Showing posts with label Thomas Bouch. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thomas Bouch. Show all posts

05 September 2013

Cumbria Bridges: 9. CKPR Bridge 75, Crozier Holme


Finally, here's the last of this set of disused railway bridges on the Cumbria, Keswick and Penrith railway lines.

Bridge 75 is an upright bowstring truss spanning 101 feet. For this bridge, I have a copy of a bridge record drawing, taken from John Rapley's book (see link at the end of the post). This shows the bridge before any strengthening was added in 1931-3. You can compare this against the photographs to see what was changed.

Of the various upright trusses on the line, this one has the most substantial overhead bracing. Otherwise, it is broadly similar to the others. It can be seen looking down to the river from the adjacent A66 highway bridge.

For anyone who would like to visit these bridges, there are details and directions in the Bowstrings over the Greta leaflet (linked below) and also on the Lake District Miles Without Stiles website. Free parking is available next to Keswick leisure centre, and there's a splendid pub in Threlkeld where weary, hungry or thirsty pontists can rest before returning along the route.

Further information:

04 September 2013

Cumbria Bridges: 8. CKPR Bridge 74


I'm nearing the end of this set of bridges which formerly comprised part of Thomas Bouch's Cockermouth Keswick and Penrith Railway (CKPR) line.

This penultimate bridge is another upright bowstring truss. Unlike the previous examples, Bridges 69 and 71, this one has overhead bracing between the trusses, although so little as to be barely worth having.

The bridge lies a short distance to the east of a lovely, short little railway tunnel. It spans 122 feet and has a pronounced skew. As with most of the other bridges on the line, it was strengthened during its lifetime by the addition of new cross-girders, additional diagonal bracing struts to the top chord of the trusses, and additional vertical stiffening on the face of the arches. You can see clearly in the photographs how much heavier the strengthening members are compared to the original metalwork.

Although the railway line was closed in 1972, and converted to a foot/cycle trail quite recently, there are proposals to reopen the entire line as a railway (not just the Keswick to Threlkeld section forming the trail). These plans are being promoted by an independent group, not by any government body, and I have to say I think the likelihood of it ever happening is somewhere very close to nil.

They argue that the retention of the original railway bridges would make it easier to reinstate a railway line, but from what I saw when I visited, the present cycle and foot trail is extremely popular, and diverting it would be an expensive and possibly unpopular option.

Although the bridges may broadly have the strength to carry local passenger services, they are not in marvellous condition and would require close examination, repair and repainting to be of any use for a new railway line. There are difficult obstacles elsewhere on the route, where the original track formation has not been protected against encroachment, and it seems unlikely to me that there is a business case of sufficient strength to attract the necessary private investment.

Further information:

03 September 2013

Cumbria Bridges: 7. CKPR Bridge 73, Rowsome


This is the last of the "upside-down" bridges as you head east along the Keswick to Threlkeld trail. This one is the shortest span at 80 feet.

Unlike the other two similar structures I've already covered, this bridge has retained small X-frame parapets, giving it quite a different appearance. It's still difficult to imagine the bridge as it must have been when it carried rail traffic however. I assume it had a timber deck with the rails supported on large longitudinal timbers, width the crossbeam outriggers supporting a maintenance footpath.

I was able to get a better view from directly underneath this bridge, showing the plate girder which was added when the bridge was strengthened in 1924-8. I wonder how the load was shared between the new girder and the original bowstring trusses, and suspect the girder did the lion's share of the work after it was introduced.

It's interesting to compare the two side views of the bridge in these photographs. The north face is considerably "greener" than the south, as you might expect. I wonder what the original engineers, Thomas Bouch and colleagues, would think of their structures being left in such a visibly dilapidated state. Perhaps they would just be pleased to see the bridge still in use, nearly 150 years after the railway line was originally built.

Further information

02 September 2013

Cumbria Bridges: 6. CKPR Bridge 71, Brundholme


Bridge 71 is the longest span so far in this series, at 100 feet, and there are a number of details of construction which reflect the greater demands imposed on it by rail traffic.

