Southern African Steam trip circa 50's
GJW Plimmer
The viewing of three excellent recent video’s on South African steam trains
brought on a wave of nostalgia for the lost days of my youth, when I did
many trips to and from Cape Town to the Northern Rhodesian Copperbelt (now
Zambia) by steam train.
Roads were appalling in the fifties and air travel was not then a viable or
affordable option, so the vast number of people used the busy railway and
the Northern Express steam train. The trip took five days and four nights,
on a timetable not much different from the turn of the century when the
pioneering Cecil John Rhodes laid down the railway line.
Miners, colonial civil servants and commercial people arrive at Ndola
station in the evening to gaze at the booking boards to see what compartment
you have been placed in. The train ran every night and was always heavily
booked and advance reservation was vital. Being a young miner, second class
was the way to travel. Thoughts went through your mind as you gazed at the
booking board; what sort of companions would you be placed with? Would they
be nice companions for the long journey or would you end up with some rowdy
drunks? You would soon know, so you got your compartment and coach number
off the board and set off to find it.
The train was long, as long as the light steam engine could pull on the
light and twisting line. If you were lucky the coaching stock would be the
new steel 1948 built Metro Cammel Laird clerestory coaches. If you were
unlucky it would be the old pre war wooden balcony coaches. I am lucky and
the coaches are the new ones, gleaming in Rhodesia Railways livery. Second
class compartments were about six foot by six foot, and accommodated six
people. In day configuration they had two seating benches on either side
upholstered in thick green cowhide. The compartment gleamed with lacquered
mahogany and teak with chromed fittings. By the window was a fold down wash
basin and under it a steam heater. Over the wash basin was a mahogany fold
down table for use during the day.
My unknown travelling companions are gathering; luggage is stowed under the
benches and in the overhead racks. Then the puzzle of who is going to sleep
where is discussed. The bedding attendant will come round in the evening to
sell you a bedding set and pull down the bunks for the night time
configuration of the compartment. This layout was three bunks on either side
of the compartment, the day bench being the bottom one, the back folded out
to make the middle bunk, and a top one folded down to be the upper bunk. The
usual drill was for older men to take the bottom bunk, middle aged men to
take the middle bunk and youngsters like myself to climb up to the top bunk.
We all size each other up and introduce ourselves. The train whistles
noisily and lurches off on time. Timing was a loose thing in Africa with
steam. Although the train would usually leave its starting point on time,
after that anything could and did happen. Target time for arrival would be
well achieved if not more than an hour late at destination. However,
derailments, floods, washaways and other assorted matters could make the
train as much as a day or two late. None of that split second timing of the
European trains here. The track, being single, meant frequent passing of
other trains at the many sidings. If another train missed its schedule, our
Northern Express would go into the siding and wait; a common occurrence.
As the train sets off after dinner time, there is no formal dinner this
first night, but the twin dining car set is open for business. A couple of
us decide to go down for a beer, but if you missed a meal, a grill can also
be obtained. The dining car is enticing; gleaming in shining mahogany and
white linen with heavy silver EPNS cutlery. The many stewards are in white
duck uniforms with formal black tie, and cold beers are soon produced. The
car seats about fifty and the kitchen car adjacent is a real work station.
No modern refrigeration, gas heating or airconditioning in these old dining
car sets. The cooking is done on a coal fired stove and cooling is achieved
by coolers, on top of which is placed a large block of ice.
Back in the compartment everyone settles down for the night, with the coach
swaying wildly on the poor track and the wheels clicking and clacking over
the rail joints at 30 foot intervals. The track is laid on Teak sleepers
supplied by the Zambesi Sawmills at Livingstone. Sleep is difficult in this
creaking lurching environment, and the welcome sound of the steward bringing
coffee round at dawn heralds the new day. Railway coffee was lovely, a
strong mix of coffee and chicory, served from a large two quart silver jug
and matching silver sugar and milk set with china cups and saucers. I was
lucky enough, years later, to be able to buy one of these lovely silver
coffee pots from the South African Railway Museum shop, when they were
selling off the family silver, so to speak.
Then began the business of washing and shaving in the confined space, each
one taking a turn. A visit to the loo could be a frightening experience for
some; it flushed directly onto the track with a tremendous noise. Kids were
scared to go! Breakfast is heralded by the steward coming down the corridors
with a xylophone type gong: ding, dong, ding dong ding. Breakfast is on a
“as you come” basis, so with a full train you wait in the corridor for a
place in the dining car to become vacant. Eventually the chief steward waves
you in to a place and a full breakfast is served. Four courses; a piece of
melon or grapefruit followed by porridge; mealie (corn) pap or oats, then a
savoury: kipper or savoury mince, and finally the eggs and bacon with toast
and marmalade or jam, plus coffee.
