Framing a Layout: A Footprint Doesn't Dictate the Level of Action

 As I move forward to finally build something in my hobby room - maybe a layout? - I try to get a better understanding of what I'm trying to do. Maybe thoughts have crossed my mind since I've been starting to seriously take a look at that challenge. Several concepts I've designed over the years have clashed together and are now starting to coalesce into a more coherent vision.

I recall, many years ago, submitting the idea of displaying several dioramas in this room, each one dedicated to my various interests in railroading. At first, I envisioned this by a series of independent layouts stacked one over the other around the room. While a nice idea, it was plagued to become a collection of dead ends; well-crafted layouts with little purpose.

Later, I came with the idea of trying a layout that would run around the room. As much as I'm not a fan of layouts based on simply having a train running in the middle of nowhere, I must  admit many of my locomotives and freight cars have completely a single loop in almost two decades. This is a shame. I have enough freight cars and locomotives to weathered, detail and improve for a lifetime. Much more than I need to be honest and I know too well I'm not about to sell them. It would be nice to appreciate them from time to time. But in a more pragmatic way, I have no place to break-in my locomotives and program them in a decent fashion. It may sounds ridiculous at first, but it means I have quite a handful of rolling stock with serious mechanical issues due to not having ran enough since I acquired them.

Another point to take in account is the fact I have appreciation for trains from various eras and I must acknowledge it. Trying to fit it all in a single layout theme is an impossible task. It would result in a badly executed product that would fail to deliver anything convincing in terms of realism. However, I'm not that much eager to constrain myself to a single theme. This is why over the last decade I've been trying to understand what is at the core of railroading in North America, particularly in the Northeast (Ontario, Quebec, NB & New England). Some regular patterns have emerged that can act as a common core that bonds many eras and locales. This is something I'd like to exploit.

Also,  I've also discovered our vision field constrains how we can interact and get immersed in a scene. I'm more than convinced that we generally can get comfortable in about 7 to 8 linear feet, maybe 10 feet if you take a chance. Anything over that gets blurry and you need a scenic break or a subdued transition zone before moving over to another interest area. Lance Mindheim called it the Scenery Only Zone, but I've come to compare it to song composition in an old blog post. I really think this has to do with ergonomic and the human body in the same way the size of doors, windows and rooms relate to us. I've seen it in action on Hedley-Junction where scenes in our Villeneuve sections are far too long while the most recent Charlevoix areas are better defined.

Finally, I have a serious problem keeping myself focused when modelling. I am absolutely unable to follow a schedule or a coherent plan even if I do this everyday in my line of work. Most people can't understand how much keeping this blog alive made it possible to have so much coherence in our Hedley-Junction project. But be assured, this is abnormal for me and takes a lot of efforts!

Put all these things together and here's what you will see. I've been able to create interesting parts of layout for the hobby rooms. Scenes that pleases me. But when I try to spread them all over the room, I'm far to be impressed. Also, each theme comes with a particular set of restrictions that goes against my will to put my collection in action. In this regard, my desire for realism hits a wall if I go the fully prototypical way. In that regard, Hedley-Junction and Harlem-Station are two layouts I've built which satiate my appetite for replicating real locations. I'm not sure I want to thread this path for the home layout which is less operation focused and more about railfanning.

For theses reasons, I've came to the conclusion I should set a shelve on each wall, lay a loop around the room and then work on one scene. The Quebec South Shore diorama I presented a few days ago fit the bill. It is generic but yet prototypical in the sense it is based on a real set of rules found on railways, structure I wish to build are indeed real-life prototype and it can support both light operation and railfanning .By following the prototype rules and taking root in real life imagery that means something to me, this generic diorama is a perfect background for CN, CP, MEC, CV and all these roads I like. Be it steam, early diesel or later eras, it keeps its relevance and stay pertinent. The choice of industry is basic but representative and can support the use of many car types. Better, the continuous run makes it possible to both operate small local freight, passenger trains and large freight consists with multiple unit.

