Extract from AHRS Bulletin November 1988


THE LONG COLD RIDE
by Daryl Dedman

The year is 1964, the month of May – my career as an Engineman had begun some seven months previously at Enfield, and at this point of my career and, with some steam experience behind me, I am stationed at Valley Heights Locomotive Depot in the Blue Mountains of New South Wales.
Steam has been gone for some considerable time on the mountains, 46 class electric locomotives now “rule the roost” on the “hill”, their pantographs singing on the overhead wire as they move the tonnage over this barrier between East and West. Diesels are a rare sight on the mountains in 1964.
At this point in time my job was that of Call –boy, this entailing, on the day and afternoon shifts, to notify crews of roster alterations to their sign-on time, whilst on the night shift I became a human alarm clock as I rode around on the “loco push bike” rousting Drivers and Fireman from their beds to go to work.
This is my story of a part of my life as an Engineman which shall remain in my memory forever

The month of May in the mountains can be very cold, especially at night. I am on the 11.00pm shift as Call-boy and assist the Shed Fireman.
As I open the door of my flat up at Springwood, the biting cold wind hits my face, I am glad that I have worn extra clothing to combat the coldness. It will not be the best of nights to be riding the streets around the small mountain community. The sky is clear, at least no rain is going to mar this night. The walk of two miles to the loco depot is pleasant even with the cold biting wind.
On entering the Chargeman’s Office, I remove the excess clothing due to the warmth inside. A look over the roster tells me that “calls” tonight will be few, but the distance to be covered will be great. I do not see the afternoon shift Call-boy, he must have gone early.
The Shed Fireman is looking for his cup of tea at the start of yet another shift. We discuss the weather, how much sleep we each have had and the program of the night, this being: engines to be sanded and made ready to go up the “hill” to Katoomba, and what calls I will have to do.
I walk over to the meal-room, a crew sits there waiting for their train to come up from Penrith. Their locomotive stands outside with the three jumper cables inserted and hose bags undone, waiting to be attached and assist the train up the steepest part of the mountains. I speak to the crew and they just nod, absorbed in their reading material. I continue on my way to where the hot water “donkey” is located and check the fire in it, hot water for cups of tea is a necessary requirement on the night shift. I stoke the fire and see that it will be OK for the next couple of hours. The roundhouse is empty, cold and silent as I walk past it, one can imagine back to the days of steam in this depot, engines hissing steam, the glow from the firebox, sitting and waiting to do duty on the “hill”.
I notice on heading back to the office, that the locomotive has gone – I envy the Fireman, thinking that one day I will be heading up the “hill” on one of those trains which only pause momentarily at this location to have an assist locomotive attached. Before I make it into the office the train is moving up the hill behind the depot, the two 46 classes doing their job, with faceless men in darkened cabs doing theirs, their outline only just visible from the gauge lights.
The night progresses, the wind does not let up, it only gets colder. At 1am I check the “donkey” before heading out on my first call. I give the pushbike the quick “once over” making sure the tyres are pumped up and that it is in one piece – all seems OK. I climb aboard, the seat is cold and the going hard as my muscles adapt to the pedalling.
My first call is to a Driver’s house who wants 45 minutes notice prior to signing on. The house is dark as I lean the bike against the front fence. In the glow from one of the few street lights I check in my book that I have the right house and to what window I have to go. I give a gentle tap on the window and give notice as to who is there by the familiar cry of “Call-boy”. This being greeted by a grunt from behind a closed window and drawn blind. As I do, a dog barks in the house across the street at my intrusion into his sleep. I tell the Driver the time and he says “OK”. On my way out I dodge his flower beds and rose bushes, giving a curse under my breath as one snares on my coat. I head back towards the depot thinking how nice it would be to own a car. I make a slight detour on the way to “call up” a Fireman who wants 30 minutes call.
When I arrive the light is on, I announce myself and he answers that he is right. Two down, two to go.
As I continue back to the warmth of the office, the cold wind blowing, my scarf, gloves and balaclava fight the elements of nature to keep me warm.
I hear rustling and scampering in the undergrowth beside the road – I am not the only creature of the night. The moon has risen since I walked to work and the shadows of trees moving in the wind play across the road in its light – it will be good to be inside again.
A check on the “donkey” and all is OK, the Shed Fireman wants another “cuppa”, so I boil up and we have crib (tucker). The crew which I called come in and sign on. The light engine has come back from Katoomba and the crew sign off and go home to the warmth of their beds.
The Shed Fireman asks me to sand the engine before it goes up the “hill” again and informs the crew their train will be here in about 30 minutes. The locomotive sanded, the Fireman arrives to prepare it to be attached to the locomotive on the train, he says very little, it is too early in the morning for conversation. I return to the office for a spell, my next call not being for another 1½ hours, but the ride on the bike will take me ½ hour battling the wind.
My eyelids grow heavy sitting in the warm office, the jingling phone stirs me, it is the Signalbox notifying us the train is there. The Driver disappears into the cold clear night, a whistle sounds and echoes through the quiet as he moves his locomotive out of the depot towards the waiting train at the station. I doze off again, this time being woken as the train moves up the hill behind the depot. I check the time and see I must again go out into the night.
