I know, I can’t quite believe it either. Twelve years of dither and delay resolved.
For those interested, the tendering process went something like this:
Hence the Quarry loco in red it was. The internal firing, displacement lubricator and useful extras (you get steam oil, lubrication oil, a syringe and a funnel in the box with it - everything bar gas & water) clinched it. (There’s a nice overview of it on Youtube if you want to know more.)
It was fun. I can’t say it was relaxing; after a running session, I was sweating heavily from leaping up and down to push, adjust, re-couple or rescue a scalding hot locomotive that’s only slightly less unpredictable than a nervous cat and more temperamental. Judging by how the backs of my legs feel today, it was good exercise at least. But I think I find small battery-powered industrial engines more therapeutic than ever for just watching trains.
More videos when I start to get a better handle on all this and can dare leave it alone long enough to hold a camera steady.
(With thanks to Ant, Richard and Simon for advice and troubleshooting.)
]]>Oof, I suppose at least the gaps between R&R revivals are growing shorter. While the aforementioned tree incident last October thankfully left the line untouched, along with almost everything else we cared about in the garden bar the fence, the booted, visored men that followed in its wake were sadly not quite so dainty, although for understandable reasons when swinging a chainsaw about. Sawdust covered so much of the top end of the line that I would have been better switching to modelling a timber line rather than a slate quarry. One piece of track had been ripped out entirely, and there were numerous small breaks where fragile Peco track joiners had given up the ghost under either duress or corrosion. In a couple of places, sleepers were missing entirely and the webbing had come away from the rails. Oddly, several small gaps of up to 5mm had opened up at various joints as well, despite the fact that there was no loose play in which to push the track back together.
Fortunately, it turned out to be nothing that a day’s work on hands and knees couldn’t put right, or at least bodge sufficiently to make it runnable. Suddenly having new longeurs of free time available thanks to the Covid-19 lockdown (although never as much as it seemed there ought to be), I alighted on the railway as my new project and got to work. In the sudden retail shortage of Peco SL-810 fishplates, I took the opportunity to test out Cliff Barker’s plastic rail joiners, which look much more prototypical and are reasonably easy to fit providing you don’t force them open too far, and underpin the excavated parts of the trackbed with some of the spare paving bricks I still had, in the hope of supporting it better against future size elevens.
And then, inspired, somehow I also managed to not only construct two Binnie wagons still in their bags but also finish off the IP Engineering 2nd class/guards coach kit that had lain around painted but incomplete ever since I concluded that the wheels had been fitted much too far apart for the radius of the curves on my line. With some effort and fair amount of acetone nail varnish remover, I was able to prise off the axle boxes (and, indeed, the sole bars - whoops) and move them further in. I’d thought 150mm apart would be adequate but testing showed that it would need to be a centimetre less to achieve acceptable running. Even then, you can still feel the flanges tighten as it goes round the corners. As a final flourish, before interminably gluing the roof down with endless superglue, I installed the two passenger figures I acquired five years ago. (They’re extremely well detailed and characterful painted individuals from the late, lamented Back2Bay6, and I really wish I’d bought many more at the time, particularly at such a laughably modest price. None of the figures I’ve seen since come close in execution.)
This whole kit has been, frankly, a ridiculous and long-winded farrago on my part. Granted it looks very smart in crimson and white but it’s right at the limit of coach length for my line - I even had to shave off the edge of one of our bedding sleepers at one point so that the roof could clear a corner. Oh well, I don’t expect I’ll ever build another one like this…
Aw, nuts.
“Flushed with success, the newly reconstituted R&R board was finally able
to reach a decision on a matter it had been wrestling with for far too
long. An order was placed…”
- J. O. K. Boyd, ibid
I fitted another Delrin chain set to this one so the traction, particularly given the extra weight from the whitemetal engine block, ought to be pretty strong. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to test this yet as the rechargeables I was using while assembling the chassis had run out of puff by the time it was ready.
