Raton Pass in Z Scale, Raton Past

Back in late 2023, I started construction on the first ATSF Raton layout in Z scale. I had just come off a very busy year—my second book had been released, and I was inducted into The Explorers Club. Model railroading had taken a backseat to book research, and instead of poring over track charts, I was poring over WWII German battleship documents. I needed a palate-cleanser of a project.

Before moving back to New Mexico in 2021, I had been an N&W modeler through and through. Occasionally I’d taken a little detour into Colorado narrow gauge, but I always came back to the N&W. Living in New Mexico full-time, I was exposed to everything Santa Fe. The bridges still have the logos. Buildings still wear big “SANTA FE” letters on their flanks. It’s not something one can escape. Eventually, it crept in, and I decided it was time for a change.

I chose Raton Pass because it offered all three of the things I love in model railroading: coal, passenger trains, and helper operations. Raton is railroading. I chose the name Raton Past as a little play on words. The idea came from an article in Trains Magazine written by Bill Diven. Mr. Diven—whom I can count as an acquaintance—wrote one of the closing pieces on the operation titled Raton Passed. Raton had indeed passed, and since I was modeling the past, well, it seemed fitting: Raton Past.

Raton—for anyone unfamiliar with the location—would be forgiven for thinking it was an absolute hotbed of railroad action. Raton Pass, with its iconic tunnels and glamour shots of the Super Chief, really died a death not long after it was completed. The grueling mainline grade, second only to Saluda, was never a long-term solution for the ATSF, and so they opted for a less intense route to the south. Trains still used it, but some days the passenger traffic outnumbered the freight.

In the 1950s, the coal began to wind down, only to find a resurgence in the 1960s. By the late 1990s, some coal still crossed the Pass, with warbonnet GEs doubling the grade in one of the last truly dramatic railroading operations of the 20th century. Today, only Amtrak plies the rails—twice a day. Nothing else. For now, the line remains the last to retain operating semaphores. For now. They’re falling fast.

With a location chosen, I began the first Raton Past. I hadn’t built a full-sized model railroad in years, and I figured it would be smart to try my hand with a test layout. That first attempt did what I needed it to do: I built something, and I learned what I didn’t want to do for the second, real attempt.

Once I’d completed it, I was happy—but it certainly wasn’t the standard I’d consider for a permanent layout. So last year, it went. For the second attempt, there would be no compromises, no corners cut.

The first decision was how big the new layout would be. I had ample space set aside for an empire, but the idea of tying up a whole room for something like this seemed a little much. So I reverted to type and began construction on a layout that would incorporate everything I wanted—and be portable. This would be Raton Pass, distilled.

Since this layout would be on display from all four sides, I needed every angle of the benchwork to be finished. I chose red oak with black walnut inlay, and for the layout itself, the fascia would be black walnut with red oak inlay. Everything else would be deep-cut inlay and marquetry work. It’s not something I really see anyone else doing on finished layouts, but I wanted the end result to be refined and solid. The location names are inlaid—not painted. The control panel, entirely inlay work, took weeks to finish.

We have a Bengal cat, and anyone familiar with this exotic breed knows—they’re jumpers. No height is too high for a Bengal. While our guy is a sweetheart, I didn’t want to chance an accident, so the entire layout is enclosed in tempered glass panels. The glass keeps him honest. It’s hinged, so I can easily access any part of the layout and facilitate switching operations. Some extra engineering had to go into building it strong enough to take the weight and flexing of the panels swinging outward.

The glass supports the top, which houses all the lighting—daytime, nighttime, and a thunderstorm effect—just as on the first layout. It’s all covered with a diffuser and finished in oak. No angle of the layout is unfinished.

Sound was a big requirement for me, so this layout has ambient audio for daytime, nighttime, and mine operations, quietly coming from a resonant box I built beneath the layout. It gives the sound a bit of bass while keeping it subtle. I also installed an Iowa Scaled Engineering squealer, with the volume dialed way down so it’s just barely there.

