A Driver's account of a trip from Llandudno to Colwyn Bay at the controls of a Tram:
AT THE CONTROLS - TO THE BAY & BACK
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WHEN the last car rattled along the sagging tracks of the Llandudno and Colwyn Bay tramway on March 24th, 1956 it marked the closing of the last chapter in the story of tramway operations in Wales. The line had originally been opened on October 9th, 1907, extending from the West Shore, Llandudno, as far as the car sheds at Rhos. Eight months later the extension to Station Road, Colwyn Bay, was opened, and this made the line almost identical to the form in which it ran for the last twenty-six years of its life. A subsequent extension to the Queens Hotel in Old Colwyn, laid in 1912, brought the route mileage to its all-time maximum of 8.35 miles.
As a tramway, the line had nearly everything: single track and passing loops, an interlace, and reservations of both the cross country and side-of-road type. At the time of the final closure, the cars were of equal variety, the fleet consisting of five single deckers purchased from Accrington Corporation in 1932, ten ex-Bournemouth open-top bogie cars, three "toast-racks" purchased new in 1920 and two sleek-looking "streamlined" double-deckers bought from Darwen Corporation in 1946. In addition there were two of the line's original single-deck cars, one of which was used in service towards the end.
I became professionally acquainted with the line in 1954, so my remarks are concerned only with the last few years of operation. I want you to let your mind drift back to 1955. Come with me to the front end of a "rack" for a summer afternoon trip through to Colwyn Bay. You are waiting for me at the West Shore terminus at LIandudno. I said I'd be there at 3.15, but it's already 3.25 p.m. with an open-topper sitting in the dead end, loading up. If you look down Gloddaeth Avenue though, you might just see me in the distance, waiting at the Clifton Road loop, with the conductor and myself letting down what at the moment are the off-side steps and guard rails and reversing any vacant seats, to have a bit of time at West Shore.
By now the open topper is loaded and on its way. As soon as it is clear of the loop points, T open up for a quick run down into the dead end terminal line, hotly pursued by an ex-Accrington single decker running the Craig-y-Don local service. At West Shore T change the destination plate, take the controller key, and go down the pavement side of the car, putting up the steps and guard rails on that side, whilst my conductor swings the pole and reverses the remaining seats (the local was quicker away: he only had to swing his pole).
As soon as we are loaded, two blasts from the conductor's whistle and we're off, with you in the "seat by the driver". A clear run as far as Palladium, Pier Head, Paynes Corner, Carlton, or any other of the 13 names it was known by; where we find quite a gathering. The local is just in front of us, a brace of Bournemouth’s just arrived from the Bay, and Inspector Roberts, known to all as A.M., ironing out the lumps. That the front open topper is being turned short is apparent, as its passengers are being transferred to the one behind; this will fill what could be quite a gap in the service. The local is away by now, so I ease up in the loop to allow the reversing car to come in behind me, and wait until I am full up. The signal to depart takes the form of two knocks on the dash, and an "Away you go lad" in the rich Welsh accents of A.M.; so a quick glance down the single track of Mostyn Street to make sure I don't loop anyone, and we're off. It's a three bell load, and the local should have cleared all passengers for stops before Nant-y-Gamar; all the makings of a good run.
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We run smoothly over the recently relaid track to St. John's Church, where the spring turnout to the double track must be taken at nothing more than walking pace, and even that causes a crash and a lurch. Then we pass a fully loaded West Shore-bound "rack", waiting for us to clear the single track. Now on towards the North Western Hotel, limited to the series notches by other traffic. Before we get there we are flagged down by the motorman of a tram on the other track. The query of "What's up George"? elicits the reply "The bloody thing won't move". Now George is no mechanic, so I bale out and pin the trouble down as probably the controller. Down with his trolley, and off with the controller cover. No wonder he is stuck, the main power finger won't close. A quick lash-up job should get him back to the sheds. This sort of do-it-yourself running repair is quite common, as witness the indelible grease stains on my tunic. Back to my own tram, and on again. At the North Western luck is with us, as the point duty constable waves us straight across and out of the worst of the traffic, so it's straight up into 4th parallel notch, and down Mostyn Avenue twenty minutes behind schedule. I cut the power, and give a light touch of brake. Past the Crosville garage (where it is not unknown for one of their fitters to dash out and present a driver with a piece of tram that a bus driver has found in the road) and round Grand Theatre curve, then straight up into fourth parallel again. First stop is Queens Road, a compulsory stop, where a few passengers get off and we pick up a few more. Off again, and take it easy to Nant-y-Gamar, to allow my conductor to organise the new fares before we take to the fields.