While the bridge retains the basic layout of the upright bowstring truss found at Bridge 69, the top flange of the "bow" is beefed up here with the addition of a trough-section on the upper face.

The original stabilising struts on the outer face of the truss have additional struts at their midpoint, to reduce their own propensity to buckle.

When the bridge was strengthened in 1929-31, a number of additional crossbeams were added below the deck, and some of these were extended to carry yet more truss-stabilising struts. These have been added at the midpoint of the truss X-bracing, requiring vertical strengthening to the truss at these points, achieved by adding pairs of steel channel-sections at each location. In fact, these were added at the centre-point of every "X", with a hugely adverse impact to whatever aesthetic the bridge may once have had.

Closer examination of the underside of this bridge shows significant deterioration to the under-deck metalwork, as would be expected for this type of bridge, which would have had a timber deck even in its original configuration.

All in all, this is now one of the uglier bridges along the route, largely because of the chaotic jumble of strengthening measures which have been applied.

Further information:

01 September 2013

Cumbria Bridges: 5. CKPR Bridge 69, White Moss


Continuing to head east, the next bridge after Bridge 67, is Bridge 69. I guess Bridge 68 may have been a culvert or a now-gone overline bridge.

This is the first of the "right-way-up" bowstring trusses that I visited on this route. It spans 80 feet, with a slight skew. In many ways it will appear as a mirror-image of the previous two "upside-down" structures, with similar X-bracing in the truss elevations.

One difference is that the "bow", the curved member, consists of two flat vertical plates on the other bridges, whereas here they are topped with a horizontal flange plate. As the bow is in compression on this bridge, the flange is needed to prevent the other plates from buckling sideways. The overall lateral buckling of the truss is prevented by the presence of strut bracing on lateral beams which extend sideways from the deck. There are four of these on each side of the bridge, a slightly different arrangement from some other bridges on the line, as we'll see.

Bowstrings over the Greta indicates that this bridge required little or no strengthening when the railway line was upgraded for heavier trains in the 1920s/30s.

What is particularly evident now that the bridge trusses are seen close up is that little if any refurbishment was carried out when the former railway bridge was re-decked as a trail bridge. There appears to be nothing more than superficial corrosion to the trusses, but I wonder who will find the money to pay for repainting and/or repair as and when the bridges deteriorate further in the future.


Further information:

30 August 2013

Cumbria Bridges: 4. CKPR Bridge 67


Carrying on along the trail from Keswick to Threlkeld, the next bridge after Bridge 66 is ... Bridge 67.

This bridge is of the same basic form, an inverted bowstring truss, with the same X-bracing on the elevation. This one is a single span of 90 feet, with a slight skew. There is a short flat slab span on the approach at the east end of the bridge.

Like Bridge 66, it has been strengthened with the addition of a single plate girder between the trusses, which can be seen more clearly on these photographs. Cross-bracing connects the two trusses below the soffit of the central girder, while towards the ends of the span the trusses are connected directly to the girder with short stubs.

I'll come back to another bridge later on in this set which shows the details even more clearly.

Further information:

29 August 2013

Cumbria Bridges: 3. CKPR Bridge 66


The Cockermouth, Keswick and Penrith railway line (CKPR) was designed by the famous (or infamous) Thomas Bouch, an engineer later to become notorious following the collapse of his Tay Railway Bridge. His bridges on the Keswick to Threlkeld section of line have had a happier fate, with eight splendid metal structures surviving to the present day, some decades after the railway line was closed to traffic.

I didn't have time to visit all eight bridges, but you can read more about them in Paul Dunkerley's Bowstrings over the Greta, which has a useful map, photographs, and further details. I've relied on it extensively in this and the forthcoming posts.

Bridge 66 is the only double-span bridge to survive, and comprises two spans of "inverted" bowstring truss construction, reportedly Bouch's preferred solution for this line, wherever clearance above the River Greta permitted its use. Nonetheless, he apparently only adopted this design for one other bridge, at Penicuik in Scotland.

