May road trip journal, part 7

Day 9, Castle Douglas to Stoney Middleton via Nostell Priory. 228 miles.

When I departed Castle Douglas after breakfast my ETA at my next overnight stopping point was before check in time so I looked for somewhere to visit on the way. Nostell Priory, a National Trust property in West Yorkshire fitted the bill and I might as well make use of my NT membership for something other than free parking at Runnymede. The A75 got me to Gretna where I joined the M6 into England. At Penrith I left the motorway and crossed the Pennines on the A66 until joining the A1(M) at Scotch Corner and leaving it at Pontefract to head south west to Nostell Priory.

Nostell Priory is a Palladian house in West Yorkshire, on the road to Doncaster from Wakefield. It dates from 1733 and was built for the Winn family on the site of a medieval priory. The Winns were socially upwardly mobile textile merchants and the house was intended, as with so many such buildings, to show off their wealth and status. That wealth didn’t always match their ambitions. Robert Adam was commissioned to design additional wings but only one was completed so the frontage of the house is very obviously asymmetrical. Adam added a double staircase to the front of the house, and designed buildings on the estate, including the stable block where you’ll find the toilets, cafes, gift shop etc. The house has impressive interiors, Adam ceilings, lots of Chippendale furniture, lots of paintings, the usual stately home stuff. For me the most notable item was a longcase clock, with an almost completely wooden internal mechanism, made by John Harrison in 1717.

John Harrison was born but half a mile from the house and his stepfather worked on the estate as a carpenter. He developed an early interest in clocks and followed his stepfather into the carpenters trade, hence the wooden clock mechanism. Later he would become famous for developing accurate seagoing timepieces to solve the problem of determining Longitude at sea. Despite successfully producing such clocks he never received all of the monetary reward that was due (although he did eventually become a very rich man) and was badly treated by the establishment, the “gentlemen scientists” of which were loathe to acknowledge that a carpenter’s son had succeeded where they had not. Generations of sailors however have good reason to hold John Harrison in high regard.

Nostell kept me occupied for a couple of hours but I had to move on. I stopped for fuel near Wakefield and headed down the M1 towards Sheffield. For some reason known only to itself the sat-nav decided to go the “wrong” way around Sheffield which meant sitting in miles of crawling traffic before finally escaping into the Derbyshire Dales.

I arrived at The Moon Inn, Stoney Middleton at well past five o’clock, checked in and put the kettle on for a much needed cuppa. This time I didn’t need to put the kettle on the floor to plug it in. It was a nice room up in the first floor roof space, accessed by an outside door at the rear of the pub.

I had intended going for a chippy tea but it wasn’t open so ate at the inn instead. After dinner I’d planned on going for a wander around Stoney Middleton but looking outside saw that it was actually pissing down. Summer had arrived. Of course I had left my coat in my room. Since I’d have got wet going to my room I decided a better plan involved another pint and wait for the rain to let up after which I no longer felt the urge to walk around a wet Derbyshire village so I retired early.

Day 10, Stoney Middleton to Home. 181 miles.

I treated myself to a last holiday full English breakfast then checked out of the inn and since it was a fine sunny morning took a brief turn around the village.

It’s quite picturesque, lots of stone buildings including a church and a toll-gate cottage which is also the Fish and Chip shop with the disappointing opening hours. In a little garden nearby to the tollbar is a large circular blue plaque bearing the following text:

BOOT AND SHOEMAKERS’ STRIKE

1918-1920

In tribute to the women and men of Stoney Middleton and Eyam who were on strike for over two years and set up their own co-operative factory. They sought the reinstatement of sacked colleagues, shorter working hours, a war bonus and recognition of their trade union, the National Union of Boot and Shoe Operatives.

Their action inspired workers in other local industries to join unions, and paved the way for better wages and working conditions for later generations.

Good on ’em, I say.

It was time to go home. Once again I picked a route avoiding the M25 despite the sat-nav insisting that it would be a whole 8 minutes quicker. Except it wouldn’t, it never is. I got home mid afternoon, unpacked and started on the big pile of laundry. The cupboards & fridge were looking a bit sparsely populated so I got a Ruby Murray delivered, shopping could wait until tomorrow.

