Who knew?

 I suspect very few people now notice the structure that lies beneath the railway bridge at Haverfordwest and if they do they probably don't give it much thought. But 150 years when Isambard Kingdom Brunel brought his Great Western  railway line through the town, Haverfordwest was still an active port despite being 7 miles from the coast. The River Cleddau was able to afford passage to sea-going ships and Haverfordwest enjoyed a lively import/export trade. So much so that the railway bridge could not be allowed to interfere with river traffic. It had to be liftable so that masted ships could pass through and this rusty undercarriage is the machinery involved in raising the drawbridge, rails and all.

I only knew this because I've seen an old photograph (which I now can't find) but I discovered this account of what used to be an annual event,  as described by a former station master who was there in the 1960s. 

"At Haverfordwest, in West Wales, there was a lift bridge over the Western Cleddau River, just south of the station.  I had assumed it was disused until, one day, I received a letter, by hand, from the mayor informing me that he wished to have the bridge raised at 14:53 on a specific day.  It turned out that the Cleddau was technically navigable up to Haverfordwest Quay but had not been used commercially for many years.  The railway charter was such that if the bridge were not raised within a period of a year the bridge could permanently be left down and the port of Haverfordwest would be cut off for all time from the open sea.  Every year the mayor would find himself a launch and make a ceremonial voyage under the bridge. 

The operating instructions were clear as to how the bridge was to be raised but the signal box, hidden in the undergrowth, had been closed for some twenty years and had been heavily vandalized. 

The great day dawned clear and sunny – just the right sort of weather to go sailing down the river – or for the bosses to enjoy a pleasant day out in the country away from the railway offices in Swansea.  While waiting for everybody to arrive, I found out that last year the bridge had had opened well.  The trouble was it had stuck in the up position and it had taken six hours to get it down again.
It was amazing how many people it took to raise the bridge.  The District Signalling Inspector was there with one of his signalmen and one of my porters to protect the line in both directions. The Ganger was there with his gang to unbolt and rebolt the rails.  The District Signal Engineer had a crew on hand to disconnect and reconnect the block telegraph while the District Engineer and his crew were there to perform the hurculean feat.  There were so many people that there wasn’t room for all of them on the bridge.
The mayoral launch was a rather small affair, so small, in fact, that it would go under the bridge at all states of the tide. This explained why His Worship had been very specific about the time.  The launch was late as it had encountered a strong headwind.  Nevertheless we raised the bridge about two inches then quickly lowered and secured it safe and sound for another year.  Honour was now satisfied on both sides and everybody could go home."


The annual raising of the bridge has long been discontinued, 
its mechanism has rusted into immobility, the river has silted up and the town has lost its theoretical access to the open sea. 
It's not the most engaging image, or story, of dereliction but it's interesting to me. And it was a very bleak and dreary day.