THE IRON HORSE IN AUSTRALASIA
I
Probably owing to its somewhat remote geographical situation in
relation to the busy centres of the northern hemisphere but a hazy
conception prevails of the great activity that has been, and still is
being, maintained in regard to railway conquests in the far southern
continent. Although large expanses of its territory still rank as
_terra incognita_, the iron horse is tearing the veil from the unknown
with amazing rapidity; it is fulfilling the dual role of exploring and
colonising force simultaneously. Several imposing feats of engineering
have been consummated in the task of wresting the interior stretches of
the country from oblivion.
As is well known, the island continent is divided into five States,
and each has worked out its own salvation by means of an independent
railway system, though the practice has been the same in each instance.
The early lines were laid through the fringe of settled territory along
the coast, and some time passed before the rails ventured inland. As
the agricultural, forest and mineralogical wealth of the country became
known, however, and attracted large flocks of settlers, the map was
rolled back by the railway in the various states. Up to the year 1870
railway expansion developed very leisurely. Then there came a sudden
awakening. Railway development went forward with a tremendous rush, and
this feverish expansion has been maintained steadily ever since.
The fact, however, that there was no general plan of campaign has in
a certain measure produced confusion. Each State had to consider its
individual purse and to calculate carefully how much it could afford
in the work of railway colonisation. The result is that there is a
sad lack of uniformity among the gauges. Indeed, Australia is worse
in this respect to-day than was the United States thirty years ago.
In the latter country three gauges struggled hard for supremacy, viz.
the narrow 3 feet 6 inches gauge, the standard gauge of 4 feet 8½
inches, and the wide gauge of 5 feet 6 inches. In Australia the gauges
vary from 2 feet 6 inches to 5 feet 3 inches. For instance, New South
Wales is threaded entirely by the standard gauge of the world--4 feet
8½ inches--for some 4000 miles. Its neighbour to the south, Victoria,
favours both the gauge of 5 feet 3 inches and that of 2 feet 6 inches;
its western neighbour, Western Australia, has the wide gauge and the
intermediate gauge of 3 feet 6 inches; Queensland adopted this gauge
also. With such a variegated system each State becomes isolated so
far as through railway communication is concerned; change of carriage
at the borders is inevitable. This disadvantage is experienced
emphatically when it comes to the transportation of merchandise.
The locomotive made its debut in Australia in 1885, in which year the
first length of railway from Sydney to Paramatta in the oldest colony
was opened. From that small beginning extension did not proceed very
rapidly, for while the population of New South Wales remained small
and scattered, the outlook from the financial point of view was not
promising. Consequently the network only extended over 473 miles 20
years later. Since 1875, however, the iron tentacles have grown with
tremendous speed, no less than 2,995 miles of track having been laid in
the course of 32 years.
In the early days, while money was scarce, the cost of construction had
to be kept down very severely. The coast of New South Wales is hemmed
in by a high mountain range, set from 20 to 70 miles back from the
water’s edge. This barrier forms the rim of a tableland some 200 miles
in width, extending from the extreme northern to the southern border
of the State, and runs roughly parallel with the shore. Consequently
it was obvious that whatever direction the railways might take to tap
inland territory, the mountains had to be crossed. The State railway
system is divided into three divisions, the main northern, southern and
western lines respectively, and the range accordingly is crossed at
three points.
The first subjugation of this rugged, frowning barrier was brought
about by the urgent necessity to connect Bathurst with the coast at
Sydney. Years before gold had been discovered on the highlands a
flourishing little community had sprung up and had founded a promising
town. But the inhabitants felt their isolation keenly, and they
petitioned the Government relentlessly for railway communication. At
that time the line had gained a point known as Penrith, about 22 miles
from Sydney, lying at the foot of the mountains, and heavy expensive
work confronted the engineers anxious to proceed farther inland.
Moreover, owing to the steepness with which the edge of the plateau rim
dropped into the valley, it was realised that the metals would have to
be lifted quickly to a great height. As the engineer was handicapped by
financial stringency he was compelled to resort to heroic measures.
He set to work and succeeded in reducing the costliness of the
earthwork by adopting grades of 1 in 33, introducing what is known as
a “zigzag.” The track, instead of climbing the bank continuously in
terraces, with curves connecting the successive tiers, makes a diagonal
cut up the cliff face to a dead-end. From this point another stretch of
line cuts similarly up the flank, to terminate in another dead-end, to
lead to another diagonal rise, and so on until the upper desired level
is gained. Meiggs introduced a similar system when he built the Oroya
railway to overcome the Andes, and in the days the “zigzag” was carried
out it was considered the only means of solving the situation with the
minimum of expense. The grades on the “zigzag” were as heavy as 1 in
30, but their introduction served to lift the track to the summit of
the tableland 3,500 feet above sea-level at a distance of 28 miles from
the capital.