The worst part was trying to slot the switches through the holes in the cab and then line up the fixing screws and tighten them, with almost no clearance for a screwdriver. (Tip: either use a right-angled one or a very thin, long-stemmed one.) It’s a very tight enclosure in which to manipulate anything, and of course there are trailing wires in the way, not to mention soldered pins do not make for a comfortable hold. When I finally had them installed, I discovered that one of the leads had broken off the motor terminal during all my fumbling around, so it would never go without applying yet more heat and flux. (…Why does this scenario sound familiar?) It might perhaps have been easier to leave the back panel off until this part was done, although I can see how that could complicate painting. I also think I could have opted for longer wires to the motor, which I’d avoided thinking it meant less to stuff inside the cab. Anyway, I pray it never goes wrong because I’m not sure I’d ever want to dismantle it all again. (Why can’t kit makers just give us single, three-way switches instead of separate ones for direction and operation?)
Looking forward to taking this out for a spin once the batteries are recharged. I have an excellent test of its hauling capacity in mind, although it’s probably not a service the R&R would normally run: the North Pilton Works carriage that my Research Assistants kindly ordered as a Fathers Day gift arrived a few weeks ago.
Although it’s a small (two compartment-sized) coach of appropriate dimensions by narrow gauge standards, it suddenly looks like a bit of a fat bloater next to all my existing stock. It’s so large and low-slung in fact, that it simply wouldn’t clear the trackbed as it stood, a problem I had also encountered with the IP Engineering three-compartment carriage. So I grabbed my trowel and got down on my knees (“…And I began to prayyy” ♬), and started to dig out large tufts of grass wherever they were encroaching on the track, turning an almost submerged trackbed into what felt like a motorway. Suddenly, it went from a look of overgrown, rundown WHR circa 1938 to freshly laid, modern contractor standard WHR post-2000. Not quite what best pleases me, but it looks like this will be the required maintenance level if I’m ever to run full-sized stock.
Despite all that effort, and the aching fingers and joints that resulted for the following week, the Rapier was still unable to pull the coach round the entire line, usually coming to a stop on the curves because, I suppose, of the extra resistance from the flanges coupled with the heavier weight. So let’s assume Jodi, I mean ‘Kate’ (it’s all go in nerdland), will be better.
The carriage itself is very nice, with some basic but pleasing detail inside, and probably built to a better standard than I would have managed. However, the finishing is a little rough in places, with one set of steps being slightly misaligned and the roof not quite fitting snugly as you can see in the photo (due, I think, to the inner glazing obstructing it). But I’m not going to quibble as I suspect these flaws can be resolved, and certainly with less effort than building a complete coach from parts.
Meanwhile, the half-complete Simplex chassis still lurks behind in the workshop…
Update: Video proof that Kate can haul the NPW coach.
]]>…The flip side of this is, it’s really easy to go charging on with the build and then discover you’ve welded two of the parts together the wrong way round. Which is what I did.
Three times.
Go, me! First I carefully filed and positioned the chassis side against the base, stuck it firmly in place and then, admiring my work, realised it was facing the wrong way. So that had to be cut away and re-fixed. Then I put the control panel in upside-down relative to the cab - the clue is in the rounded corners on the top edges. So I took a file and rounded off the corners on the new top edges, then filled the original corners at the base. And finally, I carefully threaded an axle through the motor chassis only to discover I’d firmly attached one side of that upside-down as well; out came the craft knife again. Fortunately (?), the joints come apart more cleanly than the word ‘welded’ would imply, although I suppose there is a risk of snapping something if they don’t (but then you can always weld the pieces back together with more solvent, right?).
Honestly, if I were reading this, I’d be fuming at the blatent ineptitude on display here. Each time, I carefully oriented the pieces against the photos on the instruction sheet, then deftly managed to change my grip and twist one round after brushing on the MEK. It’s safer to fit the pieces together first, flood the join with solvent using a brush and then, once they’re attached, paint more solvent on the other side too if necessary.
The blurb on IPE’s website kind of implies that each piece has tabs which are glued together. I tend to think of HGLW’s wooden kits with their interlocking tabs when I read this. In fact, they mean that the pieces are delivered on single sheets of plastic with small moulding tabs to hold them in place, which you cut through to release the part. You’re still going to be sticking edges and corners together, although at least MEK sets quickly and strongly. Hilariously, the instructions tell you to attach the back panel “0.5mm” from the end of the base, as if somehow that kind of precision and tooling is available here at the R&R. “Or wing it by eye, Ade, you massive bodger”, they might have added.
