Pint-sized railway

I recall a newspaper photo of long ago. A boy of about my age at the time and his father were standing beside a small steam locomotive. Photo was captioned, ``I won’t have to wait so long to drive this one.’’

Photo was taken at the Romney, Hythe and Dymchurch Railway (RH&DR) in Kent on England’s south east coast. Having seen it, I was determined to find out more about it and visit the railway myself. This I did, albeit many years later in October, 1995.

The railway is 15-inch (381 mm) gauge. It is billed as the ``world’s smallest public railway.’’ It is a public railway owing to having a contract to take students to school.

Locomotives are about one-third size of prototypes. They carry improbable names; Samson, Hercules, Hurricane and Typhoon. Most were built during the late 1920s.

John Snell had been managing director for about 27 years.  He was born in Fiji in 1932 and grew up in New Zealand. He went to school in New Zealand. He acquired his railway interest in my country.

He called on me when I was working on the Press in Christchurch. He struck me as the archetypal English gentleman.

 I told him I wanted to interview him for a story; ``but not here. I will visit you in England.’’

That happened about one year later;

 Meeting John Snell in New Romney was a delight. Like a Gulliver amongst the small locomotives, he was wearing a permanent smile. He strode through his railway kingdom knowing he could offer the train ride of a lifetime. I was invited to join him in his bar car on the rear of a train. Loco No.1, Green Goddess, was ready to take us on the 20 km tour of RH&DR. 

John Snell and Green Goddess

The RH&DR is a splendid reminder of the more eccentric side of the British character. Our 14-total train was loaded with 240 passengers.  Our carriage was compact but big enough to sit inside. Drinks from the central bar were passed from one passenger to another.

Although small, this was no toy. RH&DR recreates all the joy and atmosphere of a full-sized steam-powered railway. The Latin motto on the side of carriages ``Multum in Parvo'' translates ``Much in little.''

``Like me, John told me, ``this railway had its origins in the Antipodes. It was built in the 1920s by a very rich man, Captain J.E.P. Howey. During the 19^th century an ancestor of Howey curiously purchased some waste land beside the Yarra River in Australia.

``Later, the same land became the centre of Melbourne and worth a lot of money. Melbourne still has a `Howey Place.

``So the story goes, Captain Howey was a speed fanatic. During the early 1920s he drove a racing car, a 7-litre Leyland Eight. He gave up racing when his elderly mother disapproved. All his energies then went into building this railway.''

Howey converted a Rolls Royce Silver Ghost to run on the RH&DR where he attained speeds up to 60mph (about 100km/hr). On one occasion he recklessly set a station on fire when it was no longer needed.

``Eccentric'' is rather a strong word to describe Captain Howey, said John Snell. ``He was certainly not quite like most people.

``Howey owned several million pounds. Each of the RH&DR steam locomotives cost him about the same as a Rolls Royce motor car.

``He was one of the old school of Englishman. A rather special kind. You had to get onto his wavelength to realise he was quite a reasonable bloke.

``Owning quite a slice of Melbourne meant he got used to being in the Antipodes. That made quite a difference to him, as it did to me.''

We arrived at Dungeness, close to the Strait of Dover. A cheerless place overlooked by a nuclear power station. Houses sat on the shingle beach. Many started off as old railway carriages from the former Southern Railway. Inhabitants were mostly fishermen.

John Snell says Dungeness means basically ``old nest''. He laughed and told me to work the ``Dung'' part out for myself.

From Dungeness the railway followed a balloon loop and returned to New Romney. John Snell talked about being able to build carriages large enough to sit in.

``You can build, as you do in New Zealand, much wider than the track gauge. On the RH&DR we go up to three times the gauge.''

John Snell spent about four years with British Rail until he realised what Dr Beeching was really up to. Then he was offered the RH&DR job over lunch in a London hotel. ``That's always the best way to be offered a job.

``The RH&DR had just changed hands for a second time, having almost faced closure. Captain Howey died in 1963. With no-one in the family with any interest, the railway passed to two businessmen who thought they could make money.

