Of hivi and confidence

17th April 2022

What's the connection? Read on.

'Spose I had better start with a brief explanation as to why the frontpage has changed a little. If you've been used to clicking on 'Latest Post' you may be wondering where it's gone. Every now and again, for no apparent reason, clicking on that throws up an error message about site security and if you looked closely you'd find that it had amalgamated this website with another in the address line. With such a mongrel address line of course it trips security protections. Some time ago I said that the whole appearance of Weekend Rails was due to change: that's taking somewhat longer than we expected so rather than spend time identifying and resolving whatever bit of code is tripping off this anomaly, we've simply turned the option off. If you click on RSS you should get the latest 5 posts starting with the most recent. But you've found your way here anyway, so obviously you're competent surfers who wouldn't let a minor inconvenience like a missing menu option prevent you getting here by alternative routes. Bravo.

As we left it last week, I was wondering whether I would be laid low with a bad attack of the Covids. Well, apart from a few hours with a slightly sore throat - Monday I think it was - we're all fine and healthy up here, a good job too as it has been a hectic week, though not all can I report here. I was for example, out most of Monday inspecting some locos but Tuesday I had a move of an 08 planned out of the Doncaster area. As the customer had a train booked for the afternoon we had arranged to be on site for 08.30 in the morning, and as I approached I had Phil on the phone asking for directions As it was I just replied with 'follow me' as I passed him at the side of the dual carriageway, and was leading him the last couple of miles to site when I got flagged down with barely a quarter of a mile to go.

'Are you with the haulier?' asked the hivi-kitted gentleman, I confirmed his deduction. 'Could you wait here? We're just filling in a pot hole.' We pulled over, were assured it would only be 30 minutes or so, and that there was a transport cafe just around the corner. We adjourned there: I had a cup of tea, Phil had a tea and a bacon sandwich the size of a large pizza. My phone rang 'Where are you?' It was Adam, who had agreed to come out and help load in deference to my advancing years. He joined us and another round of tea was forthcoming.

At twenty to ten they finally said they were ready - at their entrance a 360 was finishing bashing into submission a mixture of broken brick and concrete about thirty feet across that occupied the muddy hole that they'd decided needed filling rather than risk my low loader sinking out of sight. We got started and by just after 11 o'clock Adam was on his way back to base, Phil was finishing his paperwork and I was heading southward for Burton on Trent.

I forget that our loads aren't allowed on the obvious direct line of the A38 through Derby - they have to stay on the M1 and turn right onto the A50 to join the A38 south of Derby, so I had plenty of time to kill at Burton before Phil arrived. To add to the entertainment there were road works just up from the entrance turning, with temporary lights so that traffic was queuing up the other side of the road, restricting Phil's space to turn in. But it's amazing what you can do with hivi and confidence. As Phil rolled up, I strode out and held up cars in the opposite direction to give him the extra space to swing in.

We got the loco unloaded, I drove it thirty yards from the ramp to give Phil space to get the tractor back on, and as there is no room to turn round, had the joy of backing him out and into the line of traffic waiting for the temporary lights. Once again hivi'd and confident, I strode out, stopped a white saloon 30-40 yards back from the turning, banked Phil out and set him on his way before waving my thanks to the car drivers I'd delayed and heading back to the van.

After all this excitement I stayed in on Wednesday while Andrew and Steph set off to collect grandson for an Easter break. On Thursday I was at the shed all day with a contractor in to carry out work on an engine while I pottered about on sundry tasks ready to offer guidance, make tea and executive decisions. First thing Friday I had a call from Harvey C about moving the loco down from Rowsley. To recap, we brought this in a couple of weeks ago but as Harvey was enjoying himself down south working as an extra for a Ridley Scot film, it had remained at Rowsley. Now he was back and first task was to get a loco back up there and that one down. I had the option of using RS8 or the HaTRAMM, and as the latter has more comfortable seats I opted to take that. As we rolled into Rowsley some volunteers on the platform looked incredulously at us - whether that was because they were unaware of the HaTRAMM or because they'd never seen one hauling a loco before I had no time to ask. We swapped over locos, and set off back for Darley Dale.

I shut up shop and returned home for lunch. Later in the day Andrew asked me to pop down to Darley with him as he'd sold some surplus Dexion racking and the purchaser was coming in to collect. He was local so having put one load in his van he opted to return for the last piece in a few minutes. While waiting we were measuring up some things in the yard and as we came back to the shed found two men just exiting. It seems our purchaser had been waylaid by them asking to look round and had told them we were in the shed as he drove off. I did the usual guided tour, failed to get a donation out of them (must work on my strong arm tactics) though they did insist on remembering us from Long Marston. They had come, they said, assuming that Peak Rail was running as it was Good Friday but it was shut up. (Peak Rail never ran on Good Friday. Harvey told me it was usually 'cash and carry day' for the Easter weekend and didn't apparently suit the previous management to do that 24 hours earlier.)