The track—which I’ll elaborate on at a later time—is all hand-laid Code 40 on wood ties. Every turnout is hand-laid Code 40 as well. I wanted flawless operation, and hand-laying was the only way I was going to get there. Even though the amount of track isn’t prodigious, it still took about two weeks of off-and-on work to lay it down.

I started construction on the whole layout about five months ago. I had intended to begin last year, but I got sidetracked with another ship modeling project. The ship, RMS Carpathia, took longer than I’d planned. Not wanting to juggle two big projects at once, I held off on the layout until the liner was finished. A scratch-built ocean liner is a very big project, and it took months. Here she is, by the way:

So consider this a little teaser until I can take some photos of the rest of the construction. I have a couple of other small projects to wrap up, and then I’ll roll the layout into the larger photo studio and take some proper shots. I’ll be documenting the build here, slowly. So until then, the overall shots will have to wait—but there’s a lot more to come.

The control panel, solid black walnut. 

The panel on the front fascia.

The track plan for the layout was a bit of a struggle. How do I fit all this railroading into 30 inches by 20 inches (76cm x 50cm in new money)? I looked at just about every track plan Kalmbach ever published, looked at what worked, and what didn’t. I knew there would be some traps, some avoidable, some not.

Then I took the actual track diagram for the Morley mine complex and dropped it into Photoshop. I smashed it down, dropped a couple turnouts, edited the scale tracks and holding tracks, to come up with what I have. It left me with a couple challenges. The first was that I needed a runaround. I had initially intended the layout to depict the line in 1956, and this would have been the last months of operation for the Morley mine complex. This also meant one of the Raton tunnels would have been plugged. By backdating about 3 years, I can not only have the mine working full-bore, but I could continue the runaround track through the nearly unused tunnel portal for the runaround.

This little choice also meant I could electrically isolate the other end at Lynn and use it for the helper pocket. Birds and stones and all that. Two problems solved. Although the run around still utilizes the main. But remember, 30 inches by 20 inches…

The other problem, which on something this size, can’t be fixed, is the dreaded switchback. The darling of 21st century Model Railroader Magazine small track plans, but mostly derided by professional track planners. I can see why. In my case, however, it just can’t be avoided, so I decided to use it to my advantage. Shortening the switchback’s initial leg now limits the types of moves I can make at the mine, creating an operational complexity that now requires a little thought. No, it’s not a puzzle, since I have the runaround, I can fix any mistake. However, it is engaging.

With the types of traffic going in and out of the complex, and the need to move cars that are not part of the switching move, I figured I was on to something that would be enjoyable to switch. I gamed it out using some cutouts, then ran it through some math. I found there are literally thousands of combinations of moves, and that’s before I introduce any other variables.

You’ll notice on this track plan that I haven’t added any structures yet. I have the core structures in mind for the mine, the tower at Lynn, the iconic adobe church in the hills behind the town of Morley, but the rest are still kicking around.

So, in an area of just over 4 square feet, I was able to get everything I wanted. If you squint. Mainline trains, coal mine switching, and a helper pocket (sort of).

With all of the hand laid code 40 in now, I’ve been able to take a couple weeks and actually try my theory. No two switching sessions have been the same, and I’m excited to see it once I have some scenery in.

The two tracks to the upper right in the mine complex are the coal loading tracks and the switchback. I had to combine these, and the track to the upper left is the storage and unloading tracks for the mine supplies and the company store supplies. Also, it will be doubling as the scale track, again space.

Some may find it silly that I’m putting so much effort into this, but I enjoy the process. The problem solving and pontificating on the various aspects of this little layout is half the fun!

Expanding a bit on the locations on the layout, the tunnels, the towns.

Probably the first thing folks think of when they hear Raton is the tunnel, well, tunnels. The first bore was completed in 1879 and continued in use until 1950 or so, and was finally plugged in 1953. A second bore was completed in 1908. The original bore was timber lined, and had clearance issues. The 1908 bore was concrete lined and still in use today.

Intrepid railfans can hike to the site but it’s not advisable. Parking is an issue, since there isn’t any, and the local wildlife is a hazard. Bears are very common in the area. Very. BNSF takes a dim view of trespassing too, and they keep an eye on things.

The northern portal, timetable east, just across the border in New Mexico.

