Wrack and Ruin

Running in

Services recommenced on the R&R this weekend. Initial running problems were resolved by a) regluing the gear on to the driving axle of the loco to stop it slipping and b) fettling the curve under the cutting, which appears to have been undermined and pushed up by soil creep from the embankment, creating an apparently insurmountable gradient. Once this was done, we managed a non-stop service of several circuits.

Not much has changed since last year. As you may be able to see here, we managed to move the dirty great compost bin during winter, while the contents were frozen solid, and have replaced it with some ornamental edging and decorative cat poo. The grass needs mowing, as it is starting to incur on the ballast. The ballast itself has been infilled in several places where gaps appeared. It's a terrible thing when nafarious people with trucks drive up to a remote stretch of line when no one's looking and begin loading up with raw materials from the railway before driving it all away; in my case, the perpetrators are under five and both live with me so it's unlikely much that will be effective can be done.

The track is back

A quick line inspection and some basic maintenance over the weekend has confirmed that the Rhach track lives to serve another "operating" season, having sustained no lasting harm over winter (and from some over-enthusiastic leaf-raking). As a plus, we have some lovely primroses growing out of the ballast. Rust was evident on a number of the mending plates again, so I've coated them with Jenolite jelly and metal primer, and I'm currently trialling two of the plastic-coated type as well. I've recharged the loco batteries and started thinking that I really, really should get round to finishing that station building (which only lacks for a coat of clear varnish) and the last wagon kit...

Trip-trap

Not longer after we installed the new bridge, a troll moved in to live underneath it. Which I guess is fairly commonplace, as bridges go. I have warned the junior navvies not to stomp over the bridge too loudly in case they disturb him and are eaten.

I can hear the objections from purists already:

• It's not within scale.
• There is no record of any prototype narrow gauge line ever employing a troll to guard their bridges. (There were those stories about Dai Pont at Bryn-y-Felin on the WHR, but that was just local gossip. He was a very stocky man, was Dai.)
• The troll is clearly failing to observe correct lineside safety protocol and is standing much too close to the track.

To which we say:

• Wrong. He's a giant in 16mm, which is obviously correct for a troll. See Lord Of The Rings, passim.
• Are you kidding? The entire WHR was run by trolls.
• His hair clearly fulfills the high-vis requirement. And any engine that hits him shouldn't have derailed in the first place.
• Generally: bite me.

Slate fences

Some lovely detail on Cwmcoediog, seen here in atmospheric monochrome, including that great slate fencing. I really, really like slate pillar fencing. Not sure I'd have the patience to make such a fence myself, although if it could be as simple as sticking a few shards of slate in the soil then possibly...

There are probably few better ways to shout "Welsh NG". There are plenty of these old fences surrounding the old mountain quarry areas, but they are also often seen in pictures lining railway tracks (e.g. on the Padarn and Corris railways). The only elements involved appear to be long slabs of slate and (optionally?) a length of wire to join them (details). Maybe I could get hold of some old slates via Freecycle...? Something to ponder. (I did buy some new slates from Travis Perkins, but they turned out to be nasty artificial roofing slates that don't look half as convincing.)

(With thanks to Richard for the pointer to the vid - seen via my GRA's Facebook.)

Time passes

"Hey Ade, whatever happened to that railway you were building?" Yeah, yeah, I know. It's still there and services have even been known to run on the odd occasion (I like to have a train pottering around the garden at the same time I do). But there has been no progress of which to speak lately. At a recent kids birthday party, the subject of an opening ceremony (and BBQ) was broached, which I hastily quashed - the opening of what exactly?

I finished a wagon but still have two more to build, and I built the corrugated hut resin kit too - an interesting experience - but that still awaits painting. We've finally constructed the new flower bed out of old railway sleepers (the salvage yard in Newport kindly cut them up and delivered the pieces), although needless to say there's nothing in it yet. However, it means I can now site the station; I had a trial run but it looks like we buried one of the cats there (a man can dream). Need to rethink that idea, as it looks nothing like I intended.

As to a steam loco, I've promised myself it will be a worthy outcome and reward for sorting out a tax rebate I need to claim. Unfortunately, I haven't done anything about that yet either. And we've had some lovely running weather lately too...