Epilogue.

I’ve gone through the photos and got the album down to only 290 items. You can see them on Flickr here.

I drove a total of around 1,584 miles.

Accommodation cost was £962.31

Did I have a good time? Yes.

Would I do it again? Also yes, or at least something similar. I’d like to explore more of Dumfries & Galloway. I might stretch the driving to cut out the first and last nights stop overs although it’s a long way.

Should you visit Kintyre? If you haven’t already you certainly should.

Did I see the Beatle? No, I’m told he doesn’t live there anyway so there was no danger of that happening.

May road trip journal, part 6.

Day 8, Leaving Kintyre and driving to Castle Douglas.

I had to be out of the cottage by 10 a.m. got up early, showered, packed and in fact was away at 0930 by which time the cleaner was waiting outside in her car. I grabbed a picnic breakfast from the Co-Op in Campbeltown and stopped near Muasdale to eat it. I stopped for fuel at Lochgilphead, passed through Inveraray and had an uneventful journey until just after Cairndow where road works had closed the main A83 Rest And Be Thankful road. A one-way convoy system had been set up along the single track Old Military Road which wound its way through they valley below the A83 for a couple of miles. I think I was fortunate to time my arrival a few minutes before a southbound convoy started off so wasn’t delayed too long. There was a very long queue headed northbound at the other end of the works. It was a little adventure anyway along a road you wouldn’t normally get to see.

I’d opted to avoid Loch Lomond since there had been roadworks there on the way up and it’s generally a busy route anyway. Instead I took the A814 at Arrochar down the east side of Loch Long and once the idiot in a hired van doing 10 mph got the message and pulled in to let the queue he’d created get by I made good progress down past the naval bases at Garelochhead until I stopped at Rhu just west of Motherwell to stretch my legs.

As you can see the hot sunny weather had been replaced now with cloudy skies. I had to put on a jumper.

I arrived in Castle Douglas around half past four in the afternoon and having eventually worked out how to get to the car park of the Imperial Hotel I checked in. The Imperial Hotel. It sounds grand doesn’t it? It might have been once. Now it was a bit run down and a shadow of its Victorian splendour. The staff were doing their best in a place that really needs some money spending on it. An oversight by housekeeping meant that I had to wait because my room wasn’t ready. I was promised a free pint though in recompense for the inconvenience so that was a win. The room was basic but functional even if the few socket outlets were all located in the wrong places so the kettle had to go on the floor to be plugged in. I made a cuppa then went for a walk around Castle Douglas and got something to eat.

I had picked Castle Douglas as a convenient stop based on distance and nothing more than a little curiosity since twenty-something years ago I’d worked with a guy who came from the town. It’s a fairly ordinary sort of place with a good number of shops - someone in Garlieston had said she liked to go there shopping - and a smattering of interesting Scottish architecture.

I think it helped that the sun had come back out.

On my return I went to the bar and got my free pint, which was Tennents lager. Not because I’m a lager drinker normally but because it was suggested that it or the cider were probably the only two things that were fresh and drinkable. The bar was occupied by a few colourful local characters who had obviously started early and were responsible for keeping the Tennents flowing. One had control of the TV remote and was treating us to a selection from Youtube Music. They were friendly enough though. I couldn’t help but smother a chuckle at the guy who left because he “really, really had tae catch the bus” but reappeared about 30 seconds later for “just a wee vodka before ah g’ hame”. I had a second pint then retired early, making a mental note to myself to read the bloody reviews a bit more carefully in future. Actually though it wasn’t what I’d imagined it wasn’t awful and I slept really well. In spite of the location it was quiet at night. They did a damn good Scottish breakfast too which set me up for the next stage of the journey.

Next episode I leave Scotland, visit a big house, and get stuck in Sheffield’s bloody awful traffic.

May road trip journal, part 5.