Interestingly enough, this scene is self contained. In about 12 feet of linear space, a world in minature is created, both immersive and compelling. Better, this project leaves the 3 other walls as blank canvas for future diorama that can be operated in the same fashion. They can depict whatever I wish, be it a QRL&PCo river scene, an early 20th century rural station, a simple overpass or a bit of Baie-Saint-Paul. The idea is not to go in the "I want it all" fest, but rather to create modelling opportunities for the future. I know a layout has a limited shelf life once completed. Having the opportunity to consider each wall as a self-contain scene means I can redo parts when I'm ready to build something else or even refurbish what I have when better skills are acquired. All these individual scenes, each framed by a cabinet section, would share a common running loop and there would be no need to fear anachronism single the trains of a particular era would be operated by getting immersed in a single diorama at once.

Another thing I like about this idea is its incremental nature. The loop can be quickly put in place and running. Building the first diorama will be also a simple endeavor. Also, I must take into account my health issues and professional responsibilities. My hobby time is limited and I prefer to make the best of a small area than waste my time trying to fill up my room. The end goal is running trains, having fun, modelling prototypically grounded models and doing some light operation for the sake of enjoying some action and sharing the collection.

If I may conclude, I found out over the last few months I didn't need nor wanted a large layout but only a way to interact with trains and immerse myself in this creative world. I made the mistake to conclude running large trains meant a large layout. I made the mistake to think a diorama or a switching layout was incompatible with continuous run. I made the mistake of repeating a lot of ridiculous assumptions made by this hobby which always create the false dichotomy between the ideal layout and the compromise layout. As if the idea layout had to absolutely be large to fulfill large dreams which is probably the most ridiculous idea out there in this hobby. Isn't ridiculous to think a continuous run means a continuously scenicked layout? Isn't ridiculous a switching layout should be a terminus at all cost (nothing against them, they are cool)

The funny thing is that I only started to realize you could more with little by watching a lot of British modellers' YouTube videos. Not the finest ones, not the finescale ones, simply the average Joe ones. Those who aren't at the top of their game, but are clearly learning lessons from experimenting with their hobbies. Their approach struck me because they had a surprising validity beyond their low bro appearance. They shared a similar vision to the better examples from the UK: they were a slice of world where you could have a glimpse and enjoy the trains. Trains could run continuously, but it didn't meant the builder over extended his vision, but he simply made in such a way the outside world could still exist whatever the size of the layout. It meant to me that the size had nothing to do with the amount of action occurring. The most simple location - be it a flag stop - was still part of a network and didn't have to be the most complicated staging ever or a series of insufferable gimmicks. I all had to do with framing your subject.

That brings me to my initial point: I find it hard to frame a subject when it must fill a room. Give me a limited space and I'll have a vision. Give me a large room and it fills like the blank sheet syndrome. It is probably why I always come back to my old Quebec South Shore design experiment because it distillates what railroading in the Northeast means to me: rurality, feed mills, muddy team tracks, small roads and ondulating topography. As long as I can find these common features, I feel in my element and can dream of a local Central Vermont train, a large CP Rail consist or a CNR Mikado pulling a string of single sheated boxcars or hoppers.

As far as I'm concerned, I'm ready to get myself a pair of IKEA Ivar shelves, build a benchwork and lay some tracks. No real idea how it will turn out, but judging by my past efforts, I believe it will make sense and pass easily for Quebec Central Tring Subdivision, CP Newport Sub, NTR Monk Subdivision and many other tracks crossing the border.

How Much Layout Do You Need?

As introduced in my previous blog, I’m actually in the process of developing a final vision – or should I say framework – for my Connors layout. I’ve found over the years doing justice about a prototype wasn’t always replicating perfectly a prototype. Some artistic license must be used and this license isn’t about doing going loose and veering toward indulgence, but rather trying to understand what matters and how to push it forward in a coherent fashion.

Framing a subject is a complex and subjective task. No wonder I’ve been pondering a central question this year more than once; how much layout do you really need? I feel this question is absolutely central to our understanding of our hobby as I suspect, for many of us, the railway empire is both an improbable pursue but also one that would thin down our vision of this hobby. It would also be a preposterous assumption to believe everyone shares this goal as if it was a mandatory objective per se. That’s the funny thing about North American values in general, this idea that sky is the limit can be both an enabling force both also a crushing goal to try to reach.