Another last spike

By fortuitous coincidence, the Welsh Highland Railway will also be completed this coming weekend. A brave attempt there, guys, but you're just a week too late.

Frankly, they've had millions of pounds in funding, an army of volunteers and over ten years (politely overlooking the prior sixty years when they all sat on their backsides and let the trackbed moulder) to reach this point, so we're not much impressed by their slow progress. OK, maybe their railway is slightly bigger and marginally longer, but if you can't beat some rank amateur messing about in his garden with all those resources at your disposal, maybe it is time to get out of the railway-building business?

Kidding. Heartfelt congratulations to everyone who has worked on this so hard for so long, from both sides of the Aberglaslyn Pass. Wish we could be there, but alas it won't be possible. One day, we will make it up there for a ride along the whole line. (And one day much further than that into the future, I'm going to do the old Chester - (Bangor) - Caernarvon - Portmadoc - Blaenau Ffestiniog - Llandudno - Chester tour by rail.)

Update, 20090302: Pictures and video of the event.

Buffer stops

As you can tell, it's been fairly quiet round here for the past month. No construction, either of track or rolling stock. The two disconnected sections of line outside are doing a good impression of one abandoned in mid-construction; keeping that Welsh Highland theme alive/dead. It's also covered in frost, which is the chief reason for the lack of activity - a strong desire to crouch under a duvet and conserve all heat and energy, apart from occasional forays in search of hot drinks and cholesterol. This is our first winter in Wales and f**k me, it's a cold one.

On the positive side, as you can see, Santa kindly brought a number of new kits - two Ezee parcel wagons, a guards van and the Lineside Delights corrugated shelter. (My GRA reports that the people who run Lineside Delights are lovely and could not be more helpful to confused railway widows.) Once we can push the detritus of Christmas aside, and the list of jobs previously postponed due to same, I will pull out the kit-building tray and start bunging the pieces together in my usual slap-hazard fashion. That will probably coincide with spring when, if by good fortune conditions improve, the R&R may see completion and there will be somewhere to use the results.

Still contemplating The Need For Steam, but without any firm answers at present. I guess it will involve swallowing hard and digging into my savings for a birthday present to self.

I walk the line

Most evenings when I have to go outside briefly on some chore or errand, I find myself wandering to the end of the garden and undertaking a quick inspection of the permanent way. Clearing away the odd dead leaf or misplaced lump of soil, I stroll the short length of my line like a ganger with his assigned mileage and muse on the future opportunities for running trains.

I also have my anorak on, and a little hat that says "Engine Driver"! (Kidding, but it can only be a matter of time at the present rate.)

Dolgoch

It's 1986. I'm on holiday with my parents, and we're staying in a flat behind the Dolgoch Falls hotel. The falls themselves are a five minute walk away through the woods but, even better, if you go the other way then Dolgoch station on the Talyllyn Railway is closer still.

This is a photo I took at the station, looking through the woods and up the line towards Abergynolwyn. (Yes kids, you should never trespass on a railway line, even a little one. Although it's not like an express was going to come roaring through at 60mph.) I've posted it here, not because it's a particularly great shot or even because it entirely successfully captures the feeling I had at the time, but because it encapsulates the whole appeal of railways, and particularly the narrow gauge, for me. Which is this: I like railway lines. Not locomotives. Please, don't throw that "trainspotter!" jibe at me. I can't think of anything more boring than a book full of picture after picture of engines, each taken from the same three-quarters frontal view. Unless it's also accompanied by a complete technical description of the boiler capacity, maximum power output, number of wheels and number of rivets, which is terminally dull. I can accept, just about, that railway lines aren't much use without motive power, and I'm even partial to the odd steam locomotive myself. But what I love is the overall scene itself; the stations, halts, platforms, passengers, staff, trolleys, signs, water towers, bridges, fencing, huts, crossings - all the paraphernalia. And above all, the route.

Here the line wanders off into the distance, snaking through the trees, leaving us uncertain of its path but tantalised by the thought of a destination. You could wander through those woods and there would be trees, and roots, and grass, and moss, and then quite suddenly a pair of rails and a line of sleepers across your way, looking like they've just been laid and then maybe forgotten. Except...was that a distant whistle...?