The spans are of 57 feet and 89 feet, and the bridge originally carried only a single railway track. In recent years, like the others, the bridge has been adapted to carry a foot and cycle trail by replacement of the deck with a new timber walkway.

It is possible to pass over this bridge with no idea of what lies below, and indeed that's precisely what I did when I first cycled over it. However, it's well worth finding a way down to the river bank to see the bridge properly, as this bridge, along with three other inverted bowstrings on the line, is of a very rare type. My travelling companions called them the "upside-down" bridges, but this form is more economical than the conventional "upright" bowstring bridge, as the curved members are placed in tension and less material is therefore required to resist buckling.

The bridge has an interesting combination of robustness and elegance, and this isn't marred by the presence of a single plate girder in between the two trusses. This was added in 1931-32 to enhance its strength. It must have been a very difficult construction operation, although the photo here shows that a very neat slot was cut in the abutment to accommodate the girder bearing.

I wasn't able to get photographs that show this whole bridge clearly, but some of the other bridges on the route will hopefully show a few more details for the form.

Further information:

13 January 2011

Max Eyth: "The Bridge Builder"

Last year I reviewed both Peter Lewis's "Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay", and John Rapley's "Thomas Bouch: The Builder of the Tay Bridge", both about the 1879 Tay Bridge disaster, in which 75 people died. The tragic story of the bridge's collapse is a familiar cautionary tale, although I suspect most bridge engineers know little of the detail other than that the bridge was under-designed for wind load. Construction defects, poor design detailing, and inadequate maintenance all played their part, as did economic pressures.

Max Eyth's "The Bridge Builder" (Sampson Low, 1937, 218pp) is a long out-of-print novelisation of the disaster, originally written in German and published in English translation. I was attracted to it by the back cover blurb, which describes "the deep absorption of the engineer in the wonderful thing that has been conceived in his brain and given material form before his eyes; his artistic delight in the beauty of a perfect mechanical creation; his sense of responsibility for its soundness and durability; all this is set forth with a terse conciseness and a deliberate restraint that are at once emotional and convincing, and give the book undeniable literary value".

Books with a bridge engineer as the central character are few and far between, let alone those claiming to offer special insight, so this seemed like it might be especially interesting to a curious Pontist.

Max Eyth was himself a noted engineer (albeit a designer of agricultural machinery). He appears in the first person in the novel as the narrator of the story of the only barely fictitious "Enno Bridge". However, the main protagonist is one Harold Stoss, a German engineer whose mastery of structural theory is of great service to his employer, William Bruce, civil engineer for the North Flintshire Railway.

Bruce is the stand-in for the bold lead engineer Thomas Bouch, while Stoss's closest real-life counterpart is the Cambridge mathematician Allan Duncan Stewart, who carried out the calculations for the bridge's metalwork and later went on to assist Benjamin Baker in the design of the Forth Bridge.

In the first chapter, Eyth encounters Stoss, and a third German expat engineer, in lodgings in Manchester. As narrator, Eyth reports secondhand on his friend Stoss's experiences, receiving news of developments at the Enno Firth through occasional visits and letters. Only after the bridge is complete does Eyth travel to see it for himself.

All the secondhand reportage gives the book an oddly detached and uninvolving style. Most, if not all, the technical detail is an accurate account of the Tay Bridge story, with a series of bold engineering decisions paving the way for eventual catastrophe. Stoss becomes increasingly anxious about whether he has fulfilled his duties properly, particularly in regard to the treatment of wind load. Speaking of Bruce/Bouch's daughter, he comments that "she kissed me into a lower co-efficient of safety". His mingled joy and fear as he pushes the boundaries of design should be familiar to any engineer who has lain awake late at night pondering the risks associated with innovation.

The engineering is interspersed with plenty of incidental detail, but I still finished The Bridge Builder thinking it was rather unsatisfying. The distancing effect of the uninvolved narrator is the main issue, and the somewhat episodic nature of Eyth's intersections with events leave everything quite disjointed as well.

