The Air Was Buzzing

It had been steadily raining for around 15 minutes but the sky colouration looked ominous and indicated severe storms. The sky was a deep silvery pink and the air smelt odd as with a dusty vapour and having an odd sweetness.1

We, (Spring Heal Jack and myself), the crew, on the 12:18pm Gosford to Sydney, were in transit between Hawkesbury River and Cowan stations, had just passed through the last tunnel on the ‘up line’ to find the train had died. It had lost all power from the ‘overhead’. This should not normally pose any major problems as there was usually an instant restore, not this time. There is another powered section only a couple of hundred metres ahead and the fact that Cowan station was almost exactly the same distance away.2

I ‘radioed’ the Station Master at Cowan:3

"Guard of N 202 to Cowan,  Guard of N 202 to Cowan, we have lost power to the train it appears overhead is 'dead'". 4

His response "I will make a couple of inquiries and get back to you. I contacted the driver:5

"Guard of N202 to driver come in Jack" was the call "we have lost power to the overhead back here, is that throughout the train?" 6

His response was instant and deeply biting: 7

"We've lost power throughout, looks like the overhead has been hit by lightening further down the bank" he went on to say how he believed we could be in for an extended delay. 8

The Station Master from Cowan called back almost immediately after my conversation with Jack, confirming Jack’s and now my fears. He informed us there was a relief ‘double header’ (two diesel engines) about to leave Hawkesbury River. The driver would be given the appropriate warning notice of train in section, which gives him our exact position.9

It was now MY job to inform the passengers of the problem and of all the remedial action to be taken in securing the train and then go out behind the train to ‘protect’ it, by detonators (explosive charges), placed upon the tracks. Thereby warning approaching rail traffic.10

I secured my parking brake as required in W.E.T. (working of electric trains) book, gave the driver the mandatory two long bells, placed the detonators and red flag on the top step then climbed down onto the ‘six foot’ (the area outside of the tracks). 11

The mere fact that these detonators are named as they are, indicates potential explosive danger BUT here was I, without raincoat, without jacket, jumper or any other protection than a thin shirt and shorts about to run the gauntlet with a full box of these detonators and the now shards of lightening blasting the hill, which I was to descend.12

As I picked up the flag and ‘dets’ it was now becoming painfully obvious that the storm had also been climbing the hill and was almost directly above. Normally inside anywhere, would be safe. There was no inside anything, lightening was now blasting into the ground 100 metres, 80 metres, then to my terror a tea tree about 20 metres away was hit. I could hear the clap and feel a buzzing, tingling feeling coming from the air around.  13

I started to run as best as the ballast would allow down the hill. round 400 metres from my train, the first dets laid as quickly as able. I could see the two overheads above and this conjured up more fear. What if the lightening struck the overhead or the steel tracks where I was tying the ‘dets’. (death by electricution together with explosion) all the more fear welled up causing an adrenalin rush together with the associated tremors.14

I started running on the blue metal and ballast almost weightlessly, almost numb with fear from the awesome power of this storm, my own private nightmare. 15

I soon arrived at the tunnel which was obviously further away than could have been imagined. New fears ‘what if, in this small tunnel, still reasonably dark, the relief engines were travelling fast? I could be run down by 2 x 80 tonnes of diesel locomotives.’16

I reached the northern end of the tunnel in what seemed to be seconds but on arrival noticed to my disbelief, there was no lightening in the immediate area, only torrential rain. I ran out to a distance, which would seem to be the correct distance and laid more dets, a red flag then attached to the track. I then to be protected from this teaming onslaught, ran back towards the tunnel to seek refuge from the rain.17

I must have been there for about three or four minutes reflecting on what I would like to call the closest encounter I would ever wish to have with mother nature, ‘semi’ at ease with myself, when an almighty flash and explosion would have me recoil against the wall of the tunnel awaiting for the collapse (struck by a stray bolt of lightening - the thought), when my faculties regained, my heart doing the proverbial ‘twenty to the dozen’, I realised this was the relief engines were hitting the first of the detonators. 18

I raced out into view of the engine and ‘waved the driver down’.  I then climbed aboard the first engine and told the driver of our plight and position, then immediately prior our restart towards the train, the driver quipped: 19

“I don’t know if YOU would have needed a torch, had it have been night, you’re glowing white and you’re shaking like a bloody leaf”, he continued, “you worried about something?” 20

He then went on to tell me that he had only just reached this new rain, about 500 metres ago. The platform at Hawkesbury River was wet but steaming with gentle droplets of fine rain, warm and fresh in the afternoon sun, a magnificent double rainbow behind him, as he left.21

I piloted the relief engines to our train, then hardly remember the hook-up or the shunting onto Cowan’s platform, 62 minutes later than tabled. 22

First thing that came to my sobering mind was ‘I’d better fill out a delay slip’.       23