Category Archives: engineering

Blaenavon

I managed to get my tent packed up before the rain rolled in for what transpired to be a utterly miserable day in the Welsh valleys. Just as well the nice bike ride was on the Saturday and I’d set Sunday aside for a couple of industrial museums close by in Blaenavon. While not nearly as extensive as the fantastic museums at Ironbridge, there was enough to keep me interested to want to wander around in the driving rain for a few hours.

First up were the ironworks, of which there were the hearths of the a couple of blast furnaces, a couple of old casting halls, the remains of lime kilns & charging floor, and the shell of a huge balance tower (a water operated lift for lifting carts of pig iron ten metres or so). The audio explanations dotted sparsely around were excellent in explaining what it was like for those iron workers. The site is of note for the pioneering of basic steel-making which enabled high phosphorus ores to be used.

A little down the road is Big Pit, an old underground coal mine (of which, there were of course many in Wales once upon a time) that is now the National Coal Museum.  It closed over thirty years ago and opened shortly after as a coal museum.  The big attraction is the chance to go down a coal mine.  It’s not far, less than a hundred metres down.  As it’s still regarded as a mine, our small group donned hard hats, miners’ lamps and emergency gas mask before we could enter and gave up any item containing a battery, matches, lighters etc.  The tour was very well done and most informative – nicely it hasn’t been sanitised too much for the public, so there’s plenty of opportunity to bump one’s head or fall over in the dark.  Not quite as much fun as my previous trip underground in to a fully operational pit under the Waikato River back in NZ – but interesting all the same.

So I only managed a few pictures of the cage and winding mechanism – with the weather, they’re really quite poor.

Back above ground there are a few things to look at – the restored bath house that the miners used has some good exhibits in.  A good visit & nice to be out of the rain.

Ironbridge

With a fair chunk (more than half) of my working life spent making iron & my love of history, particularly industrial & engineering history, I was pretty pleased when I found that there is a World Heritage Site just west of Birmingham dedicated to one, if not the major, of the cradles of the Industrial Revolution.  Last weekend I finally managed to tie a visit to Ironbridge with some local riding.

It was here, in what was called Coalbrookdale, that iron was first made in blast furnaces using coke, not charcoal, as the reducing agent to strip the oxygen from the ore and leave pig iron.  Iron had been smelted in this part of Shropshire for centuries previously due to the ready availability of iron ore and limestone (necessary as a flux to remove impurities to the slag).  Charcoal had to be made rather intensively from carefully managed forests, so this always kept iron production low as trees take a while to grow.  It was a maker of brass pots, Abraham Darby, from Bristol who came to town, took over an old furnace & began experimenting with reducing the iron ore using coke – this was the early 1700s.

As well as cast iron pots, pig iron was also used to make boilers for steam engines, the first steam locomotive (Trevithick), rails for trains and iron for construction – it was interesting to see how such developments leading to our modern world were so intricately linked.  For instance, the blast for the first furnaces were provided by bellows driven by waterwheels – the water coming from dams behind the furnace.  This constrained the iron production in the summer months as the dams ran low – but as an improved supply of iron, from using coke, enabled more steam engines to be built, these engines were eventually put to use providing the blast for the furnaces.

There are the remains of quite a few old blast furnaces remains around the area & I enjoyed wandering around them & the Museum of Iron.  It was nice to read such words as blast, launder, flux, charge, tapped, cast, hearth, & rolling mill in the context I’m used to reading them.  I was also pleased to finally find out why pig iron is called so – something I’d occasionally wondered, but never enough to do anything to actually find out.  When iron from the early furnaces was tapped (released from the furnace to run out as the liquid it was), it ran along a narrow channel that branched out perpendicularly in multiple places to slightly larger openings where the iron was cast into ingots.   All these ingots were only on one side of the channel & they looked like piglets feeding from a sow – there you go, there’s something you didn’t need to know.

The hearth of the Old Furnace – that first used with coke.

An engine house on the left & charging floor up on the right.