I walked up to the little station and its platform every day, usually on the pretext of seeing the next train but often simply hanging around, soaking it all up. Perhaps there wouldn't be another train. Perhaps this line is now closed? It's just going to lie here and quietly moulder over the coming years and decades, until maybe one day we'll come along and run a trolley down it for old times sake, just to see if it still works. Oh yes, I was already Melancholy at sixteen, you know.

While hunting out this shot, I came across an old folder containing several pages of excruciatingly portentous handwritten notes entitled "The Appleton Thorn Light Railway dossiers". This was my grand plan for laying an SM-32 line around my parents lawn, and it was intended to persuade my dad that this would be a cheap, easy, invisible and cheap thing to do. Also very cheap. I even had a photo of some Hornby OO track on a buried piece of timber next to the lawn, to show how well-concealed it could be. HA! Apparently, it had been determined that "only five major plants will need to be moved"! I can just hear my dad's snort of derision as he reads this, but only in my imagination because, of course, I never showed him. Deep down, I knew he'd never go for it in a million years, so for once I wisely avoided the disappointment of asking. The cost alone for approximately four dozen yards of track to circumnavigate our garden, even at 1984 prices (thirty pounds for twelve yards! half today's price, except probably double it if you allow for deflation), would have been considered outrageous, and that's before you even thought about how long it would take. (Only "8 months" tops, apparently.)

But I did come across this beautiful quote in the same dossier:

"The whole charm of a rural line lies in the infrequency, the perpetual waiting for something to happen."
- T.V. Cooper, "Steamwise", Practical Model Railways Aug 1984.

(This might well be Tom Cooper of Merlin Engineering fame.) That line takes me back to Dolgoch over twenty years ago, and reminds me why I'm drawn to these charmingly shabby little lines, and of the atmosphere I seek to create with my own miniature effort.

Inaugural run

I hesitate to call this the inaugural train, since it's obviously completely the wrong scale (but crucially, the right gauge) and it's a butt-ugly American outline loco to boot. (I try to embrace all creeds and colours of the world, but I'm afraid I'm a hopeless xenophobe when it comes to foreign engines - all those pipes showing, bleah.) Nevertheless, this breakneck run round the track laid so far at least shows that what we have works. Unfortunately, the "real steam" doesn't show in the video (but the JRAs loved it).

In the meantime, I have an IP Engineering Rapier diesel on standby, but it currently looks like this. Not sure when I'll get round to building this - beginning to realise that there's a lot to be said for buying pre-built at extra expense when you're short of time.

The first rule of glue

...Don't use Bostik! When will I learn not to buy this stuff? It dries squidgy and pliable, rather than hard. It might be fine for gluing paper and flies' wings, but it's a complete failure for anything where you want a rigid join - like, say, a plastic gear wheel on a metal axle. It lasted about five seconds, or roughly halfway round a circle of track.

Back to Loctite Superglue instead, which scares me because I always imagine I'm going to find myself stuck to the object, or the desk, or the ceiling afterwards. But it does work. Of course, immediately afterwards, the newly-opened tube commenced setting rock-solid internally to ensure that it could never be used again, like all the others I've ever bought (second rule of gluing). Very much a disposable product. But it's done the job; goes like...well, like a train now. I need to buy some decent glue, like an epoxy-based one.

(In case you're wondering, this was to mend a "Kamco Continental train set" bought off eBay - the aforementioned arthritic battery loco. For all its cheapness, and its ugly American outline, it's not a bad loco, with a working headlight and even steam. I thought I was seeing things when the first curl of smoke drifted out of the top. There's a little plastic bulb of oil inside (well, actually oil residue by now), which is presumably heated by a low current wire. The motor drives a single axle, which in turn spins another axle with a plastic peg on it that, once every rotation, pushes a long plastic bracket running the length of the wheelbase against the oil bulb, thus squeezing it and causing a puff of oil vapour or "smoke" from the chimney. Clever. I wonder where you can get replacement steam oil?)

