LAST TWO OF A DYING RACE: COAL PIT-PONIES

Press, Volume CXI, Issue 32542, 27 February 1971, Page 11

LAST TWO OF A DYING RACE: COAL PIT-PONIES

(By

FRANK SNOW)

Coal pit-ponies, which for more than a century filled a vital role in the West Coast’s way of life, are today virtually extinct in the region. Throughout the whole of the Coast’s coalfields there are only two ponies still working underground.

Indeed, I was told this week by the district manager of State Coal Mines, Greymouth, Mr Jack London: “These two still working on the Coast are probably the last pit-ponies left in the whole of New Zealand.” Wide-spread mechanisation, topped by our coal industry’s drastic general decline in the last couple of years or so, has brought this about. The two historic survivors —Toby, aged about 20, and Jimmy, about 14—work in separate small mines within less than three-quarters of a mile of each other, about six miles from Greymouth. The two mines are known as “co-operative party” mines, each managed and

worked by a small group of experienced miners. The “party” system, which has functioned on the Coast for more than 50 years, makes provision for a group of miners to lease from the Mines Department a known coal-bearing area, the miners themselves being responsible for developing at the site a small-scale mule and providing the necessary equipment and buildings. They also pay the department a royalty on every ton of coal they win. Quite a few of these small mines are still running on the Coast In the Reefton area alone there are. about a dozen. But none employs pitponies. Mr Jack Mulligan, of Reefton, who is now out of the coal industry, but was for some years a member of the group running the former Barner Party Mine said: “There hasn't been a pit-pony employed in this district for the past twelve months to two years. But I can remember when there’d be anything from 20 to 25.”

Westport is the same. An official at the Westport District Mines office, Mr Stewart Simpson, said: “To my knowledge, there isn’t a pit-pony left in the whole of this region. The last two, which had come from Murchison, were at work in this area, but only for a short while?' He said there were four cooperative party mines working in the district.

Rugged country Toby, a knowing-eyed light bay, is employed at the Hunter and Party Mine, and Jimmy, another light bay, is at the Moody Creek Party Mine.

Both mines are in very rugged country, neither having road access. They are situated on the route of the eight-mile branch railway line from Greymouth to Rewanui, site of the Liverpool State Mine. The line also serves the twin townships of Runanga and Dunollie, about five miles north of Greymouth, Immediately beyond Dunollie the railway takes a zigzag course through very hilly, bush-clad country, the track being mainly around steep hillsides. Moody Creek Mine is about a mite beyond Dunollie, and the Hunter nearly another mite farther. A workers’ train leaves Greymouth at 6.30 a.m. (five minutes later on Saturdays) six days a week for Rewanui. The majority of its passengers are picked up at Runanga and Dunollie, and compose mostly Liverpool Mine workers. Besides the Moody Creek and the Hunter, there are in the area two other cooperative party mines—the Spark and Party and the Patterson and Party—and men engaged in these small mines are dropped off as the train passes their respective winch-houses and bins sites. Boarding the train at Greymouth, I stepped off at the Hunter and Party, the farther up the line of the two mines I needed to visit. Five men work the Hunter —and, of course, Toby. Co-operative mines, however small the number of a “party,” must each have a manager with certain qualifications. The appointment depends on his holding a mine manager’s certificate, a deputy’s or an underviewer’s. He must also hold a first-aid certificate.

The mine’s manager, Mr Arnold Green, told me the mine was first opened as a co-operative concern in 1939 or 1940. He said two or three of the party running it had been with it for anything from 15 to 20 years. “For myself,” said Arnold, who is 37, “I’ve been here only six years. But as Toby is your main subject of interest I’ll hand you over to the chap who handles him, Russell Coppersmith.” Russell, 51, took me to the tidy-looking stable which houses the pony at nights. In a jiffy, Russ had on Toby’s hauling harness and a loose rope halter, and off we all went, Toby in tow, down a steep and rugged track to the pit-mouth.

Toby’s daily task is the hauling of skips (also known as “boxes” or just trucks) along an eight-chain length of rails running underground from the pit-mouth, which is a sheer drive, tunnel-wise, into high and almost vertically steep country. His outward haul consists of a line (known as a “race”) of five loaded skips, each carrying half a ton of coal. Once outside the mine, and the “race” clear of the entrance, the pony, on his own initiative, stops to allow his boss, Russell, to slip the rail-points. This done, ahead goes Toby a short distance to the bottom of the gantrystructure along which the set of rails runs sharply upwards some 200 feet to the winchhouse and bins, erected directly on the edge of the Rewanui railway line to facilitate outloading to railway coal-trucks. Unhitched from his load, and at a word from his boss, the pony quietly makes his way a few yards over to the “race” of five empty skips let down from “up top” while he and his boss were underground. Bell signal Meantime, an electric-bell signal from Russell has brought the winch-house into action, and the loaded “race” moves slowly off on its steep ascent. Next moment, Toby, now hitched to the empties, is making his way back to the darkness of the mine.

He brings out 15 loaded "races” a day. Toby’s haulage is not from the actual face the Hunter men are at present working on. This is going on further in, and at a much lower level —“over the dip,” as it was referred to. Russell Coppersmith works an underground winch to bring the loaded skips up to the level of the pony’s even length. “Toby,” said Russell, “knows his drill. There’s no such thing as having to drive him. He’s controlled entirely by word of mouth, and often enough doesn’t even require that. And there’s not a spec of vice in him, though he can' be a bit mischievous sometimes. Like taking a playful but harmless nip at you with his mouth. “He’s well looked after, getting plenty of chaff and oats. He’s kept here at the mine during the working week, but is taken to a paddock in Dunollie during week-ends and, of course, at holiday times. “Moreover, I keep him well groomed." The pony’s appearance, his good condition and shining coat, confirmed Russ’s words. A walk back along the railway for about i-miie brought me to Moody. Creek Mine, which has seven of a party, and one employee. (Jack Lundon later told me that strict conditions governed any engagement of employees at co-operative party mines, self-employ-ment being one of the primary aims of the scheme). The manager, Mr Ron McTaggart, told me the mine had been opened under the party system in 1934. He had himself, he said, been a member of the party for the past 34 years. Others in

the party would have terms ranging from 20 down to 4 years. He met me at the winchhouse alongside the railway line, and guided me down the steep 150 ft of hillside to the pit-mouth, where shortly afterwards pit-pony- Jimmy made his appearance coming out of the mine drawing a "race” of six full skips. Jimmy, I might say, is a bigger animal than the Hunter’s Toby . . . hence the bigger load. I noticed he wore no headgear at all.

“Jimmy,” said Ron, “doesn’t need any driving, and much less any leading. He knows his job as well as we know ours in the mine. AU he needs is to be given the word. He’s well cared for and doesn’t give any trouble."

As with Toby at Hunter’s, Jimmy’s general condition and sleek-looking coat told their own story. And his performance at his chores was just as adept. Ron: “I can recall the time there would be from 30 to 40 pit-ponies working in this Runanga-Rewanui area. Also, there used to be 21 cooperative party mines in this district In those days there was a lively demand for good pit-ponies. “A lot of the mines' on the Coast bought their pitponies from a Westport farmer, a Mr Norman Archer, who died a few years back. Mr Archer built an artifical tunnel and used to train ponies to get used to going from the daylight into the darkness. If I remember rightly, his trained ponies cost from £3O to £4O apiece.” The complete output of the two mines goes by rail to Canterbury and is sold for domestic use.