Incline plane (two sets of rails on a steep hill)

A working replica of Trevithick’s locomotive

An old iron foundry relocated from Woolwich – you can just see the primitive rolling mill in front of the puddling furnace.

Kiln at the China Museum

The Tar Tunnel – while trying to open up a transport route between the Shropshire Canal & the Severn, bitumen was discovered.

While mostly exploited in the 18th century, some bitumen continues to ooze out of the walls.

I spent more time at some of the other museums in the area – Blists Hill Victorian Village is an interesting mostly-industrial themed historical park. Some of the features are original (blast furnace remains for example), but a lot of the buildings have been relocated from elsewhere. The clever inclined plane between the canal & river was quite revolutionary for its time. The problem was to connect the end of the Shropshire Canal, some sixty metres above, to the Severn. The tunnel, originally designed to link the two, struck tar – which made the tunnel more valuable as a source of bitumen, than a conduit for the tub boats used on the canal. The solution was two parallel railways on the very steep hill – where the heavier laden tub at the top pulled the empty tub up from the bottom as it was lowered.

I returned Monday morning to Ironbridge to avoid the sunny-Sunday-on-a-long-weekend-crowds to see the bridge around which the village sprung up & was named for. Abraham Darby III, the third in the ironmaking dynasty (there’s a term I never thought I’d pen), cast the iron for what was the first iron bridge in the world. Being the first bridge using the technology, they could hardly let it fall over & sink in to the swamp (river) – so it was vastly over-engineered keeping Darby in debt for the rest of his life. Nonetheless, it was a marvel of its time and drew visitors from all around the world to the see the new technology set amidst the heavily industrialised valley.

A most enjoyable part of the weekend wandering around in the sun looking at industrial relics – if you are so inclined, I recommend it; if you’ve managed to read this far, perhaps you are.

Belfast & Giant’s Causeway

With the trip rearranged for a week later due to the UK being unable to cope with a little bit of snow, we eventually made it to Belfast this weekend gone.  A plan was hatched a few months ago over drinks with workmates that we should go on a weekend break before Bhupesh’s visa expired & he had to go back to India.  It may be the middle of winter, but I’m hardly going to let such a trifling matter get in the way of a trip somewhere new.

With all of last year’s trips under my belt, somehow it fell to me to organise everything – perhaps I was the only one motivated enough to do anything on the planning side.  It was great to have friends along for a trip for a change, but organising it all and making sure everyone is enjoying themselves (I’m pretty sure most don’t share my love of history) while still trying to make sure I get to do the things I want to was something I was not used to.  When the accommodation rebooking fell apart on the morning of our departure, I was not enjoying being sole organiser; but plenty of emails, phone calls and not small expense sorted that out eventually.  In the end, I’m sure no one had a bad weekend, I got to see most of what I wanted and managed to get sufficient time to myself (three’s a crowd & all that).

Apart from the last minute hiccup, airbnb worked out well again – where else can you rent a three bedroom house for forty quid a night?  The neighbourhood in South Belfast was pretty grim, but as always I found plenty of interest – and taxis were cheap & prompt.

All that was left standing of the terrace across from the front door – I suspect because this house (the blue bit) had some sort of memorial to a fallen soldier

It didn’t get much better across the next street – demolition and breeze-block windowed houses, classy

An old library on the walk to catch the day-trip coach

The recommended activity for the day was a trip up the coast to see the Giant’s Causeway, so that what I managed to convince all was a good idea.  The day dawned bright & cool, but the clouds soon rolled in.  Our driver/guide for day was recovering from illness & seemed determined to drag us all down with him as he had the air-con continually chilling us for the first few hours – I’ve never seen so many people on a modern coach still wearing winter coats, beanies & gloves (it was quite a contrast to the infamous roach-coach).

