Last week I ventured out for a three day inspection tour of freight operations, starting in Riyadh and ending in Dammam. The SRO railway is the original railway in the Kingdom, started in 1951 with local oil related traffic in the Dammam area, but has since expanded and has become a useful part of the country’s infrastructure. Freight is predominantly container traffic and this operates between King Abdulaziz Port in Dammam to the inland Dry Port in Riyadh. Loaded containers travel into Riyadh and empty ones back to the port. The railway takes over 600,000 twenty-foot equivalent containers off the roads each year and that can only be a good thing, as road safety needs all the help it can get. Passenger services operate between Dammam and Riyadh, taking the newer direct route between Hofuf and Riyadh, and freight traffic between the cities takes the original route via Haradh. There are also branch lines for other commodity traffic.

I joined locomotives in Riyadh Dry Port and we travelled the short distance to the sidings where full length trains are formed for the trunk journey, as the internal layout at the Dry port does not have room for the full trains which are generally over 1km long. The operations follow North American practise, with buckeye couplers and end of train devices to confirm brake continuity. These are radio-linked to the driving cab where a display shows the driver its status. These are simple yet effective, and I am not sure why we in the UK have never considered their use.

Having coupled to 60 wagons which each contained two stacked 40 foot containers (or mixtures of 20 and 40 foot boxes) we set off. Speeds were not high and mostly at the maximum speed of 60km/h. With a 550km journey ahead, it would take the train the best part of 14 hours to reach Dammam. The freight line is single track with crossing loops at 30km to 40km intervals, and approaching the loops the driver would check the lie of the points and the train supervisor would manually operate them if there was a need to cross another train. Signalling between the freight route junction and Hofuf is radio dispatch with verbal permissions rom the centralised traffic control in Dammam being written down by the driver. Level crossings in the rural area are open to road traffic and unmanned. The freight route is unfenced, and we encountered camels, sheep and goats on the line as we travelled. Fortunately all had herdsmen and were shooed clear as the train approached. Even so, we came across several deceased camels at the lineside, victims of previous train strikes. This is about as simple a railway operation as you can get on a relatively busy freight railway.

At one crossing point we stopped for a break awaiting the opposite train, and the crew and I went to a dilapidated bothy and they invited me to share their chicken and. rice. Even though I had sandwiches, I accepted their hospitality and repaid them with biscuits. They also performed their prayer rituals, so I cleared out to give them privacy. This afforded me time to look at the four parked white Suzuki jeeps that had been converted for rail use with metal flanged wheels. Locally these cars are called “scooters” and are used for track inspection, and several crossing points had these scooters stabled in sidings. After the opposite train had passed we set out again, and darkness fell. The locomotive has a high intensity beam headlight and this illuminated 500m of track ahead, Whilst that was impressive, it also allowed me to see all the fine airborne particles of sand which are a feature whenever there is any air movement. Looking at it from within the driving cab it reminded me of seeing the fluid colloids that we examined in glass jars in the chemistry lab back at school.

After six hours travel we arrived at the village of Haradh. Although the station here has not been used by passengers since the direct line from Hofuf to Riyadh was opened many years ago, there are permanent staff there, mostly track maintenance people, and the man whom I was to meet - the station master. As well as looking after local operations, he was also the train crew lodge manager. He showed me to my room for the night. Whilst in comfort terms it was Spartan, it was also very clean and I suspect that the bedsheets were brand new. At this point I should mention that I had advised SRO of my visit itinerary well in advance, and everywhere I went people were expecting me and all relevant access was being allowed. The Stationmaster asked if I would like to eat, and when I said yes, he took me in his car into the village to a restaurant. This was a cross between a native eaterie and a transport café as it is on the highway from Riyadh to the UAE. I took a picture of the menu (see below), and leave it to you to work out what was on offer. As I knew what Shwarma was (chicken kebab), I took that, and it was surprisingly tasty. Perhaps my footplate hunger rule no.1 (I will eat or drink anything as I don’t know when I will next have the chance) had kicked in.

Menu options. Brick, anyone?

After the meal my host asked if I would like a tea or coffee and I agreed. He drove me 10 minutes into the desert and we came to a traditional Bedouin tent. Inside there was an open fire and carpets and floor-seats. Several men were there and my host introduced me to them – they turned out to be his family and friends - there were no ladies present. We sat and had Arabic coffee then sweet black tea which was sat warming around the fire. Next, an eating-cloth was laid out on the floor and a whole roast sheep brought in with nearly as much ceremony as the haggis at a Burns’ Supper. It gradually dawned on me that I was the guest of honour, and I was given the option of sitting at the head or tail end of the sheep, which was nestling on a bed of rice and vegetables. Having heard stories of sheeps’ eyes I sat at the tail, and we all tucked in, by using our right hands to grab handfuls of the sheep and mixing it with the rice and veg. The Arabs squish all the food into balls in their right hand and pop it into their mouths, however I clearly didn’t do this sufficiently well enough as I left a trail of rice over my knees and front. I also discovered that the rear end of a sheep is mostly fat, and tried my hand further up the beast with meatier success.