Day 7, Last day in Kintyre

It being Sunday I decided on a day of relative idleness. After breakfast I drove over to Machrihanish near Campbeltown Airport which has two flights a day to and from Glasgow with Loganair. It takes 45 minutes (plus faffing around at airports obviously) so is much quicker than driving but so, so much more expensive at around seventy quid each way. A former RAF and US Navy/Marines base when it was called RAF Machrihanish. Because it was redeveloped in the 1960s to support United States and NATO operations in the Clyde area and wider Atlantic it has the longest public airport runway in Scotland at 3,049 m (10,003 ft), built to allow use by nuclear bombers such as the Avro Vulcan and other large aircraft. Also used for the storage and distribution of nuclear weapons and as a US Navy SEALs base it was certified as a potential emergency landing site for the Space Shuttle in the 1980s, which had it been needed would have been a sight to behold. Post Cold War the Yanks went home in 1995 and it became a civil airport. The MOD sold the site to the Machrihanish Airbase Community Company in 2012 for a quid and parts of the site are used for commercial purposes. That included a maker of offshore wind turbines until they went bust.

I wasn’t going to the airport anyway but passed it on the way to the beach. It’s a remarkably large area of flat land for this part of the world. Machrihanish has a remarkably long beach with a large golf course separating it from the airport.

I went for a walk along part of it and then headed towards Southend again in the car. From Southend I took the narrow winding Le’arside Road around the south east Kintyre coast to Campeltown, stopping at Feochaig to look out over the Firth of Clyde to the almost hemispherical island of Ailsa Craig.

I stopped again at Kildalloig just east of Campbeltown and checked the tide times but there wasn’t enough time to walk out over the causeway to Davaar Island and get back again.

After a quick stop in Campeltown to visit the Linda McCartney Memorial Garden, which was closed so I had to make do with a photo taken over the top of the railings.

I returned to the cottage and took advantage of the fact that the other cottages were now empty so the broadband speed allowed me to catch up with Youtube.

In the next thrilling episode I bid Kintyre goodbye and start heading for home via Dumfries and Galloway.

May road trip journal, part 4

Day 6, Campbeltown, a coast road, and a castle.

After a lie in followed by a leisurely breakfast I drove into Campbeltown for a look around. The few car parks which weren’t associated with the two supermarkets were full but unusually Campbeltown has hardly any parking restrictions and there was plenty of spaces on the streets. I parked up near the leisure centre and took a walk to the harbour.

To the left of the Old Quay was a marina with mostly pleasure craft and Lifeboats. To the right the working harbour, empty today save for a few smaller fishing boats, a large lighter, and a larger vessel which I thought might be associated with the large pile of timber on the New Quay but when I looked it up turned out to be a fish carrier, the Aqua Harvester. The New Quay is also the location of Campbeltown Ferry Terminal which has services to Ballycastle in Northern Ireland (Kintyre Express fast passenger ferry), Brodick on the island of Arran, and Ardrossan on the mainland of Scotland (Caledonian MacBrayne). Except the CalMac ferries aren’t running this summer “due to the lack of an available vessel to deliver the service”. I had a wander around the town centre which has some quite good architecture in places, got an ice cream because it was bloody hot by Scottish measurements, went shopping in search of a new car phone holder because mine had exploded in my hand the day before and was now held together with sellotape, and having failed to find one walked around the bay to the end of Dalintober Pier for the view back to Campbeltown. (As I write this a replacement phone holder is awaiting a flight from China.)

I briefly considered a visit to the whisky shop but decided the complete lack of any price tickets in the window display probably indicated that I couldn’t afford it. A couple of hours of walking around the town in the hot sun was enough so I retreated to the air-conditioned car and headed out of town to see what the east coast of Kintyre was like.

The main road to Campbeltown is the A83 which comes down the west side of the peninsula and is how I’d arrived two days previously. On the east side the B842 follows the coast north of Campbeltown until it ends at a junction with the B8001 which runs east to west to connect to the A83. The B842 is not a major road, it is quite ridiculously scenic though. Also narrow and steep in a number of places with plenty of blind bends and summits so it isn’t a fast journey either. Which is good, I recommend driving it. There are lots of views across Kilbrannan Sound to Arran though limited places to stop and take photos (don’t park in the passing places) but I stopped at the beach at Torrisdale Bay where there’s a layby and a small car park (unusually the latter requiring payment).