It would be interesting to see what a more contemporary writer would make of the Tay Bridge story. I can easily imagine it as a courtroom drama, focussing on the real-life debate on where to place the blame. However, although the Tay Bridge Court of Inquiry reached rather firm and unequivocal conclusions, history suggests that the bridge fell for a number of coincident reasons, which may be less suited to the imperatives of drama. A simple re-telling of events might be sufficient, particularly if it got closer to the heart of Bouch himself, who was both the hero and villain of events, with a tragic end.

23 August 2010

"Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay"

Having read John Rapley's biography of Tay Bridge designer Thomas Bouch earlier this year, I picked up Peter Lewis's "Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay" (ISBN 0752431609, Tempus Publishing / The History Press, 2004, 192pp) [amazon.co.uk] with interest.

The author, Dr Peter Lewis, is a senior lecturer in materials engineering at the Open University. He's also the author of a book (and paper [PDF]) on the collapse of Robert Stephenson's Dee Bridge, neither of which I've read. The fall of the Tay Bridge is a case study in the Lewis's OU Forensic Engineering course, and this book-length study gave Lewis the opportunity to explore it in great detail, as well as offering his own theory of why it collapsed.

The book's title is taken from William McGonagall's notorious poem. The poet ended his thoughts on the bridge disaster with the words: "For the stronger we our houses do build / The less chance we have of being killed", which, as a simplistic theory of why the bridge failed, is not far off the mark.

This isn't a book to read to discover much about the bridge's designer Thomas Bouch, or the background to the construction of the Tay Bridge. Rapley's biography already mentioned covers that territory more than adequately, and there are other books on the Tay Bridge collapse such as those by John Thomas and John Prebble (both out-of-print but readily available secondhand), or Andre Gren's "The Bridge Is Down!", although that appears to overlap considerably with Lewis in its reliance on the original eyewitness testimony.

Lewis's book places the focus on the engineering of the bridge, and as is perhaps proper for a forensic study, concentrates on what evidence has survived since the 1879 disaster. This largely consists of statements made by witnesses at the Court of Inquiry which examined the failure, as well as photographs of the bridge debris taken on behalf of the Court (all the photos used in this post are out-of-copyright images taken from Dundee library's website about the disaster).

The Court concluded that the bridge was badly designed, badly built and badly maintained, and all three conclusions are well supported by the evidence. Bouch and his assistants took only limited account of wind loading, with lower wind pressures used than those being applied by contemporary French and American engineers. The factor of safety against failure applied by Bouch was less than many of his peers, something that can only be justified where loads and materials are understood with higher than normal certainty, which was clearly not the case on the Tay Bridge, a lengthy estuarial crossing entering into new engineering territory.

Inadequate ground investigation led to the redesign of the planned masonry piers as trestle piers, with cast iron columns and wrought-iron bracing. A desire not to have to increase the foundation size meant that the inclined support buttresses normally used on trestle piers at the time (by Gustave Eiffel, amongst others) were not adopted.

Bouch's design also relied heavily on the attachment of the bracing to the columns using lugs cast as part of the column itself. These proved difficult to cast, and there was plenty of evidence of them being burned on to the column after casting, as well as of defects being disguised with beaumontage filler. Adding to the problems with the lugs, they were cast with tapered holes, which weren't subsequently drilled square, with the result that stresses were concentrated.

Workers on the bridge noted oscillations as trains passed, although the observations were never properly communicated to the design engineers. The pier bracing ties were tensioned using driven cotters to wedge two sections together, and maintenance work led to these being wedged in the loose rather than taut position, to prevent chattering. The result was that the ties carried less tension as time moved on, severely reducing the piers' ability to withstand wind load.

Lewis puts forward the theory that the bracing lugs failed due to fatigue. This idea relies partly on the reported oscillations, which would tend to produce cyclic stress, and also on close examination of distant photographs showing the fractured lugs. The images reproduced in the book are very difficult to interpret, however.