Some twenty years ago this “Small Zigzag,” as it was called to
distinguish it from the similar and more imposing work of the same
class on the opposite side of the range, was cut out. A direct descent
was provided by driving a tunnel through the spur which the zigzag
followed, and the curves were eased. The re-alignment cost about
£50,000, or $250,000, but the interest on this capital expenditure is
less than the saving in the expense of working the trains over this
section.
Gaining the top of the spur, the railway continues a gentle ascent
until it notches an altitude of 3,658 feet, when the descent of the
western slope commences. The Lithgow valley is the objective, and the
precipice tumbles down suddenly for 600 feet. To carry the line down
the mountain-side appeared impossible, and when the engineer-in-chief,
the late Mr. John Whitton, surveyed the scene, to say that he was
perturbed fails to express his thoughts adequately. He could overcome
the descent fairly easily if he were permitted to carry out tunnelling
operations, whereby he would secure both easy grades and curves. But he
was overruled. Tunnelling was considered too expensive and could not be
countenanced; in fact, the whole conquest of the mountains provoked a
long-drawn-out and bitter controversy.
The general attitude towards railways, and the slight knowledge
concerning their construction and operation in those early days,
is afforded from the engineer-in-chief’s struggle with the
Governor-General for permission to follow his own inclinations, which,
as he pointed out, might entail heavy initial expenditure, but would
pay in the long run. When the scheme was unfolded and the engineer
admitted that the work, however accomplished, must prove costly, the
Governor-General pointed out that a highroad had been built over the
mountains for pedestrian and wagon traffic. Consequently he suggested
that this channel should be used, that the lines should be laid in the
middle of the road, and that the trains should be hauled by horses! The
engineer had considerable difficulty, and had to resort to prolonged
communications and lengthy explanations, to impress upon the official
mind that the locomotive was the best means of hauling trains. He
became so insistent, and persecuted his demands so relentlessly that
the Governor-General, probably sick at heart over the whole thing, gave
way at last to the engineer’s importunities, but stipulated that the
constructional cost should not exceed £20,000, or $100,000, per mile.
By imposing this financial drag the official possibly thought
that he had discomfited the engineer. But this was by no means
the case. Certainly it ruled tunnelling out of consideration as a
means of overcoming difficulty, but it only served to stimulate the
engineer-in-chief to something more startling. As he could not make his
way from the summit to the lower level by the direct route he decided
to saw his way down the precipice. The rocky wall rose up for about 470
feet so steeply as to defy a mountain goat to secure a foothold. The
surveyors had to be lowered from the top by means of ropes and chains
to carry out their tasks with the transit and level to plot the path
for the line. Here and there were wide, deep V-shaped rifts breaking
the profile of the precipice. Massive arches in masonry were thrown
across these obstructions, and a path was cut in the side of the cliff
to carry the track.
The line struck along the face for about a mile, descending steadily 1
in 42 feet. It then came to a dead-end. Another mile of track with the
same falling grade wound backward to terminate in a second dead-end,
and lower down came another mile of descent in the reverse direction
to gain the valley. It required 3 miles of line to carry the track
downwards 600 feet. When one stood at the top of the “Great Zigzag” one
saw the three tiers of track sawing the slope, to disappear finally in
the depths of the valley. The engine in the descent pulled the train
down the top side of the serrated road to the dead-end, pushed it
backwards along the second gallery to the second dead-end, and finally
hauled it to enter the depression.
The “Great Zigzag” for years stood as a striking monument to the
ingenuity responsible for the work, for it is even more daring than
Meiggs’ famous V-switches. As time passed and the railway traffic of
the State increased, the heaviness of the grades, the sharpness of the
curves and the time occupied in negotiating the zigzag, reacted more
and more adversely upon the economical operation of the line. Moreover,
it constituted a serious menace to safety, although fortunately it
never was the scene of an accident. Still, a proposal for its abolition
was advanced so far back as 1885, although it was realised that heavy
and costly reconstruction was the only alternative.
