Witbank Marathon by Trainman - Part 2

[John Ashworth]

A wonderful meal was made and fed to the crews, both footplate and on board train crew. With having to bring the clubs own rolling stock, a number of coach controllers had to be supplied. Many traveled with the train but a number were brought up by road transport later that evening to join the train.

To get the marathon runners and guests to Witbank, most travel by train. This meant an early wake up, and a chance to have Spoornet motive power on the load, as the coaches now had to travel to Middelburg to collect and then return to Witbank where the units would depart and the steam takes over. Great in writing this, but not in reality.

Departure with units was delayed by the rostered driver not appearing at all, and no standby driver being available.Eish! Intense negotiations at 0330 followed and finally a driver, coming off another train, agreed to work the empty stock to Middelburg. A very late departure ensued, starting off with a 3 meter long uncoupling movement to release the FOTR caboose, which had to remain behind with the steam crews. The Blue Train crossing the empty stock working in section, made further delays and it was a late arrival at Middelburg and later departure.

Back in the hallowed grounds of the steam shed. I was up early to help the rostered crews with loco preparation and having the opportunity of being booked as third man on the 15CA. The weather was gloomy and an evil chill wind had appeared, trying to whip up the smoke and steam into a scene from a renowned inferno. The glow from the orange shed lighting creating a hallucinogenic effect on the silhouettes of the locos.

Morning all, through bleary eyes, I greeted the RS crew who were at work shaking fire down in the CA. The cab floor seems so much higher, but the familiar distance returned to me and I lifted my blik up high, to give the satisfactory scrape on the cab floor, as I followed it on up. The familiar cozy hum of the dynamo, powering the cab globes, casting such warm colours onto the brass of the lubricator and other cab fittings. My, I was home. I had never thought I would stand in such a cab of a loco as this one, in this place as I had done that time, in the predawn hours, as we stood readying our locos for the double header LM Mail. Voices and shovels and blowers and shakers, scraping of fire irons. Timeless, surreal. Spirits rekindeled.The past is now.

Alongside the FOTR boys were at work readying the dolly. Water in the tenders no longer filled from the column, standing just at the shed entrance, but from fire hydrant hoses. Ashes dropped into the pit. The grey dawn now becoming stronger, as the time to couple up drew nearer. The dolly eased slowly out the shed and coupled onto the CA, where after the pair set off to collect the caboose, where Miemie was at work preparing a scrumptious breakfast. The huge cab of the CA now seeming to dwarf the 19D’s compact cosines, but looking out and down, I was the rostered fireman on the LM Mail once more, and we were now out to fetch our load of sleepy passengers from Maputo. Some of them oblivious to the scene as they lay snuggled up in the two CFM coaches that were regular on the set. One of them was painted brown, and the other was a silver corrugated sided vehicle. Somewhere I still have the “do not flush the toilet whilst the train is stationary” notice.

The units were now very late in arriving. The double header was now at the station nearby the dull, peeling WITBANK station name board with an elegant looking lamppost in faded livery as companion... The station was packed with runners and people waiting to board the train, but for now, the locos sat patiently. Chance to set the feed on the lubricator. Hard grades lay ahead and we don’t want to have the grunting piston rods calling for “oil, oil, oil”

Whining turbines from blue painted 18E locos almost have a condenser sound, as the brace speed into the station with the coaches. Yellow shunt signal peers at us, and the lead driver does the work in getting the pair coupled on. Vacuum cylinder strings are pulled to ease the pistons from the intense vacuum created by the units, and the paper work completed. Brake test done. Ready to go.

The runners set up alongside the platform on open ground. Announcer’s amplified voice announces the 21st occasion of the race. Ready steady GO. Pistol fires, locos whistle and smoke and steam escape and merge into the graying skies, for the false start. Runners are off and we now ready to follow.

Today there is other motive power on the adjacent lines. We have no sooner pulled out, then we come to red signals and passing by are three sets of freight trains all eastbound 18E blue jobs. Looks like we are going to be beaten by the runners this year. As per the cliché, the dull glow of the signal lens reveals a yellow, and we start to roll downgrade.

There is a looong down grade to Olifantsriver, giving time to get the water in the boiler at a safe level, and to build the fire up. As third man this day with a RS crew, I gave assistance to their competent young fireman.