``It was rescued by a group led by Sir William McAlpine who also owned Flying Scotsman. By that stage the railway was somewhat run down. We have built it up considerably over the years.''

Beyond New Romney the railway is double track. Here we enjoyed the thrill of two trains passing with a combined speed of more than 70km/hr. At Dymchurch we walked across the tracks to join a train returning to New Romney. It was hauled by Typhoon.

Typhoon at New Romney

``We are financially successful but we would like to do better,'' John Snell said.

``Working for the RH&DR, you can achieve something. It's not like struggling away in the morass of what used to be British Rail. Nothing you did there would ever make a difference.

``Life is reassuring on the RH&DR. The pompous little engines are a reminder that, in an ever changing world, a sense of humour is an essential part of the survival kit,'' he said.

I kept in touch with John Snell from time to time. He died in 2014, aged 82.

Having enjoyed John Snell’s railway another highlight awaited –the National Railway Museum at York.

Record Breakers. Rocker and Mallard National Railway Museum 

                              Replica 4-wheel passenger carriage. National Railway Museum

Railway Reminiscing- 1

Elsewhere I penned how photography became the preferred expression of my railway fascination. I have been thinking about that while contributing to FB pages, NZ Rail photography and NZ Rail Geography. For some years my railway interest was on the back burner while I took on a craze for mega bicycle travel in several countries. Photography, however, remained a common activity across all interests.

Apart from owning a succession of wonderful cameras, a prized early possession was the booklet of New Zealand Railway timetables. It was purchased from a railway station for the princely sum of One shilling.

Prior to having access to a motor car, I had to get to railway locations. I could bike to Christchurch railway station. An option was to take the 10 am Greymouth railcar as far as Springfield, arriving at 11.16 am. I could get a shot of the railcar departing, hopefully with a Torlesse mountains backdrop. Soon after a west-bound goods followed. It was typically Kb-hauled.

Then it was a matter of amusing myself to be ready to catch the afternoon Christchurch-bound railcar at 2.20 pm. That was during the early 1960s. I recall wandering along the line as far as the Kowai viaduct. The new viaduct was completed. Beside it was the remains of the original bridge which lost its central span in a flood on April 22, 1951.

I would be home by 5 pm in time for the evening meal.

Another, weekend option, was taking the Greymouth railcar to Arthurs Pass where I stayed in the YHA. I would spend the rest of the day close to the railway to catch activity involving the Kb. class steam locos and Eo. class electrics.

 Not much happened on Sunday so I went walking in the mountains. About 8 pm on Sunday evening I got the railcar to Christchurch, arriving about 11pm. I rarely relished riding my bike home so late at night, especially if I had dozed on the railcar.

Arthurs Pass is responsible for my railway passion. My father belonged to the Canterbury Mountaineering Club. So most holidays prior to him getting his first motor car were at Arthurs Pass. We got there aboard the West Coast express departing at 9.50 am. Our never complaining mother carried everything essential for the family of four in improvised carriers. One container had been an unlikely oval hat box. Our father had a back pack, a souvenir from WW2. We always had a cottage to stay in. It would have been built for those working on building the Otira rail tunnel. One cottage was ``Gaya.’’ Formally the tunnel engineer’s dwelling, it was occupied by a colourful Scotsman, Charles Warden.

 If we needed assistance getting to our accommodation from the railway station, there was local taxi driver, Jack Suiter. He had two veteran Rolls Royce taxis. He drove at break-neck speeds on the shingle roads.

Hence, my passion for railways and the Alpine environment never looked backwards. Later, I enjoyed travel in countries that thrived on railways and Alpine environments. An obvious choice was Switzerland.  I dubbed Switzerland as an ``Arthurs Pass on steroids.’’

Back to my early teenage years. I found companions with the railway photography bug. Some had transport. We would drive to Kowai Bush just beyond Springfield and walk about 5 km. to the 37 metre-high Pattersons Creek viaduct. One tunnel on the line could be walked around.

At the viaduct, we waited for the Greymouth-bound railcar to cross. We knew it would then be safe to walk across the viaduct and await the following west-bound goods train. A small hill on the far side offered an interrupted view of the viaduct. Often the locomotive crew would spot us and made themselves visible in our photographs. 