Anyway, by close of Sunday, the basic shell and all the detail parts had received two coats of car spray primer and only “now paint your model” and some soldering stands between this and completion. I’ve been looking at prototypes on Google to get some idea of paint schemes for Hudson Hunslets, and it seems anything goes so long as it’s fairly dowdy and plain. Typically, it’s green for the bodywork, black for the radiator grill and a kind of grimy opaqueness for the engine. However, many examples boast bright red buffer beams which perk them up no end, so I’ll probably adopt that. If I don’t manage to stick the wheels to the bonnet instead.
]]>I mean, literally glued to it. And it was glued to the cutting mat. The tools were glued to the table. The cat was glued to the floor. Everything in the whole world appeared to have been glued to everything else. Epoxy resin gets everywhere.
Putting the base frame aside for a moment - with difficulty - I decided to build the motorised chassis instead. It went together reasonably quickly, and I was even able to fit a Delrin chain set without too much effort, although it hangs between the axles like a hammock - I think I’d have struggled to get the chain joined if I’d taken out one more link, but it clearly needs it. I’ve been told it will stretch in use. Unfortunately, I misplaced one of the short axles provided (it subsequently turned up in the wrong bag), and by the time I’d found it, I’d already substituted a longer 45mm axle. But it seems to fit, and trying to unglue it again seems like asking for grief.
I went back to the body. Having got the two brass footplates stuck between the frames (they sit tight between the edges and the instructions even suggest they only need gluing on one end to the buffer beams, which can’t be right), the next part is assembling all the finicky detailing. Incredibly, I managed to put the seat together with all the individual slats correctly spaced, and nobody died and I didn’t set fire to anything. The drivers controls are - ulp - two pins that must be bent and glued into holes drilled in the cab base. I gave up when bits I thought I’d fixed together earlier started to come apart (including one of those darned brass plates). Really not looking forward to assembling the bonnet, another couple of sheet parts supposed to be glued on their edges. But I’d say there’s now an evens chance of getting this thing running, whereas before there were good odds on a twisted lump of whitemetal ending up tossed in the bin. But I never want to do one of these again.
Definitely taking another look at the Pressfix kit.
]]>There are a lot photos of similarly inspiring examples and models online, which generally I enjoy poring over. Take, for example, the shots posted to HGLW’s Facebook page; it’s almost enough to make you reconsider whether you need live steam at all when for the same cost you could build a small industrial-themed line dripping in atmosphere and an entire fleet of these appealingly bijou wooden-bodied diesel shunters.
Unfortunately, when this leads to you comparing what others have built with your own meagre efforts, it can all become rather dispiriting. Some of the folk who’ve read this blog and looked at the photos of the R&R on Flickr have been very kind (a general and refreshing trait in the 16mm world, I find), but yesterday I fell to pondering what it was about my modest line that generated a continual nagging dissatisfaction which, truth be told, was probably in part responsible for my leave of absence over the last few years. And after reflection, thinking back to the other lines I’ve liked, I suspect it comes down to character - the lack of it.
Character is that elusive quality that turns a modest amount of plastic and nickel track and a bit of gravel snaking incongruously along your borders into something mysterious and evocative. The best 16mm lines absolutely bask in it, rendering even the lowliest effort into something that feels like it could potentially constitute a ‘real’ railway. Unfortunately for lazy bodgers like me, none of the retailers I’ve come across are selling cheap bags of character that you can just pour out, so it looks like it’s something one must build laboriously for oneself. (”…As in life” - shut up, Master Shifu.)
It doesn’t help that I have a basic circuit of track on one level, bounded on three (straight) sides by a path and some flower beds which prohibit much in the way of expansion or scenic dressing. The fourth side cuts across the lawn, the top third of which is enclosed by the line, and I’m loathe to let it intrude any further there (if nothing else, in a family garden it just means more stuff to get stepped on, tripped over or treated as a linear litter tray by your overly numerous cats). From the right vantage point, you can view the entirety of it, which means there isn’t much left to discover and nothing is withheld from gaze. I’m not going to extend the trackwork; while my N gauge philosophy was always “MOAR POINTS!!!”, I think that would be foolish on a ground level, manually operated line. Operationally, it makes no sense and I don’t regret the lack of sidings (although an argument could be made for the scenic possibilities) or hanker for more track. So I’m stuck with what I’ve got.