A bit further on I spotted a turning to the right signposted Carradale Harbour B879 and on a whim took that road. I’m glad I did because a little over a mile and a half later I pulled into the free car park on the very photogenic harbour side at Carradale. Complete with a palm tree and public loos that weren’t locked up, both rare things in the UK. It even had one of those red and white painted sea mines which are charity collection boxes for the Shipwrecked Mariners’ Society.

Those are much less common than they used to be during my childhood when any seaside town of any note seemed to have one. There were over 200 originally donated by the Admiralty but now only around 50 survive apparently. Carradale Harbour looked glorious in the sunshine, giving definite “I could live here” vibes though I suspect the winter presents a different picture. Indeed a couple of plaques on the harbour wall remembering lost seafarers attest to the fact that the sea isn’t always as serene as it appeared that afternoon. I have out of idle curiosity just looked on Rightmove though :-)

I left Carradale Harbour and returned to the “main” coast road again and turned right following the coast northwards. My next stop was Grogport Viewpoint, another unspoilt spot with a beach and a view across to Arran where the white buildings of the hamlet of Pirnmill could be seen at the water’s edge. I sat on a picnic bench for a while listening to nothing but the occasional bird singing. Not another vehicle passed for 10 minutes. Lovely spot, still no idea why it has the unlovely name, which is an Anglicisation of the Scots Gaelic Gròb-phort, which doesn’t look much better. If you know what it means comment below.

I reached the end of the B842 at Claonaig and deciding which way to turn was very easy since the sign pointing right contained the word “Castle”. After 2.3 miles along a road past the terminal for the Claonaig to Lochranza ferry to Arran and an area very popular as a wild camping site on the narrow strip of land between the road and the sea I came over a wee hump back bridge, the end of the B8001, and arrived in a little car park under the trees signed as for visitors to Skipness Castle. The castle itself was a 600 yards walk along a driveway from the gate lodge by the road. It was a quarter past four in the afternoon. I had no idea if the castle was open but walked down there past the nosey sheep anyway. It was open. It was also free to visit. It was great.

Historic Environment Scotland says “Skipness Castle was begun in the early 1200s, probably by the MacSween family. It was acquired by the Stewart earls of Mentieth in 1262. It passed into the hands of the MacDonalds in 1325 and eventually on to the Campbell Earls of Argyll”. Much of it is in ruins but with still high standing walls but the 16th century four storey tower house still has a roof, internal floors and staircases, and and you can climb all the way up onto the roof for a commanding view across Kilbrannan Sound to Arran. Spot the Claonaig to Lochranza ferry.

Having explored the castle I followed the path down to the edge of the water and along to the ruins of St Brendan’s Chapel, Skipness. The now roofless 13th or 14th century chapel building stands within a stone walled graveyard on flat ground near the beach.

Within the graveyard are a number of recumbent intricately carved medieval gravestones. They’re protected by heavy hinged wooden covers which give no clue as to what lies underneath, just a little plate saying “Please keep this cover closed” and a handle. They reward curious investigation.

I said goodbye to the Chaffinch singing on top of a Celtic Cross with Arran behind and made my way back to the car, oblivious to the fact that through the next gateway was a World War 2 Bombing Range Marker which I only spotted on Open Street Map later. I drove back to Campbeltown the same way that I’d come because it’s just as nice a trip in the opposite direction and I wasn’t in any rush.

Next time more empty beaches and narrow roads.

May road trip journal, part 3

Day 4, Garlieston, Dumfries and Galloway to Kilchrist Castle, Kintyre, 241 miles.

To get from Garlieston to my holiday cottage in Kintyre required driving a long loop up through Ayrshire to cross the Clyde on the Erskine Bridge, up the west side of Loch Lomond, around the tops of Loch Long and Loch Fyne and south again via Inveraray and Lochgilphead to Tarbert and further south to Campbeltown. With traffic, a fuel stop, occasional pauses to stretch the legs and admire the scenery it took most of the day. Taking it at a fairly relaxed pace made for a quite pleasant journey through nice country. Final stop before reaching my destination was Tesco in Campbeltown to stock up on provisions for the next 4 days.