More track

Curves and joiners arrived today, as anticipated. This was despite a pricing descrepancy meaning that my original cheque was slightly short on the final bill; PPS despatched the goods without waiting for further payment, or even for the first cheque to clear. That's pretty darn good service.

Track!

Here we are, twelve lengths of Peco's finest in SM-32. (The curves and joiners are presumably to follow.) Some quick measurements for reference: sleeper length is 72mm, width is 11mm and distance between is 27mm (distance between the inside edges of the rails is...oh come on, keep up!). This is very dull info that nevertheless has some bearing on my intended method of anchorage, which looks like it might be...challenging. I shall say no more, to reserve an escape route and avoid looking dumb later.

For the benefit of anyone else ordering this stuff, the box weighs 2.8kg and cost approximately seven pounds to post via Royal Mail.

A package from PPS

My Glamorous Research Assistant has just sent a picture message: a parcel from PPS, with "Peco" visible through the wrapping...!

Given that I only posted the order (with a cheque) on Sunday, that is extremely quick service.

A cunning plan

This doesn't feel like it's going anywhere at present - a lack of commitment. Either you're building a railway in your garden, or you're merely skulking in the shrubbery, thrusting a track plan behind your back and muttering "Who, me?" when accused. I need a plan.

1. Buy the track. Really, I can't realistically go further in any way without this. Review the monthly budget, complete some eBay sales and then place the order.
2. Lay track around the two outer edges of the lawn, including the curve. This will give an end-to-end run of approximately twenty feet, which isn't very interesting but is a clear indication that this project is happening. It will also prove (or not) my chosen tracklaying method.
3. Buy some sort of vehicle, even if it's only a secondhand wagon from eBay. Then I can test the track and at least see which way it falls. (Come to think of it, I already have a secondhand O gauge wagon, even if it is in bright yellow plastic.)

I've got a week off at the end of October, an ideal chance to really break the back of this (or at least someone's back). Note that the eldest JRA is on half-term hols too so it's not exactly "free time", but there ought to be an opportunity to work outside at some point. If I then get no further until next spring, at least I can spend the winter indoors building wagon and station kits, knowing there will be somewhere to put them.

The salvage operation on eBay is going particularly well, already showing a profit over eighty pounds which will go a decent way towards track costs. Most of what's left to sell is odds and sods, but I think we'll make the ton.

Onward! And upward! (Literally.)

Making your own track

Scale and prototype

From Richard, a possible solution to the track problem - make your own from old Triang rail. Urk, probably not - the last time I picked up a soldering iron, NATO went to DefCon 3 in readiness. Still, it makes Peco Streamline seem like a bargain.

Also from Richard, a link to the man who built an actual 2 ft gauge line around his paddocks to haul horse poo. This guy comes close to knocking James May off his pedestal. I love the way he makes out it's purely for practical purposes. I might extend my line to the house and claim it's to carry cat litter to the composter.

The Beeching Axe

BBC4 had a great evening of programmes based around Dr Beeching two nights ago. Rather brave of the channel - an under-utilised service catering to a minority market and subsidised by the rest of the network - to draw attention to itself in this way, I feel. Tories might have watched. But I'm sorry to report that the spirit of the mad axeman still stalks the land.

(No, I haven't had a closure notice served on my two yards of gravel trench. Even Beeching never managed to shut 'em down this fast, although I'm prepared to believe that he used to lie in bed dreaming of serving a closure notice two seconds after the last rail chair was bolted into place. "This line has already cost the taxpayer millions and not a single passenger has ever travelled over it!")

This is my N gauge model railway layout. Oh yes, I've been Sad for years. It was begun in 1994 (why yes, I was living alone and didn't go out much at the time, how did you guess?) as a home for the small collection of rolling stock my dad bought me as a replacement for the Hornby OO stuff we never had enough room for back before my pubescence. I built a wooden frame, very much in the MFI style only without their legendary stability, stuck a board on top, put down cork tiles and laid the track down to conform to the little rural branch terminus I'd planned out years previously (I'm sure you'll admire the way I managed to put five sets of points in a row - yeah, that'll work well). I even wired it up. And that's not all - there's another baseboard too, only that one has absolutely no track at all. And then I errr...stopped.