We might later get an east bound goods, and then walk back to Kowai Bush. One time an expected Kb was replaced by a pair of diesels, Dgs. We debated if we were disappointed or not. We concluded we were fortunate in photographing locos belonging to the future. Yarning was part of the rewards. We were young people with a curiosity for a wealth of subjects. In time girls would be part of the discussion even if they were to lead to personal derailments, figuratively and literally.   

                               Welsh Peace Flame walker

I have one achievement I feel a humble pride for. Just one. It was founding the New Zealand Peace Bell Association in 2004, a prerequisite to having a World Peace Bell gifted to my country. I believe I have penned the details elsewhere in blogging. Suffice to say, the New Zealand World Peace Bell was unveiled in Christchurch Botanic Gardens on October 3, 2006.

As a new venture, our organisation staged an Open Day last December during the run-up to Christmas. It was an opportunity for people to ring the bell. (When most visit the World Peace Bell they cannot erring it owing to the striker being installed only for events.) The Open Day welcomed people to ring the bell.

One visitor impressed me especially. Julie Marsden, from Wales, was in New Zealand with her husband Jez, visiting their son living in Rangiora. Knowing his mother loved the Christchurch Botanic Gardens, Julie went there during her first hours in Christchurch. ``what great synchronicity,’’ she later wrote.  While enjoying the sunshine and the rose garden, she heard the pleasant sounds of a bell tolling. She went to investigate and so we pleasantly met.

Julie Marsden an NZ World Peace Bell

She rang our bell and we got chatting. I told her how the World Peace Bell came about and how part of the deal for its gifting by the World Peace Bell Association in Tokyo was my cycling the length of Japan. The bike ride was a journey to look forward to, co-inciding with my sixtieth birthday. I had dreaded reaching age 60. Having some project to look forward to, I reasoned, might lessen the trauma. It certainly did.

Turned out Julie Marsden had a similar experience. Two years previously, Julie was 60.

``I decided to walk home from the World Peace flame monument in North Wales. This was 320 km through Wales, over mountains. I am not a mountain walker but I do love walking,’’ she told me.

It was an amazing experience. Some days were tricky just as some days in our day to day lives can be tricky, she said.

``Some were outright scary I have to say. I thought I was going to die on one particular day. I was given bed and food on my way by total strangers who have become friends.  I took a Peace Flame back to my community in Brynberian North Pembrokeshire on the west coast of Wales and we are creating our own community peace flame monument.

``Then I was, as a result of this, invited to take a Peace Flame to Lake Como in Italy. Which I did and since then there is a Peace Flame monument at the Rockefeller institute in Bellagio.

``Then I was invited to Ireland to the rock of Cashel to take part in an Arts Festival that was about removing walls (metaphorically). I set off walking from my home, across on the ferry to Ireland and across to Cashel in the south of Ireland.

``I didn't know but many schoolchildren joined in my last day’s procession into town with the Peace Flame. It was incredible.

``Part of my idea of walking was to raise funds to get some education packs aimed at schoolchildren translated into Welsh.  This had finally happened and I have a box of them at home ready to take into local schools. The world peace flame project is called

www.peace-education-in-action.org

``I have copies of a teacher's handbook and the children's workbook with me in English. All this material can be downloaded for free from the internet for teachers to use in classrooms. It is a worldwide project and some schools set up connections like pen pals through this.’’

 We met again in the Botanic Gardens and Julie gave me a workbook to pass onto a local teacher. We also shared a Peace Flame candle. Hubby Jez took our picture.

                                                              Julie and the blog writer

Looking back on two years of walking for peace and connecting with communities she concludes;

``There is so much kindness and love in the World. We are fed fear and anxiety by the media, but Love can overcome all sorts of obstacles as true kindness and love is very powerful. I am trying to inspire people not to be afraid and by stepping out we can bring more peace into the world through connection with each other. There will always be difficulties but by focusing on the positive and good and, encouraging others, we can bring light into darkness.’’