Late in the afternoon I arrived at Kilchrist Castle Cottages, about 10 minutes drive south of Campbeltown. The cottages are in a separate compound to the rear of the castle accessed down an unsurfaced track and set amongst open fields. The castle itself is a private residence so not open to the public and only glimpsed through the trees surrounding it. MacLeod cottage would be my home for the next few days, a wee detached single storey building with one bedroom, a sitting room with kitchenette, and a rather cramped shower room and toilet. All I’d need for a short stay and conveniently located to explore Kintyre. What was less convenient was finding the handwritten note next to a bottle of cheap plonk offered as an apology for the fridge not working and the suggestion that I could use a fridge in the laundry at the other end of the site. I’d really have appreciated knowing that before I arrived with 3 days worth of breakfast supplies and salad. Even a message in the morning would have allowed me to plan accordingly. Looking back at the previous reviews for the cottage later I saw that the non-working fridge had been reported to the owners by a previous renter in April so it’s not like it had just broken that day. At least the wine was red rather than white.

Other than the fridge issue it was a nice place to stay and when the sun eventually went down proved to have quite a dark sky with many stars visible to the naked eye. Quite a treat for someone from the light polluted south of England.

Day 5, Mull of Kintyre Lighthouse and the southern end of the Kintyre peninsula.

I had scouted out a couple of places on the map to visit. First was Mull of Kintyre Lighthouse. There’s a car park about 1.3 miles from the lighthouse and then you can walk down the private access road to the clifftop lighthouse site with views all the way to Northern Ireland. Getting to that car park is an adventure in itself along about five miles of narrow single track roads with steep hills, tight bends, obstructive sheep, and terrific scenery. Eventually the road ends at a small parking area before a gate with a sign that says “End of Public Road Turn Here”. From here on you’re on foot. The tarmac service road heads steeply down almost the whole way to the lighthouse gate, with several hairpin bends and the lighthouse appearing and disappearing from view. It was a gloriously sunny, hot day and much less windy than I’d expected as I walked down the steep road, all the while with the vague feeling that I was going to regret this idea on the way back up!

The views down to the lighthouse and across to Rathlin Island are very picturesque and occasionally a fishing boat would pass trailing a white wake on the deep blue water. It took around half an hour to get to the bottom, or at least the gate to the lighthouse compound. Apparently you used to be able to get right to the lighthouse itself but these days the gate is firmly locked shut.

I had the place to myself too, at least until I got to the bottom when after about ten minutes I was joined by two Dutch motorcaravanners, an English guy, and their Good Doggos. We had a brief chat and I let them start their ascent while I chilled out for a while. When I could put it off no longer I began my slow way back up the hill. It was still warm and sunny and there’s no shelter to speak of anywhere on the road so I took it steady, counting out 100 paces and stopping for breath, taking a few minutes rest and a swig of water every 300 paces or so until suddenly I was back at the top, a bit warm but not completely knackered. It took about twice as long to get up as it did to go down.

Off the road up on the hillside is a memorial for the RAF Chinook helicopter crash in 1994 which claimed the lives of all 25 passengers and 4 crew and spawned a few conspiracy theories since the passengers were all from the security services. There was also some controversy over the findings of the air accident inquiry, an RAF board of inquiry ruled that it was impossible to establish the exact cause of the accident but this ruling was overturned by two senior reviewing officers, who stated that the pilots were guilty of gross negligence for flying too fast and too low in thick fog. A later Parliamentary inquiry found the previous verdict of gross negligence on the part of the crew to be ‘unjustified’. In 2011, an independent review of the crash cleared the crew of negligence and accepted that the RAF had falsely declared compliance with regulations in relation to the aircraft’s authority to fly.

By complete coincidence when I arrived back at the car I fell into conversation with the occupant of a motorhome which had just parked in the car park who turned out to be an 80 year old former RAF helicopter pilot. Interesting chap with an informed insider’s opinion of the incident described above.

