90 years ago the Portland Cement Company built and operated a lime deposit mine which eventually lead to the collapse of the company.
Like most cities around the world, cement production plays a key role in building a modern urban environment. In Western Australia, we have 90 percent of our cement production currently being produced by Cockburn Cement. Their enormous Lime Kiln stands like a skyscraper overlooking the suburbs of Cockburn. But this wasn’t always the case.
The Portland Cement Co operated a lime deposit mine on the edge of Lake Clifton. In fact, the mine was the very reason for the establishment of Lake Clifton as a townsite. The lime sediment at the bottom of the lake was pumped out into evaporation ponds, it was then trucked all the way to their Burswood plant for processing. To reduce the operational costs, a rotary lime kiln was built on site and a railway to Waroona was established to export the product.
Unfortunately, it eventually proved unsuitable for producing cement grade lime and closed after just two weeks. The collapse of the mine and the overburden of debt that it left the company eventually lead to it’s liquidation.
Now, exactly 90 years after it’s closure, the remains of the mine slowly fade into history. I made this site part of my Project 2014 not only because it does succeed in fulfilling the main requirement for location selection (difficulty of access), but it is also an important piece of my local history that will not exist for much longer. I have produced this blog post in monochrome, however colour versions are available for every image.
All that remains of the rotary lime kiln is the brick structure built to support it. The structure itself is no larger than a tall toilet block. Luckily, it has survived quite well. Despite the kiln being a failure, at least they built it well.
A large circular opening in the side of the building, preceeded by a succession of similar semi-circular supports, indicates the possible structure before it’s partial removal.
A photo I found online shows a man sitting here in 1927. If anyone knows the source of this image I would be very interest to know.
The trees have moved in on the building and now there is no distinction between the mine site and the surrounding bushland. I wonder if when building this structure, the brickies ever imagined it being left in this state.
I am not entirely sure whether these windows were meant to be this low to the ground. It is possible that the brickwork continues down quite a way and the ground level has slowly risen around it.
Between the Kiln and the lake, there is both evidence of the evaporation ponds and the supports for the pipes that pumped the muddy material out of the water. Long tracks of elevated ground remain and a huge amount of rusting metal objects can be found.
The pipe in the image below is just a small segment of extensive tracks of it. When Portland Cement Co left this site, they took everything of value and left anything else behind. What was once just junk to them, now becomes our window into the past.
The trek to the lake is extremely difficult and fraught with danger. Today while I travelled out I encountered a tiger snake while I walked through thick bushland with grasses that came up to my hips.
Above, you can see that during the winter, the water level of the lake leaves no dry shore to walk on. Some areas of the lake are extremely muddy and I have heard stories of people who have literally sunk down to their waist.
Below, this is the shore that is available for walking on during the summer. It is mostly solid.
What is left out on the lake is remarkable. Large boardwalks are only briefly visible beneath the sediment from the lake. Pieces of the original railway that helped the mine operate are rusting into unrecognisable shapes.
When I came here during the winter, I was not able to make out what some of these objects were through the distortion of the water.
But the dry summer reveals it in all of it’s naked glory. Large sections of pipe, which in some spots are still bolted together, formed a pipeline that followed the boardwalks into the water. Dredging this place would have been a fascinating career.
I originally thought this might have been a wheel, but as soon as I saw it exposed to the air and touched it, I realised it is a large tap that must have opened and closed the pipeline.
I cannot fathom how much must be buried deep beneath the sands here. Even between the 6 months that I visited here, you can see how the height of the sand changed.
After 90 years, what remains here is almost gone. In another 90 years, it probably won’t be distinguishable.
I really have no idea what this structure might have been. It doesn’t really look like it would have been a strong jetty, but perhaps that is why little of it remains. In the image above, you see the two smallest posts just poking out of the water. It is the same two posts that sit on the edge of the shore during the summer.
Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this please share with your friends on Facebook using the share button below. These images were photographed with the Leica S system.