The proposed deviation was discussed more or less for several years,
but was deferred from motives of expense. But when the traffic had
gained the respectable proportions of some 2,585,000 tons in 1908, it
was recognised that the inevitable could be postponed no longer. It was
pointed out that if there were no zigzag the number of goods trains
using this part of the line could be cut down by over 30 per cent.,
since a single locomotive would be able to handle a heavier load and
longer train than was possible at that time, while so far as passenger
traffic was concerned, no less than 686 hours could be saved every
year, and operating expenses could be reduced 50 per cent, upon this
division.
[Illustration: BEFORE THE EXPLOSION
THE BLAST
THE CLIFF-FACE DISLODGED
THE CLIFF-FACE BROKEN UP
A HUGE BLAST
35,000 tons of rock were dislodged by 10,125 lb. of explosives.]
Accordingly the deviation was commenced. The surveys for the new
line had been prepared by Mr. Henry Deane, M.INST.C.E., while
engineer-in-chief for railway construction. He proposed a series
of tunnels built on a gradient of 1 in 90 running through a number
of spurs projecting from the main range, and although these were
intercepted by gulches the latter could be filled with the rock
excavated from the tunnel borings. The line in many places hugs steep
precipices where the land falls away vertically for a distance of
1000 feet or so into the Kinambla Valley.
[Illustration: THE PUTTAPA GAP BRIDGE, 200 FEET IN LENGTH]
[Illustration: THE HOOKINA CREEK BRIDGE
In the summer the watercourse is dry. Note the measures adopted to
protect the piers from the force of the flood waters.
TWO VIEWS ON THE SOUTH AUSTRALIAN GOVERNMENT RAILWAYS]
The task was commenced in July 1908 under the guidance of Mr. James
Fraser, M.INST.C.E., the engineer-in-chief for existing lines, to whom
I am indebted for this information, and in a short time 1000 men were
engaged in boring the tunnels and making the deep, heavy cuts through
the sandstone rock. All tunnels were attacked simultaneously, and
the blasting assumed heavy proportions. In one case a shaft was sunk
practically to formation-level. When completed it was charged with
about 10,000 pounds of blasting powder and 125 pounds of gelignite.
It was fired electrically, and the splitting force of the explosives
dislodged 35,000 tons of rock. In another case 1000 pounds of blasting
powder were tamped home in the face of a cliff, and 10,000 tons of rock
were shivered to be used for embanking purposes.
In order to rush the work through at tip-top speed, special
arrangements were made to facilitate the handling of the necessary
supplies and men, as well as the operation of the tools. As the new
line passed 350 feet below the old line, connection between the two at
this crossing was effected by means of a funicular railway with a grade
of 1 in 1.87. The material was brought by rail to the upper end of this
temporary line, and from a special siding was dispatched direct on to
the works. A small electric generating station was set up, and wires
for the transmission of current for power and lighting were strung
along the route from end to end to compress the air to drive the rock
drills, for the motors actuating the ventilating fans and also the
water-pumps.
The scheme as originally planned provided for the building of 6 miles
858 yards of new double track, which represented a saving of 22 yards
upon the line that was being displaced, though the curves and grades
were easier. It was estimated that the earthworks would involve the
handling of 466,000 cubic yards apart from the tunnel borings. Eleven
tunnels were planned, representing a total length of 2,991 yards,
but during the work it was decided to cut out one tunnel as the rock
was found to be shattered. Consequently it was converted into an open
cutting, the sides of which are 132 feet high. Some idea of the speed
with which the task was pushed forward may be gauged from the fact that
in 11 months 410,000 cubic yards of excavation were completed, 1¼ miles
of permanent way were laid with a single line, and 1,430 yards of the
tunnelling were completed. The total cost of the work was estimated at
£256,000, or $1,280,000. Its recent completion, although it relegates
an imposing engineering achievement to the limbo of things that were,
has resulted in the creation of another achievement equally as notable.
In building the north coast line which connects Sydney with the
Queensland border, a feat of a totally different character from the
zigzag was completed. This is the massive bridge, 3000 feet in length,
which carries the track across the Hawkesbury River, 36 miles distant
from the capital. It is divided into seven spans, each of which
measures 416 feet in length, supported on substantial masonry piers.
The erection of this structure, which still ranks as the largest work
of its type in Australia, occasioned considerable difficulty, both in
regard to the piers and the setting of the steel-work into position.
Indeed, it is doubtful as to which section of the work provoked the
greater anxiety. The difficulty with the piers was the great depth to
which the engineers had to descend to secure a foundation, because in
mid-stream the 40 feet of water flows over a bed of mud ranging up to
120 feet in thickness.
