The view from the new TranzScenic carriages. Kiwi Rail

Charlie & The TranzAlpine

Posted by Roy Sinclair in Central South Island Travel Stories
Saturday, 29 July 2006

Charlie and the TranzAlpine may not have quite the same ring to it as Charlie and the Chocolate Factory but having seen the movie and travelled on the train, I am comfortable with the comparison.

And while the Willy Wonka tycoon has made an impression on world-wide cinema screens, the TranzAlpine train manager is definitely a hit with those taking a trip on New Zealand’s coast to coast railway. They enjoy his humour, keen sense of history, and sheer love of the railway he travels on.

Charlie Ogston wears a permanent smile.

Riding the rails across New Zealand’s South Island – divided at its backbone by the Southern Alps – is Charlie’s passion. From Christchurch, close to the Pacific Ocean, the railway gradually climbs 68 kilometres across the Canterbury plains to Springfield. The next 70-kilometre section through the gorges and mountains to Arthur’s Pass are spectacular.

From the 737-metre Arthur’s Pass summit, the railway plunges through the 8.5 kilometre Otira Tunnel into Westland, a landscape identified by its rain forests and trout fishing lakes. Ninety-three kilometres from Arthur’s Pass the TranzAlpine terminates at Greymouth close to the crashing waves from the Tasman Sea.

Tranz Scenic’s TranzAlpine has been billed, ``One of the six great rail journeys of the world.’’

Early in the journey Charlie will tell the story of a long-lost diamond ring. He was the Darfield stationmaster. The ring flew off his wife’s slender finger while gardening. The newly-married couple were agog as the display of glittering diamonds winged over the fence into a horse paddock.

For a quarter of a century Charlie has thanked his lucky stars it was not him who lost the ring. The couple still return to Darfield with the hope they might spot a glitter of grubby diamonds.  

On one occasion I travelled the line west from Springfield with Charlie, but not aboard the plush TranzAlpine. A track maintainer was taking us 16 kilometres to photograph the big Staircase Gully viaduct standing 72 metres above the Waimakariri Gorge.

Riding in an Isuzu flat-bed truck converted to run on rails, we rattled through seven tunnels, each plunging us into blackness and returning us to a landscape of stark beauty.

A century ago the viaduct had been precariously slung 150 metres across Staircase Gully to the portal of No. 8 tunnel. Supported on a single pier it appeared airy and fragile. A train crossed, its locomotive engineer kindly slowing for my camera.

Knowing it was a rare privilege, we walked across the steel structure to the tunnel portal. High wooden windbreaks protect trains from strong nor-west winds funnelling through Staircase Gully.     

Peering into the dizzy depths, I felt insignificant in an environment that was equally beautiful, desolate, and frightening. The beauty was seen in the colour of the Waimakariri. From its streams shone tantalising shades, emulating those of gemstones. "Waimakariri" is Maori for a "river of cold rushing water."

Aboard the TranzAlpine, on another day, I enjoyed the security of the railway carriage. Charlie’s commentary was in full swing as his 500 train passengers peered into the same gorge.

He followed with a ghost story relating to a derelict hut with a rusting corrugated iron roof. It had been used by deer hunters but they could not sleep inside. Once darkness fell, the hut had a strange presence.

Similar stories have been told of the Waimakariri Gorge. A well-dressed man was seen walking though a tunnel. The locomotive engineer stopped his train fearing the death of the tunnel walker. Police were called delaying the train several hours. Nothing was found.

The railway is frequently referred to as ``The route of the TranzAlpine’’. Correctly, it is the ``Midland Line’’ named after the company that, last century, struggled to lay the first few kilometres of track from Springfield.

By mid morning the TranzAlpine was heading into the upper Waimakariri valley. It was here in the 1860s explorers were searching for a route to Westland. I enjoyed the touch of ``family’’ in Charlie’s account of how it happened:

Edward Dobson, Canterbury’s first Provincial Engineer, had sent his surveyor sons George and Arthur to explore nine possible routes through the alps. In 1864 Arthur crossed a pass beyond the headquarters of a river now known as the Bealey. Despite the treacherous gorge down its western flank, Edward Dobson subsequently decreed the pass the best of a bad bunch.

A year later George, travelling the same route as Arthur, casually named the pass ``Arthur’s’’ after his younger brother. He also named ``Rolleston’’ the striking mountain peak above the present township after William Rolleston, a superintendent of the Canterbury province and friend of his father.

And he named the impressive waterfall "Devil’s Punchbowl’’ after old Nick himself.

Otira, the first TranzAlpine stop west of the Alps, was once a bustling railway town dogged by a high rainfall. These days Otira is as deserted as it appears derelict. The small number of residents were recently shocked by a five-fold rate rise on land, and a doubling of property values owing to capital improvements.  

Yet, as someone correctly observed, there had been no improvements in Otira for over 20 years.

Charlie had been offered the Otira stationmaster’s job. That was many years ago. But after the daring descent of the Otira Gorge road in pouring rain Mrs Ogston took one look at the town and said, ``Well dear, take the job if you want to. But if you do you’re on your own.’’

The journey towards the West Coast was easy and relaxing. Charlie’s stories  continued as the TranzAlpine wandered beside Lake Brunner, followed the Arnold River to Stillwater and, finally, eased through the Grey River Valley.  

I spent a few moments chatting with Charlie as he helped prepare the buffet for the afternoon return journey. He poured coffee for us both. And he caught my gaze fixing on the last remaining Willy Wonka chocolate bar – the one without the Golden Ticket.

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