Worse, before embarking on this madness, I’d done plenty of research about what I wanted, what appealed to me, the atmosphere that drew me to particular lines… and then somehow neglected to apply or even consider any of it. It had all turned out as I’d hoped, but not as I’d planned - because planning hadn’t come into it. There are bits of the resulting line that I like - where it meanders through the moss under the bridge, for example - but the overall effect is of plainness.
This was starting to sound like a string of poor excuses rapidly
degenerating into a pointlessly self-critical why-am-I-so-crap-at-this
lament, but then …
I HAD AN IDEA!
An awesome idea. (Well OK, a slightly unoriginal and modestly conceived one, but let’s wallow in the road-to-damascus vibe for a moment.)
…Yeah, it doesn’t look like much, I admit. Penwork isn’t my greatest skill; maybe go look at my Pinterest board instead. What these sketches show is the slate rockery I’m going to build inside the top right corner of the line, opposite the existing ‘cutting’ (that was). I’m going to chop out that bit of lawn, which has never thrived owing to the shade from the nearby tree and boundary wall, and replace it with an area of loose slate rocks and chippings whose outlines will be softened by some judicious planting with dwarf shrubs that can withstand damp, shady conditions. The rear of this rockery will rise up (to a limited degree - no higher than the existing flower bed) against the line, thus restoring some necessary seclusion to that section.
Quite pleased with this one; I like rockeries anyway, as they keep the weeds down and there’s less to grow and therefore wither and die (the north side of our garden being pretty much a death sentence to most plants). And I always wanted a Welsh slate line feel, despite the near absence of actual slate at present - much more like Nantlle (although I wouldn’t hope to aspire to that level). More critically, hiding part of the line behind the rockery will break up its appearance and open up the possibility of representing something more … characterful.
Even better, within an hour of dreaming up this whizz-bang idea, I managed to track down a supplier online where I could easily buy the raw materials I’d need to realise this holy vision - typically the sticking point upon which most of my bright ideas founder. Take a look at this. They even do cut slate walling blocks; I could build that clawdd I planned originally. Given enough stone, I could replace the riverbed look of the revamped cutting with a proper slate quarry feel!
True enough, while I think the prices for delivery of what is a large amount of extremely heavy rock are very reasonable, this is a project that may have to wait a year (mainly in view of an upcoming expensive holiday commitment). One full cage of slate alone will almost double the value of the lineworks to date. But I’m suddenly feeling excited again by the possibilities, and by having some direction to this project at last.
]]>Not knowing when to quit, after breakfast I carried on with the build of my IP Engineering Freelance Two Compartment/Guards Coach kit, which was tantalisingly close to a running state. I’d fitted the undercarriage and wheels the previous day, and only want of a 2mm drill prevented me adding the couplings; the wire hooks simply would not fit into the predrilled holes on the buffer beams, even after drilling out with a 1.5mm drill. I also needed the drill for some improvements to my Rapier loco, so I made the trek down the hill to B&Q (in the unreassuring knowledge that I was about to pay over the odds for something that would cost half as much if I’d been able to wait for an online order).
Well, those hooks certainly fitted after enlarging the holes in the buffers - they dropped right through. Quick squirt of superglue and a brief wait and we were all set. I wanted to conduct a load test with the Rapier before fitting the roof, in case I decided to add some extra weight although - hefting it in both hands - this suddenly seemed an unlikely requirement.
It didn’t go well. A combination of the wider carriage body, reduced lineside clearance due to that damn lawn, minimum radius curves and an underpowered engine meant that this blotchy crimson and white monstrosity would have been fine if we’d been recreating the bit in “The Titfield Thunderbolt” where they all get out and push. Rather less satisfactory from a running point of view.
Sigh; think again. The instructions said to fit the wheels centred at 170mm - in retrospect, I should have reduced this a tad. I found someone on a forum saying they’d gone for 140mm centres to get round LGB Radius 1 curves (which are 24” radius, even tighter than Peco SM32), although there’s probably a risk that the extra outward swing on the body could drag any linked vehicles off the rail. It looks like I’ll have to unglue the axleboxes with some acetone and redo it, and even then I doubt my Rapier will have the grunt to haul it in its present state. To be fair, the kit was originally bought with one eye on live steam in the near future, but right now I’m not sure even an Accucraft could successfully drag it round my tight corners.
