst was over. From this point on into Strahan the track traverses terrain which is much less challenging.
This was the end of our outward venture, but not our entertainment, because here we had another turntable which was about to be put to good and necessary use.
As an expectant crowd gathered beneath the backdrop of tall trees,
one of the crew pumped a points handle
and our valiant little engine came shunting back along a side line
and eased onto the turntable with a simultaneous blast of steam from both piston cylinder boxes, a display I am sure was quite unnecessary for all practical purposes, but one which certainly impressed the gathered crowd (and made for a pretty good photo!)
Then came the hard work as our redoubtable crew
pushed with considerable and commendable gusto on the turntable hand rails
until our puffing billy had completed a 180 degree turn and the rails were locked into place.
She then chugged back down the siding, backed and filled on branch rails, and was eventually reattached to the waiting line of carriages.
Here at Dubbil Barril (I have spent ages trying to accurately establish the history of this name.......one source suggests it was a derivation of the the aboriginal words for 'waters meeting', others have posited that it was merely a play on words...l remain unenlightened!) we were invited to take a stroll along a forest boardwalk.
One reward for doing so was a close look at one of the forty wooden trestle bridges dotted along this railway.
This was a significant structure. Its good condition said much about the construction method, the materials used and the skill of those who put all this together.
A plaque beneath the bridge told the story.
I noted the reference to the 'cold and soggy boots'. It was worse than this for many. This was a very wet and miserable place indeed. An annual rainfall of nearly one and a half metres was common and winter temperatures were dire.
Many navvies lived under makeshift canvas tents. Wet clothes shucked off at the end of a long day's work would often still be damp and cold in the morning.
But back to the boots. Conditions along the line were so wet that it was not uncommon for the men's boots to fill with water. Foot rot, ulcers and other skin diseases were an inevitable outcome.
To alleviate this, many cut the top of the toe section off their footwear to allow the water to drain out, which seemed like a very good idea at the time......until they discovered these mountain rain forests were alive with leeches which were quick to make a set of toes their new home. What a fun place this was!
And eventually it got too much for those on the end of the picks and shovels as this plaque at the Dubbil Barril station explained. This backdown must have sorely tested Bowes Kelly, who lived life by the motto 'we find a way or make it'. Well Mr Kelly, you also have to pay for it!
Before we re-embark and leave Dubbil Barril, there is one more local story I must share with you, that of the Kerrisons.
The life of Cecil, Lillian and their ten, yes ten children, and their neighbours, brings new meaning to the words 'tough' or 'hardy'.
Once more I'll rely on the West Coast Wilderness Railway website to tell the tale (with apologies for the mangled margin....too hard to fix):
With more and ever changing views of the magnificent King River (now that it is far less polluted than before)
in our window frame, this was a challenge,
and as I focused in on this rapids choke point in the impossibly narrow gorge, I could not help but reflect on those who had used this river as their highway to Queenstown and the hope of golden riches. And just think, this was the river at the height of a dry summer....!!!
Off we went, the cogs of the Abt pinion clawing into the teeth of the rack as we clanked and crawled our way back to our second stop at Rinadeena. As we passed rocky outcrops like this, I was now seeing them in a different light as I thought about those who had hacked away at the myriad of lumps of steel hard stone such as this to lay the track.
Here at Rinadeena the boiler need a recharge,
whilst your truly headed off to one end of the cafe for an intake of liquid of a completely different kind. This was the treat I had been promised previously.....a tasting tipple! What a good idea this was. Our carriage hostess swapped roles and quickly set out three of Hellyers Road's finest, two single malts and a chocolate liqueur.
For a mere $10, which by Tassie standards was quite reasonable, I settled back and had a delightful few moments whilst my fellow passengers milled about with far less purpose. Coffee and cake? Not likely!
All too soon the whistle blew yet again and we sauntered back on board. The pinion lugs engaged the the teeth of the rack and our stout little engine eased us back down the impossible slope with a jerking and clanking which by now had become quite familiar. In fact it almost felt odd when the Abt system was disengaged and we were again tootling along like any other train.
By now the novelty had worn off somewhat, and our very slow pace became a bit of a drudge as we left the spectacular scenery of the high ridges and again hit the flats where the revolting orange sludge of the Queen River again reminded us of the follies of the past.
We had one more stop to make. Lynchford grew as a small settlement to support the gold miners who first came to this area so many years ago. There is little now left here other than the station, and a very slick tourist enterprise.