This isn’t an easy question and I’ve never found a compelling answer over the last three decades I’ve been dabbling with this hobby. The only thing I know for sure is it’s better to have some kind of layout rather than none. The physical existence of a layout is a key element to make sure you are actually doing something and not only thinking about doing something. Take away the material manifestation of this hobby and you fell a sad feeling of underachievement. It may not be perfect, but at least it is a canvas to paint on a picture and that very picture is probably not the last one you’ll paint. Indeed, it may lack accuracy but it is a continuous learning experiment.

With that said, I gave a lot of thoughts about my longstanding personal home layout in recent days, revisiting yet again several basic concepts. This prompted me to make a serious distinction between what I can build and want I want to build. More than just a question of semantics, this raises several important issues and my personal way to interact with my hobby.

What would be best? A larger layout set in a dedicated room in the basement, or something smaller and more personal in my office room? What kind of interaction I want with my models beyond simply running them? In fact, the layout appears to be only a cog in a much more complex mechanism.

Until recently, I felt a layout in my office would feel contrived and also out of place. Being a railway modellers since my youth, I know this hobby comes with a despicable reputation and social stigma. I know more than one guy taking great care to hide their involvement with trains and certainly can understand.  Recent conversations about layouts with people of the common taught me the stigma wasn’t that bad nowadays. Trainsets are no longer a staple of childhood and many, due to 3D modelling and video games, are now more open to this craft. It was evident that more people admire the sophistication involved than I initially thought. If they have a good grasp of workmanship, technologies or simply creative arts, they generally recognize immediately the merit of the hobby. It’s not a matter of hiding it, but rather showcasing it in a proper way that makes people fully appreciate this piece of art and technology.

It also made me recognize my own interaction with this hobby. How I often wished the layout would be at hands, ready to be put into action. Small enough to care about details and scene composition while staying achievable. Able to take apart a part of the layout, work on it under optimal conditions then set it back in place.

Also, the layout shouldn’t be far from the workbench and reference material (both books and online). Building and operating are activities going hand in hand. Given these criterions, I feel it is better to build small but in the right place where the layout can be displayed, built and operated eagerly in a comfortable environment rather than waste time hiding it in a subpar and distant room. I have no doubt this could be done with taste and look great both as a game board and an artistic diorama.

Certainly, such advantages come with restrictions. The best spot in the room is on top a set of Ikea Kallax shelves. These have been hacked several years ago and create a nice 102” long 15” wide continuous countertop. While I could use more space, it would look good in the room and the idea of a nice diorama sitting on shelves would be lost. Such space is more than adequate for a small switching layout given a 45” small and unobtrusive cassette can be attach without ruining the room.

Indeed, this kind of setup would be neat for Connors, but obviously, I can’t cram everything there. I must cut some corners and if I do so, better think about what matters. According to various written sources, I was able to trace down a typical timetable for the early 20^th century operations. It was both extremely simplistic and yet eye opening. It really put things in perspective in my mind.

Back then, the daily mixed train left Edmunston at noon and reached Connors in the afternoon. The locomotive was then stored in the engine house and serviced. On the next morning, the train came back to Edmunston, reaching the station before noon. Quite simple isn’t it? Certainly, I have no details about it, but given the tight schedule, it seems the small yard and sidings could only be switched in late afternoon since the morning train left Connors quite early and starting a steam locomotive needs lengthy preparations. This simple fact helps to understand what matters if I ever operate a small Temiscouata layout. What does matter in a typical day at Connors? What can fit the bill for a regular 20 to 45 minutes operation session? What fits my interest? What doesn’t? Lots of question I can now start to answer.

If you ask me, I like the look of a locomotive entering a station and performing some work there. Shoving cars here, exchanging others there, rebuilding the train, etc. On the other hand, I have very little interest in servicing locomotives. Also, I’m not that much into building intricate craftsman engine house full of details and far too cute for my own taste. Given that, do I need to model entirely Connors? The answer is no. Connors has irrelevant sections that I don’t care about, add very little to my story and take up space and resources I don’t want to allow them. Maybe some readers will recall Lance Mindheim’s advice to crop a scene and not compress it. Well, I believe he is indeed touching an important point when building a layout. Connors is long but only a part of it frames a well composed scene and makes a compelling stage for trains.