We wound our way up the coast road with an informative commentary that never seemed to stop – I’m unsure just how many times I heard the phrase “there’s another little piece of useless information for you”, it’s a pity I’ve forgotten most of it, as it was truly useless.  Not to worry – the scenery was pretty and there still a dusting of snow around.  Our first proper stop was at the rope bridge of Carrick-a-Rede, which was a bit of a walk from the parking lot.  Graciela by now had developed a sore throat & was not keen on an exposed walk, so I headed off by myself into the bracing wind along the top of the cliffs.  There’s been a bridge over to the little island for over three hundred years, mostly for fisherman to get across to collect large salmon catches – but that has dwindled now & it is mostly tourists trip-trapping over the plummet to the sea below.

All I could think of was the Bridge of Death and the Gorge of Eternal Peril (Oh, whacko) and making sure I got the five questions, three questions, correct.  Convincing myself that my favourite colour is indeed still green and reassured by the bridge-keeper from the National Trust not looking a bit like the Old Man from Scene 24, I made it across safely.  There wasn’t too much to see on the island itself, but the view along the cliffs was nice & I could easily look over to the Mull of Kintyre (where I was with Mum & Dad but four and a half years ago).  The weather closed in again & started liquid-sunshining (raining) on me as I walked briskly back – it was a really pleasant hour out of the coach along beautiful coast.

Just down the road was the UNESCO World Heritage site of Giant’s Causeway, which I was keen to see as on the trip with Mum & Dad mentioned above we went to Staffa (not far away, but over off the coast of Scotland) and saw similar basalt columns.  It managed to stop raining for the walk down to the sea & we had a good hour or so mucking around on the large, wet, slippery regular paving stones – the tessellation results from the cooling of the basalt after a volcanic eruption.

Some of the steps suddenly dropped off a few metres – probably good not to get blown over there

Other people to take photos of me – hoorah!

The wind may have got up a bit more

It was a quiet & quicker drive back to Belfast – it’s always surprisingly tiring work sitting on & getting in & out of a coach all day.  We stocked up on breakfast supplies (potato bread is a thing of Irish genius – I bought extra to bring some back home) before warming up & heading out for a night on the town.  Belfast was extremely busy for a mid-winter Saturday, it took us quite some time to find a table to eat at in the Cathedral Quarter.  After which I was reminded how tedious I usually find nightclubs – on the upside, the pint of Guinness was better than the one from the night before.  Oh yeah, by now Graciela had all but completely lost her voice so while that was amusing on a superficial level it did somewhat kill the joviality of the night.

Sunday morning was a bit lazier, but I managed to get everyone out the door before noon – so I counted that as a win for not wasting too much of the day!  We pottered around City Hall (no Union flag flying, odd that) as nothing much opens in Northern Ireland before one o’clock on a Sunday.  The others were intent on shopping, I was more interested in eating – so I went & found a nice lunch by myself before we all headed out to the recent (last year) Titanic Belfast museum.

It’s a striking building

And there’s a feature wall of steel slab, which of course made me happy

The museum is very well done & worth the entry fee.  There’s a good split between how Titanic was built (shipbuilding is a large part of Belfast’s very proud industrial heritage), what the ship itself was like and, of course (the bit that was in the back of one’s mind throughout the rest of the exhibit), the disastrous sinking and loss of life.  There was also plenty about Southampton, another proud maritime city, so I really must go and check out some of the local museums when I’ve got spare time at home.

Not sure how I’ve managed to write so much about a relatively quiet weekend (I definitely did a lot less walking & saw less than if I’d been by myself), but it was a good one & I’m glad it all worked out in the end.

Pyramids!

With the overnight flight and the immediately-after day trip to Alexandria to recover from, most of Christmas Eve was spent doing so with a lot of sleeping, eating and reading.  The evening trip to the Pyramids was another add-on, but with the logic of “I’m not likely to be here again in a hurry” it was a bit of a no-brainer to hand over a few more Egyptian pounds.

Six of us went along and I got my first taste of Cairo traffic – more on that later. The result was that we missed the first, English, sound & light show that night and after a short tea stop we went to the Italian version of the show – luckily we had the English version on small radios.  This was the closest I had been yet to the Pyramids & Sphinx and the various lighting made them a spectacular sight – not that they aren’t usually, but there’s something different about it being dark all around.  The audio of the show went some way to describe the story behind these huge structures and some of their features which was good, but not nearly as wonderful as sitting marvelling at the age and immensity of the achievement.  Decent photos were difficult with a phone and a point & shoot – mostly because by the time one realised that the particular lights and colours were good for a shot, they had changed.