These long white buildings are home to a quite extensive display of mineral rocks and other associated bit and pieces,
but it is what goes on out the back which is the real drawcard for most who visit (and a fine money spinner). Almost all on board our train flocked through the main building, bought their little bag of dirt, and headed straight out here.
Under the roof of this extended walkway, troughs and pans are arranged to allow punters to pan for gold. It's a bit like a lucky dip for grown ups really. Obviously some of the bought bags (I've forgotten how much they cost....I was clearly not interested) do contain a smidgen of gold specks, but at the risk of punning I have to say that from what we saw and heard today, they are precious few and far between!
As I briefly stopped here to snap those with a glint of gold fever in their eyes, I thought back to the chap we had seen in the Ovens River at Bright some time ago.
He was fully decked out in waders, boots and warm clothing, and with a small shovel and an old pan he was going for his life scooping up the river bed gravel and swirling the stream water through the contents of his washing pan with extraordinary dexterity. Now that's gold panning as it should be.....even if the day is a washout (that's two in two paras!), to be out and about in the most beautiful surroundings and fresh mountain air left what I was seeing here this morning for dead.
I used my time to visit the displays inside the building (note the gold gravel bag on the left of this shot)
and will quite happily concede that 'rock hoppers' would have a very good time here. The exhibits are extensive and well laid out,
albeit difficult to photograph in the room lighting.
I will freely admit that rocks are not really my thing. I was much more concerned to get a few good shots of our train, and here managed to include the old wooden water tower,
one which had obviously seen better days.
This stop, and the clear ground either side of the line, also gave me the opportunity to crawl almost under the engine and photograph the two pinion wheels which had served us so well
and to try and learn a bit more about our gallant little engine from the very well done display nearby (don't panic....no more detail!)
And, whilst the punters panned and prayed for luck, I had a few moments left to again share some time with nature (these flowers were actually much prettier than they look here)
and take one last shot of our 'iron horse' as it stood patiently easing off excess steam awaiting its final short run into Queenstown.
From Lynchford our little engine got along at a goodly gallop, and in no time at all we were back in the 'burbs' with the now familiar sight of Mount Owen in the distance.
This really had been a most marvellous morning, one in which we had learnt much about the seemingly mad vision which drove the construction of the line, the coincidence of time and invention which made it possible, and the incredible toil in almost impossible conditions which brought it to fruition.
And the scenery..........!
In 1899 the track was extended to Regatta Point, the southern point of Risby Cove at Strahan. The railway continued to operate until 1963. Lobbying from local businesses, who claimed it was an iconic part of western Tasmanian history, saw the Federal Government pour over $20 million into restoring the railway which started operating as a tourist attraction in 2002."
A slightly crazy idea indeed, but it did work, and in doing so the Mount Lyell Mining and Railway Company built what remains to this day the steepest railway in the Southern Hemisphere and the only remaining functional Abt system!
As we now know a train through this country would have been impossible without the use of Mr Abt's invention. Here we had our first sighting of 'the rack', the third rail between the lines,
and from this point on until we reached Rinadeena Station, progress was reduced to a cranking, clattering crawl as our little steam engine's cogged wheel engaged the teeth of the rack and we literally hauled ourselves up the steep slope. This was just extraordinary.
I have no way of knowing our speed over this section, but it appeared to be about walking pace. Given it took us over half an hour to cover the less than three kilometres from the bottom to the top of the ridge, that would seem a fair estimate.
And just as I cannot bring you really good shots of the gullies, annoyingly it is ditto for the steepness of the incline up which we were heaving along. Believe me when I tell you, it was steep, and the drops below us were nothing short of breathtaking. This shot, courtesy of the Wilderness Railway website may give you some idea.
Huffing and puffing in clouds of steam we finally eased to a halt at Rinadeena where we disembarked for a break which hopefully, from the company point of view included coffee and cake in the cafe! I took the opportunity to gallop off up these stairs
to the viewing platform above and the vantage point which gave me good look along the platform
and the line beyond the station siding,
where the beginning of our imminent descent was patently and slightly alarmingly obvious.
But never let it be said that amongst all this engineering there wasn't time to commune briefly with nature!
Liz, in the meantime, was communing with commercial enterprise, scouting the large station interior for anything which might have caught her souvenir hunting eye, but there wasn't a stubbie holder to be seen.
We were to enjoy another stop-over here on the return journey, and then I did take full advantage of a surprise offer.....more later.