A USEFUL LUMP OF BALLAST at Nant-y-Gamar the local has already cleared the crossover, and although I'm well behind schedule, I stop, seemingly far no reason. If you look across the fields though, you'll see the open topper ahead of me only just past Craigside Halt; If I were to go now I'd be climbing past Craigside just as he would be climbing the last steep section to Penrhynside, and, if a third car were to join the party from the other side of the hill, out would come the power station circuit breakers, so we'll wait until he is clear of Bryn-y-Bia Road. Then it's one stroke on the gang, answered by my conductor’s whistle; fourth series until we clear the crossover, fourth parallel, and away, soon picking up quite a respectable speed despite the gradient. All quiet now, far a bit, so out comes the brew can far a sample of its most welcome contents. No, I've not forgotten the section breaker, but if 1 cut off too soon, I’ll loose speed on the grade and you’ll feel the jolt as we pick up again; so you watch the trolley head, you hear the controller spin to "Off" and straight up to fourth parallel again, all in one movement, but you saw no flash, which showed that I'd judged it exactly. How, you wonder, was it done? There was no black magic involved. I'd just watch between the rails, and when the large lump of ballast was in line with my fender, the trolley was exactly an the breaker; simple as that (for a Bournemouth and Accrington an old tin can was the mark). Little things like that can make a big difference when you are trying to pick up a few minutes. Now through the cutting, and cut power to cast into Craigside curve, gradually notching up as we go round it; next we pass Craigside Halt, the shelter of which is built from the remains of some of the original cars scrapped in 1932.
A single whistle blast from the back end announces that we have customers for Bryn-y-Bia Road. A glance round and I see it's two of the nurses from the children's home, so we overshoot the stop to provide them with doorstep service.
As we pull away there is a slight drop in the power, and I know that another car has either just started from Little Orme Cafe up the other side of the hill or behind me from Nant-y-Gamar, and this just when we are coming to the hardest pull round the curves up to Penrhynside. Still, there's nothing we can do except hope another car doesn’t decide to join the party. Penrhynside is a compulsory stop, but there are no customers, so hand brake half an, and stop on the Maggies (Magnetic track brakes) then a touch of power, across the road in a gap in the seemingly endless stream of private cars and coaches, and on to the grass track down Penrhyn Hill. The hand brake has been enough to hold us so far, but just before the level crossing, about where the aid quarry siding used to be, I put on a notch of Maggie, then another. That should check us enough for Little Orme Cafe curve. A peal on the gong for the crossing. Yes, we'll be OK for the curve, so I undo the hand brake. Another peal for Little Orme Cafe Halt let off the brakes as we sweep round the curve, and level out. We coast aver the crossover, a bit of power, a slight check far St. David's Road curve, and same customers came into view at Hamilton request stop (named after a one-time general manager). I use same power again to build up speed quickly, and coast down Glan-y-Mar Road. The track is a bit rough here and I pull up on the hand brake. There are more people there than we have seats far, but somehow they are all crammed an, so it's full house again, but no certainty of a clear run, as we are just coming up to the Penrhyn Bay single track section.
By same miracle this is clear, the opposing car being just in view, way down by Orme Point. We take it carefully over the facing crossover into this section: if you should carry straight an, this track leads into a large hole, with sea at the bottom, the notorious washout. Maes Gwyn Road is requested by whistle, and we lose same holiday makers. Perhaps returning far an early tea. We accelerate away rapidly on the falling gradient, not forgetting the Marfa Road crossing (it's partly blind this way. so gang music again), and ready to throw the Maggies hard down, just in case. All clear though, so full power, coast a bit, then brake to take the turnout onto double track again at the Golf Club, past the opposing car now patiently waiting far us to clear the single track for him, and on the other side of us the toll gate for the company-owned section of highway. Now we can get a bit more top notch work along Marine Drive to Orme Point, not forgetting the section breaker on the way. At Orme Paint we leave the sea, turning inland on a very gentle reverse curve leading to the car sheds, which are now almost empty except for the Darwen’s and the works car, and on to the straight of Penrhyn Avenue.