The train trundles into Lusaka, the capital, and servicing of the train is
done. Coaches have their water tanks filled and the drinking water jars at
either end of the coach are replaced with full ones. The dining car is
serviced: more coal for the kitchen stove, large blocks of ice for the
coolers and fresh provisions. Locomotives are changed and mail loaded. This
usually takes an hour, then we set off again. Whilst we were at breakfast,
the attendant has folded the bedding and changed the compartment to day
seating configuration. We steam on, crossing the Kafue river, a major
tributary of the mighty Zambesi River. Young bucks like me walk up and down
the corridors looking for “talent”, and chat them up if found.
The dining car opens for mid morning business from 10.00 am to noon, selling
bottled cold drinks, cigarettes, sweets and the like. Many like me will
while away the time in the dining car with a few beers, others will have tea
and railway cake. Railway cake is in a small cellophane packet and is
usually fruity and fresh. Tea is served in lovely heavy silver tea sets. We
trundle on through the savanna landscape, averaging hardly 35 kilometers per
hour (22 mph) on the light and winding track. Livingstone, six miles from
the Victoria Falls on the Zambesi River, is reached at sunset and the ritual
of servicing the train is gone through again and new locomotives marshaled
on.
After an hours stop, we are off again, and soon rumble over the famous
bridge across the Zambesi river at the Victoria Falls. Its now dark though,
and we cant see the Falls. A brief stop at Victoria Falls station, next to
the famous Victoria Falls hotel, and we are off on the overnight run to
Bulawayo. Bulawayo is reached after an early breakfast and it is “all
change” here.
Everyone detrains here, as this leg of the journey is now over. Tonight we
will catch the South African Railways express to Cape Town. Bulawayo is the
main junction for the line to Salisbury (Harare), and the only route to the
South. We have arrived after a 1134 kilometer (710 miles) journey from
Ndola, averaging a slow 35 kilometers an hour (22 mph). All our baggage is
unloaded and taken to the baggage room for the twelve hour wait. After the
sweaty and dirty trip down, many passengers take advantage of the stations
public baths, and we hire a towel and soap for one shilling and then
luxuriate in a hot bath.
Killing time, a walk into the city of Bulawayo is the thing to do. Come
lunchtime, a meal is in order, and the café’s around the station are famous
for doing one of the best “mixed grills” in the world. This consists of
eggs, bacon, sausage, boerewors (farmers sausage), lamb chop, steak, French
fries and onions, on an enormous platter. I am young though, and half
starved from eating mine mess food, and the enormous platter is soon
demolished. As evening draws on, baggage is collected and off to the
platform and the ritual of looking up your coach and compartment on the
booking board. The drab South African Railways coaches are waiting and I
board. Soon we are off, headed for Bechuanaland (now Botswana) and the edge
of the Kalahari desert.
This is an enormous train, with twenty two passenger coaches, carrying all
the traveler’s from both Rhodesia’s and even the Belgium Congo. It is the
only route to the South. Many are headed for Cape Town to catch the Union
Castle mail ship to England. In the morning, we wake at the small settlement
of Mahalapye in Bechuanaland, where we stop for an hour while the train and
locomotive are serviced. The locals sell an amazing array of African curios
on the platform, and I spy a nice Jackal (fox/cayote) skin Kaross that I
think will keep me warm in England, where I am headed for a stay. I bargain
endlessly, but I cant get the price down below ten pounds, an enormous sum
for a young man, but I want it. The locomotive starts whistling, signaling
that we are about to get going again, the seller wont budge below ten pound,
so the deal is finally done. It turns out to be a good buy, it keeps me very
warm in the UK and is the envy of many. A year later, when I return to
Africa, my landlady buys it off me for a hundred pounds.
The train now skirts the Kalahari desert and the day starts getting hot.
Temperatures here go to 40C/105F in the shade, and the uninsulated coaches
are like being in a hot sardine can. The light 35 pound track is the
original laid down by the early railroad builders, and only a light class 19
locomotive can operate here. We average about 50 kilometers an hour (31 mph)
here through the dry scrubland and the little class 19 works hard with the
heavy load. I while away the time with a beer in the dining car. It always
amazed me how they kept the beer reasonably cold with the primitive ice
coolers and how food was prepared fresh in these circumstances.
Have you ever seen a fat chef? Of course you have, but you would never see
one in the railway service. With a temperature in the shade of 40C/105F, the
temperature in the kitchen car next to the coal stove must have been nearer
55C/130F. All these chefs were as thin and wiry as a rake. How they prepared
250 meals in these hot cramped primitive circumstances is an incredible
feat. The chief steward comes round with booking slips for dinner. There are
to be five sittings; first sitting is early and is for people with young
children, I choose third sitting.