Speaking of scene and staging, modelling must support my story and, according to my own biases, the arriving train in the afternoon is probably the most interesting aspect of this script. The morning train is a dull formality involving no switching and simply backing the train in front of the station after leaving the roundhouse. Given most locomotives were often refuelled before being stored for the night; the morning preparation would lack relief.

Knowing  that, only the trackage pertaining to this afternoon train matters. The rest is inconsequential. Anyway, I have very little good data about the engine house except bad front view photographs taken from a distance and an 1894 panorama leaving many crucial details blurred or in the dark. Remember, since day 1, the Connors station caught my interest and not the engine facilities.

From a practical standpoint, it means only the yard, station, fueling facilities and turntable matter in my story. It easily removes about 4-5 feet of irrelevant layout, providing a more relaxed and better framed scene. In fact, just like Mike Cougill and I discussed, maybe some end parts of a layout are better when they gradually fade away into darkness, leaving the mind to imagine what lies beyond this fuzzy boundary. In a few words, shadows can be used for modelling purpose, the same way they are in theater, museum exhibits, movies and dioramas.

Funnily enough, I recently discovered the old scale model of this layout I made many years ago when exploring this concept for the first time. You won’t be surprised the engine house wasn’t there, only the core project. Once again, my late grandmother would probably tell me “the first idea is always the best”. But I should add, it becomes the best only because other options have been evaluated before going back to the first impression.

Having reduced my scope and knowing I’m only interested in modelling the afternoon train and occasional freight extra, I can now take a hard look at reality. How much layout do I really need? A few technical elements set the track plan: siding capacity must be large enough to run around the train, the cassette must provide enough space for shoving to 50ft coaches. Finally, the leading track in front of the station must provide room to switch about 3 empty and 3 loaded freight cars at the team track. Fortunately, without compression, this can be done in exactly the space available.

Interestingly enough, without effort, most actions on this layout take place in front of the passenger depot, making for a compelling scene. Depending on train composition, a session can be straightforward or slightly more complex. In fact, some days, a coach and a combine will be required to handle sportsman and hunters while on other day, only a coach will do a fine job. Extra freight trains are also an option. Regular mixed freight train can pull from 1 to 4 freight cars, making for a lot of variety. Short 32’ and 36’ cars also help to keep some degree of variety. It is also possible to stage excursion trains from time to time since Connors used to be somewhat of a lesser tourist destination due to the presence of a deluxe hotel near the station.

Finally, the interesting thing about cropping this particular scene according to my available space and intended story is that I don’t have to make compromises on track work. When I asked myself if I could compress Connors, I instinctively veered toward using unrealistic #6 turnouts. Then, doing some maths, it was quite evident the intended #10 turnouts did have their place even if they took about 15” each. On a small layout such as this one, looking closely at operation is the biggest show you’ll see. A cute turn-of-the-century steamer crawling over the rail is a nice show and ruining it with toyish track parameters would defeat this purpose. Take my words for granted on this, my small Bachmann 4-6-0 looks absolutely great on a #10 turnout… Even from a technical standpoint, small steamers do perform better on large radius turnouts. There light and short tenders no longer randomly derail, which can be a real let down when operating with old time locomotives.  Don’t ask me with I know, but I can assure you the idea small rolling stock means small radius is the most laughable principle. Sure it can be done, sure it will look camp and whimsical. Some love that quaint old time look that never existed, but I’m not one. In the same regard, René Gourley was kind enough to remind me of his excellent efforts with prototypical turn-of-the-century modelling based on pre-WW1 Canadian Atlantic Railway. He also has to deal with these pesky issues and takes extensive care to ensure the end results is both artistically attractive and technically sound. Yes, there's is no reasons to take shortcuts when dealing with old time subjects. We wouldn't tolerate it with modern subjects, why settle for less when dealing with the past?

