The Story of the Cambrian: A Biography of a Railway

by C. P. Gasquoine

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, and it is no small achievement that they were carried out without a moment’s stoppage in the traffic.

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.