And so to Easter Saturday. For the moment there is pressure on us to restore Tom to good health and progress the HaTRAMM for possible Peak Rail use. I set Matt on with changing the fuel lift pumps while I set about removing the two jammed air valves on the HaTRAMM which control the cylinders that engage the hydrostatic pump and motor. Andrew had said we'd re-plumb with two new valves, one I had in stock and another he'd sourced during the week, so I solemnly dismantled the old ones (they were sub-base on a manifold) and tried to work out where to locate the new ones in the space vacated by the compact sub-base pair.

I was still wondering how best to achieve it, when Andrew arrived, changed the plan by deciding that the existing valves were probably just sticking and could be recovered. I muttered under my breath and reassembled the sub-base and feed pipe, which now leaks slightly for having been disturbed. Meanwhile Matt had finished the lift pumps on Tom and moved on to draining the coolant and transmission oil ready to swap the leaky cooler for the torpedo depicted last week. Andrew transferred and between them they moved various pallets farther over to make room and lifted the coolers with the forklift. Matt started refilling the system. Back on the HaTRAMM, I had attempted to refit the original pipework but only succeeded in damaging the fittings, so the decision was made to re-plumb the air lines from the valves to the regulators and the other side direct to the cylinders.

That meant locating where the cylinders were - that for the pump being right behind the raised platform over the engine and involved extracting the step assembly and battling with seized caphead screws. When this was refitted later I copper-slipped the screwthreads for next time. With everything reconnected we attempted to operate the valves which would engage the clutches that drove the hydraulic pump and motor. The pump powers the crane and its stabilizers, the motor drives into the transmission to enable slow movements when picking up or dropping off loads.

But the sequence of engagement and disengagement was specific and backed up by various relays and proved rather elusive. We could achieve engagement but disengagement was another matter and was still eluding us when Matt announced he was ready to start up Tom. By manually operating the valves, the clutches could be disengaged, but the buttons in the desk did nothing. I transferred to Tom.

After several weeks awaiting the cooler I was expecting Tom to be a reluctant starter, but to my surprise (shock?) it took off instantly and ran without any interruption, which I had expected as surely changing lift pumps had left air in the system. It is not proof, but may indicate that our cutting out issues was these lift pumps and that they had also contributed to the poor starting. Sure enough, as it ran the low level warning light for the transmission reservoir came on, so I added more oil until the light stayed out and the converter pressure appeared on the gauge, then it was watch for any leaks. Fortunately there didn't appear to be any and after a few minutes we shut it down. Andrew headed back to look after grandson while Steph went to mass, and I pottered on with a few tasks on my own for a couple of hours.

Andrew, Steph and grandson were off go-karting Sunday morning but I was due down at the shed. I set Matt on Tom's sliding doors. They were not one of the Sentinel's best features, good enough when new but a nuisance as they wore - in Tom's case we had one wedged shut as it had no door handle and the other was stuck solid neither open nor closed. I returned to the HaTRAMM, to excavate an entry to a major junction box on the back, which had to be important as there were no less than 9 or 10 conduits going into it. Over it was a steel cover held by 4 capscrews, but a weakness of capscrews is that exposed to weather they can corrode in the hexagonal recess and your allen key turns the hex into a hole. In the end I ground two off.

I heard Matt talking to someone, and found a visitor who seemed to think that we were expecting him. He wasn't touting a camera which I thought was odd based on observing the vast majority of enthusiasts we get, but after he'd explained that he'd been at the 'carriage shed' at Rowsley and a young man had promised to send a message because we'd be here, I guessed (rightly as it transpired) that he'd been talking to Dr Ben and that Dr Ben would have texted Andrew (who hadn't heard it over the noise of go-karts). Our visitor then produced a note book and if he took no photos, wrote down every number I provided him. He was anxious to see 144V (having travelled a long way, he said, to see it in Essex and having been unable to do so) but did slightly disconcert me when he saw RS8 (an 0-4-0 in fresh yellow) and assumed it was 144V (an 0-4-0 in a rusty, flaking yellow) and that we'd already restored it. If only. Once again no donation - maybe I should erect a turnstile.

Back on the HaTRAMM the last two capheads surrendered and at last I found another batch of relays and the load detection circuit board. That one relay socket was empty (top right) did get me excited, but there's one at the left which has the air of an afterthought. Andrew arrived and after lunch we worked together, with much consultation of circuit diagrams and operating instructions.

It transpired we had a plug-in relay in the desk which should have had 4 poles but only had two - a relic of a visit from the local juveniles several years ago who pulled a load out and left them scattered on the floor. That enabled us not only to engage the pump and motor clutches but disengage them too. The next step was to deploy the stabilisers but once again engaging them was one thing, disengaging them another. Since leaving the HaTRAMM disabled until Andy M can find his way back was not an option: we managed to override things manually to get a retraction but further investigation of circuitry remains. We did though investigate the limit switch that detects that the crane is back, stowed in its place for travel and is interlocked with other things, only to find part of the wiring had been renewed and the new part had wiring crossed over which might have created a short circuit. As the day drew to a close that remained a topic for further investigation and we boxed everything up.

And that's about it for this edition. Tomorrow it'll be like another Sunday (I'll probably be in danger of writing another blog entry) then it's back to normal - if there is such a thing - with a move or two later on. So I should be back this time next week for another work of fiction. See ya then.