Tucking into the sheep. Glad I was at the tail end!

That said, I tried to make the impression of eating heartily whilst minimising my actual intake, footplate rule 1 was ditched. Once the sheep was demolished, a shuffle-dance broke out to the sound of one of the men “singing” and I was encouraged to join. If you can imagine a line of eight men with linked arms “dad-dancing” a shuffled quarter-cancan, well that pretty much sums up the scene. Eventually I managed to indicate to my host (who spoke no English) that I needed to go back to the lodge and get some sleep, and after protracted farewells we returned. I did get the impression that I was the first white man to pass that way in a long time, and was very impressed and grateful for their hospitality. The authenticity of the tent was marginally spoiled by a generator running outside which powered electric lights, a fan for the fire and a 48 inch wide-screen TV showing camel races, but that is just detail.

At least I had tea to wash it down.

After a good night’s sleep I was up in the morning and onto the footplate of another freight carrying double-stacked containers heading towards Dammam. As with the first one, the crew did not speak English and we communicated by gestures. At one crossing point the supervisor dismounted to work the points and observe the safety of the train as a “roll-by” test. As he walked the 1000m plus length of the train back to the locomotives the driver took a prayer break. I dismounted and took some desert photos. By the time the supervisor reached the front the driver had finished and he set the train off again. The supervisor then unfurled his rug in the cab for his prayers, so to give him privacy I went out of the forward facing cab door and sat on the front of the loco facing the 60km/h breeze, almost like Kate Winslet on the bow of the ship in the movie “Titanic” for the ten minutes until he finished. Definitely a new experience. In case you are thinking that I was doing something dodgy during a safety inspection, I can confirm there were handrails at all stages of the walk.

New ship of the desert?

Once the line reaches Hofuf it is double-track to Damman, however passenger trains use the northern one and freights the southern one, and both have passing loops. This is unusual, but the timetable caters for it. Once we reached Dammam freight yard, I detrained and picked up a taxi to my hotel where I had a long shower and a nice knife-and-fork meal.

On the third day I returned to Damman Yard and picked up my next train, a cement working to Ain Dar factory. There was no traffic for the outward run so the locos ran “light” (by themselves) and picked up 40+ wagons for the return to Dammam. Again there was much of railway operational and safety interest on this journey for me but I won’t bore you with the details. On the return journey I detrained at Abqaiq station and took the next passenger service back to Riyadh (as a passenger), and this took a mere 3½ hours, running at 140km/h. I used the time to start writing up my report.

I joined locomotives in Riyadh Dry Port and we travelled the short distance to the sidings where full length trains are formed for the trunk journey, as the internal layout at the Dry port does not have room for the full trains which are generally over 1km long. The operations follow North American practise, with buckeye couplers and end of train devices to confirm brake continuity. These are radio-linked to the driving cab where a display shows the driver its status. These are simple yet effective, and I am not sure why we in the UK have never considered their use.

Having coupled to 60 wagons which each contained two stacked 40 foot containers (or mixtures of 20 and 40 foot boxes) we set off. Speeds were not high and mostly at the maximum speed of 60km/h. With a 550km journey ahead, it would take the train the best part of 14 hours to reach Dammam. The freight line is single track with crossing loops at 30km to 40km intervals, and approaching the loops the driver would check the lie of the points and the train supervisor would manually operate them if there was a need to cross another train. Signalling between the freight route junction and Hofuf is radio dispatch with verbal permissions rom the centralised traffic control in Dammam being written down by the driver. Level crossings in the rural area are open to road traffic and unmanned. The freight route is unfenced, and we encountered camels, sheep and goats on the line as we travelled. Fortunately all had herdsmen and were shooed clear as the train approached. Even so, we came across several deceased camels at the lineside, victims of previous train strikes. This is about as simple a railway operation as you can get on a relatively busy freight railway.

At one crossing point we stopped for a break awaiting the opposite train, and the crew and I went to a dilapidated bothy and they invited me to share their chicken and. rice. Even though I had sandwiches, I accepted their hospitality and repaid them with biscuits. They also performed their prayer rituals, so I cleared out to give them privacy. This afforded me time to look at the four parked white Suzuki jeeps that had been converted for rail use with metal flanged wheels. Locally these cars are called “scooters” and are used for track inspection, and several crossing points had these scooters stabled in sidings. After the opposite train had passed we set out again, and darkness fell. The locomotive has a high intensity beam headlight and this illuminated 500m of track ahead, Whilst that was impressive, it also allowed me to see all the fine airborne particles of sand which are a feature whenever there is any air movement. Looking at it from within the driving cab it reminded me of seeing the fluid colloids that we examined in glass jars in the chemistry lab back at school.