The wind has dropped slightly and the going is a little easier, only the hills have any effect on me as I push those pedals around. Traffic on the highway is only the odd car and truck heading in the direction of Sydney. I am now fully alert, the coldness has seen to that. On reaching the Driver’s house, I can feel myself sweating under the heavy clothing and the bike seat feels like a rock, I am only too glad to get off it, even though it won’t be for very long. The batteries in my torch are nearly flat, making it difficult for me to check my book to see if I have the right house. There are no street lights out here and I have to rely on my memory and the moon, which is now quite bright. I get no response from tapping on the window and the cry of “call-boy”. On the third attempt my tapping is acknowledged with grunts and groans from within and a faint glow appears around the side of the blind from a light turned on. The darkness again closes in around me as I head back – the seat still feels like a rock. The Fireman, who is with the Driver I have just called, is “called-up” by Telephone, the Shed Fireman will do that if I have not returned in time.
On arrival back at the depot I again check the “donkey” before going back into the warmth of the office. I add a few lumps of coal just to keep the fire burning. A train heading for Sydney comes down the hill past the loco as I walk towards the office, sparks coming from the brakes, making it appear as if it has a continuous row of Catherine wheels. The train rounds the curve past the depot and heads into the night, red lights on the guards van signifying to me the end of the train, it has the worst of the mountains behind it. I stand in the cold night air gazing after it, wondering where the crew comes from, are they heading home or heading for the barracks in Sydney? My dreams of being a Locomotive Driver are many years in the future.
The Driver I had called, comes in before I get back in the office, his locomotive is coming “light” from Katoomba and is behind the train that just went through. I query the Shed Fireman if he had called the Fireman, he had. Time is slipping away, the train is on its way up from Penrith and the assist locomotive has arrived back from Katoomba, but as yet no Fireman. The Shed Fireman is getting a little concerned and gives thought to ringing him again. As the minutes tick by my thoughts immediately turn to the obvious – “I may be the Fireman on the next train going up the hill”. Firing jobs are far and few between, still that’s the way it is when you are a “Call-boy”. The Fireman arrives with only minutes to spare, muttering excuses about his motor car and that his wife forgot to cut his lunch. They disappear into the darkness and for them another shift on the “hill” begins. This being the first of three trips which they shall do to Katoomba.
Once again I climb aboard the trusty pushbike to carry out my allotted duty. The wind has again picked up with the coming of dawn, my drowsiness of the long night wears off again as I begin pedalling, the sounds of the night are slowly disappearing as a faint glow begins to show in the eastern sky. I peddle the bike hard against the rising wind in an effort not to be late, an ache creeping into my legs. The Driver I am going to call is one of the “old school” and is known to be grumpy at the best of times. I have to go around to the rear of the house for the bedroom window. As I go through the side gate it offers its customary greeting of “squeak”, I wish he would oil it. The noise is lost to the wind, but a cat startled by the opening of the gate races across the path in front of me, my heart skips a beat. All is quiet except for a rooster crowing in the distance to usher in a new day. The familiar cry I offer together with a tap on the window brings the usual response in the usual tone, “Yeah, righto” from the Driver. I am a few minutes late and I hope he does not bring it to the notice of the Shed Fireman when he signs on – more than one “Call-boy” has fallen foul of this Driver, I hope I will not be another.
By the time I get back on the bike to make my way back to the depot the morning sky has brightened considerably. I am now able to see the surrounding bush more clearly. Creatures of the day are stirring as the dawn becomes the day. Early morning workers walk along dirt footpaths seemingly unaware of my presence as I peddle past them.
On checking the “donkey” upon returning, I see the fire has died right down. I clean the ashes out and get the fire burning properly again so it will be right for the day shift.
The day shift tempo begins to pick up with Drivers, Fireman, Cleaners and Fitters coming on duty. The day shift Chargeman comes on duty and the Shed Fireman gives him details of crew alterations and train running information.
As I stand talking to the day shift Call-boy, a 46 class comes into the depot and stops short of the turntable. This locomotive will shortly be placed in the shed for servicing and repairs. I see the Shed Fireman walk from the office, he waves to me and I know that it is time to sign-off. I begin to feel very weary, and the two mile walk to my bed does not impress me.
As I walk beside the highway with the cold wind still blowing, I hear the sound of a locomotive whistle which has been picked up on the wind. My thoughts immediately turn to the crew and I think to myself, “maybe tonight I will be on the hill.”

The Story – The Author

The article was written for a competition conducted by the Australian Federated Union of Locomotive Enginemen (AFULE) and as part of that competition appeared in the Locomotive Journal, July/August 1984 edition. It was also reproduced in the November 1988 issue of the ARHS (NSW) Bulletin magazine.

The story, although fictional, was based on my experiences whilst I was stationed at Valley Heights Locomotive Depot as a Trainee Engineman from March 1964 until November 1964. I took my Fireman’s appointment at Albury and remained there until September 1965. I resigned from the NSWGR and returned to my home state of Victoria where I was employed by the Victorian Railways attaining the position of Locomotive Driver in 1972. I also held the position of Instructor Driver and that of XPT Driver until I transferred to Seymour as a Driver in 2001. Due to a workplace injury in February 2001 which prevented me from returning to the footplate I finally took retirement in September 2002. A career that spanned 39 years of association with railways both in Victoria and New South Wales came to an end.