The new southern portal, timetable west.

The old western portal

The two portals in relation to each other.

The way the southern portal, timetable west appeared after being plugged. It has since collapsed.

The sign the ATSF erected to let passengers know the tunnels were coming up.

I’ve recreated this sign on the fascia of my layout.

Lynn:

The small town of Lynn, New Mexico existed at the southern exit of the tunnels. There were several ASF buildings here, and a helper pocket for the eastbound trains. I’ll be modeling as much as I can of this small town, if you can even call it that. More to come on this later.

The pusher cutting off at Lynn.

Morley:

The town of Morley was originally known as Cima. Its only purpose was coal mining. The Colorado Fuel and Iron Company built the town in 1878 to house workers for its expanded coal mining operation there. The mine was a prosperous one and sent its coal north to the CF&I steel mill in Pueblo, Colorado. Those who have been to Pueblo will remember seeing the ruin of this mill that looms tall on the horizon to this day.

At its peak, Morley produced 600 tons of coal a day with 600 residents in town. The mine itself was a drift mine and up until its closer in 1956 still used mules for pulling out the mine carts. This was common in the mining districts of southern Colorado and northeastern New Mexico, owing to the two horrifying mine disasters at Dawson, NM in 1913 and a decade later in 1923. Killing hundreds. Both were attributed to explosions created by sparks. Mules don’t spark.

The crosses at the Dawson cemetery. No one comes here anymore, and few stay until sunset when the crosses cast long shadows. If you do want to go, it’s not far off US Hwy 64.

The mules will add a little operation interest since the complex had massive mule barns requiring prodigious amounts of feed. One more boxcar to keep my operations interesting.

Morley also had a huge company store owned by the Colorado Supply Company. This giant store looks like it would have been more at home in Albuquerque or Santa Fe than Morley, Colorado, population 600. I’ve seen photos of the interior, the folks in Morley wanted for nothing.

This will make for an interesting model. I’ll have to edit it down considerably to fit, but it will still be a pretty imposing structure on the layout.

Probably the most iconic building in Morley was/is the St. Aloysius Church, whose ruins can still be seen today. After the mine closed for good in the spring of 1956, the town and all the buildings were torched by the company, save for the church. They felt it was bad luck to burn a church, perhaps they were right.

The complex of Morley is extremely interesting from a modeling perspective. Even my edited and compressed caricature will offer some nice switching opportunities. Between the coal loads and empties in and out, the feed, the water, and the boxcars of supplies for the CSC outfitters, my Alco will stay busy.

Morley in happier times

Those iconic mules.

The mine cars inside the drift mine at Morley

The scale of the Colorado Supply Company store

Morley in the teens.

Just a small part of this big little town.

The façade of the CSC store.

The bridge:

The bridge over the Purgatoire River will get some more coverage later, but it represents one of the many unremarkable river crossings in the area. One would think with all this high railroading drama, there would be some high steel trestles to go along with it, but sadly no. This bridge will be a bit of a composite of the bridges in the area.

Uncle Dick’s Place:

One spot on the Raton line that needs to be models is Wootton Ranch. This is where Uncle Dick Wootton lived in the 1870s, while he operated his toll road over the old Santa Fe Trail. He sold the operation to the ATSF and lived comfortably on his ranch, which still exists today. The curve at Wootton is iconic, not only in the excellent photos taken from across the way, but in its sharpness. It remained the tightest curve on the ATSF main.

I won’t be able to model the whole ranch of course, but somewhere to the left will be a small barn, and a double arched culvert. If one squints, maybe they’ll think of Wootton.


The curve at Wootton and that culvert I mentioned.

How later modelers have treated Morley:

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I know that you’re describing your process of building your latest Raton layout, but I’m afraid I was very easily sidetracked by your model of the RMS Carpathia, famous for her role in the sinking of the Titanic. Your detail is amazing, and even more so when I actually grasped what the scale was.

I then had a look at your “ship building” website and was once again blown away not only with your talents, but the somewhat eclectic collection of ships. Do you make them on commission, or do you just model a particular ship because you want to?