Partly this was a growing apathy with the whole idea, probably as it was sidelined by something else like Oasis albums or Friends on Friday nights or a job that regularly took me away from home. But mainly it was because I simply couldn't figure out how to join the two boards together. Oh, I knew what all the options were. But I couldn't seem to get hold of any of the bits regularly mentioned as in use in Railway Modeller magazine (...I mean, I was incredibly Sad back then). What the heck are "pattern-makers' dowels" and who on earth still sells them in this millenium?? Nor could I quite commit to a plan for joining the wires up, or building the scenery, or even where to put the power supply. Oh, these were laughably trivial obstacles for anyone motivated and practical, but I was more a "curl up on the sofa and read about someone else's clever work" kind of shirker.

And behind all that, I somehow couldn't quite muster the enthusiasm for actually running teeny-tiny engines driven by buzzing electric motors. It seemed to be an approximation of everything but the spirit of a railway. Particularly when a large hand descends to give the obstinate loco a careful shove forward. I mean, those little live steam locos I linked right at the start actually look and sound like the full size thing - because they pretty much work on the same principles. Graham Farish and Hornby are never going to compete with real chuffers (well OK, Hornby actually do offer live steam OO models to bored executives these days, but they're still a bit small).

So when I finally bought my own place, I carefully bore the proto-layout to the large basement area, propped it against a wall and tried to forget about it for the next ten years while I played with computers instead. Until now, when I suddenly remembered that you can flog this stuff on eBay (in the "Collectables" category, hint hint) when you want a few spare shekels. And that's what I'll be doing for the next few weeks, gradually selling the bits off for whatever I can get. The amount raised will be laughably minute in comparison to the amounts I'd like to spend ('twas ever thus), but at least I won't feel like I'm accruing abandoned hobbies in the basement again.

The drumkit's staying though. For now.

(Christian Wolmar has a more cogent analysis than anything BBC4 managed, as enjoyable as their programmes were. He also has a new history of the British railway system out, Fire and Steam, which is getting some strong reviews on Amazon.)

Blog hero

I've been pondering further about why the expected derision and rolled eyes haven't yet appeared in connection with this project (don't worry, still plenty of time to get some in; e.g. five years later: "You're not still building that toy train track, are you?!"). Nope, apparently a garden railway is...well, "cool" would be wishful and hilarious thinking, but certainly an interesting curiosity.

I've come to the conclusion that it's been made acceptable by James May.

You see, May presented a light-hearted programme called James May's Top Toys back in xmas of 2006. In it, he gave his rundown of the best boys' toys of all time, and at no.1 was: the model railway. And at the end, he bid on and won a rare Hornby Blue Pullman set at auction. Which he immediately took home, ripped out of the box and proceeded to thrash round his train set with all his mates and not a little beer. In other words, exactly like having your mates round to watch sports, except with the boring bit replaced with a train set. People saw that and thought, "Hey, it's OK to play with trains when you're a grown man. Well, let's face it, men never grow up anyway! Besides, James May is urbane and sexy." Um well, they might think something like that anyway.

Hence, Wrack and Ruin is proud to nominate James May as our God Of The Blog, or Star In A Reasonably-Priced Anorak. James, we salute you! You may hang around with that Sun-reading tosser in the baggy jeans and that little spiky-haired twerp who thinks strapping yourself into the world's fastest jet-powered car in the name of great telly is a good idea, but we thank you for your services to sad, lonely, maladjusted railway hobbyists everywhere. Big hand, everyone!

Considering a start

So apparently, I'm going to build a railway in my garden. Welcome to my mid-life crisis!

I know this isn't a bad idea, because my Glamorous Research Assistant (GRA) has been quietly accepting and even supportive, rather than expressing incredulity/mockery/horror/desperate cries for a good divorce lawyer.

Also, it has been mentioned to the eldest Junior Research Assistant (JRA) and, while she hasn't yet grasped the idea that it isn't going to appear instantly, the way she immediately fetched her Brio trains from her bedroom to the garden suggested some enthusiasm. (Yes yes, I know - she has dolls too, it's not like we're bringing her up alá The Wasp Factory.) This might also be connected with her current obsession for Thomas The Whinging Scouse Engine, or the fact that her bestest chum Harvey may come to live at our house if there are trains there, according to his mother. Possibly his dad too.