Graciously, Julie told me visiting the World Peace Bell was the highlight of her trip to New Zealand. She will be talking a lot about the World Peace Bell organisation.

Check out Julie’s Peace Walk FB page; Julie's Community Peace Flame walk a walk guided by the light of the heart.

Also the FB page; New Zealand World Peace Bell.

Our chance encounter has me thinking; How can varying peace organisations cooperate for a common good?

                                                        New Zealand World Peace Bell. A spring view 

Iceland best country for women

For the 11^th year in a row, Iceland has been declared at the best country for women. No surprise then a woman, Katrin Jacobsdottir, is Prime Minister. Looking remarkably like New Zealand PM, Jacinda Ardern, she was elected in 2017 and since re-elected. Jacobsdottir has adopted New Zealand’s `Wellbeing' budget announced in 2019.

Icelandair

Almost 40 per cent of parliamentarians in 2020 are women. In 1973 it was just three per cent.

In 2018 Iceland was the first country to pass laws requiring equal pay to close the gender gap. During my visit (in September 2018) it was explained to me the law also applies to people with disabilities and other misfortunes.

Childcare is subsidised. Men, along with women, get paid maternity leave. Almost 90 percent of Iceland women are in the workforce.

It was not always like this. Well not until women banded together to force change. Withdrawing their labour, schools closed. Businesses closed. The Alliance political party was formed. And Iceland got the best results for women. Those who turn up their noses at social democracy need to look hard at Iceland. Being fair to all people results in a happy country were people perform better than in most countries where only the richest citizens reap rewards, typically at the expense of everyone else.

 Iceland’s land area is similar to New Zealand’s North Island. Its population is less than that of Christchurch, New Zealand.  I found Icelanders courteous, competent and excellent English speakers.

Day out in Iceland

 I only wish I could make a return visit. It is on the opposite side of the world to New Zealand. When I was there the time difference was 12 hours. All purchases were made by credit card. Just as well. The cash needed to buy a pint, even during happy hour, would have been hefty on my pocket.

Good but expensive

I was attracted to Iceland owing to its remote mid-Atlantic location. I knew I would enjoy Iceland’s natural landscape features even though they are similar to home. Luckily the weather was kind enabling an enviable selection to be experienced at their best.

                                                                       Strokkur Guysir

Knowing Iceland was taking on gender equality in a big way was a bonus. 

Mountain Matter for young people

I am delighted to learn of something new, especially is it is about something I had never heard before. For example, earlier this year I found out that June 3 was UN International bicycle day. And a few days later, June 17, is Iceland’s National Day celebrating Iceland’s independence from Danish rule on that day in 1944.  More recently I discovered December 11 is International Mountain Day. Adventurer and author, Greg Mortenson, shared the item on Facebook. The 2019 theme was ``Mountains matter for young people.’’

                                                                  Aoraki/ Mount Cook, New Zealand

Young people are active agents of change and will become our future leaders. They are custodians of mountains and their natural resources, which are threatened by climate change. Let young generations to take the lead, so that mountains and mountain peoples become central in development agendas, consequently receiving more attention, investments and research. We need to educate children about the role that mountains play in supporting billions up and downstream – by providing freshwater, energy, food and recreation. Life for rural youth living in the mountains can be hard. Many young people leave upland rural districts in search of a supposedly better life and employment (which) leads to abandoned agriculture, land degradation and a loss of cultural values and ancient traditions.

My early memories of travel were to Arthur’s Pass, a village surrounded by mountains in New Zealand’s South Island. I was aged five and awed. Arthur’s Pass was reached following a spectacular three-hour rail journey crossing gaping river gorges and passing high country lakes lapping the base of mountains. My father took charge of these early adventures. He belonged to a mountaineering club so we all followed including our long suffering –albeit non-complaining, mother forever struggling to carry the family holiday needs in improvised luggage carriers. One was a less than suitable retired hat box.

