Pillinger, a fanciful illusion: Here one day, gone the next
by Jack and Jude 21 Mar 2018 13:00 UTC
Strahan in 1889 © jackandjude.com
I don’t know of anywhere, other than at Pillinger, where a railway line was hacked through miles of tangled forest, where wharves were built, land reclaimed, a railway station and terminus constructed, a town built, all to be deserted just five years later, and where today that same forest has reclaimed all.
The early history of Kelly Basin and sister Farm Cove borders on fantasy, starting with the earliest establishment of the penal colony on Sarah Island in 1822 when the slopes of nearby Farm Cove were deemed a good place for a garden, but in fact, the heavy soils refused to grow anything better than poor excuses for potatoes. The Sarah Island penal colony had a rather limited life lasting only ten years before the elements finally defeated the resolute British and the whole mess was shifted to a newly built prison at Port Arthur on the East Coast. After that, the west coast lay quiet for a spell. In fact fifty years passed, with just a few eking out a living harvesting the fabled Huon Pine so much in demand for building fine sailing ships. Working out of the north end of the harbour, the tiny township of Strahan met all the needs of these hardy folk, from tucker to shipping out the treasure they brought from the surrounding rainforest.
The illusion began in 1883
The illusion began in 1883 when looking for gold up and beyond the King River gorge and over Sailor Jacks Creek, and past the steep ridge leading into Lynch's camp, where prospectors Karlson and the McDonough brothers struck a strange outcrop of black and purple ironstone boulders. At that stage, no one thought to check the copper content on the site of what would become one of the world's biggest copper mines.
After the discovery of copper at Mt. Lyell, there was an investment boom for West Coast copper mines, mainly from Scottish and English investors, and more than 40 companies staked out leases on and around Mt Lyell. Extravagant claims were made as to their enormous ore bodies, but most never paid any dividends and went bankrupt, and were bought out by the Mt Lyell Co.
Then in 1892, James Crotty floated the North Mt Lyell Co to rival them. He intended spending huge sums of investors' money, duplicating everything Mt Lyell already had by building their own smelter at Crotty on the other side of the range to Queenstown, and a 3'-6" gauge railway to a terminus and port facilities purposely built at Kelly Basin.
The government passed the Railway Bill in 1897, and Messrs Baxter and Saddler, the North Mt Lyell contractors, went straight to work anxious to take advantage of the summer weather. They undertook to complete the railway within twelve months and placed an advertisement calling for 300 first class axe men to work on clearing the way for the railway line. A month later the contractor announced they intended employing 1000 men.
The company's plans for Kelly Basin proceeded in tandem with its railway development. And in 1898, a government land survey was carried out in Kelly Basin where auctioned blocks received record prices for Tasmania. Inside Kelly Basin, Pillinger was to be North Mt Lyell's port; and in its heyday it certainly looked set to rival Strahan. The main settlement would be at West Pillinger, with the North Mt Lyell works on an area of reclaimed swamp at East Pillinger, which the main railway line would pass on its way to the terminus on the western shore.
An expansive industrial centre was also carved out of the wilderness on both sides of Kelly Basin for ore crushing, sawmilling and brickmaking. In addition, three wharves were built, the two on the western shore were 122 m long (400 feet) and the one on the eastern shore was 250 m long (800 feet).
In 1899, more than 600 men were employed on construction of the town, the railway terminus, a station, and engine sheds. Then soon after, the finest Pullman passenger carriages with plush Morocco leather seats and equally lavish trimmings were imported.
The North Mt Lyell lease was on a huge ore body richer in copper than Mt Lyell's Iron Blow, but the company had extravagantly overspent in its efforts to exploit it, so much so that after this period of mismanagement the shareholders voted unanimously to sell out to the more successful Mt Lyell Co. At its peak, the short-lived town of Pillinger had a population of 600, with 80 dwellings, and 25 businesses including stores, tradesmen, three hotels, shipping agents, and a coffee palace. A sailing regatta was even held, with trains arriving packed with visitors from Queenstown and other centres. But, alas, Pillinger's hotels hardly had a chance to serve much beer before the whole town received the death knell when the company was dissolved by the stroke of a pen.
Today, the forest has reclaimed the land. Now very little remains of the town and industrial centre, and the wharfs are mere ghoulish stumps poking out the black waters. But hidden within the dense forest are remnants of that instant of time; brick roads mostly buried by leaf litter and forest matter, brick remains of the kilns, and pub chimney, and on the heath, further out from West Pillinger's centre lies the lone grave of one its inhabitants. Joseph Brown died at Kelly Basin shortly after Christmas 1900, and although records are scant, judging by his lovely gravestone, he must have been much revered, wealthy, or important.
The trains continued to run on the Kelly Basin Line until 1925, but only to collect firewood for the Queenstown smelter. Most of the residents had left Pillinger by 1903, and when the last family departed in 1947, Pillinger was completely abandoned. The rail bed, with tracks removed, now serves as a beautiful walking track alongside the magical Bird River, a day-walk treat for visitors from either direction.
This article has been provided by the courtesy of jackandjude.com