I am taking the liberty of linking your site…

https://www.josephlavender.com/

Thank you for sharing your work.

Cheers, the Bear. :slightly_smiling_face:

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Joe100, thanks for posting the information on the Raton Past! Great interesting information. Congratulations on developing your excellent modeling skills. It’s inspiring and encouraging to people like me to see your work and makes me continue plugging away in the hobby.

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Greetings TB,

Ah yes, the ships. Model railroading was my first love, and I had the typical model railway arc, childhood, break, return. Well in that break I found ship modeling.

I started by building plastic kits, then detailing plastic kits, and by some accounts I became good at it. A bunch of years ago, as everything was becoming a bit stale, I found a long form article on mastery. In it, it described the process of mastering one skill to absolute perfection. It didn’t take long to realize I needed to apply it to ships. The plastic models went, and I never touched one again.

I decided to set some rules for this new course. There would be no tool or technique used that couldn’t be replicated in the lifetime of Napoleon Bonaparte. So, 3D printing was definitely out! The materials had to be the best, and there could be no compromise on detail. I enjoy the ships from the age of sail, but I love the ships from the steam and steel age more. Great lines of dreadnoughts sailing to meet their counterparts in the North Sea and all that.

The miniature ship model is something I’ve always marveled at. My miniature model, I mean impossibly small ship models, not your standard scales. There were a few great artists in this space, which really defies scale models and leans harder into the high-art world. Donald McNarry is probably the most famous. Mr. McNarry FRSA, could count national galleries and royalty as his clientele. Thankfully, he wrote several books detailing the how, and sometimes the why. He was a “character”, being of the old British Empire stock, extremely accomplished, pelted with national awards etc. He had this quirk where he wouldn’t quite a price for a model. He would build the model, and when it was complete show the client and ask, “what is it worth to you?” If the number didn’t match or exceed what was in his head, without a word, he’d pack up the model and leave. He is said to have done this twice.

The joke is on those clients and their estates. A McNarry can be worth more than a house.

McNarry took on an apprentice, Philip Reed. Mr. Reed became a bet of a mentor to me, and while I can’t say I apprenticed under him, I did show him my early work, and he offered some critique and advice. Mr. Reed also made a series of books on how to build miniature ships, which of course I have in triplicate. He’s the subject of a series of a video series on YouTube about the Zen of modeling. This essentially encapsulates my philosophy on ship modeling too. I do it for the art.

I dove in with a fire and a passion and began building, trying out what worked for me, what didn’t. The early results were promising so I kept at it. Then I built HMS Queen Mary, the ill-fated battle cruiser from the Battle of Jutland, 1916. If you know your history, she was lost in the line of battle after suffering a catastrophic magazine explosion. The ship didn’t explode. It literally ceased to exist. There is a famous photo taken a millisecond or two after the detonation. No ship, but her funnel exhaust still hangs above the sea where an 800-foot-long battlecruiser had once been. She took all but a few men with her.

Day one on QM

A little farther along

Closer to a finished model

With QM, I poured all of my skill at the time into her because it didn’t seem right to build a model of a ship that had killed so many young men. Some as young as 14 years old. Do it right. She took about 7 months of nearly full-time work. When she was finished, I knew I had done something, Mr. Reed had no notes, perhaps he was just being kind. She still sits on my office shelf. Onward and upward.

The ships I build are almost always built from the original plans. Some easily found, others not so much. The hulls are made from boxwood, usually European. Boxwood is the best choice for this sort of detailed work as it can hold almost a razor’s edge. I get a little feisty on this subject, especially when I’m asked if the hulls are made from balsa. That question has made me choke more than once. The balance of the detail is brass. There are other exotic woods here and there, but mostly it’s boxwood.

Thankfully, photo etching was a thing in the early 19th century, minus the photo part, and I do use it to a limited degree. Of course I have to make my own, and with not a little bit of alchemy I can achieve some interesting and detailed results. All of the negatives for the PE are hand-drawn. This is important because I need open windows on my bridges of course.

You can almost see some of the interior in this shot

I had to make 5 of these.