It was during this stop that I managed to also work out where one of the cog wheels, on which we were now so utterly reliant for both progress and safety, could be seen amongst all the other bits and pieces which made up the underside of the engine,
and this seems as good a time as any to learn a little more about the remarkable Mr Abt and his revolutionary railway system.
The West Coast Railway website provided all the answers:
" Dr Carl Roman Abt was a Swiss engineer, inventor and entrepreneur who would have a profound impact on the people of Tasmania’s west coast.
Dr Abt worked under the renowned German railway engineer Niklaus Riggenbach, who had developed a railway system that featured a central rack and rail, that enabled locomotives to climb steeper sections of track. The Riggenbach system was widely used, but expensive to build and maintain.
Dr Abt decided to invent a system that would improve upon the Riggenbach mechanism. His ground breaking rack and pinion design was inspired by the cogs of a clock, and involved a third central rail of solid bars with vertical teeth that engaged with small cogwheels – known as piston wheels – on the underside of the locomotive engine [see previous photo].
The system enabled trains to haul loads up steeper hillsides, and created a braking effect on the downhill side. The Abt system was also safer, and cheaper than the Riggenbach system [I was more than a little relieved to read about the 'braking' effect....it's one thing to haul up a hill, quite another to descend at a safe and sensible speed!].
The Abt system spread all over the world – in Japan, Spain, South America – and in a remote, wilderness corner of western Tasmania.
In that remote place, Bowes Kelly of the Mount Lyell Mining Company heard about the Abt system. It was untested in Australia, and Kelly had no idea if it would work in the daunting terrain of Tasmania’s mountainous west coast, but he bought a section of rack rail and one of the special steam engines fitted with the cog wheels.
His decision would revolutionise the railway and change the fortunes of the west coast [and was one which was utterly typical of the man]."
Whilst this photo which I garnered from 'wikipedia', shows a slightly different cog and rack set up to that on our engine, the principle is exactly the same.
So, after our short sojourn on the mountain top, we were off down the other side on an even more awesome gradient. We soon got our first glimpse of the King River and the deep gorge along which it runs.
What stunning scenery, but this was most decidedly not the spot to lose one's footing.
As I gazed out over this breathtaking gorge I was trying to imagine just what it would have been like to have been a navvy on the end of a pick or shovel in the late 1800's, hacking the bed for this track out of the rock of the steep slope, often in freezing rain and fog, with a drop like this just waiting to claim the life of the careless. Was it any wonder they eventually went on strike?...but more of that later.
After almost two hours we arrived at the station at Dubbil Barril. The worst was over. From this point on into Strahan the track traverses terrain which is much less challenging.
This was the end of our outward venture, but not our entertainment, because here we had another turntable which was about to be put to good and necessary use.
As an expectant crowd gathered beneath the backdrop of tall trees,
one of the crew pumped a points handle
and our valiant little engine came shunting back along a side line
and eased onto the turntable with a simultaneous blast of steam from both piston cylinder boxes, a display I am sure was quite unnecessary for all practical purposes, but one which certainly impressed the gathered crowd (and made for a pretty good photo!)
Then came the hard work as our redoubtable crew
pushed with considerable and commendable gusto on the turntable hand rails
until our puffing billy had completed a 180 degree turn and the rails were locked into place.
She then chugged back down the siding, backed and filled on branch rails, and was eventually reattached to the waiting line of carriages.
Here at Dubbil Barril (I have spent ages trying to accurately establish the history of this name.......one source suggests it was a derivation of the the aboriginal words for 'waters meeting', others have posited that it was merely a play on words...l remain unenlightened!) we were invited to take a stroll along a forest boardwalk.
One reward for doing so was a close look at one of the forty wooden trestle bridges dotted along this railway.
This was a significant structure. Its good condition said much about the construction method, the materials used and the skill of those who put all this together.
A plaque beneath the bridge told the story.
I noted the reference to the 'cold and soggy boots'. It was worse than this for many. This was a very wet and miserable place indeed. An annual rainfall of nearly one and a half metres was common and winter temperatures were dire.
Many navvies lived under makeshift canvas tents. Wet clothes shucked off at the end of a long day's work would often still be damp and cold in the morning.
But back to the boots. Conditions along the line were so wet that it was not uncommon for the men's boots to fill with water. Foot rot, ulcers and other skin diseases were an inevitable outcome.
