The Great Garden Railway Inspection Reports
Re: The Great Garden Railway Inspection Reports
Morning all!
I'm please (?!) to let you know that The Inspector has arrived safely at the (Windmill Hill) Welsh Highland Railway.
Being a public-spirited and safety-conscious sort of chap he's chosen to quarantine himself for a short period, so I'll shunt him into a siding for a week or two. Which should give me time to finish a couple of jobs before his inspection begins...
Cheers,
Andrew
I'm please (?!) to let you know that The Inspector has arrived safely at the (Windmill Hill) Welsh Highland Railway.
Being a public-spirited and safety-conscious sort of chap he's chosen to quarantine himself for a short period, so I'll shunt him into a siding for a week or two. Which should give me time to finish a couple of jobs before his inspection begins...
Cheers,
Andrew
- Old Man Aaron
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Re: The Great Garden Railway Inspection Reports
Looking forward to another of Mr. Spectre's reports. I'd put my name forward if I had a line yet. Another 6-9 months and there'll be a line on which to report, here.
Regards,
Aaron - Scum Class Works
Aaron - Scum Class Works
Re: The Great Garden Railway Inspection Reports
Yes, definitely, keep the reports rolling in!
Rik
Rik
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Re: The Great Garden Railway Inspection Reports
No strapping on that wagon Andrew, don't let him come out of quarantine to find he was not secured down during isolation!
Re: The Great Garden Railway Inspection Reports
Is he in the "Shielded Group"
ROD
Life is so easy when I run my trains.
https://gardenrails.org/forum/viewtopic ... 41&t=11364
https://www.youtube.com/@fairywoodlightrailway
Life is so easy when I run my trains.
https://gardenrails.org/forum/viewtopic ... 41&t=11364
https://www.youtube.com/@fairywoodlightrailway
Re: The Great Garden Railway Inspection Reports
Hi everyone - firstly apologies for my silence - continued delayed house moves and of course now Covid chaos have interrupted my involvement with Garden railways (ie I still don't have one )- however I have said I will take my turn of hosting the inspector and have dropped Phillip a line to say to send him onto me when he's next free - he can review some of the rolling stock etc and some new signalling I've been working on
Where did I put that uncoupler?
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Re: The Great Garden Railway Inspection Reports
Yep - nice to be back! Been catching on you BIG loco - looks impressive!
Where did I put that uncoupler?
Re: The Great Garden Railway Inspection Reports
He's been in that box a while now, I'd be surprised if he hadn't been washed away with the weather we have had in the last few days.
Re: The Great Garden Railway Inspection Reports
Rumour in the yard is that he's recently been heard stirring - we're expecting an appearance next weekend...
It's just as well he's locked away, the railway's in a mess - I've been pretty busy lately but should just have time to tidy up a bit before he emerges...
Cheers,
Andrew
Re: The Great Garden Railway Inspection Reports
Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the garden...
It looks like today's the day! Report to follow in due course...
Andrew.
It looks like today's the day! Report to follow in due course...
Andrew.
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Re: The Great Garden Railway Inspection Reports
Last time I saw him he was shaking, whether with fear, rage, or both I couldn't tell...
The inspection appears to be over - I await his report with trepidation...
Don't know if he works on Sundays - Monday, maybe?
Andrew
Re: The Great Garden Railway Inspection Reports
The cracks in front of him are not a good start....
Re: The Great Garden Railway Inspection Reports
And also ‘Snug’ in that box
Where did I put that uncoupler?
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Re: The Great Garden Railway Inspection Reports
Probably why he looks smug, he has dodged the old crack in the pavement gag!
Re: The Great Garden Railway Inspection Reports
As I metioned a short while ago, we are running out of lines to be inspected. I have received one new line to be included and we still have a couple of the originals on the list, so it is currently standing as follow:
Andrew -The (Windmill Hill) Welsh Highland Railway ( the current assignment)
markoteal - The Castle Hill Light Railway
lonsdaler - Greta and Wenningdale Light Railway
jim@NAL - North Avenue Line
As always, please contact the next name on the list to exchange postal addresses - please don't do it on the forum and please don't send it to me.
If any one else wants to participate, please do let me know by PM and I'll happily add you.
Andrew -The (Windmill Hill) Welsh Highland Railway ( the current assignment)
markoteal - The Castle Hill Light Railway
lonsdaler - Greta and Wenningdale Light Railway
jim@NAL - North Avenue Line
As always, please contact the next name on the list to exchange postal addresses - please don't do it on the forum and please don't send it to me.
If any one else wants to participate, please do let me know by PM and I'll happily add you.
Philip
Re: The Great Garden Railway Inspection Reports
He probably had a few drinks also, looking that smug....
ROD
Life is so easy when I run my trains.
https://gardenrails.org/forum/viewtopic ... 41&t=11364
https://www.youtube.com/@fairywoodlightrailway
Life is so easy when I run my trains.
https://gardenrails.org/forum/viewtopic ... 41&t=11364
https://www.youtube.com/@fairywoodlightrailway
Re: The Great Garden Railway Inspection Reports
Here we go... Apologies, it's a little long, I think he must have got carried away...
