Neil Rushby built Shell Island as a minimum-space EM gauge test piece – a small layout with a strong sense of place and deep personal connection. Set in the late 1960s to early 1970s, the layout captured a transitional moment in British railway history. Pick-up goods mixed with air-braked block freights, BR blue was common but not yet universal, and traditional infrastructure still lingered alongside modernisation. Neil modelled this period with care and conviction, drawing on childhood memories of family railway holidays in Wales. If you’ve ever tried capturing a similar sense of place or era in a small space, you might find something familiar here.
Inspiration
Despite its name, Shell Island wasn’t a true island. Separated from the coast of Cardigan Bay by dunes and marshland, it could only be reached via a causeway road prone to flooding on the highest tides or by paths across the Morfa Dyffryn nature reserve. At the northern end, the island bordered the Mon Artro and had a small harbour and slipway popular with sailors. The white sands, blue sea and distant mountains created a stunning backdrop – and an evocative setting for a model.
Neil had always been drawn to the overlooked corners of the railway network: weed-strewn sidings, disused loops and lightly-used offshoots curving into nowhere. He imagined a short branch diverging from the Cambrian Coast line at Talwrn-bach and winding a mile and a half to a small harbour. This fictional extension gave him the freedom to create a believable setting with realistic traffic, all within a footprint small enough to fit comfortably in a corner of the front room.
Design
The layout represented the final 60 yards of an imagined branch siding. In the scenic section, the line split in two – one siding led to a goods shed, the other curved gently towards the harbour. The kickback siding added operational interest, requiring careful wagon arrangement to serve each location. Offstage, a 24in fiddle yard used a three-road sector plate to manage traffic. In Neil’s mind, the line continued to an explosives store serving the nearby RAE Llanbedr complex, justifying the presence of industrial shunters and special wagons.
Measuring just 30in by 15in (75cm x 38cm) for the scenic area, Shell Island packed surprising operational depth into a minimal footprint. The design rewarded thoughtful planning without feeling cramped or contrived.
Neil later reflected that Shell Island was the first layout he was truly happy with. As he put it, it marked the moment when “the ‘less is more’ penny finally dropped.” Although he had always built small layouts, this one had fewer tracks, more scenery, and more carefully considered open space. It was also the first time he consciously designed a layout with photography in mind, having made progress with a home-adapted Zenith E camera and extension tubes. That intentionality helped shape the composition, giving the layout the poise and clarity that would come to define it.
One of the layout’s boldest decisions was how much of the scene was devoid of railway. This gave the model its distinctive atmosphere – a choice that others later described as brave, especially in such a compact space. The open areas, muted colour palette and carefully balanced textures helped create a convincing sense of light and distance. The photos of the layout seemed to offer a glimpse through a window, letting viewers imagine a world beyond the frame.
It’s the kind of layout that quietly stays in the back of your mind, like the best ones often do.
Baseboards & Track
The boards were built from chipboard and 2in x 1in pine, using reclaimed materials and recycled legs. Although this made them heavier than ideal, the small size kept things manageable. A double layer of chipboard provided the necessary height for the harbour and slipway.
Neil opted for EM gauge (18.2mm track), influenced by Ken Gibbons and Neil Ripley. Having already built track in OO and OO9, he wasn’t daunted. He used EM Gauge Society point plans, ensuring that electrical feeds and section gaps were integrated during construction.
Points were operated by miniature toggle switches linked mechanically via quilting pins and GEM cranks. The stretcher bars were simple but robust: pins wrapped in cotton soaked with Araldite, secured by brass tube offcuts to guide the blades. Control came from a handheld Gaugemaster unit connected via plugs to a standard 16V AC transformer.
Scenery & Atmosphere
A curved hardboard backscene stood 14in tall, painted to show the sea, distant hills and wide sky. The outline of the Lleyn Peninsula and the Rhinogs anchored the scene in a specific place. Painted with acrylics over a white vinyl base, the backscene created a convincing sense of space.
The sea was extended onto the baseboard, with shallower areas lightened in tone. Multiple coats of quick-drying acrylic varnish built up depth – Neil counted over 20 layers.
Roadways and hardstanding were formed from card and painted in dusty greys, then weathered with charcoal dust. Plaster castings made from homemade latex moulds formed the jetty and retaining walls. Vegetation was built up with electrostatic grass and ground foam, giving a soft, realistic finish.
Neil was unsure whether to add trees, noting that the real Shell Island had only sparse, stunted specimens. He felt tall vertical elements might undermine the sense of openness. He added personal touches with an MGB and VW camper van matching vehicles he and his wife once owned.
Structures
There were just two buildings – a café and a goods shed – both positioned to the left to hide the fiddle yard exit. The café, a modified Wills wayside station kit, was painted in pastel colours for a weathered seaside feel. The lettering on the roof was applied with a paper stencil and dry-brushed for a faded look.
The goods shed was loosely based on one from the Tanat Valley, adapted for proportions and style. Built from corrugated sheet and cast walls, it gave the right visual weight without dominating the scene.
Rolling Stock and Motive Power
Neil converted older OO stock to EM standards with relative ease. He enjoyed the process and felt more satisfaction from rebuilding older models than buying new ones.
- Derby Type 2 No. 5083 – Based on a Hornby Class 25, rebuilt to represent a Class 24 with detailed bodywork and EM conversion.
- Planet 0-4-0 – A Roxey Mouldings kit on a Tenshodo chassis, weighted heavily to tame the motor’s power.
- Ruston 48DS – A TAG Models etched brass kit, also on a Tenshodo bogie, with as much lead as the bonnet could take.
Most of the stock was freight: gunpowder vans and 16T minerals dominated, reflecting traffic from Cookes of Penrhyndeudraeth and local coal flow. Neil modified Dapol and Parkside kits to capture the many prototype variations. A few brake vans and parcel vans rounded out the fleet.
Realism and Legacy
Neil felt the layout succeeded because it captured not just the look but the feel of the Cambrian coast. The backscene was essential, expanding the perceived space and anchoring the scene in a specific place. Choosing EM gauge helped too, encouraging him to build stock that suited the story rather than fitting a story to existing models.
Shell Island was more than a test piece. It was a personal vignette, rooted in memory, location and time. Neil kept it set up in the front room for months, finding in it a quiet place to escape and reflect, much like flicking through old holiday photos in winter.
He had built many layouts before, but few gave him as much lasting satisfaction. As he put it: “Do I like it?” The answer was yes.
Shell Island proves a layout doesn’t need masses of track or buildings to make an impression. It reminds us that atmosphere can count for more than activity, and that the space around the railway can be just as evocative as the railway itself.
There’s something memorable about layouts that capture a mood so precisely. Shell Island is one of them.
More Information
- Rushby, Neil. “Shell Island.” Railway Modeller, vol. 54, no. 634, Aug. 2003, pp. 482–485.
Epilogue
Shell Island was never intended as a showpiece, yet it became one of those rare layouts that lingers in the memory. Built from modest materials and occupying only a few square inches of floor space, it proved that atmosphere and conviction matter more than size or scale. Neil Rushby’s decision to leave space around the railway — to let light, air, and memory shape the scene — gave the layout a quiet strength that still resonates.
In the end, Shell Island is less about sidings and stock than it is about evocation: of Wales, of the late 1960s, and of a modeller’s personal connection to time and place. It is a reminder that the most compelling layouts are often the most personal, and that sometimes the less you show, the more you suggest.