David Mallott had what he himself called a love–hate relationship with Chapel Wharf, or the “Dwarf,” as he nicknamed it. On the one hand, it was the first model railway he ever completed, which in itself is no small feat. On the other, it was a complete detour from his main modelling interests in remote Scottish settings. But like so many small layouts with humble beginnings, this one grew into something far more influential than he originally intended.
The idea was born on a rain-soaked Sunday afternoon in Cornwall. Stuck indoors, with his usual modelling projects 500 miles away, David had a moment of idle fantasy: wouldn’t it be nice to have a working model railway with him to pass the time? For most of us, that idea wouldn’t survive contact with practicality. For David, it took root.
Design
By Christmas Day that year, he’d taken the idea much further. With the rain and wind battering the windows, and his festive lunch behind him, David picked up his sketchbook and started laying down plans. The key requirement was portability: everything — baseboards, rolling stock, controller, transformer — would have to fit into one compact case that could travel by train or bus. It was never really built to be carried around on holidays, but the constraint made for an intriguing design brief.
Rodney Hall’s Llanastr (P4) proved a key influence. David borrowed the fiddle yard traverser idea in place of a conventional turnout, which helped conserve space and enhanced operational potential. Initially, he thought of doing a GWR country terminus, but found the idea too familiar. Instead, he opted for something more distinctive, a compact freight-only branch. This gave him an excuse to model weather-beaten wagons and intricate shunting moves without worrying about passenger facilities.
The track plan was loosely based on Admiralty Wharf on the Turnchapel Branch in Plymouth, inspired by an aerial photo in a small book on the subject. The real place was packed with sidings built on a pier, and in the photo it already looked like a model railway baseboard. David didn’t copy it exactly, as he disliked the idea of oddly shaped boards, but he let the spirit of it inform the fictional location of Chapel Wharf.
Baseboards and Construction
Portability dictated everything. The boards had to be light, rigid, and shallow enough to fit into a handmade case. He followed the principles of Barry Norman’s Petherick layout, building ‘box girder’ frames from 4mm plywood and 18mm x 9mm hardwood blocks. These were glued with PVA, weighted down, and clamped. For alignment, he used 4mm brass dowels soldered into brass tubes, a simple, effective solution.
The fiddle yard was a traverser built from 4mm ply on Formica-coated rails. An alignment bolt also provided electrical continuity. All of this packed neatly into the carrying case, along with a stock tray suspended above the layout and a custom control panel in a separate box. Everything had its place.
The main baseboard is 94cm x 19cm and folds in the middle. A 5.5cm extension brings the total length to 99.5cm. The carrying case measures 50cm x 42cm x 15cm and includes a partitioned tray for most of the rolling stock.
Trackwork
Because the entire track would be embedded in the scenic surface, David wasn’t too concerned about aesthetics, but it had to run reliably. Points were made in pairs and assembled on plate glass, using point sleeper strip and three different types of rail. Check rails were fitted continuously to help contain the later application of plaster.
Curves were laid using Tracksetta templates with 12in and 24in radii. David resisted straight lines, favouring flowing curves even in points. The trackbed was lined with 2mm balsa sheet in the hope of deadening sound, though whether it helped is unclear. All rails were hand-laid, and the tight curves meant only short-wheelbase stock would ever be usable.
Electrical System
To operate the layout from either side, the points had to be worked electrically. Instead of noisy solenoids, David used miniature 12V relays. These were mounted under the baseboard, with piano wire soldered to the clappers to move the tie-bars. The result was quiet, positive, and reliable.
Most of the layout was kept live, with just one isolating section. Even the diamond crossing had a clever polarity-change system triggered by one of the adjacent point relays. Uncoupling was handled by electro-magnets salvaged from old relays.
Wiring was colour-coded using stripped multi-core cable, and connectors were made from lines of OO gauge PCB sleepers. Power came from a single 16V transformer, with one output going through a bridge rectifier and resistor to provide 12V DC to relays, magnets, and LEDs.
Scenery and Setting
Scenically, Chapel Wharf was always going to be a challenge. The layout is almost entirely urban, and the space constraints meant using low-relief warehouses and industrial buildings to give the impression of a larger dockside setting. The backscene curved at the corners to avoid unsightly joins, and a narrow overbridge masked the exit to the fiddle yard.
Buildings were inspired by prototypes in Plymouth, Exeter, and even Kyle of Lochalsh. Construction methods varied: card and embossed Plastikard for the larger structures, and scored mountboard painted with watercolour Pendon-style for stonework. Microscope cover slips provided glass-like glazing, while sticky labels stood in for frames and roof tiles.
The quayside surface was a mix of Slater’s stone sets and hand-applied plaster to represent concrete. The plaster was poured around the embedded track, supported by check rails, then levelled flush. This proved to be a mistake, as track cleaning became difficult, and future layouts would use a slightly recessed surface. Still, the finished effect was convincing.
The ‘water’ consisted of a recessed triangular shelf, painted murky green and finished with multiple coats of polyurethane varnish. A lifeboat, trimmed to sit at the waterline, added interest.
Operation
David never intended Chapel Wharf to be a public layout. It was built for fun, not fidelity. Curves dictated short locos, and for some time he used modified Ibertren diesels, including a Köf III and a Cuckoo, with reprofiled wheels and Anglicised bodies. Later came scratch- and kit-built locomotives on compensated chassis: a Langley Class 04 diesel, a steam Sentinel from P&D Marsh, and eventually a slimmed-down Peco B4 on an Ibertren chassis.
Because the layout is freight-only, shunting is the order of the day. It can take 40 minutes or more to exchange four wagons, and operation always includes a few built-in snags to make the game interesting. No two operators seem to approach it the same way. That, David felt, was a success in itself.
Exhibition Life
Although it wasn’t designed to be shown, Chapel Wharf has made a few appearances. Most famously, it travelled from David’s home in Germany to Scaleforum in 1991, as airline hand luggage. Airport security were baffled, but the layout passed inspection. Since then, it has had several exhibition outings, always generating interest.
A second case was eventually needed to carry the lighting rig, drapes, tools, and other accessories. But the core layout remains a triumph of compact planning and clever design.
Legacy
David built Chapel Wharf as a distraction, but it became something more. For those convinced they “don’t have space,” it stands as proof that serious modelling can exist on a small footprint. It is freight-only, highly operational, and rich in atmosphere. In the 2mm Scale Association, it remains a much-loved benchmark.
Today, the layout still exists in its original purpose-made case, unfaded and dust-free. While a return to the exhibition circuit is unlikely, David has mentioned plans to give it a small makeover and add a couple of new locomotives.
More Information
- Mallott, David. “Chapel Wharf (1).” The 2mm Magazine, October 1990, pp. 69-76.
- Mallott, David. “Chapel Wharf (2): Setting The Scene.” The 2mm Magazine, December 1990, pp. 85-91.
- Mallot, David. “Chapel Wharf – 2mm in a Suitcase.” Model Railway Journal, no. 59, 1992, pp. 311-314.
Epilogue
Chapel Wharf began as a wet afternoon’s whim and ended up as a touchstone for compact, thoughtful modelling. It was never meant to be an exhibition piece, never meant to travel, yet it proved both those things and more. In its mixture of playful operation, freight-only realism, and urban atmosphere, it showed that small need not mean slight.
For David, the layout was both a first completion and a detour. For the rest of us, it remains a reminder that serious modelling can grow from the simplest of beginnings — a suitcase, a sketchbook, and an idea that refused to go away.