Chapter 7

"_When they saw the Crimean Campaign they seemed about to be engaged in against the sea, he thought it had been very much to the advantage of the Welsh Coast line, if, on the formation of the Board the Directors had been put through a series of questions in early English history, and if their engineer had been directed to report to them on the maritime events of the reign of Canute_."--EDWARD, THIRD EARL OF POWIS.

No Chapter in the story of the Cambrian is more intimately touched with the spirit of romance, none more prolific of pathetic humour, than that which concerns what is to-day termed the Coast Section. For the moment, however, all was sunshine and success. The continuation of the line from Borth to Aberystwyth was completed for traffic, as we have just seen, in the summer of 1864, and on that auspicious day when trains began to run through from Whitchurch to the new terminus on the banks of the Rheidol the rejoicings in Aberystwyth were such as to eclipse even those who had marked earlier stages of the construction of the various railways now linked in one long chain. Indeed, the triumphal procession which made its way to the coast was bent on more than one celebration. The day was also to mark the opening of the hotel which Mr. Savin had built at Borth, and when the train finally arrived at Aberystwyth at a quarter past three it was accorded a civic welcome; the Mayor, Mr. Morgan, and Corporation tendering to Messrs. Thomas and John Savin an address, in which thanks were poured out upon these "benefactors" to the locality. A move was then made to the promenade, where Mrs. Edwards drove the first pile in the new pier, and, after much processioning, the great assembly sat down at the Belle Vue Hotel for a banquet of which, surely, the like has never been seen in the town since! Here his Worship, supported by Earl Vane, Capt. E. L. Pryse, M.P., Mr. Thomas Barnes, M.P., Capt. R. D. Pryce, the Contractors, Engineers, and many other ardent workers for or well-wishers of the undertaking, presided over a flow of oratory, the report of which occupied over five columns of the newspapers, and visions of a new Aberystwyth swam before the eyes of the guests, wonderful and beatific! Such, indeed, was the sumptuousness of the repast, and the wealth of oratory, that it was eleven at night before the company could be persuaded to take their places in the return train, and at three o'clock the next morning a jovial party arrived home at Oswestry, tired and sleepy, though happy and glorious.

But the "Crimean campaign" of girdling the coast of Merionethshire and penetrating onward to the distant peninsula of Lleyn, which was part of the Aberystwyth and Welsh Coast scheme, was yet only in its earlier stages, and already the difficulties of the undertaking had had their sobering effects. The original idea of Mr. Piercy was to build a huge bridge from Ynyslas across the estuary of the Dovey to Aberdovey, whence it was proposed to run a service of steam boats to Ireland. Work was begun with seeking a foundation in the shifting sands. Men were engaged with the boring rods, but they could only labour at low tide, and in the long intervals when the water was high, adjacent hostelries afforded a too attractive method of spending enforced leisure, so that often, it is said, when the waters had receded enough to renew operations, some of the borers were too bemused to know whether they were on the solid earth or not. At any rate, no sure foundation could be found, either by Philip drunk or by Philip sober, and it was reluctantly concluded that another means of bridging the gulf must be sought.

Adopting the wise Tennysonian counsel, the promoters eventually decided to "take the bend," and Parliamentary power was sought for this deviation of the original scheme. It was opposed by the Great Western Railway as inimical to their project of carrying a line from Bala to Barmouth and so forming a connection with the Welsh Coast, and their antagonism was only disposed of after a compromise had been made in the Parliamentary Committee Room, by which the great company obtained power to build the bridge themselves, if they wished, within ten years, and the tolls on the deviation were to be charged only for the same distance as if the traffic had been carried by the bridge. So the line was carried round to cross the Dovey at a narrow point near Glandyfi and connect the coast line with the other railway there.

Hence the existence of, perhaps, the most beautifully situated of all railway stations, formerly called Glandovey Junction, but changed in recent years to Dovey Junction to avoid confusion with the adjacent Glandovey station, at the same time transformed into Glandyfi. Being only intended for changing trains the station is peculiar in having no exit, and the very few passengers who ever alight here for other purposes than entering another train have, presumably to make their way as best they can along the line. Another feature of this station is that its buildings and adjuncts lie in three counties. The station itself is in Montgomeryshire. The stationmaster's house, just over the river bridge is in Merioneth, and from the signalbox the signalman works an up distant signal which is planted in the soil of Cardiganshire!