Finally, another neat aspect of the layout is it can be stored easily as modules. I know that at some point, I'll have interests in other eras and locales. I could easily imagine this pre-WW1 layout being used half the year and another one, sharing the same physical parameters taking its place later. Once again, Mike Cougill's concept of dissociating the substructure from the layout seems to be a sensible approach. In my case, the Kallax shelves acting as a structure to support various dioramas/modules following the evolution of my tastes without having do deal with wall anchors and such. Once again, it seems my intuition kind of overlapped with his own, though I'm glad his post made me see the benefit of something that was only a blurry concept in my mind. As they say, nothing new under the sun!

Framing a Subject...

A great aspect of this hobby is about sharing. And by sharing, I don’t mean that meaningless unboxing carnival that has plagued modelling forums for the last few years, where everyone to ride the proverbial bandwagon in search of cheap attention. I’m talking about sharing musings about the hobby, its goals and philosophy. I recall Trevor Marshall often advocating hobbyists to enter the conversation by means of blogs and other such platform. While a good advice, I only started to appreciate this invitation to the public debate in later years. Writing a blog is a strange thing because you barely know who will be interested in your quests. So far, I’ve been blessed by many people that helped me shape my vision, providing both encouragement but also constructive criticism.

Developing a vision isn't a straightforward process...

Many years ago, I promised I would build a small layout depicting Connors, NB; a lovely Temiscouata Railway end-of-line station set in the St. John River valley on Maine’s border. However, I had a single condition to meet before starting this project: I need a clear artistic vision because I wanted it to be an impressionist piece, a layout with a soothing atmosphere, just like a well-executed painting.

A big part of this condition was conditioned by the way I would frame the scene. Until now, I had serious doubts how to do it, but thanks to Mike Cougill’s recent blog posts (one, two and three) about setting a layout in a room, I feel more confident in my work. That’s the nice thing with Mike, he has done enough in this hobby to be able to question the obvious. By doing so, not only he enable conversations, but also brings with it a level of sophistication we rarely see. Many modellers in the past influenced me and I’ve wrote about them a few time. They mainly confirmed my intuitions in providing coherent visions that shared many of my own observations. However, Mike’s influence doesn’t work like this. He is the kind of nagging little voice in your head asking “are you sure?” He isn’t aware of it, but his little voice guided me through the rebuilding of Clermont since last year. I no longer approach design as a set of steps to follow in order, but I now take a lot of time contemplating my work and looking how to make it better. It could have stalled me in a sort of paralysis; however, it provided in fact a reason to do better each time.

His recent posts triggered me to rethink about Connors as I am looking for a small and manageable home project. Many questions arose: how much layout, what to crop from the scene, how to frame the subject, how to work on it in a practical way, etc.

Interestingly enough, I’m coming close to a vision for this project. Like a professional photographer, I framed the subject from all possible angles, than worked on focus and lighting. I now feel I’m ready to shot the final picture. I suspect this picture will be blurry, kind of impressionist, with not so well defined borders. Light will be uneven, drastically enhancing some details and leaving others in the dark. Colors and textures will play an important role too and trains will be set in such a way they are the main actor on the stage. As you will discover in a future post, the framing goes beyond the scenic nature of this small layout and will also imply framing the action itself. I’m not sure many people attempted this artistic vision with pre-WW1 railways in Canada, but I sure feel it is a worthy pursue…

Bassin Louise: Chronicle of a Death Foretold

A few weeks ago, Jérôme organized an impromptu slide show depicting our early efforts at operation-oriented layout planning back in 2006 when our club was founded. We all had in mind the absolutely atrocious mess that was that layout in its final years, but it was quite interesting to see it in its first iteration, before the “I Want It All” had yet to take root. Funnily enough, this first concept was quite sound and in fact promising though our lack of experience meant we never exploited its inherent qualities, rather spreading its defects in the worst directions possible leading to a certain death by asphyxiation. If you don't mind, we will perfom a post-mortem analysis to understand what went wrong and how it have been made better...

The grain elevator was right in the middle.

This layout was based on Quebec City Harbour in the transition era, specifically the Bassin Louise area and the large grain elevator there. Back then, I was doing a lot of researches for my architecture classes and discovered many maps depicting the track arrangement of days. The place had a lot of charm and could easily translate into a coherent layout.