Arthur's Pass Devil's Punchbowl waterfall and rata

 Railways and mountains became my life’s big interest. I had to have mementos of my big interests – hence my life-long passion for photography. No wonder my great desire was to visit Switzerland. It was not until well into my 50s that I made it. Last year I made a fourth Swiss visit. I had become interested in mountaineering and mountain ``tramping,’’ as we call hiking in New Zealand. My acclaimed summits were not greatly spectacular but were immensely satisfying. Later, mega bicycle travel included mountain regions such as the French and Swiss Alps. I have cycle travelled through the Japanese Alps and those in Norway. Alpine regions have become magnets for my preferred travel destinations.

                                 Gornergrat Bahn and the Matterhorn, Switzerland

Having parents prepared to encourage an interest in mountains and the great outdoors is something I have been thankful for. I tried to interest my own children in outdoor adventures and have been delighted to be partly successful. My adult daughter has travelled to Patagonia and, in Tanzania, summited the 5875 m. Mount Kilimanjaro. No wonder I was fascinated to discover an International Mountain Day with a theme, ``mountains matter for young people.’’ Thanks to Greg Mortenson for sharing the information. I enjoyed his book, Three Cups of Tea. The web link below is worth a look.

#MountainsMatter

                                   Flying high. Jungfrau backdrop, Switzerland

Top of Form

Bottom of Form

       Daunting, beauty and tragedy on rumbling, steaming, island  

T
tRTragedy struck in New Zealand at 2.11 pm on December 9, 2019 when an offshore volcanic island, Whakaari (White Island) erupted when 47 people were visiting.  Two weeks later, the death toll was 19. Some were tourists from the cruise ship Ovation of the Seas berthed in Tauranga. The few who survived were rescued by helicopter pilots who arrived on the island soon after the eruption. They operated a tourist venture to Whakaari so knew the terrain intimately. That authorities prevented them from returning to the island will remain controversial. Also controversial is why people were able to visit a volcanic island in the first place. Uncertainty surrounds any resumption of island visits. I certainly put a hand up for resumption of tourist ventures having visited the island in February 2011. Being away from home, I missed a massive earthquake that robbed 185 lives in Christchurch on February 22. Missing an earthquake followed by standing on a live volcano may have been pushing luck too far? I had concluded a bicycle of East Cape in Whakatane. My relocated Scottish host, Hazel Agnew, was keen to visit White Island. Would I join her? I certainly would. Whakaari is a ``submarine volcano’’ having more than half its 750 m-height under the sea. It was named White Island by Lieutenant James Cook, who on October 31, 1769, spotted it nestling beneath a perpetual white cloud. He did not realise it was a volcano.  That discovery awaited the arrival of the Reverend Henry Williams in December 1826. A one-time naval officer, Williams landed on an island of sulphur. 

It It looks sufficiently desolate to be dubbed a moonscape. But this ``moonscape’’ punches jets of steam into an indigo sky. Rocks are stained yellowish-green. Grey mud bubbles. The ground rumbles.

 Whakaari is 16 km long and 8 km wide, but the visible landscape is a mere 2.4 km long by 2 km in breath.

 I I felt a rising anticipation as the island loomed larger during the 49 km launch trip from Whakatane. With a slender thread of white steam rising from its highest point, Whakaari was certainly enticing. We had been thoroughly briefed on the risk of landing. As with an earthquake, no-one can be sure of an impending volcanic eruption.

Heading to Whakaari

 Whakaari is a scenic reserve in private ownership. A variety of owners over the years have been involved in mining sulphur for fertiliser. In 1997 the ownership was vested in the Gwen Buckland Buttle No. 2 Trust. In the same year Peter and Jenny Tait became official guardians.

A A few years previously the couple had given up farming to develop Pee Jay Tours operating from Whakatane. On the day of my White Island visit, Peter Tait was skipper of PeeJay V, a modern 23-metre vessel built in New Zealand. Peter’s son, Isaac, was one of our guides. The voyage lasted more than an hour.

OOnly two small bays permit landing on the island and they are both exposed to a swell. Bouncing inflatable dinghies ferried us to an old concrete jetty. It’s a matter of grasping the handhold rail on a rising swell before the dinghy slumps into the next trough. Our guides shouted, ``Go, go, go.’’