But this connection only came later, in August 1867, when the six miles of line from Aberdovey to the Junction was carried along the estuary shore and through the four tunnels which, until the Mid-Wales Railway was absorbed in 1904, remained the only ones on the whole system. For a considerable time after the coast line was opened passengers were carried from Aberdovey by ferry to Ynyslas. At high tide the boat could make for the station, but when the water was low it berthed on the Cardiganshire side, at a lower landing place, whence travellers and baggage proceeded by a little branch into Ynyslas station.

The first sod on the Merionethshire side had been cut, in April 1862, by Mrs. Foulkes of Aberdovey, on the Green near the Corbett Arms Hotel at Towyn, without formal ceremony, but in the presence of Mr. Piercy and Mr. Savin, and "a few scores of persons who cheered lustily." We may hope that even this mild demonstration did something to hearten the promoters in their herculean task. For several miles along the shore the line had to be protected against the assault of the high tides that periodically sweep Cardigan Bay, and it was soon only too evident that ordinary ramparts were no sure buttress against Atlantic rollers. More than once the permanent way was washed by the waves and engineer and contractor, viewing the dismal wreckage, must have felt that noble references to the moral of Canute, however pungent, were not altogether inapropos.

There were toilers at this work, however, who had never heard of the Danish King and bode not of what the maritime history of England might teach. To them the arrival of the first trial train on the banks of the Dysynni was more pertinently an occasion for "celebration," and sixty pounds being quickly collected for the purpose, and as quickly spent, rumour has it that, alas! the festivities ended for some in a few reflective hours, we may hope profitably, if not too comfortably, spent in the local lock-up.

But even when the Dysynni had been safely bridged,--not without anxious days when piles refused to become embedded in the shingly bed of the river--the troubles of the constructors were far from concluded. Beyond Llwyngwril, to which the line was opened for traffic in November, 1863,--the engines and coaches had been brought by barge across the Dovey from Ynyslas--there lay a still more formidable barrier to rapid progress. For the cliffs hereabouts, which, with their steep declivity down to the rock-strewn shore, left scarcely a foothold for the wandering mountain sheep, were enough to daunt the heart of any but the most courageous and determined engineer. Here, again, the problem rose as to whether they should be tunnelled or the line carried along their sloping edge, supported by sea-walls, as was the high road above. But the high road itself shaved the edge of the precipice so closely that, it is related, in the old coaching days, many people preferred leaving the vehicle at the top of the hill to swinging down such a slope. Eventually choice fell on the latter alternative, sailors being employed to assist in the work by reason of their greater experience on such seagirt ledges! It was, indeed, a hazardous venture; for the extreme narrowness of the ground to work upon, sometimes tapering away to practically no ground at all, hampered the task at every step, and the difficulty of building a track along which heavy trains could run at high speed was never quite surmounted. Even to-day trains descending the 1 in 60 decline are carefully regulated in speed, no bad arrangement, after all, since this stretch of line commands, on a clear day, one of the finest peeps of the whole charming panorama of scenery along the coast of North Wales.

But engineer and contractor had something better to do than admire the view. Below them and beyond, even when Barmouth Junction was reached in July, 1865, there lay another obstacle which could not be avoided by any but the widest detour. Trains could, and were eventually carried around the narrow neck of the Dovey; they must cross the estuary of the Mawddach almost at its widest point in order to gain the Barmouth shore. Meanwhile, the line was carried along the southern bank of the river, by what is now the Dolgelley branch, to Penmaenpool, and the public had to remain content with such facilities as this localised service could provide.