It wasn’t too early a start to Christmas Day – especially compared to those no doubt sharing houses with excitable early-rising children.  Meeting after breakfast, it was our first time together as the whole tour group.  With this being my first multi-day tour, I prefer to travel independently but wasn’t really keen on that for Egypt in its current situation (hindsight supports that decision), I was well pleased to see that there were only ten of us on the tour – a nice small group.  Hesham, our guide for the week, took us through some of the points about being tourists in Egypt and what would be happening on the tour before we loaded on the bus (one of the many small ones we would use for the week).  Riding along with and shadowing us for the day was our guest from the Ministry of Tourism – an unobtrusive guard keeping a sub-machine gun well hidden beneath his jacket.

With the traffic markedly better than the previous night it wasn’t long before we were in the parking lot and feeling pleased with our fortune at travelling to Egypt at this particular time.  With all the upheaval in the last two years, tourism is well down in the country (Cairo hotels are only running at six percent occupancy!) and the industry is hurting.  But this was our gain as there were very few people, comparatively, at all the sights we went to; no where was this more noticeable than at the Pyramids which were going on for deserted.  The downside of this is that the vendors selling tat (souvenirs) really have to work hard to make a sale – some found this a little overwhelming, but dark glasses with eyes front, hands in pockets, not uttering a word or giving an opening worked well for me.

I digress, I was thrilled to see the only remaining wonder of the ancient world (they really don’t look like they are going anywhere in a hurry) and get up to close to the many large limestone blocks that had been hauled and positioned four and a half millennia ago.  We had plenty of time to wander around and take photos and avoid the vendors in the sunshine.  Although a lot warmer and drier than the UK, it wasn’t ever too hot – as you can see by the icebreaker sleeves in the photos below.

Beside the Great Pyramid/Pyramid of Cheops, mandatory wearing of Christmas presents. Thanks Adele – & yes, that is a sheep driving a Massey Ferguson tractor.

Looking towards the second pyramid, Pyramid of Khafre, which still has some of the smooth outer layer at the peak

Most of us went down a very steep staircase and then up another to get to the centre of the Pyramid of Khafre. Despite the mildness outside, all that limestone really holds the heat – it was really hot in there

Panoramic photostop

Much time spent holding, pushing, lifting pyramids. Guide Hesham & Radley; unfortunately none of the efforts on my camera really worked out

Camel riding – that was a bit of fun for three quid. All the handlers/herders/whatever were good fun & took plenty of photos

A brief visit to the Sphinx and funerary temple beside it

We headed south to see some pyramids earlier in the evolutionary chain, this one a step pyramid and another bent pyramid

Back at the hotel in Giza after a most excellent day looking at many pyramids, big and small, there was enough time for a shower each before heading to the Giza train station for the overnight sleeper train five hundred odd kilometres south to Luxor.  I was initially due to go on the, separate, seater train overnight but decided a bit of extra money was worth it for something resembling sleep and extra security.  It was just as well we left in plenty of time for the station as the twenty kilometre (12 mile) trip took us close to an hour and a half in what has to be some of the worst traffic everywhere.  Strangely, fuel is heavily subsidised bringing the cost down to about twelve US cents per litre (!) – this just adds to the traffic woes as an over-abundance of vehicles compete for position on worn out, unmarked and unsigned roads.  This chaos does lead to some great sights though – best of the trip being the passenger standing on the front bumper/fender of a large lorry/truck cleaning the windscreen as the vehicle drove on; absolutely nuts.  After an hour or so the traffic thinned, about the time we drove past the massive crack running down the length of part of the elevated highway.

We all managed to make it to our cabins and settled in for some food and a bit of sleep.

Train food is not all that different to plane food

The only part of the train that made me feel like I might be in an Agatha Christie novel