To alleviate this, many cut the top of the toe section off their footwear to allow the water to drain out, which seemed like a very good idea at the time......until they discovered these mountain rain forests were alive with leeches which were quick to make a set of toes their new home. What a fun place this was!
And eventually it got too much for those on the end of the picks and shovels as this plaque at the Dubbil Barril station explained. This backdown must have sorely tested Bowes Kelly, who lived life by the motto 'we find a way or make it'. Well Mr Kelly, you also have to pay for it!
Before we re-embark and leave Dubbil Barril, there is one more local story I must share with you, that of the Kerrisons.
The life of Cecil, Lillian and their ten, yes ten children, and their neighbours, brings new meaning to the words 'tough' or 'hardy'.
Once more I'll rely on the West Coast Wilderness Railway website to tell the tale (with apologies for the mangled margin....too hard to fix):
"The
workers who maintained the railway were known as fettlers. They lived
and worked in small workers cottages in the forest, often with their
wives and children.
One of these men, Cecil Kerrison, supplemented his income by starting a dairy farm, deep in the rainforest. Cecil lived in a cottage by the King River at Dubbil Barril with his wife Lillian, their 10 children, and 11 cows [hopefully the cows had their own shed].
Mrs Kerrison must have spent more than her fair share of time in her tiny kitchen, cooking for her large family, and the other fettlers who worked on the railway. Legend has it that Lillian was known for her freshly baked scones with jam and fresh cream.
Cecil and Lillian’s tribe [understatement...no TV in those days....editor's comment!] of children grew up in the rainforest, which they’d search each morning to round up the cows for milking before school. They, and other local children would travel to Strahan each day for their lessons, leaving on an early train, and boarding the 4.30 pm train to return home in the afternoon.
But sometimes, the train home wouldn't leave Strahan until 7.00 pm, and the children would huddle together in the guard’s wagon, gradually falling asleep to the rocking of the train. The guard would wake them as they drew close to their house and the children would be sent off into the darkness, to walk home alone.
Some children, like the Kerrisons, who lived further along the line, wouldn’t get home until midnight. Then they’d get up early the next day to milk the cows before heading off to school again. These children were known as railway kids. They lived their lives around the railway, with the wilderness as their playground."
Now I am sure that there would have been days here deep in the forest by the King River which were idyllic, and I'm equally sure that Lillian's scones with jam and cream would have rated as one of life's delights, but what a life these folk lived. I'll warrant that these 'railway kids' were the toughest in school!
Well, back to the reality of 2018. Our hardy little engine, with its cabin a seemingly cluttered jumble of wheels, pipes and gauges,
was attached to our carriages, was facing the right direction and was letting us all know it was time to go with a few polite but insistent toots of the whistle.
Ah, yes, this time our seats will be on the river view side of the carriage. How do I stop the shutter finger?
One of these men, Cecil Kerrison, supplemented his income by starting a dairy farm, deep in the rainforest. Cecil lived in a cottage by the King River at Dubbil Barril with his wife Lillian, their 10 children, and 11 cows [hopefully the cows had their own shed].
Mrs Kerrison must have spent more than her fair share of time in her tiny kitchen, cooking for her large family, and the other fettlers who worked on the railway. Legend has it that Lillian was known for her freshly baked scones with jam and fresh cream.
Cecil and Lillian’s tribe [understatement...no TV in those days....editor's comment!] of children grew up in the rainforest, which they’d search each morning to round up the cows for milking before school. They, and other local children would travel to Strahan each day for their lessons, leaving on an early train, and boarding the 4.30 pm train to return home in the afternoon.
But sometimes, the train home wouldn't leave Strahan until 7.00 pm, and the children would huddle together in the guard’s wagon, gradually falling asleep to the rocking of the train. The guard would wake them as they drew close to their house and the children would be sent off into the darkness, to walk home alone.
Some children, like the Kerrisons, who lived further along the line, wouldn’t get home until midnight. Then they’d get up early the next day to milk the cows before heading off to school again. These children were known as railway kids. They lived their lives around the railway, with the wilderness as their playground."
Now I am sure that there would have been days here deep in the forest by the King River which were idyllic, and I'm equally sure that Lillian's scones with jam and cream would have rated as one of life's delights, but what a life these folk lived. I'll warrant that these 'railway kids' were the toughest in school!
