About the Puffing Devil

The weekend commencing the 28th April 2001 was to be like nothing else in the history of the Trevithick Society. It started at about seven in the morning when Kingsley Rickard and his small team erected their incredibly complicated but award winning bright yellow stall for the society in the car park at the Trevithick Surgery.

Soon afterwards the engineering team assembled at the Holman factory of CompAir UK to prepare the star of the parade for its important outing. The engine was manhandled into the yard and preparations made to raise steam. There was clearly plenty of time before the planned public appearance at 11 o’clock outside the factory gates.

As the fire was laid and the first smoke appeared David Bray and Arthur Young set about the tender ministrations required by a steam engine of such an ancient design. Bolts were checked everywhere and the engine was lubricated. The last drops of a thick, dull green oil were used. It had been presented to the West of England Steam Engine Society by South Crofty mine when Robinson’s 80” steam engine was laid to rest many years previously.

A small group of CompAir employees chatted merrily and added to the excitement and enthusiasm as Jon Eastman stoked the fire and the final specks of dust were carefully removed from the recently painted black boiler.

The media, always looking for a good story, brought out their cameras, recorders and note books. Much was made of the thousands of hours of skilled work involved in the building of this engine. A group of talented steam engine owners who had arrived in Camborne for the festivities admired the authentic workmanship before them and congratulated everyone they could find. John Sawle and his team were feeling justly pleased with themselves.

Then the first sign that the day was not going to be without its problems became apparent. Although the fire had been burning fiercely for some time the boiler pressure was reluctant to rise. Maybe the cold wind that morning was undermining the efforts of the firemen. Time was running out so several CompAir employees came to the rescue with an air compressor (not a difficult item to find in CompAir) and an air line provided a forced draught.

Soon a working pressure was in sight and the crew slipped away to change into their period costume, an essential part of the re-enactment. Once they were all looking the part a driving pin was inserted into a crank and the engine eased gently forward. With the wheel chocks away and the brakes off, John opened the steam valve and the little engine and its crew were away.

The crew of ten was divided into those being carried and those who were marshals. The loco could be operated by two people, the driver John Sawle, the Project Engineer with 38 years experience of steam locomotives, who was responsible for the engine operation and braking and the steersman, Arthur Young, a skilled voluntary engineer who had built the vehicle and whose sole job was now its direction. All the others were along for the historic ride but had also received instructions how to act if more marshals were required. Two were designated as handlers of the wheel chocks in case a need arose to use them.

It was quite a distance from the Number 5 Building to the factory gates. The engine was now leaving what had been its home for the last year and making its own way into Camborne. During the previous week period posters had been distributed around Camborne inviting people to accompany the engine on its journey from the factory to the town. Consequently the locomotive was greeted by a great crowd in Foundry Road. With another whistle to acknowledge their waves, cheers and camera clicks the little engine puffed around the Tesco roundabout and was soon on its way along Centenary Street.

From the design stage the locomotive had been intended to have a cruising speed of 3½ m.p.h. in order to make it suitable to take part in the Trevithick Day parade and not run away from the dancers. It could clearly travel a little faster but its unusual appearance with a plunging piston, flailing connecting rods and with steam and smoke issuing from various orifices made it look much faster than it could possibly go.

The long straight road was clear and, although there was little pressure in the boiler (about 25 lbs/sq”) it was sufficient to travel at a merry trot with the crowds skipping closely behind. This was an historic moment and it was savoured by all that were on board or saw the engine on its journey that day.

A reverential stop was made at the statue of Richard Trevithick outside the library. Another great crowd was assembled and an enthusiastic cheer went up again. Following a gentle turn into Basset Street the little engine was dwarfed by some of its direct descendants in the form of the traction engines which were lined up in preparation for the parade. Basset Street echoed to a tremendous welcome of shrill whistles. The atmosphere was exhilarating.

During all the long months of construction no real thought had been given to the effect the locomotive would have when other people saw it for the first time. In one stroke the little engine had been given life and a family of thousands. It was warm, breathing, chuffing and dribbling. Thousands of people immediately took it to their hearts.

There was little room to manoeuvre in the road outside the Trevithick Surgery car park so the skill of the crew and the agility of the replica were put to the test before the eyes of the public. A deft bit of driving in the confined space was completed to another roar of approval and the locomotive was neatly parked. The pin was removed from the drive and the engine was allowed to idle, chuffing contentedly.

The society completely surrounded the engine with a screen of John Sawle’s sheep hurdles to keep curious fingers off the hot boiler and the moving parts. Everyone wanted to see what Richard Trevithick had produced against the advice of James Watt 200 years ago. All those involved in the project were quizzed endlessly about the intricacies of the engine and how it had been made. Some people just stood silently and marvelled. Cameras clicked incessantly.

Frank Trevithick Okuno, a direct descendent of the Cornish inventor, had made a long railway journey in poor health from London. He was ecstatic that the project had come to a successful conclusion. There was a short shower of rain but that did nothing to deter the crowds. It seemed as though nothing could really go wrong that day.