Down we roll and time to pack the big firebox. Plenty at the back corners, my friend, and this loco likes coal and the better the back corners are fed, the less work later to keep them full.

Grey skies mix with grey smoke. Brown dry wintry veld rolls by. Gloomy and depressing. Speed picks up, and we twist and turn downgrade. The fires are ready now and my heart pumps a bit faster in anticipation of the hard work ahead. We reach the start of the grade, and as one, the drivers open the regulators and columns of smoke split the sky and the beats of steam at work roll out over the brown hills.

I work the firebox door for the fireman, as it gets white hot in there, and this small gesture makes firing easier. I so wanted to take the shovel. “Gee jy om?” (Do you mind?).

“Vat hom” (take it), he said. “Jissie man, dankie!” and I took the shovel.

Oh CA firebox open before me, cavernous is your grate. I stand before you and anticipate. Once more I have the chance to make the flames and fire dance, and swing the shovel on the footplate stance.

It’s been a long time feeding such a grate, in fact from 1994 on 2850 at Capital Park, on a day trip, long. No time to reminisce now. Shovel into the back corners KLUNG sounds, yes I can still hit the coals off there! Left and right left and right. The white hot fire reaching out for me. Hungry, as I feed it more and more. The injector is singing away and this baby is a real good steamer. Home again on her old stomping grounds, those huge wheels turning around, clawing grabbing, and sure footing her way, up the gradient on this gloomy day.

Up front, the diminutive dolly is working hard, and the columns of smoke meet and mate. Safety valves lift and were smoking! Behind us the train winds around the curves, heads out the window as the over 800 hundred passengers enjoy this spectacle. I wonder how it was in the early rail days, when I look at the old formations long overgrown.

I fire and then hand over to the RS fireman to have a go. We are a team. Firedoor open, shovel, close door, and repeat. The beat of a 15CA is reputed to be the loudest on the railway in its time. It certainly still is. The soft pant of the dolly is masked by the blast from this beautiful beast. Upwards and onwards, but soon time to stop. We are near and we need to give the runners opportunity to catch up with the train.

How smart the train looks. The 19D bedecked with the national flag and the Rotary wheel emblem. The magnificent locomotives and smart looking read and grey coaches. Can you believe that FOTR have reached their 21st year of operation?

The first runners approach and we follow suite. Middelburg is not so far, but we give a good show. Whistle blowing and steam effects, but he is allowed to win. Our train draws alongside the festivities, where special steps for disembarking passengers have been provided. The field is full of tents and caravans, with the lilac flags of Radio Jacaranda fluttering in the breeze. We stand waiting. Then a race official comes looking for me. I am wanted for some information on the train. Next thing I am seated, in my bib and brace overall, in a mobile camper studio, facing announcer Marice Campide of Jacaranda, and “Were talking too…” Quick radio interview gets me left behind, as the train had now moved on to Middelburg station. Bummed a lift and soon was with the lads.

The train was uncoupled at the grand old station, and the locos moved off for fire cleaning at an old siding where a long rusted water column stood guard. We had used this place last year for loco fire cleaning, and repeated it once more. The loco order was switched for the return tender first working. The smaller loco leading. Water was now a problem, with the hydrant flow being disrupted by maintenance, so the help of the Middelburg Fire Dept, got us receiving the necessary fluid.

We coupled up and then left to collect the passengers at the festive area. I had had my footplate turn for the day, and the tender first working, was in the hands of the next crew. Here the FOTR and RS chaps swopped locos, so unfamiliarity was the key word, but not for long. The passengers were collected; some were ejected as they tried to free ride!

From the comfort of the caboose, I had chance to look out over the long train, and it climbed away. The dull colours of winter could not hide the beauty of this area. The rolling hills viewed from high, and the valleys below are magnificent. I can imagine the spring colours caressing this area, must be wonderful. I guess footplate crews of past would have stopped and appreciated the vista, as they hauled their heavy loads.

Sound does not travel too well over such a train length, but the smooth running soon lulled me to sleep, and I awoke at Witbank station, where the passengers detrained. Train cleaned of rubbish, we set off with the load to the yard next to the shed, and uncoupled. Back in the shed, the coal grab went to work, and both locos were topped up for the run home the next day.

The 15CA was now used to recreate the past, with some magnificent late afternoon shots taken as she slumbered under a water column near the coal stage. The shed shunter having a”spell”?

Final episode to follow……….