Well, back to the reality of 2018. Our hardy little engine, with its cabin a seemingly cluttered jumble of wheels, pipes and gauges,
was attached to our carriages, was facing the right direction and was letting us all know it was time to go with a few polite but insistent toots of the whistle.
Ah, yes, this time our seats will be on the river view side of the carriage. How do I stop the shutter finger?
With more and ever changing views of the magnificent King River (now that it is far less polluted than before)
in our window frame, this was a challenge,
and as I focused in on this rapids choke point in the impossibly narrow gorge, I could not help but reflect on those who had used this river as their highway to Queenstown and the hope of golden riches. And just think, this was the river at the height of a dry summer....!!!
Off we went, the cogs of the Abt pinion clawing into the teeth of the rack as we clanked and crawled our way back to our second stop at Rinadeena. As we passed rocky outcrops like this, I was now seeing them in a different light as I thought about those who had hacked away at the myriad of lumps of steel hard stone such as this to lay the track.
Here at Rinadeena the boiler need a recharge,
whilst your truly headed off to one end of the cafe for an intake of liquid of a completely different kind. This was the treat I had been promised previously.....a tasting tipple! What a good idea this was. Our carriage hostess swapped roles and quickly set out three of Hellyers Road's finest, two single malts and a chocolate liqueur.
For a mere $10, which by Tassie standards was quite reasonable, I settled back and had a delightful few moments whilst my fellow passengers milled about with far less purpose. Coffee and cake? Not likely!
All too soon the whistle blew yet again and we sauntered back on board. The pinion lugs engaged the the teeth of the rack and our stout little engine eased us back down the impossible slope with a jerking and clanking which by now had become quite familiar. In fact it almost felt odd when the Abt system was disengaged and we were again tootling along like any other train.
By now the novelty had worn off somewhat, and our very slow pace became a bit of a drudge as we left the spectacular scenery of the high ridges and again hit the flats where the revolting orange sludge of the Queen River again reminded us of the follies of the past.
We had one more stop to make. Lynchford grew as a small settlement to support the gold miners who first came to this area so many years ago. There is little now left here other than the station, and a very slick tourist enterprise.
These long white buildings are home to a quite extensive display of mineral rocks and other associated bit and pieces,
but it is what goes on out the back which is the real drawcard for most who visit (and a fine money spinner). Almost all on board our train flocked through the main building, bought their little bag of dirt, and headed straight out here.
Under the roof of this extended walkway, troughs and pans are arranged to allow punters to pan for gold. It's a bit like a lucky dip for grown ups really. Obviously some of the bought bags (I've forgotten how much they cost....I was clearly not interested) do contain a smidgen of gold specks, but at the risk of punning I have to say that from what we saw and heard today, they are precious few and far between!
As I briefly stopped here to snap those with a glint of gold fever in their eyes, I thought back to the chap we had seen in the Ovens River at Bright some time ago.
He was fully decked out in waders, boots and warm clothing, and with a small shovel and an old pan he was going for his life scooping up the river bed gravel and swirling the stream water through the contents of his washing pan with extraordinary dexterity. Now that's gold panning as it should be.....even if the day is a washout (that's two in two paras!), to be out and about in the most beautiful surroundings and fresh mountain air left what I was seeing here this morning for dead.
I used my time to visit the displays inside the building (note the gold gravel bag on the left of this shot)
and will quite happily concede that 'rock hoppers' would have a very good time here. The exhibits are extensive and well laid out,
albeit difficult to photograph in the room lighting.
I will freely admit that rocks are not really my thing. I was much more concerned to get a few good shots of our train, and here managed to include the old wooden water tower,
one which had obviously seen better days.
This stop, and the clear ground either side of the line, also gave me the opportunity to crawl almost under the engine and photograph the two pinion wheels which had served us so well
and to try and learn a bit more about our gallant little engine from the very well done display nearby (don't panic....no more detail!)
And, whilst the punters panned and prayed for luck, I had a few moments left to again share some time with nature (these flowers were actually much prettier than they look here)
and take one last shot of our 'iron horse' as it stood patiently easing off excess steam awaiting its final short run into Queenstown.
From Lynchford our little engine got along at a goodly gallop, and in no time at all we were back in the 'burbs' with the now familiar sight of Mount Owen in the distance.
This really had been a most marvellous morning, one in which we had learnt much about the seemingly mad vision which drove the construction of the line, the coincidence of time and invention which made it possible, and the incredible toil in almost impossible conditions which brought it to fruition.
And the scenery..........!
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