The reason we can't build cheap rail anymore is because we always want to start with the perfect, latest, cleverest and shiniest technology. Far more complex and far more expensive than what any town on Earth can afford today. The solution is to build only the most basic system.
Start low tech, on existing streets, with horse drawn carriages if necessary. Build several small towns (centers in the city) round every spot where you want the railway to stop. Build ridership at the same time you build the railway, if at all possible.
Once you have the line down and people see that the railway company is committed to operations, the city will adapt to it: people who work along the line will want to live there. People who live along the line will want to work there.
Starting low tech means not investing in expensive to maintain, complex technical systems prone to breaking down: slow running trains on narrow streets means that it will make the city fractal: creating many stops, many points of interactions. It can run on streets or alleys.
Low tech means incredibly robust systems: in 1945, within three days of being hit point blank by a nuclear bomb Hiroshima trams were cleaned up and put back into service, staffed by high school girls. Feel free to compare with your modern system.
If we must have public transport (or any kind of transport above walking actually: I'd rather we did not!), let it be small. Let it be slow. Let it be anti-fragile. Let it be owned and managed by the community it works in. Let it be so adaptable that it can fit in everywhere.
You can fit a low tech system into a complex modern system, but you can never do the opposite. You can even go steam train in your city center should you wish, but you can't ever properly integrate a bullet train in your cosy town center by the sea.
Low tech means people scaled. People will feel that they can relate to a locally adapted will integrated system. Even if it is just a scraggly line run down the main street for a mile or two. You'd find it hard to not have your local tram turn into a mascot for local tourism.
You can scale a small low tech system: just put in an extra stop where needed. Move an old stop 200m down the street if necessary. Add a line if one gets congested or make a new one altogether. Put in more cars or take some away. If your town grows taller your trams can grow too.
Bigger cities have plenty of parks that are largely underutilized and often neglected. They make great scenic shortcuts for small scaled rail systems, creating new routes through central city parks while preserving a maximum of green space. Remember, rail is space friendl(ier).
Human scaled rails need human scaled stations and stops creating a great opportunity for charming tiny vernacular buildings, perfect for local carpenters, steering money away from large construction companies and environmentally unfriendly constructions draining local budgets.
Local businesses loves local railways. Make sure there are plenty of tiny spots, small squares and tiny buildings around the station and stops: businesses will flock to it. The synergy effect is obvious, thriving trains creating thriving shops, leading to a bigger ridership etc.
Like it or not, but we humans are social animals. We thrive when we do good things together and we ought to do more things together. Human scaled railways bring people together (unlike cars!) and even if that was the only benefit, trains would be worthwhile. (ht: @DrJoshMadden)
@DrJoshMadden Small local railways can also access places that large state run or high tech systems can't or don't want to go. Like the famous Ascensor da Glória (Elevador da Glória), a funicular/tram cross-cross over system in Lisbon that goes up some very steep streets.
Usually at this point someone asks about how compatible these old trams were with disabled and users with wheelchairs. We know because we still employ humans to provide services far more user friendly than any mechanical system.
A human scaled system relies on human interactions, employing locals as ticket inspectors (no need to invest in ticket machines) and conductors. And see what smart uniforms we can provide them with. We fool ourselves when we automate the most valuable jobs in our communities.
"But what about buses?" Well buses are better than nothing but not as good as rail. Buses also require a street network and then you get cars and cars are poison. Rail is also always more logically laid out and feels far more reliable than a bus route: citylab.com/transportation…
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It is well known warehouses built in earth plaster using inoculated fermented straw and soil keeps fruits, vegetables fresh longer and inhibits mold and microbial growth on paper, books, clothes, antiques etc. Hence Japanese "Dozō". But you can build miniature storage boxes too.
A Japanese master plasterer designed boxes built exactly like regular earthen warehouse walls, except he reused wooden wine crates. He sells kits, or you can use your own materials to make your own if you feel up to it.
These boxes are intended for grain, vegetables and fruit that you would normally keep in a "dark and cool" place. And they work. Here is a comparison with a polystyrene box and three mandarin oranges after 45 days. The blue box is more like what most modern homes are built like.
The practical skills in thatching can be difficult to acquire by videos or books alone, especially how to find materials and the binding. In Finland there is a traditional thatching technique that uses only easy to find reed and no binding: just spread it out and weigh it down.
A bound reed roof is far steeper and thus lasts longer, but it requires more skill to do correctly. Reed is often available for free and in vast quantities anywhere it grows, harvesting it is doing nature a favor. All materials used in a reed roof are compostable, all hand tools.
For a standard roof of say 100m² you need to harvest about three hectares. You can harvest that by hand in about a month, or in a day if you have a reed harvesting machine. In Finland you harvest in March, April.
Maybe one of the oddest professions in Japan is that of the bokka (歩荷). Porters who carry supplies to remote mountain guesthouses inaccessible to vehicles. A bokka uses customized wooden ladder frames to carry 100-165kg of supplies on day long marches (walk up, run down).
The job is popular: not surprisingly veteran bokka routinely tests as fitter and healthier than elite athletes. Both men and women take on the job, the average weight of a bokka is 60-70kg.
Still not much of a chore compared to what some farmers used to handle.
Iriairinya (入会林野) is the Japanese term for "commons". In the West the term "commons" are usually meant as fields for grazing but Japanese commons were traditionally the mixed grass and forest lands between mountains and flatlands usable in agriculture.
Iriairinya are typically from a couple of hectares up to 50-60 hectares. Still a valid legal concept, village's who manage commons also have the option to incorporate them (as modern organizations), to make them more compatible with modern legal practices.
Commons were meant to be vital lifelines for rural villages, providing its members with food (forage), feed (for livestock), fertilizer (leaves), fuel (wood, charcoal), building material (roof thatch). When modern lifestyles took over in the 1970s commons were mostly abandoned.
The miracle of Usami: at 11:58 A.M. Sept. 1st 1923 a great earthquake struck the Tokyo region. Near the epicenter was Usami village, where no one was killed or injured while neighboring villages each had hundreds dead and wounded. How?
The villagers of Usami had an exceptionally long memory. Records, monuments and tales of a huge 1703 quake had been preserved and stories of what happened was still in vivid memory. The locals acted unbelievably fast, evacuations started as soon as the trembling stopped.
An 8m tsunami struck the seaside village only 5 min after the quake. Locals were already arrived at and safe within historical evacuation grounds: temples, bamboo thickets, stands of trees, where their ancestors had marked out safe spots centuries before (circle: 1703 tsunami)
The post town Tsumago-Juku (pop 400) in Japan was founded in 1601. In 1960 it took a unique decision to dedicate itself to its own preservation by three golden rules: "No selling, no letting, no destroying." Every renovation or rebuilding even of private homes is done in common.
The town's main income is obviously tourism, but in order to preserve the town the locals figured out a method where they build and renovate as much as possible by themselves, together. One ex. is the town's six remaining "ancient style" ishiokiyane: shingle roofs held by rocks.
The roofs are made of wood shingles, only the bottom row nailed, the rest held down by horizontal battens and rocks. They are relaid every few years, broken shingles discarded, leaks fixed etc. Work is led by the most skilled townsperson while a team of 5-20 volunteers help out.