#dolgoch

Some more photos from Dolgoch Falls/ Station on the Talyllyn Railway.

Commission for @traintrainingmontage of their OC, Glennock the Tank Engine.

More info and timelapse below the cut:

I know, I know, bold claim, and there's a reason I've put an asterisk on it. But I do want to talk about this; most of Skarloey's history is lifted from the Talyllyn Railway's No. 1, but (at least as far as I can tell) his most famous deed actually isn't. And before anyone mentions it, I'm not talking about the gauge converter wagon.

The Thin Controller looked at his watch, and paced the platform. James and his train waited impatiently too. They heard a hoarse "Peep Peep", then groaning, clanging, and clanking, Skarloey crept into sight. He was tilted to one side, and making fearful noises, but he plodded bravely on.

Skarloey's most famous story, I think, is Old Faithful. Set in 1952, the year Awdry first volunteered on the Talyllyn, and written shortly after; like most of the Skarloey Railway stories, it’s based on a real TR incident. The thing is, though, that TR No. 1 was not steamed in 1952, nor was she put aside "in case of emergency", despite what some will say - following her withdrawal from traffic in 1946, she only ran once (shortly after said withdrawal), carrying a gang to rerail No. 2, and by the 50s was firmly "out of use" owing to failed stay bolts in her firebox - she wouldn't run at all until sent away for overhaul in 1957, which was still a ways off when Awdry wrote Four Little Engines.

No, the engine who pulled through with a broken spring, despite being in no real state to, was in fact the Old Lady herself:

She actually broke a front spring twice in the early years of preservation. The first time was at Pendre while coming down, and the crew shunted her aside and let the coaches run down to Wharf without her (which, as there was no run-round loop at the time, was already the practice). The second time, however, Tom Rolt records:

A very cursory examination was sufficient to reveal that in truth "the old lady" was very far from well. The spring which David and I had fitted with so much trouble the year before was present and correct and so was the main leaf of its fellow; but that was all; the rest of the off-side spring had broken clean in half. One half had disappeared but the other half remained and was acting as what would be described in motoring circles as a "reversed quarter-elliptic" Now, in what was to be my last month in the service of the Talyllyn Railway, this ancient locomotive confronted me with the most difficult decision of the many I had been called upon to make. And it had to be made quickly, for already passengers were waiting at the Wharf. What some would call discretion and others timidity urged the immediate cancellation of the train, for it was against all the bounds of probability that the broken spring would survive fourteen miles of punishment on our rough road.

If it disintegrated the entire train might have to be abandoned somewhere up the line until No. 4 was in service again. If this happened the service might have to be suspended for at least a week which would deal a heavy blow to our reputation and mean a serious loss of revenue. Had it been any other day of the week but a Friday I believe these sober counsels would have prevailed, but this was what we had learnt to call "locals day" and the down morning train had picked up its quota of "regulars" from Bryn-glas, Rhydyronen, Cynfal and Fach Goch who were now waiting for us to take them back laden with their week's shopping. It was this fact that turned the scale, this and the consideration that if the desperate gamble did come off there was no service to run on Saturday morning so that we might be able to get DOLGOCH into commission again in time to run that afternoon. If we only succeeded in getting as far as Brynglas, I argued, we would at least have got the locals home, while if the spring did collapse it might be possible to get the train back by jacking up and inserting a wooden block in place of the spring.

So the message "start booking" went through to the Wharf office while John was told to forget about the running schedule and drive as slowly and carefully as possible…

…That the train succeeded in getting to Abergynolwyn with the abbreviated spring still in place will always strike me as miraculous. Now at any rate if the worst did happen the engine would be at the homeward end of the train and the gradient would favour her. Departure time came and the same procedure began in the reverse direction. This time I did not go up the long and narrow lane to Brynglas but stopped on the main road until steam and sound told me she had started away from that station. I then drove on with the intention of going straight back to Towyn, but when I reached the turning to Rhydyronen a sudden impulse to satisfy myself yet again that all was well made me turn aside once more. I waited on the little station under the pine trees with a feeling of growing concern. There was neither sight nor sound of the train. I began to run along the line towards Brynglas, up the steep gradient, over the stream and down the other side. Then I heard the short blast of a whistle followed by the sound of the train starting away very laboriously. I stopped in the "two foot" and presently DOLGOCH crept very slowly into sight round the curye. There was no need to ask what had happened; I could tell that from the drunken angle of her cab, and as she came past I jumped on to the running plate and held on to the brass rail along her boiler. The old engine was labouring along very painfully, emitting sounds most hideous to the mechanical ear as the rim of the leading driving wheel on the offside ground against the frame, and the coupling rod occasionally hit the slide bar bracket a resounding blow. But we were so nearly home that if she could surmount the short length of rising grade up to Rhydyronen bridge I decided we would try to keep her going. From the moment that the spring had finally disintegrated it became impossible any longer to conceal from the passengers that something was seriously amiss, and each compartment window now framed an agitated or inquisitive head, while worried voices inquired whether they were going to miss their trains back to Barmouth or Aberystwyth. To these we replied with an assurance we were far from feeling. But "the old lady" struggled gamely on over the summit of the grade so I jumped off when we reached my car and drove back to Pendre where an anxious little group soon gathered on the station platform, waiting for what seemed an eternity. But it must have been a far more anxious time for John, nursing his crippled engine slowly over this last long lap with the knowledge that at any moment such unnatural stresses and strains might cause some far more dire calamity. Old Peter was the first to see her, knowing from long experience the precise spot between trees and high hedges where the first glimpse was possible.

"There she is," he called excitedly, gazing up the valley with narrowed eyes. "She's coming up to Hen-dy bridge now." He chuckled. "She'll be alright. Lord bless you, yes; he's a good lad. is John ... aye, aye." Ten minutes later DOLGOCH staggered into Pendre and brought her train to a stand at the platform barely half an hour behind time. The last gamble had come off, but it had been a very close call.

(This is transcribed from my own 1953 copy of Railway Adventure, so any typos are mine rather than Rolt’s)

Sir Handel’s derailment in the story is of course a separate incident - Sir Haydn wasn’t actually in steam for any of 1952, as she tracked so badly on TR metals that she only managed running trials in ‘51 and had to wait for improvements to the permanent way (her ‘steamroller wheels’, at least on her trailing axle, incidentally didn’t actually help). Seeing as Sir Handel comes off on a set of points “near the big station” on a busy day, I suspect the influence was this incident, if any:

Then there came a sudden knock on the door and Mr Parry appeared looking rather hot and breathless. Someone had just telephoned him from the public call box at Abergynolwyn with the message that No. 3 had twice become derailed on the loop points at the terminus and that they were still trying to get her back on the road. What to do now? My first thought was that DOLGOCH must be put into steam at once, so I jumped into my car and drove up to Pendre. My arrival there coincided with that of John Snell who, with the same thought in mind, had managed to get a lift back. Leaving John to light up the engine, I ran back to my car and tore up the winding valley road to Abergynolwyn.

Wilbert Rides Again