Fortunately, I have another IP Engineering coach kit on hand, and it’s a shorter one. Unfortunately, I found gluing and painting the body of this one was a real drag; I mean, it took literally years (on and off, and more off than on). However, North Pilton Works do some basic but very nice, pre-assembled and painted coaches with interior detailing for not much more than the price of a kit like this. Figure in the cost of glue, paint and accessories and they look like bargains. Hints have duly been dropped regarding Fathers Day.
With a little of the day remaining, I opened the bag containing the IP Engineering Plate Frame Simplex kit and took a proper look. I really like the idea of having a little engine like this, with a short rake of tippers, and I’d also like to have something else that runs, but this is a whitemetal kit that’s a clear step beyond the ‘Ezee’ Rapier. After some filing down (and straightening out), I went with ye olde faithful superglue for the first try at fitting the frames together. Nope, that ain’t gonna work, although it was remarkably effective at sticking the parts to the work surface. It looks like it’ll have to be the epoxy resin, which is going to make this one much more time-consuming to piece together. There’s a good blog post detailing construction of one, which starts simply and rapidly becomes rather involved (although admittedly, the builder does go overboard on enhancements and mods). There is a crazy amount of detail to assemble, right down to gluing the individual slats on the driver’s seat (dude can sit on an upturned bucket for all I care). I think we’ll be lucky to see this one on the rails before xmas. In the interim, I might get hold of a ‘Kate’ presfix kit to see if that can be thrown together any quicker. One thing I would prefer is for all new locos to have four wheel drive to improve their haulage capabilities on my dippy track; IPE used to sell an optional axle chain drive for this purpose, but it’s no longer shown in their online shop; the nearest equivalent appears to be the Delrin system from the States. If it works, I am sorely tempted to try retrofitting this to the Rapier.
On balance, I don’t enjoy building kits. They always seem to involve gluing narrow edges together, which is a fairly precarious business. Very few of them are available in materials other than whitemetal or plasticard; there were some very nice precoloured resin models around a few years ago, but they’ve all gone off the market now. Painting is a huge ballache. If I had all the time in the day and a permanent work area to do nothing else, it might be different. As it is, I got into this to run things, not to spend hours hunched over the kitchen table inhaling toxic fumes and swearing at poor tolerances.
To end on a bright note, stealing some ideas from Mr Wood and others, I
added a bit of detailing to the Rapier so that it looks a bit less “will
this do?”
Handlebars, exhaust pipe and radiator cap (and some glazing, but you can’t
see that). Might even stretch to some vents
and a driver if I can source the right parts. ‘Andsome, in’e?
Since the last entry, I dutifully weeded the trackbed, titivated the alignment and ran my basic little battery-powered shunter each Spring for a couple of years thereafter. And then somehow, time got away from me and there never seemed to be quite enough to keep on top of it, and little point making the effort as there would have been few opportunities to use it afterwards either. But I felt bad every time I caught sight of buried rails or broken joints, wondering how much further I could allow matters to slip before my hundred pounds of Peco SM32 became permanently unusable and therefore a waste of money and effort.
Worse, due to soil creep in my attractively dank and overgrown cutting, it had slumped to such a degree that the entire curve was now buried in mud and grot. I should have taken the total demise of the “Mind Your Own Business”, a plant that typically thrives in shade and quickly overruns most gardens instead here drowned in a boggy morass, as a sign that nothing was going to be easy. I knew sorting this out was going to involve lifting it all, shoring up the sides and relaying, and I had a vague idea how I wanted to do it (with a sort of dry stone wall/clawdd), but was dissuaded by the disruption involved and a lack of suitable stone. (Obtaining small quantities of rough building stone for domestic use seems nigh on impossible - I could have indulged in some illicit quarrying locally but I suspected that may attract adverse attention and it didn’t feel like the environmentally sound approach.).
In the end, a week off and a visit to the one useful gardening
centre in Cardiff (Blooms in St Mellons - tip-off from a very helpful chap in
B&Q) procured a few choice rockery stones and time enough to do the work.