NOISE FROM THE HEAVENS Church Road, just past the company offices, is another compulsory stop: same get off, a few get on and I look at my watch, and find we are only 15 minutes down on schedule now; so we picked up five minutes from North Western. Here we run on to recently relaid straight and level track, and you realise just haw quiet the "racks" can be, hearing only their unique rail joint rhythm and a quiet hum from the motors as they pull us along at full power. Under the Cricket Club breaker (four feet past the manhole is the mark here), see what I meant about being fast, given the chance? But it doesn't last long: only too soon we hit the badly corrugated massed concrete section from Colwyn Avenue, creating a traditional tramcar din, until we do a sharp right wheel onto Caley promenade at Rhos. Another "compulsory" and a guaranteed full house load. Two whistles again-but I know he meant three and I close up to a Crosville bus at its stop. It's an eight-footer, so we cannot get past. When he does pull out it reveals a line of carelessly parked cars on my nearside. Will I clear that green saloon? It's going to be close either way. I glance round to see where my conductor is, but needn't have worried. He's an aid hand at "rack" working, and knows the perils full well. He's still an the back end: as I close up there are two short "pips" on his whistle, and I know we can clear it (he's sighted along the edge of the foot-board and checked) so it's power on, and immediately a loud ripping sound from the heavens informs all and sundry that, being so interested in the car, I'd completely forgotten the Rhos section breaker. Ah well, we all make mistakes!
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Round Aberhod reverse curve, and turn inland again on Mount Stewart curve, open up to a fourth parallel far the wheel-in-gutter run along Whitehall Road, where we execute several quite healthy ship-like rails awing to a partially collapsed culvert under the tracks, and I remember the Francis Avenue breaker. We coast up to the curve into Brampton Avenue, where we rejoin the main road from Llandudno, and insert ourselves into the stream of traffic to approach the piece of trackwork I mast heartily detest. This is the rather tight reverse curve on an uncomfortable up grade leading on to the single track aver Brampton Bridge. An unwritten law gives right of way to cars going in our direction, but there are times… However, our luck holds good again, and we do not have to stop. Over the bridge, off the single track, under another breaker at the only loading island on the line, and we turn left on to the main North Wales coast road.
A short downhill length past Kings Road, where same joker once put railway detonators under my wheels and the road widens out enough to allow a bit more fast running, despite the traffic, as far as a stop at the Odeon. This is where the fun usually starts. We get as far as the next stop at Council Offices when we see another car coming towards us over the interlace track. As he passes, the driver of this car waves two fingers at me, apparently in the well-known derogatory gesture. No, we don't hurl a point iron at him javelin-fashion: he's just told me that there are two cars between us and the terminus, but since neither of these is in sight we can take to the interlace and get caught in the seasonal traffic snarl of Colwyn Bay. As we came off the interlace at Station Road the point duty policeman wisely steps out of our way, allowing us to roll dawn to St. Pauls.
Here we pass another car. Only one up at the terminus now, and that's an open topper, so he will not need much time to turn round. While we wait here a minute to avoid blocking traffic at the terminus we can drop the steps on the other side. Right, he's had time enough; let's go and chase him out! I notch up quickly to get the best possible run at the hill (it's only a short one, but don't stop on it, or you're in trouble for the wet tar seeps on to the rails and you'll only spin your wheels if you do).
PANIC REIGNS SUPREME As soon as he sees us, the one in the terminus pulls out, so that we can run straight in, and for a few moments it seems that panic reigns supreme. First my conductor must hold other traffic while the passengers alight and cross the road; this may sound easy; but if you think so you should try it sometime. Of course if you should happen to be holding something heavy and solid in your outstretched hand at windscreen level, and Mr. Eager Motorist happened to drive into it… Passengers off, he takes the trolley round. While this is going on I reverse the seats, drop what will now be the near side guard rails, and by the time we have raised and pinned the rails and steps on the other side, we are loaded ready for another trip, still fifteen minutes down. Ah, you're having a look round here! Well, I'll be back every hour and a half. See you later.