After six hours travel we arrived at the village of Haradh. Although the station here has not been used by passengers since the direct line from Hofuf to Riyadh was opened many years ago, there are permanent staff there, mostly track maintenance people, and the man whom I was to meet - the station master. As well as looking after local operations, he was also the train crew lodge manager. He showed me to my room for the night. Whilst in comfort terms it was Spartan, it was also very clean and I suspect that the bedsheets were brand new. At this point I should mention that I had advised SRO of my visit itinerary well in advance, and everywhere I went people were expecting me and all relevant access was being allowed. The Stationmaster asked if I would like to eat, and when I said yes, he took me in his car into the village to a restaurant. This was a cross between a native eaterie and a transport café as it is on the highway from Riyadh to the UAE. I took a picture of the menu (see below), and leave it to you to work out what was on offer. As I knew what Shwarma was (chicken kebab), I took that, and it was surprisingly tasty. Perhaps my footplate hunger rule no.1 (I will eat or drink anything as I don’t know when I will next have the chance) had kicked in.

After the meal my host asked if I would like a tea or coffee and I agreed. He drove me 10 minutes into the desert and we came to a traditional Bedouin tent. Inside there was an open fire and carpets and floor-seats. Several men were there and my host introduced me to them – they turned out to be his family and friends - there were no ladies present. We sat and had Arabic coffee then sweet black tea which was sat warming around the fire. Next, an eating-cloth was laid out on the floor and a whole roast sheep brought in with nearly as much ceremony as the haggis at a Burns’ Supper. It gradually dawned on me that I was the guest of honour, and I was given the option of sitting at the head or tail end of the sheep, which was nestling on a bed of rice and vegetables. Having heard stories of sheeps’ eyes I sat at the tail, and we all tucked in, by using our right hands to grab handfuls of the sheep and mixing it with the rice and veg. The Arabs squish all the food into balls in their right hand and pop it into their mouths, however I clearly didn’t do this sufficiently well enough as I left a trail of rice over my knees and front. I also discovered that the rear end of a sheep is mostly fat, and tried my hand further up the beast with meatier success. That said, I tried to make the impression of eating heartily whilst minimising my actual intake, footplate rule 1 was ditched. Once the sheep was demolished, a shuffle-dance broke out to the sound of one of the men “singing” and I was encouraged to join. If you can imagine a line of eight men with linked arms “dad-dancing” a shuffled quarter-cancan, well that pretty much sums up the scene. Eventually I managed to indicate to my host (who spoke no English) that I needed to go back to the lodge and get some sleep, and after protracted farewells we returned. I did get the impression that I was the first white man to pass that way in a long time, and was very impressed and grateful for their hospitality. The authenticity of the tent was marginally spoiled by a generator running outside which powered electric lights, a fan for the fire and a 48 inch wide-screen TV showing camel races, but that is just detail.

After a good night’s sleep I was up in the morning and onto the footplate of another freight carrying double-stacked containers heading towards Dammam. As with the first one, the crew did not speak English and we communicated by gestures. At one crossing point the supervisor dismounted to work the points and observe the safety of the train as a “roll-by” test. As he walked the 1000m plus length of the train back to the locomotives the driver took a prayer break. I dismounted and took some desert photos. By the time the supervisor reached the front the driver had finished and he set the train off again. The supervisor then unfurled his rug in the cab for his prayers, so to give him privacy I went out of the forward facing cab door and sat on the front of the loco facing the 60km/h breeze, almost like Kate Winslet on the bow of the ship in the movie “Titanic” for the ten minutes until he finished. Definitely a new experience. In case you are thinking that I was doing something dodgy during a safety inspection, I can confirm there were handrails at all stages of the walk.

Once the line reaches Hofuf it is double-track to Damman, however passenger trains use the northern one and freights the southern one, and both have passing loops. This is unusual, but the timetable caters for it. Once we reached Dammam freight yard, I detrained and picked up a taxi to my hotel where I had a long shower and a nice knife-and-fork meal.

On the third day I returned to Damman Yard and picked up my next train, a cement working to Ain Dar factory. There was no traffic for the outward run so the locos ran “light” (by themselves) and picked up 40+ wagons for the return to Dammam. Again there was much of railway operational and safety interest on this journey for me but I won’t bore you with the details. On the return journey I detrained at Abqaiq station and took the next passenger service back to Riyadh (as a passenger), and this took a mere 3½ hours, running at 140km/h. I used the time to start writing up my inspection report.