This article is an attempt to describe what, to my mind, are the attractions of garden railway modelling. Having modelled in all of the major scales and most of the common gauges, I have ended up with a mixed franchise of 16mm steam and battery-electric, and LGB. I would like to think it has been a logical progression from the optimistic via the ridiculous to the sublime. In truth it has been a somewhat haphazard and stuttering journey, but worth the effort to get to the current position.

 

One major advantage of a bigger scale is that the models are chunky and robust, an important factor when one has quantities of the smaller, noise type of enthusiast handling (and occasionally footing) the stock. They also have more of a ‘presence’, an impression of size and solidity which the smaller scales lack. Another factor, important for the multi-thumbed amongst us, is that even fairly complex models can be built from the range of models now available, using little more than basic carpentry skills. As an example, some of the Perfect World range of wagons have fifty or more pieces of mahogany to assemble into a detailed and accurate model, but few of these need more than a trim with a Stanley knife before applying the the glue. I speak as one who has never attempted anything more demanding than a coal wagon in 00 scale, but has successfully built coaches, bogie box wagons and freelance diesels in 16mil. They may not win any prizes, but they give me a sense of modelling achievement which I didn’t have before.

 

Another feature which appeals is the wide range of sophistication which can be applied to the modelling process. At one end of the complexity scale it is possible to build simple battery-operated locos from plasticard or bean tins for next to nothing. Toy trains from Woolies can be pressed into service to provide cheap chassis on which to build masterpieces of invention. The prototypes include a whole range of industrial locos, some very tiny indeed. At the other end, Aster will relieve you of £1500 or more for a gauge 1 gargantuan which will impress friends and bank managers alike. In-between is an ever-increasing choice of motive power and rolling stock, of a variety which reflects the real thing, both home and abroad.

 

But why fool about with railways in the garden?  There are a number of reasons. In our house the aforementioned smaller noisies take up all available bedroom space, so there is little room for indoor layouts. The loft is a possibility, but to do the job properly (and safely, remembering one’s professional position as an HSE inspector) would cost time and money. Playing trains amongst the rafters can also be rather remote, cutting oneself off from the family rather more than is good for domestic harmony. The garden however is, in political correct-speak, a multi-user variable-function resource. After the necessary free and frank exchange of views, it is often possible to persuade other users that a railway will not only enhance their external leisure space, but in time may evolve into the sort of fashion accessory which no style-conscious garden should be without.

 

Another benefit from external railway systems is the ability to run over longish distances, even with the relatively large scales generally employed. My current enterprise for example, takes about a minute and a half to go the complete circuit. The extended version, currently seeking support amongst the financial community, will take double that. This sort of timing goes a long way towards avoiding the ‘tail-chasing’ aspects of continuous runs. The ability to hide long sections of track behind the scenery contributes further to this cause.

 

A more deep-seated aspect relates to the primeval need buried deep within all of us to battle with the elements, to engage with the forces of nature and exert at least temporary control over the natural realm enclosed by four brick walls with dodgy mortar. This is the same ambition which drove wild west pioneers to forge railroads over the Rockies, navvies to excavate cuttings and embankments through the Victorian landscape, and I suspect modern-image tunnellers to burrow through chalk marl from Folkestone to Calais. In the more modest scale within a domestic garden there is deep satisfaction to be gained in attacking five years’ rampant growth of nettles and brambles, to allow a reliable freight link to be at last established between rockery and conservatory. To do the same to create space for bedding plants and rhubarb hardly has the same romanticism or worker satisfaction. The domestically-aware railway gardener will however always ensure that any work of engineering construction will produce some spin-off, in the form of modest improvements to the decorative flora.

 

On the subject of civil works, it is a well-known fact amongst garden modellers that the great virtue of a pond is that it requires, with an insistence that cannot be denied, a bridge to be built across it. Indeed a number of ponds have been excavated purely to generate such a requirement, a fine example of combining positive and lateral thinking. There can however be problems, not least with the neighbours, in my case the indigenous reptilian peoples. Our pond is home to a number of frogs, and a larger number of tadpoles, all of which have at least a moral right to consultation. Their interest extends not only to the conceptual design but also to such details as the the noise nuisance from squeaky axles, the environmental-friendliness of the paint to be used, and the need to maintain ancient rights of access to the best fly-catching areas. As a result a public enquiry may be required, with building unlikely to start until next year.

