#tunnel ENGINEER

[shinygoku]

Sometimes it's actually less Cringe to be like, "Yeah I love this children's show made for children" than to get so insecure about it you're like "No you don't understand it's SO DAAAARK and SERIOUS and DICTATORSHIP STATE ALLEGORY"

[fuckyeahfluiddynamics]

Derecho-Induced Skyscraper Damage

Derechos are short-lived, intense wind storms sometimes associated with thunderstorms. Last spring, such a storm passed through Houston, leaving downtown skyscrapers with more damage than a hurricane with comparable wind speeds.  (Image credit: National Weather Service; research credit: O. Metwally et al.; via Ars Technica) Read the full article

[vox-anglosphere]

Baker Street

[upstairsdownstairsandinbetween]

"Devil's Corkscrews," Niobrara River, Nebraska, USA,

In the late 1800s, a remarkable fossil discovery in what is now northwestern Nebraska captured the imagination of scientists and sparked decades of research.

At the Agate Springs quarries, paleontologists unearthed something entirely unexpected—giant, spiral-shaped fossil structures buried deep underground. These mysterious formations, often several feet tall and coiled like ancient tree trunks, were unlike anything seen before. Their peculiar shape and massive size puzzled researchers for years. What could they be?

Initially dubbed “devil’s corkscrews,” these structures were thought to be the fossilized roots of ancient trees or even the remains of giant freshwater sponges. But as investigations continued, a more grounded explanation emerged.

Scientists eventually determined that these spirals were actually burrows—complex underground dens created by an extinct genus of land-dwelling beavers known as Palaeocastor.

The construction of spiral burrows required more effort from paleocastorines than digging straight inclined passages of the same length. Among the reasons that led burrowing beavers to this form is their territorial crowding: in conditions of large colonies, straight burrows should have often intersected.

According to another assumption, the unusual shape of the burrows was a response to the hot and dry climate of that era. From this point of view, its spiral design could have been a kind of air conditioning system for maintaining an optimal temperature and humidity regime inside the nesting chamber, which was especially important for the successful breeding of offspring.

Today, the “devil’s corkscrews” remain one of North America’s most fascinating and bizarre fossil discoveries—a testament to the strange and adaptive behavior of prehistoric life, preserved in stone beneath the Nebraska prairie.

Photo by B. Nicholls

[serpentface]

Extremely quick and dirty speedpaint of a dream I had last night

[mouthtapedguy]

Cows have better highway MPG

[2fort-adventures]

Lizard brain.

RIP red spy. He lived silly and ate metal. (I fed him bullets later)

[weirdowithaquill]

Traintober 2024: Day 27 - Twisted

Twisted Grin:

TRIGGER WARNING: This is a ghost story, and a dark one. This is your warning to not read if you are easily frightened.

Recently, the Arlesdale Railway had expanded to a couple of new mines, including one at the end of the valley. These mines were going to be brilliant new sources of ballast for the little railway, and Frank was very pleased to have been given the job of helping to build the lines out to them. The railway line snaked its way through the countryside, and all the way to a new town.

A wry old woman watched as Frank and the gangers laid out the prefabricated track, utilising the old grading work of the Mid Sodor Railway as a guideline for where to build their new line.

“Hello!” chirped Frank cheerfully when he spotted the old woman. She blinked, and wandered closer. Frank noticed immediately that the old woman was limping, using a thick wooden walking cane to help her as she hobbled her way over, pausing to take a few breaths by a slightly rotted old bench. It had once belonged to the Mid Sodor station that had stood here, but that was long gone and the platform had become overrun with weeds.

“Hello, little engine,” the woman hummed, using her cane to help lower herself onto the bench. “You must be building the new railway.” “I am!” beamed Frank. “We’re building out to the old zinc mine beyond the village, so we can extract the ballast. We’ll also be running passenger trains out here of course, but that’s more for tourists.”

The old woman hummed, the tanned wrinkles on her face shifting slightly with every breath. “You be careful around that mine,” she eventually said. Frank blinked; he wasn’t quite sure why the old lady was warning him about the mine, but figured it must be a generic warning. Mr Duncan made them all the time when talking to Rex or Mike.

“I will!” replied Frank politely. The old woman frowned gently – not quite an annoyed look, but more… reproachful. “You think I am being old and silly – everyone ought to know to be careful around mines.” “I… actually wasn’t,” chuckled Frank earnestly. “I was thinking about how a couple of the others get similar general warnings from our controller.” The old woman hummed again, her old eyes burning with something immortal and powerful.

“That mine is haunted,” the old woman finally said. “My husband worked there before it closed – it’s not pleasant to talk about.” Now Frank was intrigued. “What happened?” he asked, before checking to see if any of the gangers were nearby – he spotted a little way away, heading off for lunch.