The fatigue theory is also presented in detail in Lewis and Reynolds' technical paper [PDF].

Some support for the concept of failure caused by dynamic oscillation was offered by Björn Åkesson in "Understanding Bridge Collapses". He noted that the choice of flat bars for the bracing diagonals to the bridge piers meant that they buckled under compression, such that the bars in tension had to carry a greater share of load (up to double). The use of stiffer sections for the bracing would have reduced the tension load on the bracing bars and hence on the lugs.

Åkesson also estimated the natural frequency of a bridge pier as 1 Hz (Martin and MacLeod, whose paper is discussed below, calculated 0.2 Hz, but it's not clear if this allows for the mass of the train). This could have left the piers vulnerable to excitation either by the wind (including vortex shedding effects from a train) or by lateral nosing effects as each axle passed over a vulnerable position (which would be enhanced by reported curvature in the track and in girders damaged during erection but incorporated into the final structure).

The fatigue theory has its critics. In 1995, Tom Martin and Iain MacLeod reviewed the Tay Bridge failure using modern 3d frame analysis software. Their own paper [PDF] explained failure purely in terms of equivalent static loads, and relied on the assumption that there would be small uplift at the column bases, considerably redistributing the forces in the bracing. Where their paper is particularly good is on the issues beyond the strength of the structure, the economic pressures that Bouch was under which may have led him to attempt a more efficient design than was justified by the state of knowledge at the time.

Martin and MacLeod published a further paper [PDF] in 2004, contesting the validity of Lewis's fatigue theory. Some of what they say strikes me as odd: they evaluate fatigue load due to wind, but ignore the possibility of fatigue caused by wobble excited by track defects. I'd think that neither theory is proveable beyond doubt, there can only be different levels of plausibility in the light of the lack of surviving evidence, and the unverifiable assumptions that a computer analysis must rely on.

More information on the competing failure theories can be found on Tom Martin's own website, as well as on an interactive site produced by Peter Lewis where you, too, can attempt to solve the 'mystery' of how the bridge fell.

Overall, I very much enjoyed "Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silvery Tay". The presentation of the evidence is comprehensive, with many interesting anecdotes recounted by the eyewitnesses. The many different contributing factors to the collapse are generally well-explained and illustrated, although one or two more diagrams would have assisted.

For the modern designer, the question of which cause of failure is correct should be essentially an irrelevance. The statute of limitations has expired and there is no prospect of a victims' law-suit against a long-gone railway company. However, there are clearly many lessons to be learned which remain relevant today.

The somewhat intuitive approach to loads and factors of safety which Bouch could adopt has generally been superseded by the prescriptions of modern design standards. However, there are always matters of engineering judgement remaining, and the need to consider where the uncertainties in designs may lie. If loads today are generally more predictable, I suspect that hidden construction flaws and tolerance incompatibilities remain a potential cause of departure from the results of simplified analysis, ensuring the need to retain robustness beyond that calculated from the standards.

The need for those responsible for maintenance to properly understand how structures were designed to behave is also as important today as it was then. A greater involvement of builders and designers in the long-term maintenance of their creations would often still be of benefit.

The economic desire for ever-lighter structures which clearly drove Bouch is still strong today, and the Tay Bridge disaster emphasises the need for careful consideration of dynamic behaviour when structures are made more slender, and more vulnerable to excitation from unexpected sources.

16 June 2010

"Thomas Bouch: the Builder of the Tay Bridge"

I picked up a copy of John Rapley's biography "Thomas Bouch: the Builder of the Tay Bridge" (ISBN 978-0-7524-3695-1, Tempus Publishing, 2007, 192pp) [Amazon.co.uk] cheaply in a bargain book store earlier this year.

I had previously read Rapley's fascinating "The Britannia & Other Tubular Bridges" [Amazon.co.uk], which is a detailed and evenhanded account of the great joint achievement of Robert Stephenson and William Fairbairn (and some other, lesser-known structures). So his treatment of the life of the Victoria railway engineer Sir Thomas Bouch was bound to be of interest.