And a wonderful service it appears to have been! Old inhabitants still tell tales of how goods trains would pull up at remote wayside spots while driver and guard went trapping hares that made good prices in the neighbouring markets, where no inconvenient questions were asked concerning their capture. Or it might be that, now and again, a waggon load of beer barrels was consigned to some village inn. It was then the business of those in charge so to marshal the train that the "stuff" was placed in convenient proximity to the engine, and, in the seclusion of some cutting, a halt would be made for some mysterious reason. To clamber over the tender into the adjacent waggon was a simple matter. Still simpler, in expert hands, was the process of forcing up the hoop of one of the barrels, tapping it and drawing it till the engine bucket foamed alluringly, then plugging it up again, and drawing back the hoop into its original position. On delivery the consignee might complain of short weight, but that it was a question for the brewer and the company to settle as best they could. None of the running staff knew anything about it; and, as for the lateness of the train, well, was any train ever punctual in those days, and who bothered about half an hour's delay?

Besides, there was something more important to bother about. Actions in Chancery had begun to distract the attention of worried directors, and these retarded progress with the construction of the line. So it was not until June 1869 that the Cambrian continued beyond Penmaenpool, and, even when Dolgelley was eventually approached, passengers had to alight at a platform some little distance from the town. Only when the Great Western Railway from Ruabon was completed did the trains from Barmouth Junction run into Dolgelley station proper.

Many and difficult as were the engineering problems involved in the construction of the coast line none aroused greater interest or put scientific skill and courage to a severer test than that, to which we have already briefly alluded, of carrying the railway over the sand and river current into Barmouth. To the lay mind it appeared an almost insuperable task, and there were those who did not hesitate to whisper their doubts as to its practicability, one well-known local gentleman being reported to have gone as far as publicly to undertake to eat the first engine which ever crossed that formidable gulf. But engineers and craftsmen set to work with a will, and before long what had appeared an impossibility was rapidly taking shape as an actuality. Eight hundred yards in length, the greater portion was constructed on timber piles, over 500 in number, in 113 spans, driven into the sand. The navigable channel, at the Barmouth end, was crossed by an iron-work construction, of seven fixed and one opening span. The latter was of the drawbridge type, and when lifted at one end by means of large screws was carried on wheels and could be drawn back over the adjoining span.

It was a lengthy as well as a cumbersome operation, and when, in 1899, the ironwork portion of the viaduct had become too weak for the constantly increasing loads of developing traffic, it was completely renewed with a modern steel structure of four spans, one of which was a spring span, revolving on the centre pier and giving two clear openings. The piers carrying the girders are formed of columns 8ft. in diameter sunk through the sand down to solid rock, which was reached at a depth of about 90 feet below high water mark. The columns are steel cylinders filled with concrete, and were sunk into position by means of compressed air on the diving bell principle, and owing to the depth below water at high tide, the men excavating inside were finally working under a pressure of three atmospheres, or 45 lbs. to the square inch. The contractors were the Cleveland Bridge and Engineering Co. Ltd., of Darlington. In 1906, and the following two or three years, the timber portion of the viaduct was also completely renewed in the same material, the contractor in this case being Mr. Abraham Williams of Aberdovey, who had built, or helped to build, many of the old wooden bridges on the coast line. The total cost of the renewals was approximately 60,000 pounds, and it is no small achievement that they were carried out without a moment's stoppage in the traffic.

[Picture: Barmouth Bridge. Reproduced from the "Great Western Magazine."]

But even the original viaduct, old-fashioned as it may seem now, was a wonder in those days, and the fact that it carried (and still carries) a footpath as well as the railway, provides Barmouth with a promenade unrivalled in character and in range of panorama of river and mountains and sea anywhere in this country. For a time before it was completely finished a carriage was drawn over the bridge by horses, but in 1867 it was opened for regular traffic, and in the first train which crossed it into Barmouth rode the gentleman, who was under contract to make a meal of the locomotive. If he had forgotten his rash undertaking, he was very soon to receive a startling reminder. On safe arrival on the northern shore, the story goes, he was politely escorted by an official to a table laid for one, and was courteously requested to elect whether he would have the engine roast or boiled. Alas! for the frailty of human nature, more especially where a sense of humour might stand us in good stead. The sceptic, disillusioned, is stated to have failed to appreciate the joke!