8.25 and you're waiting for me at Greenfield Road. I should be 8.30 away, but there are still no signs of me even then; yes you got the time right, and might well be forgiven for wondering if I ever run to time. A couple of minutes later you hear a familiar rumble, and as you see the top deck of a Bournemouth appear over the hill, you realise why I'm late. This trip I changed cars at Church Road, taking over No. 10 which had been running in front of me up to now. No. 10's crew had run my "rack" into the sheds and booked off. Think you could swing the pole for me? OK go ahead, have a try. Surprising how much pull there is on the rope. You swing it a bit too fast, and when you stop it wants to carry you on round the other side. That's right, let it up gently. You wonder when it's going to reach the wire, but you're already a couple of feet above it. Ah well, try again. This time you do touch the wire, but only succeed in turning the wheel crosswise. I take pity on you and show you how to straighten it up by snagging it on the wire, and you finally get it on.
A LONE PASSENGER This trip will be a busy one, not owing to passengers, but because we have to call at the sheds to take up the brakes, and when you were busy with the trolley, I walked round the car trying the axle boxes, finding a warm driver box, so that will need some oil. We are also "lights car" which means we have to switch on the lights at all the stops fitted with them, and as a little bonus I'll try to pick up a brew as well. We get away at 8.36, take the short sharp plunge down to St. Pauls. (Yes it is nasty in wet weather.) There's nobody in sight, so straight up the other side to Station Road. The line is clear, so it's straight up to fourth parallel, on to the interlace, pick up speed and coast. The sound effects are quite fantastic as we pass through the narrow road between the rows of high buildings; accentuated by the quiet of the evening, the corrugations sound even worse than usual, despite my putting half a turn on the handbrake to kill the rattle of the rigging. We coast on to the double track, stopping at Council Offices to pick up a lone passenger: two bells and off, with probably a clear run to Rhos; but low power for the Odeon breaker, and then full on for the sweeping curves to Alexander Road, not cutting off again until past Kings Road, so that the short hill slows you down for the righthand turn on to the Brompton Bridge single track.
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PERCUSSION MUSIC It was on this bridge that one of the more spectacular prangs of recent years occurred. One summer afternoon a tram had got level with the column half-way across the bridge, when he was faced with the discouraging sight of an empty motor coach, going like a dingbat, swinging round the bend on other end of the bridge. Being a prudent motor man he knew the bridge, and already had half handbrake on, so he did the only reasonable thing, threw down the Maggies, wound down a bit more handbrake, and hurriedly decamped to the relative safety of the saloon. By the time the coach arrived the tram was well and truly stationary, but the coach took another couple of yards! When the police arrived they admitted that reversing was impossible mechanically owning to the coach's front fenders acting as first-rate ratchets; and it could not be jacked sideways without removing the overhead column first. So they ordered our motorman forward if he could move.
He could and he did, to the accompaniment of some great magnificent sound effects; assorted clangs as odd coach panels fell to the road, a steady grating sound as they were ploughed up, punctuated, by sharp reports as each window pillar was met and dealt with, together with the musical tinkle of breaking glass. I suppose it could be classed as percussion music really. By the time the vehicles were clear that coach looked as if a king-size tin opener had run down its off side.
That's one reason why I always have other everything ready for a very quick stop on this bridge. What happened to the tram? Oh there was a bent, handrail, and a bit of paint off the rubbing strake. Must prove some thing, even if only that an 8-ft. wide - coach won't go where a 7-ft. 6in. one will. Over the bridge and sharp left dawn Brompton Road to Ebberston and Road, once more round the righthand bend into Whitehall Road, and I can open up for the easy curves that takes us to Mount Stewart. Here we must slow to an absolute crawl unless we wish to end up swimming; but with a howl of protesting flanges we are round, only to meet Aberhod reverse curve which will take us on to the Promenade at Rhos. A stop at Caley Arms, then off again, over the zebra crossing, for the curve leading to Penrhyn Avenue. A deceptive curve this one: it's a spiral, with ever decreasing radius in this direction, suggestive of the ill-famed Oozlem Bird. Once clear of this hazard, it's full out along Penrhyn Avenue, but not so smooth this way since the track wasn't relaid when the other one was and this car has more weight up top than a "rack". I give the bell rope a tug to call my conductor through, and brief him on the shed stop. We have to stop at Church Road, so we may as well turn on the car lights, it's about time in any case: as usual my end has platform light and not headlamp lit; can you switch over the white painted switch? That's better, must check to see what colour I'm showing to the front on the colour lamp box. Good-it's white.
