Volunteer? Who, me? I always felt rather guilty that I had never offered my services, but what could I do? I had no relevant experience, I was sure that at best I would only get in the way, or at worst make the most awful mess of whatever I tried to do. I travelled down from Aberdeen to Caernarfon at the end of July in order to witness the first trains to Waunfawr; I had checked the latest news on Ben Fisher's website, and it seemed set fair for the extension to open on the 31st, which turned out to be a burst of misplaced optimism.

I arrived late on the Monday, and immediately went along to Waunfawr station to see the latest developments. The place still looked like a building site, and the newly-laid rails looked dull and unused. It was obvious that no trains were running, and I wondered if I would see anything worthwhile in the three days I could stay. Whilst wandering around the station, I met up with a cheerful chap who turned out to be Martin Coombs, a regular volunteer fireman on Mountaineer and author of the Patagonia Narrow-Gauge website, who informed me that apparently there were still many things to be done before the line could open. There was a slim chance that there might be some test trains before Friday, when I had to travel back north, but it was unlikely that I would see the first public trains.

The following day, I mooched about Dinas, took a ride to Caernarfon and back while I pondered my situation. It seemed an awfully long way to come for very little, and then suddenly I decided to visit the Construction Office and offer my services; I introduced myself to Jan Woods, a very nice lady who seemed genuinely pleased to see me. She gave me a comprehensive safety induction and sent me on my way with real WHR steel-tipped welly boots and hard hat (I hadn't brought any work gear myself), and a sheaf of information which I was told to read thoroughly before I reported for work the following day.

I awoke early on the Wednesday to that most discouraging Welsh sound - a torrential downpour outside, and I lay in my hotel bed wondering what I'd let myself in for. Whatever else might happen, I was going to get soaked to the skin and would probably be very miserable into the bargain. The rain was beginning to ease off when I arrived as instructed outside the Dinas construction office at 0830. After a short wait, I was introduced to Simon Cobbett who told me that the tracklaying gangs had the day off, so there wasn't much happening - would I mind helping John Peduzzi pull up some weeds behind the carriage shed? Well, that wouldn't be much fun I thought, but at least I wouldn't be humping tons of steel about - a dim prospect for one whose usual form of exercise is pushing a computer keyboard at work.

Common ragwort is a pernicious weed that is poisonous to farm animals, and in order to maintain good relations with the railway's neighbours it is necessary to clear this weed from the premises. After a period of scrambling about the high bank, I found to my surprise that I was beginning to enjoy myself - Martin and his driver were warming Mountaineer up outside the shed, the rain had stopped, and the weeds were shallow-rooted and easy to remove. John and I soon cleared the bank, and we proceeded through the car park towards the South Yard, pulling more weeds as we went.

Once we had cleared the South Yard, Simon decided that it was time to attack some of the overhanging branches on the main line to Caernarfon, so the four of us (myself, John, Simon and his dog Meg) set out along the line armed to the teeth with long handled saws, pruners and cutters, while Simon examined the track itself for any defects which he would mark for later attention.

At regular intervals, Mountaineer would bustle past us, the sun was beginning to come out, and it was turning into a most pleasant day. We stopped for lunch at Bontnewydd Halt, where Meg very kindly disposed of half my packed lunch and a whole bag of crisps, and Martin gave us a cheery blast on the whistle as the train went past again.

We hacked and chopped our way onwards to Caernarfon, where we caught the train back to Dinas.

The rest of the afternoon I spent tidying up in the Electrical stores, then I was told to go and introduce myself to Mike Radford, who would have some jobs for me the following day. Mike was in the south yard offices, and after meeting him I sat for a while as I listened to the chat in the mess room; Roland Doyle was there, and for a man who must have been under intense pressure to get the trains running to Waunfawr, he seemed calm and affable as he discussed with Fred Howes the state of the newly-laid track and the prospects of test trains. You hear more inside information on the line in the mess room than you would ever get from just reading the websites!