Once the estuary was bridged, north of Barmouth, the constructional problems were simpler of solution, and when the contractors reached Minffordd, they were able to take advantage of an earlier engineering enterprise, no less remarkable than any railway building. In former days the sea had covered what is now called the Traeth, the broad valley of the Glaslyn, stretching from the hillocks of Penrhyndeudraeth to Moel-y-Gest, overlooking Portmadoc. The tides then surged several miles up this vale, and washed the walls of Llanfrothen churchyard, while vessels bore their freights almost up to Pont Aberglaslyn. In 1791 Mr. Madocks, following the example of earlier builders of sea walls in the district, purchased the Tan-yr-allt estate, and soon set to work to make dry land of a large part of the ocean bed. He erected what, in the locality, is commonly called a "cob," the great embankment which runs across the mouth of the former estuary, shut out the sea and recaptured 4,500 acres from its rapacious maw. Behind the shelter of this embankment (along the top of which the Festiniog Railway runs), the new line was comparatively easily carried over the marshy ground, and no greater gulf had to be bridged than the narrow channel in which the river, flowing down from the bosom of Snowdon, some eight or nine miles away, is now confined.

But there were other difficulties to be faced--difficulties not so easily overcome as even mountain torrents and sandy estuaries. The hand of the law was heavy upon the constructors, and even when the line was practically ready for opening, so long a delay took place in settling outstanding claims that the track became almost derelict. For these were anxious days for railway promoters. The rosy promise of rich revenues from remote Welsh lines failed to mature, and Mr. Savin, heavily weighted with the immensity of his undertakings, and crushed by the costly construction of his great hotels, sank under the burden. He faced his financial embarrassments with characteristic pluck, but it was a dark hour in the annals of British finance far beyond the boundaries of the Principality, amidst which came the sensational failure of the Overend and Gurney Bank, and, so far as the Welsh Coast Railway in particular was concerned, the interminable legal wrangles not only cost money, but postponed the hour at which the line could earn its keep.

Even under these adverse circumstances trains did occasionally run, carrying pigs from Pwllheli, or a small load of coal or timber for some outlying farmer or builder, or a passenger or two willing to take the risk of an adventurous journey liable at any moment to be brought to a sudden termination by the barriers of the bailiffs. But even bailiffs are human; and at night, when they slept, or were turned away by subtle hospitality at some neighbouring hostelry, journeys could be made, dashing down from Portmadoc to Barmouth and back with all the exhilaration of a secret expedition.

Eventually assistance came to the hard-pressed promoters, and the line was officially opened for traffic from Barmouth to Pwllheli on October 10th, 1867. But the number of trains often depended on the state of the exchequer, and sometimes quaint incidents would occur to break the monotony of events. One driver arriving from Pwllheli at Portmadoc, in the early days, discovering that there was no "staff" available to enable him to proceed to Penrhyndeudraeth according to regulations, was in considerable perplexity as to what to do, when an ingenious sub-official bethought him of a scheme, and fetching an old carpenter's auger, wrapped it round with paper, and thus armed by what perpetrated to be the badge of authority to go forward, the driver blew his whistle and off the train went on its hazardous way.

On another occasion an official of the line visiting one station master on this section was startled, in reply to his cheery inquiry as to whether all was well with him, to learn that "the only drawback was that he had the devil in his parlour." On his exclamation of incredulous alarm, the stationmaster said that he would show the official, if he would come and see. Entering the station house with some trepidation, he beheld in the middle of the parlour one of the iron fire-brackets, used to prevent water troughs from freezing in cold weather, popularly known among railway men as "devils." It seems that the builders had neglected to put in a grate, and the poor man had had to fall back on this diabolical method of keeping himself warm! The matter, no doubt, was quickly righted, for stationmasters, even then, were important functionaries, often wearing tall silk hats, though some of them were regarded as passing rich on 15/- or 16/- a week.

It was something, however, that, in the face of all these difficulties, financial and constructive, a line should be completed along this wandering coast at all. Only in one respect, indeed, did the original project fall short of attainment. The great objective of which the shareholders heard so much in earlier days--Porth Dinlleyn--was never reached. The line still terminates at Pwllheli, where, up to 1901, the station lay at arm's length from the town close to the harbour, which, in hot weather, used sometimes to alarm arriving visitors by its fishy odours. In 1901 power was obtained to carry the line into the centre of the town, where a new and commodious station now serves this popular health resort, the gateway to the mysterious fastnesses of Lleyn.