Inspection Report: The (Windmill Hill) Welsh Highland Railway
Part One: First Impressions.
One of the drawbacks of my preferred mode of transport is that my intended destination - whether geographical or chronological - isn’t always the place I end up, a phenomenon not uncommon among those of us who journey by wooden box, or so I am told. So it was with my most recent railway inspection. Having expected to arrive in South Bristol a day or two after I set off from Northamptonshire, I instead found myself in North Wales almost a century earlier, seemingly in the mid 1920s. Whenever it was, the internet and mobile networks had clearly yet to be invented, for my phone seemed to have disconnected from the modern world entirely.
Setting forth from the sanctuary of by travelling case, I found myself on the low platform of a typical wayside station, where a sign announced that I was visiting Trefechan, on the Welsh Highland Railway’s Clarach Branch. In front of me stood a pleasant little train, with the well-known Russell at its head, smartly turned out with gleaming lined red paintwork and shining brass.
The consist of what I assumed to be my inspection train seemed very promising, including a licensed bar car and first class observation carriage. Either would suit my purposes admirably, and my hopes were high as I anticipated enjoying the scenic splendours of the famous Aberglaslyn Pass from a comfortable carriage with suitable refreshment to hand. Alas, I was to be disappointed.
“Mr Spectre?” a voice behind me enquired, which turned out to belong to a skinny, scruffy and rather excitable chap who introduced himself as Mr Cox, my guide for the day. I had hoped I might meet Colonel Stephens, the general manager of this and numerous other light railways, an innovative if unorthodox engineer, but it seems he had appointed this foppish fellow to escort me in his place. What he lacked in military bearing however, Mr Cox made up for in enthusiasm, and he eagerly guided me along the platform as I glanced back longingly at the train, by now heading off into the distance, taking its well-stocked buffer car with it…
Our first port of call was a dank cutting just beyond the platform end where a surly looking character was disconsolately heaving lumps of slate into a battered tipper wagon. Apparently, some sort of landslide had severed the branch from the rest of the line, which now terminated here – as did my hopes of enjoying the Aberglaslyn Pass. I enquired of my host when he expected a full service to resume.
“Err, next year?” he replied, rather vaguely…
Heading back past the now vacant platform I was afforded a view of the small station building, not really suited for a terminus, but perhaps adequate for its usual role. I was surprised to learn that this is the third building to have served this site, and is itself temporary, having actually been built for a line in Kent. It is due to be replaced with a more substantial building of brick and slate, again “sometime next year”…
At the other end of the station site stood a most decrepit-looking line of wagons, their peeling paintwork fading further in the sunshine. These were, I assumed destined for scrap, and I complimented my host on his tidy-mindedness.
“Scrap?” he replied incredulously, “Oh no, we won’t be scrapping these until 1941 – this is the afternoon goods!”
]
Further discussion on the apalling state of the goods rolling stock was cut short when something caught my eye at the far end of the siding. The siding itself was a cause for concern, being built on a rocky ledge that precluded any access from the lineside, but by clambering over some of the wagons I managed to confirm my suspicion that I had spotted one of the four wheeled carriages banned by my Board of Trade predecessors as long ago as 1897! This was a shocking discovery indeed!
I turned to my host for an explanation.
“Grid Gwartheg”, he spluttered, seemingly reverting to his natural Welsh, despite an accent suggesting that he actually came from somewhere in the region of the Dartford Tunnel, “Dim ysmygu, dim cwn!”
Not being a Welsh-speaker myself I took careful note of what had been said to translate later, and giving him the benefit of the doubt for now, I suggested that we should move on.
My interest had been aroused by a substantial and seemingly well-maintained signal box – perhaps things were looking up? I approached the box and climbed the steps, being surprised to find my guide following quickly behind and shouting at me most earnestly, urging me not to open the door. Of course, I wouldn’t dream of entering the signalman’s domain without first knocking to seek permission, but quickly discovered that was not Mr Cox’s concern – there was no “bobby” in the box at all, just half-a-dozen canaries!
It seems that the signal box has been out of use for some years (which would explain the absence of any signals themselves), with the structure having been given over to the stationmaster in support of his hobby - quite outrageous!
Quite how safety was maintained would remain to be seen, but I could explore the issue no further just then because an asthmatic whistle announced that our train was ready to depart. Unfortunately, this train’s locomotive was no match for the gleaming Russell, being a distinctly unloved-looking War Department engine which appeared as though it may have been only recently dragged out from a shell hole.
Worse awaited me at the other end of the short train. Mr Cox had promised to provide the “perfect way to inspect the permanent way” (another observation car perhaps, or a directors’ saloon?) and although I had no particular desire to travel in the open “summer car” or functional but rather Spartan brake composite, either would have been vastly preferable to the vehicle actually intended for me. For there, at the end of the platform was an unbraked and unsprung four-wheeled trolley, and standing over it, presumably to ensure my compliance, was the unsmiling ganger.
The train started before I could protest, leaving me to scramble aboard as best I could, hanging on for dear life as the train departed the station and we bumped and banged our way into the gloomy depths of Trefechan Tunnel…
To be continued...
