|
Lower Willow Tree to Woody Beach |
||
| A Journey to the Beach. There is a train already in Lower Willow Tree station as we arrive. A few other passengers are boarding, milk and parcels are being loaded into the guards compartment. There is a few minutes before its time to leave, so we choose our seats in the last coach then jump down to go and see the engine. At the front of the three coaches is a smart tank engine, its deep red paint and polished brasswork shining in the morning sun. As we approach there is the smell of hot oil and faint hiss of steam escaping from somewhere. As we get closer, a man appears around the front of the engine, oilcan in hand. His overalls, although well worn, are clean for an engine driver, and he carries an oily rag which he wipes along the side of the locomotive's connecting rod as he passes. He smiles at us. "Morning" he growls, in a low but comfortable voice, "You all coming to Woody Beach?". "Yes, we've got a picnic." "Grand day for it" the man replies, "Do you like my engine?".  The drivers name is Ted, he helps us onto his footplate and explains some of
the controls and about the loco. Its a Doncaster engine we are told, 0-6-0
with a working boiler pressure of 40psi. "The Chief", as the loco is named,
will be taking the train to Woody
Beach this morning, but will carry on further afield afterwards. The heat in
the cab is tremendous and we could stay forever, but Ted tells us its nearly
time to leave and he has to shovel some coal, so we must return to our
seats.We walk back along the platform, past the baggage compartment which is now being looked after by a friendly Collie dog and climb back into our coach. Shouts on the platform, doors are banged shut and a whistle blows. There is a responding toot from the engine and the noise of steam gets louder. Then, the train starts to move and a very refined at first 'chuff....chuff....chuff...' begins up ahead, gradually getting more intense as we gather speed. We pull out of the station past a row of waiting wagons and can hear another engine somewhere, but cannot see it. Quickly forgotten, the quite empty carriage allows us to move from one side to the other for the best view of the moment. First on our right, there is the wide open expanse of the Plains, then to our left the ground falls away into swiftly flowing waterway. The line climbs here and we can hear 'The Chief' working hard to keep the pace. The steam drifts down over the windows for a minute, then clears and we can see the river widening out into a lake, with fish clearly visible, even from the moving train. The line curves around the lakeside, then turns away as if to head across the plain but has now climbed sufficiently to be running along higher ground, skirting the edge of the plain. Turning more tightly, we can see out of the right hand windows we are approaching a bridge which crosses a valley ahead. 'The Chief' rolls on, more quietly now since the grade has eased and the trick-trock of the wheels seems louder as the coaches follow onto the bridge.   Leaving
the bridge, our view is becoming restricted as the sides of the cutting we
are in rise. A sharp blast on the whistle announces our progress as we dive
into the cool gloom of a short tunnel - our eyes have no time to adjust
before we burst out of the other end and the note from the exhaust changes
again as begin to climb once more."Tickets Please" says a voice. The Conductor punches our tickets one by one then opens the door at the rear of the carriage. "Why not look out from here?". There is a verandah outside the door, just room for all of us to stand and watch the two rails trailing away behind us. From here we can see Woody Beach stretching out on our right, but we still have some way to go round to the station. Our train carries on steadily, the rhythm of the engine and train playing songs in our minds.... Eventually, we rumble over the points at the entrance to Woody Beach station, and draw alongside another train which is waiting quietly in the other loop. As we come to a halt, we just have time to see the guard run back with the single line token for the driver of 'Sir Frederick' and the train leaves with several goods wagons in tow. We gather our belongings and picnic onto the platform, then watch as with a whistle and a wave from Ted, "The Chief" pulls the train out of the station and rejoins the main line. It's all quiet again. Is that a barbeque we can smell? Lets head for the beach! |