 

Another factor in favour of the garden is the greater realism which can be achieved, by creating a railway system with proper destinations and real traffic. The fact that it is out-of-doors is a significant factor in this. The first draft of this flawed masterpiece was written on a computer on the patio table, malt whisky in hand, warm sun beating down, Classic FM wafting over the airwaves, etc. An electric loco weaves in and out of the bushes, taking two coaches and a wagon to and from the greenhouse and the shed, playing a continuous game of hide-and-seek with the viewer in the process. A siding alongside the gooseberry bushes is conveniently placed to facilitate the loading of wagons with their fruit in due season.

 

This feeling of reality can be strengthened by the use of ‘scale-sensitive scenery’, plants and trees of suitable dimensions to blend in with the railway and create a consistent whole. There is more scope here for team-building between railway gardeners and their privileged families. Unlike most indoor layouts the scenery lives and breathes, and does not have to be modelled, suggested or synthesised. I say ‘most’ as my 16mm layout at last year’s Southport exhibition had scenery that grew on you in more ways than one.

 

There can however be difficulties, as chancellors say with increasing frequency nowadays. A problem with the average lupin or forget-me-not is their inherent inability to obey the word of command, however firmly spoken. Forget talking to plants, whatever the heir apparent may say. They are an un-unionised, non-negotiating rabble that take delight in giving your garden the weathered, not to say overgrown, look in a remarkably short time. Some of the creepier forms of plant life specialise in low-level attacks under the GWR (ground warning radar) to lie across the tracks and derail passing wheels. Others will go for the bold frontal approach to intimidate the loco head-on, whilst yet more will trail overhead tendrils to ensnare ventilators, chimneys and other roof furniture. Those with limited growth potential will use more subtle methods, such as shedding leaves onto the track (and nowhere else, and in mid-summer), dropping flower heads with pin-point accuracy amongst the turnout rails or poking green shoots of recovery up through the ballast. As a last resort they will negotiate alliances with worms, sign contracts with slugs and snails, and otherwise enlist the aid of their relatives in the animal kingdom to further their destructive designs.

 

Discipline has therefore to be enforced, with secateurs, shears and other, blunter instruments. Modellers with less principle than the average may resort to chemical warfare, using a ready-built transport system to bring supplies up to the front. Some employ raised trackbeds, to lift the line above the predations of killer foxgloves and nearer to the operator’s radius of movement. In my view such lines tend to separate the railway from its natural environment, turning it into an ordinary coarse-scale layout in an external room rather than a true garden railway. There may of course be particular reasons for this type of layout, such as restricted mobility, a desire to model in the vertical dimension or merely a stubborn insistence on preferring it that way.

 

One of the particular pleasures of railway gardening is the use of live steam as the motive power. Whilst it can be feasible to use steam power in smaller scales, it is in the larger ones where steam comes into its own. A combination of accurate engineering and radio control means that modern live-steam locos are both smooth and controllable in operation, whilst many of the finescale products are the equal of any electrically-driven counterpart. All-weather operation is assured by internally-fired boilers, so that the fact that it is tipping down is no excuse for not getting out there and running trains from the shelter of the potting shed. Live steam can be operated indoors, but there are snags. I once flooded a fair portion of an Inverness-shire school hall with meths. Fortunately a fire was averted, which was just as well as it might have ignited a second battle of Culloden, with the home team getting the result this time.

 

Finally, in the interests of journalistic accuracy one has to mention, albeit in as brief, dismissive a manner as appears credible, a few other minor drawbacks to this idyllic pastime. The weather can have an effect, and not only on the expansionist policies of unprincipled vegetation. Damp can sap the enthusiasm of both loco electrics and owner, and track cleaning can be chore. Although in my experience the most common problems are dirty wheels and loose track joints, which can happen in any scale. Footballs have been banned from the vicinity of the railway, and other blood sports are only permitted in accordance with a strict code of practice. Dogs are ejected on sight whilst cats are tolerated but carefully policed.

 

The benefit of the seasons is generally beneficial, giving different perspectives of scenery, light and ambience. With weatherproofed stock year-round operation is possible, particularly if storage sidings and control units are strategically located in a cosy conservatory or snug shed. Sitting in a centrally-heated command centre watching powerful locomotives battling against driving rain and wind, headlights scything through gathering dusk, is a different dimension from your average environmentally-neutered indoor layout. Not everyone’s idea of pleasure no doubt, but part of the attraction is to be a minority interest, to be something a little different from the mainstream. The rate this branch of the hobby is growing however may mean this benefit will not last much longer.

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