“The mine owned an engine – Smudger was his name. He was a terror – he wasn’t built right, they said. He was always derailing, or crashing trucks, or trying to pull dangerous pranks on the miners. He very nearly ran several over. And he always had this awful, twisted grin on his face – the engine enjoyed the terror he instilled in others. Everyone hated him, but they couldn’t get rid of him, not when he was needed by the mine. He got so bad that the Mid Sodor refused to let him onto their rails, not wanting to deal with him as his recklessness. He would ride rough and try to get the trucks to crash – and then he would arrive and come up with some awful scheme to cause mayhem. Worst of all, he would hide in the tunnel at the end of the town with only his eyes and grin showing off, waiting to scare another engine despite the dangers. Eventually, all the Mid Sodor engines bar Duke refused to deal with him.

“Then one day, things took a dark turn. Duke delivered a supply of dynamite to the mine, to help with blasting. He shunted them away carefully, picked up a few empty vans, and headed out. Smudger came over, looking for a new twisted joke to play on the men – and he found it. The mine had a new demolitions expert, whose job it was to do the blasting. Smudger waited until some miners had headed out to lay out the dynamite connected to the plunger – and then he struck. He snuck up behind the demolitions expert and screamed as loudly as he could. It was enough to spook the newcomer, who dropped the plunger in shock. The dynamite went off – and a stick of unplaced dynamite went flying at them. It hit the dynamite vans.

“The explosion was powerful enough to be felt in Arlesburgh. Smudger had blown up half the mine, and triggered a rockslide powerful enough to bring half the mine caving in. Dozens of men were trapped underground, with no way out. My husband got lucky – he’d been having tea on the other side of the mine when it happened.”

Frank was horrified – for an engine to be so reckless, callous and downright malicious as to try and cause such a thing, let alone having it succeed was mindboggling.

“That wasn’t the end though,” sighed the woman. “It’s said Smudger’s twisted spirit still roams about, running between the tunnel and the mines, torturing the poor souls unable to escape the site of their demise. Do not go up to the mines after dark.”

Frank agreed, unable to quite fully comprehend the story he’d heard. He decided to tell it to the other engines, and went to thank the old woman – only, she was gone.

It was like she’d vanished.

A little confused, Frank looked back up to see the gangers returning; had it been that long? They had really only just left, in spite of how long the story seemed to go. And yet they were back.

“That was quick!” said Frank. “What did you get?” The gangers stared at Frank, confused, but decided to humour the odd little engine. “We got pie from the nearby pub – though I wouldn’t say we were quick.” Frank didn’t say anything more, feeling very wary indeed.

The gangers made good progress over the rest of the day, reaching the mouth of the tunnel. It was long and curved, leading through a hill and into the valley where the old mine was situated. Frank instantly hated it – the mouth of the tunnel looking like a great yawning chasm, a great furious beast ready to swallow the little diesel whole. It also still had the old rails, old, rusted things that just added to the eeriness of the entire place.

“I don’t want to stick around,” admitted Frank. His driver agreed. “It seems… wrong,” the driver murmured. With the sun beginning to set, Frank hurriedly began heading back.

As he rounded the bend away from the tunnel, he could have sworn he saw a flash of a twisted grin.

“Pwah!” snorted Mike, letting off steam. “That’s a load of crock, and you know it!” Frank had told the others about his encounter with the old lady and the story she had told – as well as mentioning what he’d seen at the tunnel.

“I’m not so sure,” hummed Bert. “The Mid Sodor seems to be a hot-spot for the supernatural – remember the show they had here last summer? Those ghost-hunters who claimed they got a heap of readings.” “That was just reality TV nonsense,” sniffed Mike. Jock looked around, his eyes gazing around for any signs of a ghost.

“I… I don’t think so. I don’t like it. Why would ghosts want to haunt us? And what’s a Mid Sodor?” Frank sighed, and looked over. Rex spoke up. “Our line is laid on the bed of an old one – a much older one. It ran right the way to Peel Godred, up the side of the hills. Unfortunately, it was always poor, and so its manager made… questionable purchases. Really, only Duke, Peter Sam and Sir Handel were properly reliable out of the lot – and the mines were worse. They bought any engine they could, and it led to a lot of issues. This… Smudger isn’t the first ghost we’ve heard of.”

Mike snorted again.

“Oh, please! It’s all rubbish – and a weird old lady vanishing right after telling an ominous story? You were seeing things Frank – I’ll prove it!” And Mike agreed to swap jobs with Frank and take the works train to relay the rails through the tunnel.

“A twisted grin, what nonsense,” sniffed Mike as he made his way up to the tunnel. The rails had to be pulled up first, and by the time the gangers were finished, dusk had already begun to fall. His driver went to reverse him back down the line, when there was a loud clang, and Mike lurched to the side, wincing in pain. A rock had been kicked up into his motion, and when the little red engine tried to reverse, it had smashed its way into his cylinder and left him in pain.

Mike wasn’t going anywhere.

The gangers decided to head back to the village to call for help and stay for the night, leaving Mike sat right by the entrance to the tunnel mouth.

The tunnel was dark… bar a glimmer of white.

White…

Teeth.

A grin.

A twisted grin.