Ill-conceived DC blocks meant extreme track duplication.

From the start, our attempt was plagued by poor design criterion due to space limitation, but mainly caused by lack of knowledge. Like any beginners, snap-switches and 18” radius curves became our standard, thinking we could cram more interesting tracks on less space. It was a mistake but honestly, it didn’t cripple the layout. Using real #4 or even #5 from Atlas code 100 Customline products would have made operation smoother indeed and later on, we used a few of them as we learned the difference in geometry.

Stub ended sidings redesigned with useless runaround capability...

The other major limitation was DCC. From the start, we wanted two operators with dedicated and independent tracks. As you can already imagine, it forced us to double tracks were only one existed on the prototype. Is wasn’t that much of a bad move if it had been done with more insight, but we ended up with a “cool” and overbuilt row of crossovers and diamonds. It worked fine, but it did take up a lot of space that could have been saved for larger turnouts and radius.

Inability to select useful trackage from prototype created useless sidings.

Another problem was our lack of understanding about railway operations. For some reason, what were stub-ended sidings on the prototype became a mess of runarounds. I can’t recall exactly our train of thoughts, but it seems we overbuild many sidings, failing to see how a railway generally tries to make the most out of less. It shortened sidings a lot while forcing contrived track geometry once again.

Over-reliance on snap-switch made this yard extremely derailment prone...

A corollary of this stance was the over-reliance of switchbacks to the point I can no longer stand to see that track arrangement on others layout. As I previously mentioned, our sidings were poorly designed and to compensate the lack of storage capacity, we used switchback almost everywhere to add tracks in empty spaces that couldn’t be reached otherwise. It made our lives much more complicated than required while adding an extra layer of frustration.

Fear of lack of interest meant diamonds and switchbacks were used too often.

Our lack of knowledge and experience led us to think our frustration with the layout was due to a lack of points of interest – a common mistake among model railroaders and happily encouraged by manufacturers and the press for obvious reasons. Here and there, every empty lot became a railway mess, scuttling every good point the layout had. That was our pitfall, we knew something was wrong, but we couldn’t identify the root cause correctly… and that’s a shame. In fact, that layout wasn’t bad. We recall really interesting operating evenings in the early days of construction. The original concept of CN and CP operating a marine terminal and interchanging cars was a sound one and Bassin Louise was indeed a great design for an island layout. The proof is I recently redesigned that layout early this year as an around-the-walls layout. It does work well and I believe would make a compelling challenge to operate.

At least, the operating drawbridge gave plenty of flexibility when switching.

So, the real question is what could have we done to make the layout if we had known better? Here are a few things I would have done if given a second chance:

First, I would have converted our 5 locomotives to DCC. It certainly would have cost us quite a bit from the start, but this technology would have made track duplication irrelevant, thus saving money and space wasted by extra turnouts.

Second, by removing trackage due to DCC, we would have gained a lot of space for better turnouts. Peco Streamline code 100 turnouts or their code 83 equivalent would have offered better performance and less derailment. It also means siding capacity would have grown sensibly.

Third, redesigning two-ended siding to stubs and getting rid of useless switchbacks would have again saved a lot of track and space while improving capacity.

Fourth, adding staging cassettes for incoming trains would have made operation easier and given it a goal. The connection with the outside world was always a big issue and we failed in addressing it back then.

And fifth, implementing car spots. Simple isn’t it, but back then, we simply shoved a lot of car on a siding, unaware of classification and spotting, then called it a day. Working at trainset speed, you can understand why we felt the layout lacked interest and started to add more tracks. Such a simple thing would have made us aware the solution wasn’t about adding “stuff” but rather about “understanding” how things are used.

How could Bassin Louise be implemented as an around the wall design.

At this point, I still believe Bassin Louise was a nice prototype and a good one for a club. Probably better than many other harbour prototype. Though never fully build and without an inch of scenery, it was a very immersive layout. Operating from the inside meant you were actually surrounded by train all around you, which made operation evenings quite magical in some way. I do have some bits of nostalgia left for that layout. If I had a chance to revisit this concept, I would definitely give it a try, finding ways to make it simpler and less contrived.