One little fact I like to tell is that if you see an open window on one of my models, the room behind it has a full interior detail. Yes, you can only see it under a microscope, but it is there. You’ll ask why. Well, George Mallory said it best “why? Because it’s there”. Sailing ships like Bounty have all of their carvings and figureheads etc. Micro wood carving is something I’ve only seen myself do, as even the great masters before me worked on larger scales. Sure, this could be done with 3d printing today, but where is the fun in that?

Early days on Bounty.

A close up of the carving, lathe turned bell, etc. the coin to the left is about the size and thickness of a US quarter for scale.

If I see it on the plans, it goes on the model. No detail is too small. You asked how I choose subjects; well I have to be interested. These models take months, and in the case of Kongo and Bounty, over a year. If I’m going to spend that much time staring at something this small, I’d better love it. Those headaches from working under 20x magnification had better be worth it.

The water usually draws the most questions. No, it’s not resin or anything like that at all. It’s all paint. Layers and layers of paint. To say I’ve agonized over how to get the translucent effect of seawater in these scales is truly and understatement! Eventually I cracked it, but what you see is simply a painting in three dimensions.

You asked if I sell them, but no not really. If I build a model for myself, it’s mine. Commissions are something that I will begrudgingly accept if it’s worth it. The client has to be someone or something and won’t bat an eye at the price. I like working with museums, they have the budget. Spending 18 months on a ship 5 inches long with this sort of detail won’t be something I sell for $500. I’ll have more in the plans and the research. Most of what I need isn’t something someone finds online. It’s just the nature of things and I value my time. Like Mr. McNarry, what’s it worth to you? Ha!

Also, I turn down commissions constantly. I’m not much interested in anything after about 1942, the good ships were gone by then. I’m also not interested in building a model of grandpa’s old fishing trawler, for love nor money. I work in aviation, so aircraft carriers are automatically out. The last thing I want to think of is work when I’m on a project.

So maybe that was more than you wanted on the subject of miniature ship models, but it really is a passion of mine, even more so than model railroading. I have an idea for the next ship, which may be the most ambitious yet, and I need to keep turning it over on my head to see if it’s possible. The idea is a full cutaway model of the Austro-Hungarian dreadnought SMS Viribus Unitis (United Forces), in 1/1000 scale or smaller. VU was a tiny dreadnought, not even 500 feet long, so I’ll have to up the scale a bit to get the fidelity I want.

When VU and her 3 sisters were built, the shipyard in Trieste, Austria-Hungary commissioned a giant cutaway model of her to be built by the ship’s architects as a gift to the Emperor. The model took longer to build than the real thing. Thankfully it survived two world wars and is in the national museum in Vienna. In my opinion, it’s the Mona Lisa of ship models and what better way to spend my time than building a miniature of the model!

I don’t know how long this model will take, I’d say at least a couple years, maybe more. I have the plans, I have the concept, it now I have to think it through. I turn it over and over in my head like a stone, since I know it’ll be hard to top, and I need to get it absolutely right.

So yes, I do get a little philosophical and weepy about all of this, but it’s art, and art doesn’t need a reason. It just is.

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@York1

Yes, indeed, keep plugging away. The fire and the drive is the only thing that will keep you going.

“If you can only do one thing, hone it to perfection . Hone it to the utmost limit”~Zenitsu Agatsuma.

That’s odd, I remember reading somewhere that Napoleon Bonaparte exclusively used Bambu Labs printers… :smirking_face::winking_face_with_tongue:

An overall shot. As you can see, the glass supports the lid of the layout if you will. All of the lighting is contained in here, with a diffuser to avoid hot spots on the layout. The layout itself, the black walnut portion you see, is removable. All of the wiring is trimmed into 3 large wiring harnesses and it’s a simple matter of un-clipping, and the layout lifts out of the pocket.

The layout is 19.5” x 29.5” and stands 57 inches to the top of the rail. A great viewing and operating height for an adult. Overall it stands 70” from the floor casters to the top.

The area where the control panel is located is decided roughly into 1/4 power and sound, and 3/4 storage. There is a small door on the back of the layout that seals magnetically which can hold a majority of my ATSF equipment. I call it the “ready use locker”.