I returned along the road to the lighthouse, inevitably meeting a fuel tanker on the way at an inconvenient spot, and headed for the end of the Kintyre peninsula, the appropriately named Southend but without a long pier. I pulled into a car park by the beach at Carskey Bay and walked the short distance to Keil Caves, St. Columba’s Footsteps, St. Columba’s Well, and his church ruins. The footprints are carved into the top of a rocky outcrop, one parallel to the shore and the other at 90 degrees to it with the year 564 also incised into the rock. The history is a bit confused but likely one footprint dates from the 4th century and became associated with St. Columba who landed here briefly in 563. The second was probably added by a 19th century local mason called Daniel McIlreavie to boost the area’s association with the saint and he also added the (wrong) date.

Around 50 yards away St. Columba’s Well, a rocky bowl carved into the sloping hillside which collects not-entirely-wholesome looking water from a spring. This too may have obtained its association with the saint by way of 19th century tourism. Completing the St. Columba trio is the ruined church set along the landward side of a roughly rectangular graveyard and almost entirely overgrown so that from the footsteps it appears to be just a bunch of small trees.

The history of the caves is a little more matter of fact. Some have names such as the Great Cave, the Piper’s Cave - after the legend of a disappearing homeward bound piper who allegedly haunts the cave, and the Hermit’s Retreat. The caves were occupied on and off since prehistoric times until the late 19th century where the 1881 census records six members of the McFee and McCallum families as residents. If you enter the larger caves today you’ll find that the only residents are panicky pigeons.

From Keil I took the coast road to Southend and then the B842 back to Kilchrist for tea, dinner, and the Friday night Top Of The Pops re-runs on BBC4 with accompanying commentary on Mastodon.

Next time I go to Campbeltown, explore the east side of Kintyre, and find an unexpected castle.

A train trip to Scotland, part 3.

A train trip to Scotland Day 6: 15/05/2023 Thurso to Inverness.

Trains from Thurso to Inverness are a choice of stupid-o’clock in the morning or 1306, I chose the latter since although it meant an inconvenient hour’s wait between having to check out of the hotel and getting the train, taking the earlier departure would mean killing 90 minutes in Inverness before checking into the next hotel. The weather looked fine so about 1100 I decided to check out and get a picnic lunch to eat down on the promenade. Half way there and the sky darkened and it pissed down. There is a sad lack of shelters in Thurso and the rain lasted just long enough to ensure that there was now not a dry surface available to sit on in Thurso other than an uncomfortable bus shelter or the railway station train shed. The latter became my picnic lunch location. The views aren’t up to much but at least it was dry. I awaited the train and read my book. The train arrived with enough time to offload those who’d ventured from Wick to the bright lights of Thurso and load those of us heading south to leave on time at 1306. Goodbye Thurso, or perhaps Au Revoir.

My allocated seat got swiped by the wheelchair user's wife (I assume) so I'm travelling backwards again apart from the first 10 minutes. I’m on the coast side of the train though so should get better views as we head south. This journey is the reverse of the trip up so sort of familiar. At Kinbrace there were four deer next to the station but the train didn’t stop so if they had wanted to be on it they should have made their intent clear. Held out a hoof or something The expected good sea views came along the north side of Beauly Firth.

 

At Ardgay we paused and then came the announcement that we would remain here for 15 to 20 minutes, delayed by a fault on the northbound train which we needed to pass at Ardgay Station. Once it had arrived we carried on down the line. Conon Bridge and Beauly stations both have such short platforms that passengers have to board or alight from one specific set of doors in the middle of the two coach train, as directed by the guard. In contrast some of the other stations have platforms much longer than will ever be needed nowadays but presumably saw much longer trains in the past. By Muir of Ord we were running only 2 minutes late and were still only 2 minutes late when we pulled into a sunny Inverness. It didn’t feel like it had been a 4 hour journey although I did have my head in a book for quite a bit of it - The Necromancer’s Apprentice by Icy Sedgwick in case you were wondering. I walked out to Premier Inn Inverness not-so-Central and checked in again, nicer room this time but on the road and railway side of the building. I had a whole day in Inverness tomorrow so started looking online for something to do.

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A train trip to Scotland Day 7: 16/05/2023 Inverness and Elgin.