Bouch's name is known to posterity pretty much for one thing, and one thing only: the collapse of his Tay railway bridge on 28 December 1879, approximately 18 months after it had been officially opened to traffic. Bouch's design was discredited, as were the construction and maintenance, and he died ten months later, his reputation ruined.

Before that, he had built up a considerable reputation as a railway engineer who could build new lines for far less money than his competitors. Bouch believed that his contemporaries were often far too conservative in their designs, and his quest for economy frequently led him to build railways using secondhand rails, timber bridges which never lasted long, and single-track rather than double-track solutions. While these allowed new railway lines to be built quickly for low capital outlay, they almost invariably led to higher upgrade costs later.

His antipathy to over-design can be seen in one of his most successful bridges, the Hownes Gill Viaduct, built in 1858 (pictured left in a 1906 postcard). In his book "British Railway Bridges", David Walters suggests that "its slender grace recalls Bouch's life-long contention that contemporary engineering work was hopelessly over-designed and uneconomical, through general conservatism and a chronic underestimation of the ultimate strength of materials". Bouch's design was reviewed by Robert Stephenson, who required both the addition of invert arches at foundation level to better spread the loads, and also that the tallest piers be widened to provide greater stability in high winds.

Bouch was unafraid to innovate when required, developing roll-on-roll-off ferries for railway wagons at the Firth of Forth, and his 1871 cable-stayed Redheugh Bridge at Newcastle foreshadowed modern designs such as those of Riccardo Morandi.

Most of the book focusses on Bouch's lengthy career as a railway engineer, working generally on minor regional lines. This offers a good understanding of Bouch's finely matched strengths and weaknesses. His ability to build for a penny what others could only build for a pound seems to have been unmatched. However, as well as frequently requiring expensive rebuilding, his schemes were often blighted by initial cost over-runs, the result of inadequate advance surveys.

For my taste, there's too little offered in the book to shed light on Bouch as a person (perhaps the source material simply isn't there), and I soon tired of the endless episodes of railway woe.

The Tay Bridge, understandably, is covered in greatest detail. The difficulties of construction included the collapse of two girders during erection, blown over by the wind, but in line with Bouch's general parsinomy, one was recovered from the estuary and re-used in the finished bridge. Once open, there were problems with scour and with slackening tie bars, with inadequate repairs made on site without reference back to Bouch himself. While the civil engineer was receiving a knighthood for his achievements, the bridge was beginning to wobble alarmingly, and (with hindsight) the collapse of the bridge became inevitable.

The Court of Inquiry which investigated the failure of the bridge led to Bouch being left in disgrace. This was despite the two engineers on the Court refusing to apportion blame, and indeed disassociating themselves from the far more critical conclusions of their colleague Henry Rothery (notably, a lawyer rather than an engineer).

While Bouch was certainly responsible for many of the defects in the bridge's design and construction, his responsibility for the ultimate cause of failure, the bridge's inadequate strength against wind load, is less clear. He had sought advice from the railway inspectorate (who noted that wind load need not normally be included in design for spans only a little shorter than those adopted). He was told by the Astronomer Royal (in connection with his aborted design for the Forth Rail Bridge) that a pressure of 10 pounds per square foot was reasonable. Bouch's assistant used a pressure of 20 psf for the Tay Bridge design, despite there being in general little understanding of wind load amongst civil engineers of the period. Bouch became the fall guy, but it seems many of his peers might have made similar decisions.

Overall, I was a little disappointed by this book, although I suspect much of that is simply because Bouch was more of a designer of railways than of bridges, and hence there were large parts of the tale which were of limited interest to me. It was certainly less immediately appealing than Rapley's book on the Britannia Bridge, but that offered a more straightforward story where extensive source material is available, and with historically significant disagreements between the main protagonists to recount. To its credit, "Thomas Bouch" is well illustrated with archive photographs and diagrams, and I'd think it's likely to remain the definitive work on its unfortunate subject for a long time to come.