In fact, it's surprising - and gratifying, if not downright suspicious - how much interest there's been so far, via the GRA's Facebook. No one has used the word "Sad" or "nervous breakdown" yet, at least not in public. (Cheers to my friend Anthony at Shildon NRM for the offer of a loaner engine - I'll have the Scotsman, ta.)

Anyway, it's going to be a small one. Ish. I mean, the smallest would be about a metre of track under the wall, but it wouldn't offer much of the aforementioned "fun". I think a short end-to-end layout would quickly become frustrating with the live steam loco that is proposed: having to switch direction every minute, etc. So it needs to be a circuit, but a circuit of the whole garden would take too long to build and, at this stage, be too onerous an undertaking.

A profile of our garden: it's basically a rectangle running alongside the house, mostly two strips of lawn bisected by a path. There are mature Beech and Ash trees in opposite corners, and a shed and a patio in the other corners. There is also now an 8 ft trampoline in one half, a three-seater swing in the other and sundry colourful plastic play things scattered around the remaining area (although these can at least be moved around if we want to decorate the lawn with large yellow patches). Around the lawn are 1m wide borders, with a stone wall on two sides and a wooden fence (hiding a steep slope) on the other.

My initial idea was simply to go round the Beech tree, so I set to and cleared all the weeds around it at 8pm one Friday night (not that my sanity is already suspect by this stage or anything). But there isn't much clearance between the tree and the fence, and what there is has a big lump of concrete in the way. Plus, the ground is riddled with roots and the GRA wants to put the sandpit there, which doesn't leave much space at all.

Better then to stick to the border around the lawn. But the lawn is big, so to complete a circuit, I'll have to cross it at some point. (My first clue that all this might be a go-er came when the GRA didn't complain vociferously about this option. A-ha!) I reckon a fourteen foot diameter oval around roughly the top third of the lawn will do it. Downsides are potentially three straight sides, which isn't very interesting or prototypical, and a lack of foreground plant cover to hide stretches of track and make it look less like the basic shape it is - unless I can reshape the lawn a bit too.

Other definites:

• It's going to be SM-32 narrow gauge (that's 16mm to the foot scale models on 32mm gauge track, representing 2ft narrow gauge prototypes), roughly based a on North Wales slate line ambience (straight lines notwithstanding). The more ramshackle, basic and overgrown the cheaper better.
• Eventually, I need to run live steamers on this, which is the whole point.
• Ignoring the last point(!), it needs to be cheap and relatively straightforward to build, without much impact on the appearance of the garden. For me, that means no carpentry, concrete or cement involved ("Slob the Builder! Can he bodge it? Slob the Builder! Yes if he can be arsed!").
• Must avoid anything ambitious, otherwise it will never be completed. The goal is to run a train on a semi-permanent railway as quickly and easily as possible.

Definitely nots:

• I'm not going to wear a little peaked cap labelled "engine driver" (sorry Ian, not that I didn't like the cap or anything) or blow a whistle.
• I will not start referring to myself as "Chief Mechanical Engineer", my good lady wife as "the Executive/the Ministry" (or indeed, "my good lady wife") and the house as "the Company workshops".
• No timetables. No "humorous" noticeboards about not crossing the line or pulling the chain in the station. No egg-stained society ties. Anoraks in cold weather only.

Also, I'm not sure about giving it a name, particularly a dreadful punning one. These can often seem a bit cutsey-poo. (That said, and going with the pseudo-Welsh theme, I'm quite tempted by The Rhach and Rhwyn. Maybe.)

(Look, it's fine if you want to do all that stuff. Far be it from me to prescribe the limits of someone else's fun. But I'm already picking up speed on the descent towards Sadsville, so there have to be some check rails along the permanent way. Oh darn, there I go...)

Anyway, while I think further about all this, there's plenty more garden railway pr0n on Youtube to drool over.

Double-header

If you happen to have a decent-sized garden, one of these looks like it would be a lot of fun, non?