The only practicable means by which this essential subaqueous work
could be carried out was by sinking a huge steel cylinder filled
with concrete. The bottom section of this huge tub, or caisson, as
it is called, was closed, and after it was completed on shore it
was towed out to the site where the pier was to be erected and sunk
by the introduction of the concrete. The under side of the caisson
was fitted with a knife edge, by means of which it could cut its way
through the soft soil, the driving force for this purpose being the
weight of the superimposed concrete. The mud over the area representing
the superficies of the cylinder bottom was removed from the inside
to enable the mass to settle down. The steel shell was built up
continually from the water-level in rings, until a solid foundation
was gained. When this was reached and deemed satisfactory the spaces
through which the spoil from below had been withdrawn were likewise
filled with concrete, so that the contents of the cylinder really form
a huge pillar of concrete homogeneous from end to end.
The conditions prevailing also compelled each span to be completed
near the bank upon a pontoon, the steel-work being supported upon a
heavy scaffolding. The pontoon was somewhat shorter than the span of
steel which projected an equal distance over either end of the former.
When all was ready, and when the tide was approaching its highest
point, the pontoon, with its ungainly load, was towed and was warped
gently between two adjacent piers, in such a way that the ends of the
span were brought into their relative positions upon the masonry. The
pontoon was then made fast, and the actual settling of the steel-work
was left to the movement of the tide. As the river fell, carrying the
pontoon with it, the span descended until in due course the ends rested
on the masonry. The water still falling, the scaffolding presently
dropped below the steel-work, leaving the latter clear in position.
Finally, when the tide had fallen still more, the pontoon was cast off
and drawn away, leaving the two piers connected by the steel.
Such methods demand extreme care, unerring judgment, and a readiness
to meet any emergency on the part of the engineers. The American
bridge-builders who carried out this undertaking had several exciting
incidents. The most thrilling and anxious was when one of the pontoons
got out of control with its precious freight and became stranded on the
bank, where it had to remain in a dangerous listing condition until
the tide rose again, to enable it to be floated off and towed to its
destination.
In comparison with the New South Wales railways, the lines of the other
States lack outstanding features, yet their work has been attended
with peculiar difficulties. In South Australia, where settlement has
not proceeded so rapidly as in the adjacent State, the policy is to
build the lines with the minimum of cost to meet the demands for cheap
railways to connect communities scattered over a large area. That
this is a remunerative practice is borne out by results. Although
the wide gauge of 5 feet 3 inches is adopted on what may be called
the trunk lines extending from Adelaide to the eastern border, to
effect junction with the Victorian railways, thereby securing through
railway communication between Adelaide and Melbourne without change of
carriage, the greater part of the railway system is the narrow gauge of
3½ feet.
The railway thus acts as a pioneering campaigner in the fullest sense
of the word, and in this way it has been possible to push the iron road
towards the heart of the rich inland country so far as Oodnadatta.
Queensland is practising the same principle, three lines having been
forced slowly towards the eastern boundary of that State in three
roughly parallel lines from three different points on the coast--though
the latter in turn are connected. In due course the inland ends of
these lines will be joined up, and there will be a complete circle from
which spurs can be driven to meet development.
Railway construction in South Australia is noticeable because of the
cheapness with which it is carried out in the first place, with an
accompanying economy in maintenance. The whole of the work is effected
for the most part by the Government department, small contracts for
construction only being let on rare occasions. This policy, combined
with the application of every modern appliance which can establish
reason for its utilisation, has been eminently satisfactory from every
point of view.
At the present time the tendency is to anticipate the settler, and
thus, by the provision of transportation facilities, to attract
the farmer into the district. The reverse is generally the method
adopted--the farmer establishes himself on the land, and then when
there is an agitation for transport the railway is advanced. In
this State, however, the railway creates the situation, and in this
manner a large area of good agricultural land has been opened up for
cultivation. This is the policy which Mr. James J. Hill followed in
the western United States, and its soundness in the course of time is
demonstrated conclusively from the enormous traffic which flows over
his systems.
In order that this pioneering may not saddle the South Australian
Government with an unremunerative heavy debt, the line in the first
instance is of the lightest possible description. As the country
traversed develops and more traffic accrues to the road, rendering
improvement advisable, the track is overhauled and relaid with heavier
metals, the lighter rails being shipped to another point to enable the
pioneering process to be continued.
This is an elastic system eminently adapted to such a country as South
Australia, which is still in its infancy, and where the demand for
railway communication is confined almost entirely to agricultural
requirements and to the transportation of farming produce, especially
in the more remote up-country districts.