On shore, standing on an active volcano, Isaac conducted further briefing. We must keep together to avoid the risk of literally stepping into hot water, or worse. We had to wear hard hats, and carry gas masks to use if the sulphur became overpowering.

Amazing rumbling environment

OOur surrounds were both spectacular and threatening. I was delighted we could get within an arm’s length of hot steaming vents such as Donald Duck Crater and Peelay Crater. (Craters have names for scientific identification)

EWe walked through the base of a former crater to a high point on the rim and peer into the steaming cauldron of Main Crater.

SSulphur mining on White Island started in 1885. Disasters temporarily closed operations. Soon after re-opening in 1914 12 lives were lost when part of the main crater rim collapsed sending a lahar to demolish the mining facilities.

reRescuers digging through steaming debris found no trace of men or buildings. Some wreckage was later washed up at Tauranga.  

As a workplace, White Island had a deservedly tarnished reputation.  For all that there was no shortage of applicants during the 1930s depression. Many sighting the steaming, desolate, landscape remained on the ssship.

Hazel Agnew

Whakaari is the northernmost volcano in Taupo Volcanic Zone, sitting on the line where the Pacific Plate and Indian-Australian Plate meet.   These days the island is of particular interest to those working for the Institute of Geological and Nuclear Sciences located at Wairakei. Staff visit the island every two months to record surface deformation, and their solar-powered seismograph continually measures earthquake and volcanic tremors.

DDaily guided tours also assisted in gathering valuable information. Our guide told us of the visible changes to the island after the previous big eruption in July 2000.  

``Wet ash made the surface slippery and restricted access. When it dried the surface was like deep powder snow. The main crater had been relocated into a new indent 150 metres across. Cleaning ash from gear, including the boat, was our constant chore.’’

DDespite the risks, White Island tours, offering the rare opportunity to walk on an active volcano, have been in great demand.  Prior to December 9, 2019, no-one had suffered serious injury during guided visits.

 We walked on the island for two hours, ending at the remnants of the Crater Bay sulphur factory. It exists as an involuntary laboratory to observe the corrosive ability of the island’s gases. A Fordson tractor has all but disintegrated, but its bald rubber tyres were intact. Sulphur mining ceased permanently in 1933. The resulting fertiliser was said to be ineffective anyway. It burned the soil. Throughout the stay on Whakaari I felt remarkably safe and well guided.

Steaming wonderland

   

   

  

    

     

 

 

 

     

       

 

     

  

    

     

 

 

 

     

Musical talent abounds for young and old

Last Sunday afternoon I was invited to Antonio’s house for a music party. I will point out Antonio is Japanese. When he arrived in Christchurch 27 years ago he didn’t think the locals could pronounce his Japanese name, Ryozo.  ``Antonio’’ is from his interest in Spanish Flamingo dancing. He thought ``Antonio’ ‘would be a familiar moniker for a Western country.

                              Antonio playing for his 70th birthday concert

When aged 57 he decided to learn the piano.  ``It’s never too late to start something new,’’ became his catch cry. Persistence was rewarded. He preferred music that pleased. Easy of difficult was not the issue. He became an accomplished pianist finally purchasing grand piano made by Japanese piano maker, Shigeru Kawai. It replaced his previous instrument with discoloured, even missing, keys. His music interest attracted many musical friends. They were soon joining Antonio’s concerts such as one I attended for Antonio’s 70^th birthday. Antonio, having previously been a chef, was the ideal host. Over time, I have got to meet Antonio’s musical friends. Last Sunday I met Fumiko Yamazaki, a professional vibraphone player. Another professional trombone player had performed with Christchurch Symphony Orchestra. 

Fumiko Yamazaki on the vibraphone

Keina, cello player 

What astounded me were the youngsters performing. Keina managed the cello. Other young musicians managed the piano, the trumpet, exceedingly well. I was awestruck by the raw talent. But it aroused a regret. I have done many things in my 76 years. One thing I never did was to learn a musical instrument. Had I have done so, what would I have arrived at for Antonio’s music party?  Maybe the bagpipes? That might have been interesting. Anyway, I have an ambition for another lifetime.