MINOR ADJUSTMENTS Two bells, over the cross roads and past a car unloading on the other track, so I ring the gong to warn anyone coming round the back of it, run past the offices, and pull up outside the car sheds. My conductor tears off inside to hunt up the oil pot and oil cap spanner, and, knowing no fitter is on duty, I grab the spanners and set to taking up the brakes myself.
Well, that's that job done: should be a bit easier to handle now, and we might be able to pick up some time. Round Orme Point, into the straight down to the Golf Club. Notice how the lights dimmed then? That's the main breaker, divides Colwyn Bay and Llandudno power supplies. A brief stop at Golf Club (yes, the brakes are much better), where my conductor jumps out and switches on the stop lights. I see a car at the other end of the single track, but he must have realised I'm late by the big gap in front of me, for he signals me through by changing his front colour lamp from white to green. Must be Eric. I can save quite a bit of time by leaving the next two stop lamps between us at Morfa and Maes Gwyn Roads for him, since they are on a rising grade, and once I lose speed there, I don't regain it in a hurry. So straight through, and find he's already turned the lamps on for me at Benarth Road and Little Orme Cafe, giving me a good run at the hill. See the Crosville bus down there on the road? I wonder if we will beat him to LIandudno. We often do.
A third of the way up the hill is a breaker, but no power cut off here; it's not advisable on this grade. Next stop Penrhynside, compulsory, and very useful as I've got to get the slippers down for the descent. We pull away with enough power to get us over the last few yards of the climb. Now you can lean back admiring the colourful view of Llandudno and Happy Valley that unfolds before you, all illuminated; me, I've got to work for a bit now. Once over the top, take up the hand brake and dog it, wind the slippers hard down now, then control on the hand brake, with a little power at the beginning of the few straight bits. I'm lucky in having a good conductor who knows what to do. If you look back through the saloon you'll see him on the back platform holding in the slack of the trolley rope, just in case: he knows that with this "insurance" I can make much better time.
GAMEKEEPERS AS WELL A stop at Bryn-y-Bia Road gives me a chance to ease off the slippers a bit now that the worst down grade is past. Then down to Craigside, where the stop to turn on the lights is made on the Maggies. As we go into Craigside curve, it's up with the slippers, through the cutting with its two badly dropped joints, and we're clear for a first run to Nant-y-Gamar. Incidentally, there's a partridge nest in the bank of that cutting, five chicks this year: that they all survive is partly due to our keeping a sharp look out during the day. On one occasion I saw a tram make a hurried stop, and the burly driver get out to shoo an errant chick to safety. Not many lines where the motormen have to be gamekeepers as well.
We can really move here on the long straight with its gently falling grade through the fields, but we reach Nant-y-Gamar only too soon, where, with a long peal on the gong, we return to the road. Did you see where that bus got to? It's not in front of us; probably somewhere up by Craigside still. Queens Road, another compulsory. with no customers, so only a token halt to interrupt proceedings followed by a clear run through to the North Western, where we pick up a couple of the locals. It's while we are waiting for the single track at St. John's Church that the important decision is made. My conductor comes through, and I agree, "We've time to' pick up a brew this trip," and give him the empty can. This is a thing that calls far a bit of special working, as you will soon see. When the single track is clear, I get two bells and run as far as the National Milk Bar, there slowing down to a crawl. By now the conductor has jumped off, streaked into the milk bar, and slid the can (with the cash in it) dawn the counter, and should already be on the way back. The bell rings, he is back, and we carry on to Palladium Corner as though nothing had happened. When we return from West Shore the brew will be on the end of the counter awaiting collection by similar methods (and heaven help the conductor who forgets to collect it).
At least by being a little late there is a clear run to West Shore and we don't have to wait around here. Off on the last leg, slowing right dawn outside the Odeon. Just wait and you'll find out why. A series of crashes, one small, two large, one small give the answer; it's all right, only a piece of rail missing. It started off as a dropped joint that was pounded away over the months. On a "rack" you didn't notice it much awing to the equal wheel trucks, but small pony wheels just fall in (at a later date the pony axle box on a Brush C truck was actually smashed on the road). That is the last check before the terminus, all set for a quick turn round, and we'll be back on schedule when we get back to the corner. I hope you enjoyed your trip on the front end…
FRED,
Llandudno & Colwyn Bay Electric Railway.