The afternoon drags on and the locomotive labours along with the heavy load.
There are missionaries working the train, trying to save souls. I know from
past experience that I am a prime target. They corner me in the compartment,
and since there is nothing else to do, I engage them. But these are slick
operators and I am no match for them, so I disengage with difficulty and
walk the corridors, spotting talent. In the afternoon, we travel through
parched grass farmland and reach the town of Vryburg. The wheel tapper is
busy, crouched down before the platforms with his long handled hammer,
tapping the wheels as they pass slowly, ting ting, ting ting, testing the
wheels for soundness. From the train the town looks like deadsville, but
later in life I am to learn that this area is called the “Texas of South
Africa” for its wealthy cattle farmers. To try and keep the heat out, we
raise the slatted wooden blinds over the windows, but it makes little
difference.
Later the steward comes along sounding the gong for dinner, shouting “first
sitting” dong dong ding dong. When my sitting comes up, I make my way to the
dining car and take a seat. The ambience is lovely, white napery with
shining silver and the mahogany and brass fittings. The steward takes orders
for drinks: Cape wine, beer, brandy and Coke and cool drinks. The overhead
fans whirl, giving an illusion of cool in the stifling heat. In those days,
five courses were served, first off was home made soup, none of that factory
preprepared stuff that gets dished out today. This is followed by fish,
fresh Kabeljou tonight. Beats me how they serve up fresh fish in this
primitive environment when we are still a thousand miles from the sea.
Next up is an entrée, often a savoury spaghetti, then the main course.
Usually mutton of some sort with vegetables and roast potatoes. Pudding
follows and the meal ends with a bowl of fresh fruit being passed round.
Biscuits and cheese are offered with coffee. A nice Cape liqueur such as Van
Der Hum can be ordered with the coffee, or a port. I return to the
compartment, well satisfied, and the bedding attendant has prepared the
compartment for the night.
Early evening we reach the major town and junction of Kimberley, where we
join the main Cape Johannesburg mainline. We are now going onto heavier
gauge twin tracks to the South and we bid farewell to our light locomotives.
A mighty class 25 locomotive is now coupled and we head off into the night
with a throaty roar to traverse the Karoo semi desert. Our average speed
increases dramatically, 68 kilometers an hour (42 mph) for the next several
hundred kilometers until we reach the Hex River Mountains the next morning
at Touws Rivier. A better nights sleep is had on the smoother track, lulled
to sleep by the satisfying roar of the big class 25 engine.
Touws Rivier, 240 kilometers (148 miles) from Cape Town, sees a class 15F
upfront, to take us down from the inland highveld to the coastal plain, via
the Hex River pass. As we have breakfast, the beautiful Hex River Mountains
slide into view, breaking the monotony of the featureless plains we have
been travelling through for the last day. The highlight for me at those
breakfasts was the tasty devilled sheep’s kidneys on toast; Yum! You don’t
get it today.
We are now back on single track and soon we reach the rail pass down into
the lovely green valley. This is still the original track (later it was to
be regraded and smoothed out for greater speed) with steep gradients and
frightening curves. The curves are so severe that if you are in the rear
coaches, you can see the locomotive and front coaches going in the opposite
direction! We wait at the siding at the top for a train coming up the pass.
It is a great sight, with two class 15F’s pulling noisily in front and a 15F
banked at the back pushing. Then we start slowly down, the wheels screeching
on the tight curves. At the bottom we run alongside the river and the Cape
winelands.
We wind our way slowly through the picturesque Cape Mountains, stopping at
the little wineland farming towns. Our speed has dropped drastically, and we
average only 33 kilometers per hour (21 mph) into Cape Town. After lunch, we
enter the outskirts of the Northern suburbs and then the magnificent Table
Mountain swings into view. Our clickety clack swaying journey is nearly at
an end. We have traveled 3200 kilometers (2010 miles) in five days and four
nights of endearing steam train travel.
The video’s that brought on this rush of nostalgia were:
DESERT STEAM, a 5000 kilometer steam trip from Cape town to Namibia in the
beautifully restored UNION LIMITED coaching stock. This really brought back
to me the romance of steam travel of days gone by.
STEAM FEVER a look at the workings of the heavy class 25 steam locomotives
working the mainline between Kimberley and De Aar. Lovely video of these
engines still working the mainline before they were phased out forever.
GIANTS, story of restoration in the Free State province with good shots of
working steam.
These videos are available from SANDSTONE STEAM RAILROAD fax 27-11-463-3890
Robert Nase Johnson
Bob Johnson
Midland, Texas