Inspection Report: The (Windmill Hill) Welsh Highland Railway
Part One: First Impressions.
One of the drawbacks of my preferred mode of transport is that my intended destination - whether geographical or chronological - isn’t always the place I end up, a phenomenon not uncommon among those of us who journey by wooden box, or so I am told. So it was with my most recent railway inspection. Having expected to arrive in South Bristol a day or two after I set off from Northamptonshire, I instead found myself in North Wales almost a century earlier, seemingly in the mid 1920s. Whenever it was, the internet and mobile networks had clearly yet to be invented, for my phone seemed to have disconnected from the modern world entirely.
Setting forth from the sanctuary of by travelling case, I found myself on the low platform of a typical wayside station, where a sign announced that I was visiting Trefechan, on the Welsh Highland Railway’s Clarach Branch. In front of me stood a pleasant little train, with the well-known Russell at its head, smartly turned out with gleaming lined red paintwork and shining brass.
The consist of what I assumed to be my inspection train seemed very promising, including a licensed bar car and first class observation carriage. Either would suit my purposes admirably, and my hopes were high as I anticipated enjoying the scenic splendours of the famous Aberglaslyn Pass from a comfortable carriage with suitable refreshment to hand. Alas, I was to be disappointed.
“Mr Spectre?” a voice behind me enquired, which turned out to belong to a skinny, scruffy and rather excitable chap who introduced himself as Mr Cox, my guide for the day. I had hoped I might meet Colonel Stephens, the general manager of this and numerous other light railways, an innovative if unorthodox engineer, but it seems he had appointed this foppish fellow to escort me in his place. What he lacked in military bearing however, Mr Cox made up for in enthusiasm, and he eagerly guided me along the platform as I glanced back longingly at the train, by now heading off into the distance, taking its well-stocked buffer car with it…
Our first port of call was a dank cutting just beyond the platform end where a surly looking character was disconsolately heaving lumps of slate into a battered tipper wagon. Apparently, some sort of landslide had severed the branch from the rest of the line, which now terminated here – as did my hopes of enjoying the Aberglaslyn Pass. I enquired of my host when he expected a full service to resume.
“Err, next year?” he replied, rather vaguely…
Heading back past the now vacant platform I was afforded a view of the small station building, not really suited for a terminus, but perhaps adequate for its usual role. I was surprised to learn that this is the third building to have served this site, and is itself temporary, having actually been built for a line in Kent. It is due to be replaced with a more substantial building of brick and slate, again “sometime next year”…
At the other end of the station site stood a most decrepit-looking line of wagons, their peeling paintwork fading further in the sunshine. These were, I assumed destined for scrap, and I complimented my host on his tidy-mindedness.
“Scrap?” he replied incredulously, “Oh no, we won’t be scrapping these until 1941 – this is the afternoon goods!”
]
Further discussion on the apalling state of the goods rolling stock was cut short when something caught my eye at the far end of the siding. The siding itself was a cause for concern, being built on a rocky ledge that precluded any access from the lineside, but by clambering over some of the wagons I managed to confirm my suspicion that I had spotted one of the four wheeled carriages banned by my Board of Trade predecessors as long ago as 1897! This was a shocking discovery indeed!
I turned to my host for an explanation.
“Grid Gwartheg”, he spluttered, seemingly reverting to his natural Welsh, despite an accent suggesting that he actually came from somewhere in the region of the Dartford Tunnel, “Dim ysmygu, dim cwn!”
Not being a Welsh-speaker myself I took careful note of what had been said to translate later, and giving him the benefit of the doubt for now, I suggested that we should move on.
My interest had been aroused by a substantial and seemingly well-maintained signal box – perhaps things were looking up? I approached the box and climbed the steps, being surprised to find my guide following quickly behind and shouting at me most earnestly, urging me not to open the door. Of course, I wouldn’t dream of entering the signalman’s domain without first knocking to seek permission, but quickly discovered that was not Mr Cox’s concern – there was no “bobby” in the box at all, just half-a-dozen canaries!
It seems that the signal box has been out of use for some years (which would explain the absence of any signals themselves), with the structure having been given over to the stationmaster in support of his hobby - quite outrageous!
Quite how safety was maintained would remain to be seen, but I could explore the issue no further just then because an asthmatic whistle announced that our train was ready to depart. Unfortunately, this train’s locomotive was no match for the gleaming Russell, being a distinctly unloved-looking War Department engine which appeared as though it may have been only recently dragged out from a shell hole.
Worse awaited me at the other end of the short train. Mr Cox had promised to provide the “perfect way to inspect the permanent way” (another observation car perhaps, or a directors’ saloon?) and although I had no particular desire to travel in the open “summer car” or functional but rather Spartan brake composite, either would have been vastly preferable to the vehicle actually intended for me. For there, at the end of the platform was an unbraked and unsprung four-wheeled trolley, and standing over it, presumably to ensure my compliance, was the unsmiling ganger.
The train started before I could protest, leaving me to scramble aboard as best I could, hanging on for dear life as the train departed the station and we bumped and banged our way into the gloomy depths of Trefechan Tunnel…
To be continued...
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