A Twisted Grin…

TWISTED GRIN, DEMONIC EYES, AN ENGINE DESTROYED IN FIRE OF ITS OWN MAKING AND TURNED AGAINST THE WORLD. FURY, HATRED, EVIL, TWISTED GRIN. TWISTED GRIN, WHY HELLO THERE MIKE, YES I KNOW WHO YOU ARE – BETTER RUN NOW. RUN RUN RUN LITTLE MIKE, BEFORE I EVISCERATE YOU, LOOK AT MY EYES, MY TWISTED GRIN. TWISTED GRIN, EVIL, HATRED, FURY. TURNED AGAINST THE WORLD, AN ENGINE DESTROYED IN A FIRE OF ITS OWN MAKING, DEMONIC EYES, TWISTED GRIN.

TWISTED GRIN.

TWISTED GRIN.

TWISTED.

Boom.

When Frank came to collect Mike in the morning, he was left stunned. Mike was shuddering violently, his eyes as wide as saucers and all the paint drained from him, leaving him a deathly white. All the trucks behind him were thrown about the hillside, ripped apart and completely ruined. The track into the tunnel had been shoved apart to its old width too, leaving the rails where the two gauges met twisted into an unholy shape.

And in the far corner of the tunnel, a beaming white twisted grin shone out.

Back to the Master Post

[sailing-on-a-puddle]

Anybody else thinking it's fine until the Hood breaks in?

[lorillee]

she was also really funny for this

[fuckyeahfluiddynamics]

The Channel Tunnel

To celebrate the 30th anniversary of the Channel Tunnel, Practical Engineering takes a look back at the construction and operation of this incredible piece of infrastructure. (Image and video credit: Practical Engineering) Read the full article

[robotblues]

Times Herald-Record, late 1930s. At 85 miles long, the Delaware aqueduct is the longest tunnel in the world.

[travelingare]

📍China’s Tunnels!

@evolvita

#tunnelsoftheworld #engineringmarvels #chinatunnels #viralvideos #viralreels #traveltheworld #travel #travelingare

[meneatyoghurt]

Thames Tunnel is not the first Isambard Kingdom Brunel project that comes to mind for me (it's Clifton Suspension Bridge).

So now I'm wondering if which one you think of first depends on where you're from or if it's just that Luke has spent more time learning about Brunel than I ever have.

[weirdowithaquill]

Hear me out:

Tweak it a bit so an engine can work on this, then plop Neil on the skr with this, now he and Skarloey can go on a woodland date (double heading a train).

I would say yes, were there not a few technical difficulties with this set up - ones that have much more to do with the loading gauge of the SKR than the actual bogie wheel idea.

Obstacle one:

This is just outside the Thin Controller's house - this bridge is quite literally at the exit to Crovan's Gate yards! Neil would not fit under that - I mean, potentially he could if you chopped off his funnel - but that's a bit cruel to the poor engine.

Still, even if you made it past obstacle one - there's obstacle two:

This is at Cros-ny-Cuirn: the first station on the line. And it's another low bridge - one that's potentially (though it may be the angle) got an even narrower clearance than the first bridge! Were Neil to try and get through this spot, his funnel and possibly any other fittings atop his boxy boiler would have to be removed.

Surely - surely - after all this, they have to be in the clear, right? Nope. Cause here comes the real deal breaker - obstacle three:

It's Rheneas Tunnel. Rheneas Tunnel is the real dealbreaker behind why Neil (or any other NWR engine) could never traverse the SKR. This tunnel is tiny! Duncan caused the roof to partially collapse - and he's a narrow gauge engine!

And before someone mentions the rock and roll: Peter Sam lost his funnel to an icicle in this tunnel cause it's so narrow that an icicle can dangle low enough to do that kind of damage!

To be even more clear: the TV series does not do justice to just how tiny and narrow this tunnel is - look at it! It's a miracle the SKR engines fit; Neil has no chance.

Sorry to be a bit of a Debbie Downer, but Neil just couldn't traverse the SKR: he's too tall and too wide. Though I may be relatively open to the zanier ideas of the Thomas fandom, I am at heart a bit of a purist. I grew up on the books more than the TV series, and it very much instilled in me a similar outlook to the Reverend himself.

Then again, the Reverend would tell me I've lost my mind for entertaining the idea of engines being in relationships so...

Were it the CGI Skarloey Railway, they'd be fine - but both classic and book series would be a no.

(Then again, nothing after Season 7 actually exists...)

Thank you for the ask!

[oopsbirdficced]

Chapter 6- Interlude: Gondolin

Rating: Explicit (overall), Gen (this chapter)

Fandom: Tolkien’s Silmarillion

Characters: Turucáno, Itarillë, the Lords of Gondolin

WARNINGS: none for this chapter/SFW chapter

–

The War of Wrath spares no person in Beleriand. All are affected, and so, all must answer the clarion call of war, in one way or another.

With two Silmarils back in their grasp, the Fëanárions stand strong, all seven brothers alive and well, eyes turned to the third and the fulfillment of their oath. Lómion stands with them, even as the forces of Gondolin finally stir from their unmolested hiding place, Turucáno finally stepping forward to reluctantly take his crown.

But without Eärendil and Elwing's desperate plea, how will the tides of war turn?

-

Chapter 6: The Lords of Gondolin and their King react to the letter Lómion has sent them, and make a difficult choice.