The results aren’t quite what I had in mind - more dried-up pebbly riverbed if
you’re being kind - but will hopefully keep the cutting clear for a good few
years yet. Unfortunately, the sense of cool shade and a hidden green tunnel through the undergrowth
has been rather lost, but perhaps the next Spring will restore this.
Elsewhere, I added a couple of extra paving bricks and fixings to level out the track, which was beginning to rise in places, and replaced several rusted mending plates and screws. Here’s a tip: do not use zinc-plated anything outdoors, it will never survive Welsh weather. I’ve cleared two B&Q stores out of their limited stocks of plastic-coated 80mm flat straps (and still haven’t got enough), after extracting an original one intact in as-new condition from the cutting, and made sure I used some proper brass woodscrews this time. Crucially, I also repaired some of the breaks in the track that had developed over the duration (which were not helped by the installation of some more sleeper-bounded flowerbeds a few years back - a visible but fortunately harmless kink in one rail being the result, although I’m grateful it was no worse than that). I was slightly perturbed by the number of fishplates that had snapped or sheared at the rail joints. A potentially better alternative would appear to be Cliff Barker’s plastic rail joiners.
Finally, never underestimate the determination of lawn grass to encroach on your ballast. I’ve never hidden the fact that I prefer the overgrown look on a railway but…well, really! Full size grass is much too obstructive to scale rolling stock, and somehow the edges of the lawn have also risen up against the trackbed, impinging on clearance at the sides. I could use some type of low profile edging to keep it back - slate would be ideal, if one could reliably split it to size. (If the lawn would only put as much effort into covering its various bare patches as it did into invading the railway, I’d have a sward of which to be proud.)
This is all, sadly, the result of going for a quick and dirty, semi-permanent construction rather than the proper concreted or brick and block-based, proven techniques that “proper” garden railways employ - but if I’d gone down that path, I doubt anything would ever have run, nor would my temperament have withstood the ordeal. As someone I admire once said, a man’s gotta know his limitations.
Anyway, after two days of back-aching crouching and lifting, I was finally able to run a test train round the circuit several times without incident - and it looked grand too. A little plain and dull - I really should take a stab at sprucing up these Eazy models - but nice to see a train creeping through the shrubbery once more (although Charlie, our youngest cat, was soon to be found creeping after it, curiosity and hunting instinct aroused). In fact, I was sufficiently inspired to go back to my carriage kit, which was set aside mid-build around the same time the railway went to sleep. Last time I went near this, I’d bought the recommended Plastizap glue to stick the glazing in place - and then procrastinated for so long, the entire bottle had hardened until solid. Turns out ordinary superglue works just as well without fogging the windows. With only the chassis to attach, passenger figures to be added and roof to go on, it might actually be seen on the line before Autumn.
Live steam? That never quite happened - the need and the budget never quite reached high enough, but I’m tempted again to revisit this in a year or two, once an expensive holiday is out of the way. Unfortunately, prices have only climbed higher in the interim, with the Chinese-made Accucraft locos in particular being hit by pre-Brexit exchange rises. Were I buying today, I’d be tempted by a Roy Wood Janet with all the extras. If you’re shopping though, Simon Wood has an excellent summary of the current options at the budget end of the market. In fact, go look at Simon’s Moel Rhos line instead, it’s much further on than mine. (I feel partly to blame for putting him on this path, but the impressive results are entirely the fruit of his own labours.)
]]>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.
]]>In lieu of a comfy armchair that we haven’t got room for and he’d never get chance to sit in, this Plate Frame Simplex would, I’m sure, be much appreciated by someone coming to terms with turning forty. And if there was any money left in the budget, a proper coach (or even better, this one in green/red) would be great too. (Both in 32mm gauge.)
Love,
Me
I can hear the objections from purists already:
To which we say:
If run any other way than clockwise and backwards, the results are … well, let’s say “undefined”, but typically involve derailments or wheel slip. The latter seems to be caused by the trailing wagons pulling the loco back slightly and causing the front end to rise, which then fails to grip on some of the gradients. I tried gluing a short length of steel bar under the front axle for added adhesion, but it has only been a partial success. In retrospect, I wish I’d built the chassis and underframe first, allowing me to align the motor better and insert some extra weight under the bonnet.