This area serves as another purpose, to create the resonance and bass for the sound. I keep the volume down but the box gives it some weight. I turned it on at a dinner party recently, and everyone agreed it sounded real.

Here is a little more detail of the glass. The glass panels were never designed to be a hermetic seal, I wanted to layout to be able to breathe. As I mentioned earlier, the purpose of the glass is to keep an honest Bengal honest, and to keep curious adults at bay. On 3 sides it is fixed, but hinged with a very strong magnetic latch at Morley so I can switch. The latch was something I spent a lot of time on. I wanted it close with the authority of a door from a 1985 Mercedes Benz. That bank-vault like clunk.

This is of course the First District of the New Mexico Division, as you can see. This cutaway in the scenery, is very rough at the moment, but will see a big transformation. This spot will be my nod to Wootton Ranch. I have big plans for this scene.

A little teaser of the hand-laid code 40 track. More to come on this later.

The Raton Tunnel side. I wanted ever side of the layout to have a distinct viewing angle, and you can see where the scenery drops to the left. This will allow the viewer to look down the tunnels as they curve into the blackness. This, of course, means tunnel liners! I’ve already finished the liners, which took about 3 or 4 days to build. I’m allergic to tunnels without their proper liners and I want to show them off.

The power to the layout runs on a 9v system and the sound runs on a 3v system. Both are essentially scratch built. Mixing up the voltage would be catastrophic for the sound system, so I go through a little preflight check before connecting the power cables and before turning on the overall power switch.

I have some plans to add a small bookshelf underneath to house my ATSF book collection, but nothing is finalized yet. I want to make sure this what I really want to do before I commit to it though. Maybe later. I also have a concept of how I want to design it, mostly floating glass, so it doesn’t add visual weight.

Up to this point, the power systems, terminal blocks and wiring are all finished. The overhead day and night lighting is finished. The layout lighting for the town of Morley is stubbed in, and the sound system is complete with 5 speakers. Layered ambient sounds I call it. The switch machines are also installed and working. What you see here on the layout property is indeed pretty rough. Next up I’ll be sanding away the marker notes I made with a slap wheel. Permanent marker ink can soak through scenery… we’ll have none of that. Then I’ll put a coat of sealant on the wood. From there, we begin building up!

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Naively discounting Z scale as cute toys my mind was abruptly changed upon seeing a wonderful Z modular layout at a train show. While surprised at the reliability I found the scenery and detailing truly fascinating. What a joy watching the trains snaking thru expansive forests, valleys and mountainous terrain, passing various towns, hamlets and industries.

Btw, your fantastic ship modeling blew me out of the water.

Thanks and regards. Peter

Thanks Peter.

Z has no reliability issues that I’ve seen, modern Z anyway. Everything depends on well-laid track.

WARNING!!! Apologies fflokes, the Bear is going off topic again and commenting about model shipbuilding.

Gidday Joe 100, I really appreciate the time you’ve taken to answer my questions.

Having seen initially your model of the RMS Carpathia, then HMS Captain, that tragic failure of “innovative” naval architecture, and Shackleton’s Endurance, captained by fellow New Zealander, Frank Worsley, my curiosity was piqued as to your motivation. You have explained it well.

And for what it’s worth, I figure that your HMS Queen Mary is a fitting tribute to all those souls who perished in a virtual blink of an eye.

As a young teenager with access to wooden fruit crates, I did make a model, about 18 inches in length, of a generic dreadnought, which I was quite happy with, (all the turrets rotated), and have had the hankering to make a small model of the battlecruiser HMS New Zealand, and while I find your modelling is inspiring, I’m now thinking that I’ll have a suitably coloured and shaped bunch of cotton wool, with the hint of a bow, simulating HMS New Zealand creating a smoke screen. :laughing:

Thank you again.

Cheers, the Bear. :slightly_smiling_face:

It’s interesting you mention Shackleton and Worsley. Shackleton history is one of my passions as well. I’ve been lucky enough to acquire some of his artifacts personally used on his expeditions at auction. The story of the Endurance Expedition, for those that don’t know, is probably the greatest story ever told.