The following morning, Mike, Bryan Webster and I went along to UB13, where the bridge railings had been declared redundant and could be used for other things. Bryan sawed off a length of the railing, and we took it back to Dinas where the mounting holes were enlarged to take the ubiquitous SA rail bolts, then it was off to Waunfawr where we erected the railing alongside the Waunfawr North point levers. I have never before wielded a power wrench, but Mike showed me which end was which, and after the pilot holes had been drilled into the base he allowed me to drive the bolts in.

It gave me an immense satisfaction to stand back and look at the safety railing I had helped erect, knowing that it would be there for a few years to come. After some finishing work on the railings, our attention turned to the edge of the new platform. What is a platform without a yellow line along it? Illegal, according to HMRI, and therefore a line had to be painted before passengers could use the new station. Oh, and it had to be exactly 483 mm from the edge. Mike then produced one of his many pearls of wisdom - never go anywhere or start any job on the WHR without a tape measure. Examination proved to us that 483 mm was exactly eighteen inches (why didn't they say so in the first place?), so the next problem to solve was how to ensure that our hired line-painting machine would be exactly eighteen inches from the platform edge. It's easy when you know how. What you do, Mike explained, is to use whatever resources you can find locally, and with the aid of two pieces of bent scrap metal, some wood offcuts and two clamps which were found in the deepest recesses of Mike's van, we adapted the line painter so that we could maintain the magic eighteen inches as we moved along.

After half an hour, we had used three canisters of paint and reached the far end of the platform, where we bumped into Barrie Hughes who was photographing everything in sight for his WHR Construction internet pages. This part of the line must be one of the most closely documented projects ever; we saw Barrie at several places during the day, and it seemed that he would need specialist medical attention to remove the camera from his eye. Then it was back along the platform with the line painter to give a better finish, and while we were doing this a train arrived, Upnor Castle in the lead and Conway Castle bringing up the rear, with the two ballast wagons sandwiched in between.

These were loaded with stone, and Mike and Bryan stepped on board and turned the wheels to unload the ballast as the whole combination moved slowly along the platform under the watchful eyes of Roland Doyle.

A neat pile of stone was left at either side of the track; Mike handed me a shovel as the train departed and told me to pack the ballast around the sleepers. This was backbreaking work, but Mike came up with another of his pearls - look on it, he said, as gardening with stone. He allocated me my own short length of track, right next to where the contractors were erecting the base of the new water tower, and I shovelled and sweated for the rest of the afternoon.

As I gazed with satisfaction on my handiwork, I turned round and realised that Mike and Bryan between them had done more than ten times the length of track that I had, and were raring for more. I was utterly exhausted, but I knew my limitations and at that point my volunteering services had to cease. Later that evening I watched from an overbridge as Mike, Bryan, John, Simon and others worked away at the track with the Kango machines and realised that my poor efforts were being put into the shade, but it was a fine moment when, just before I left Dinas, Roland himself had thanked me personally for my efforts over the two days. If I had gone to Caernarfon and the new extension had been open, I probably wouldn't have volunteered. But I'm glad I went at the wrong time, I had more fun in the two days and discovered aches in muscles I didn't even know I had, and at least one thing will serve as a permanent reminder of what I achieved. I will be examining the Railway Press closely for photos from the Waunfawr overbridge, to see if "my" safety railing is still in place beside the point levers.

I must thank Simon Cobbett, John Peduzzi, Jan Woods, Bryan Webster, Martin Coombs and everyone else I met during the two days, but especially Mike Radford who always had the time and patience to explain to this complete novice not only how to do things, but also the reasons for doing them. Mike must be one of the finest teachers the Railway has, with an infectious enthusiasm that cannot help but rub off on anyone fortunate enough to work with him.

Volunteer? Who, me? Absolutely, every time I make the long trek down from Aberdeen in future. I had been very reluctant to do it in the past, but the fun I had, the people I met and the satisfaction obtained from making even the smallest contribution to the advancement of the WHR means that I cannot wait for the next time.