The derailments were due to a misaligned rail joint, causing the wheel to knock, and another joint where the rail had slipped out of the joiner, creating a sudden wheel drop that generally caught my lightest plastic wagon. I underdid the adjacent plate and replaced the joiner. I also gave the misaligned joint a twist with the pliers to ease the disconnect. Should have used more bricks on the curves. One at each end and one in the middle aren’t enough to keep the track solidly in place; I’d have been better advised to place a paver under each joint midway.
While I had the tools out, I also replaced some of the mending plates that had rusted badly over winter. They’re zinc-plated, but in the worst throes of a Welsh winter, zinc apparently means zip. Worse, the screws had corroded too, in some cases so badly that it was tricky to undo them. I thought they were brass screws, but on reading the packet, it turns out that “brass” also means “zinc-plated” in this context. Being unable to extract the screws would have been quite bad, and the only solutions would have been to either cut the sleepers or wait further until the mending plate disintegrated altogether. However, greater love hath no man than that for his favourite tool (ahem), and I am currently betrothed to my Kamasa ratchet screwdriver, which thankfully did the job. A tip for removing chewed-up crosshead screws: use a slot screw bit of the closest size for extra grip. On removing the screw, the very worst thing that can happen at this point is for a small piece of ballast to drop into the hole - necessitating a frantic minute of poking around with a needle to clear the obstruction.
The mending plates have fared variably with no obvious pattern to the rusting. I used both yellow and silver zinc plates, but I’m fairly sure both types have corroded in places and survived in others. Some plates that were fitted first have lasted, while others that were used later have failed - and vice-versa. I suspect several inches of snow and wet leaves may have accelerated the process on the curves. Now I need to revisit B&Q to find something more durable. I’ve seen some heavy duty plastic-coated ones, which may be worth a try. Although in my experience, once the water finds a gap in the plastic then the plate starts rusting on the inside until the coating bulges and splits, and the resulting appearance is twice as ugly. Perhaps a coat of Hammerite would be better.
]]>On the other hand, certain small people much prefer trip-trapping over the bridge to stamp-stomping over the track in their size sixes (you’d be amazed how much pull the average welly tread can exert). And even if it’s massively overscale, it looks lovely - this is supposed to be a garden as well as a railway.
I had a minor worry about the clearance underneath, but a quick Google shows that Accucraft’s Edrig loco is six inches high and the tape measure says we’ve got seven under here, so we should be golden. (Of course, for the price of the bench and bridge, I could have had Edrig but still, another day…)
]]>…Excellent!
Obviously, I’ve pulled up the worst weeds - the larger ones growing between the sleepers that were going to cause derailments. The lawn edge also needs strimming to prevent the grass fouling the line. But generally, I’m trying to check my urge to clean and tidy too much, and hope the plant life takes over.
My little crop of “Mind your own business” is flourishing, although it still has a way to go before spilling over on to the trackbed. I’m keeping the ground clear around it so it has room to take over. The second pot isn’t doing so well, probably because it was left on the kitchen sill for too long and the sun nearly killed it off. But fair credit, it has started to revive since planting and should recover. I’ve also planted some sedums and a bit of thyme; they’ll need about a year to get established.
]]>The proper way to paint a model requires two coats of Halfords grey primer, followed by approximately a hundred coats of the final colour, rubbing down after each coat with progressively finer grades of Wet & Dry and ending with a gentle caress from a pair of silk cami knickers belonging to an expensive French whore, also wet and dry (that “bang” you just heard was Google switching on an extra data centre to cope with my increased hits).
My way involves a quick squirt of primer and then as many top coats as I can be bothered to do (so that’s about two then), slapped on any old way while watching TV. Needless to say, the results aren’t as exquisite, but you get a train running some time before Christmas even if it looks like it was finished by that dodgy decorator bloke who only gives a mobile number and expects cash. What I should be doing between coats is starting another kit, but I’ve only just cottoned on to this obvious time economy.
Speaking of which, the kits I received really were the gift that keeps on giving. Six months on, I’ve still only finished one of them, with another three in a partial state - and the last only begun this weekend. Don’t turn up at Rhach station, because it still doesn’t exist yet.
]]>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.)
]]>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…
]]>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.
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