Kilt makers and woollen shops aside the most touristy place to visit in Inverness is probably the castle and as that was closed while they had the builders in I decided to make a side trip to Elgin where the map showed an interesting-looking motor museum. Elgin is a short train ride away. By the time I got to the station I had to put my coat on. Sunny spells and spots of rain, fingers crossed that it didn’t get wetter. I eschewed the ScotRail app and bought my ticket at the station, in the actual ticket office as most of the self-service machines were out of order. £9 return with Senior Railcard isn’t too bad. The train departed at 0946. At Scotland’s newest railway station (at the time of writing) Inverness Airport which opened in February 2023 we paused for 5 minutes, perhaps to fully appreciate what £14m gets you in the way of a station nowadays. The answer is not a whole lot. Two platforms, a bridge with lifts, some bus stop style shelters and some dot matrix displays. And a longish walk to the airport.

 

The Moray Motor Museum is on the other side of Elgin town centre from the railway station, about a twenty minute walk so with the train arriving at 1040 and the museum opening at 1100 I was the first customer through the door, the man hadn’t even finished Hoovering. This is a small museum in one single storey building but has a really nice collection of cars from Veterans to a one-owner Mark 2 Ford Granada, a lot of motoring and other ephemera, and is well worth the tenner admission charge. I spent an hour there and then went across the road as the museum admission includes a complementary tea or coffee in the DIY shop restaurant opposite. However the queue to get a table there was so long that I gave up and went back into Elgin town centre and found a Costa instead.

 

Boosted by a flat white I climbed Lady Hill, which is a prominent piece of high ground to the east of the centre of Elgin and not a member of the Scottish aristocracy. Up there are the ruins of Elgin Castle which are small, and the Duke of Gordon's Monument, which is very large. The view’s not too shabby either.

 

After that I went back to the station for the 1325 train to Inverness. This was delayed till 1337 as it had been held for a customer connection at Keith - that doesn't happen around here, if you miss your connection because of a delayed train then it’s  tough, I got stranded at Ascot once by SWR because of a missed connection to a last train.

 

Back in Inverness I went for an explore. It’s a mixture of touristy, full on tartan and pipes touristy, and ordinary big town shopping centre. I fancied a pint. The Caledonian looked ok so I went in. There were lots of families munching away in raised booths around the outside of the large room and lots of empty tables in the middle. There was no one behind the bar. There was real ale. Some time passed as I stood watched by the ruminating diners. Still no one behind the bar. Fuck 'em then, I walked out and went to The Gellions instead. This turned out to be a very Scottish bar with a big saltire on the wall and a folk music soundtrack. It also had a friendly and attentive barmaid and decent beer at £4.50 a pint. I would have stayed for another but had started yawning so went back to the hotel, collecting something to eat on the way.

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A train trip to Scotland Day 8: 17/05/2023 Inverness to Edinburgh.

I don’t know why I got up so early when my train to Edinburgh didn't depart until 1050 but I was packed and ready to go with an hour to spare so I went and got some food for an on-train lunch. In a piece of excellent timing I was standing by the gateline when the platform was announced so was first on board and bagged a forward facing seat with a cleanish window. We departed on time and the journey was uneventful, I read for most of it to be honest. I arrived at Edinburgh Waverley at 1429 and exited to Princes street via the multiple escalators. The city centre was very busy, a complete contrast to Thurso and Wick. I headed straight to my hotel, the Terrace again, where this time I had a huge room with a giant bed. Later I took a stroll down to Meadowbank Shopping Centre for KFC and then went to the Bellfield Brewery Tap Room for a pint to wash it down. Interesting place with a good range of beers. But probably more fun as a group especially as it was quiz night. Nice beer though, and the one I had in the Artisan Bar on the way back to the hotel was better still. I had a good night’s sleep - at least once the two talkative women next door had settled down.

 

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A train trip to Scotland Day 9: 18/05/2023 Edinburgh to Home.

Up and ready for the trip home, starting with the 1030 LNER Azuma to London King’s Cross. I’d feared that this train would be crowded so had booked a seat to go with my open return ticket. So that’s another train company I’ve had to set up an account with. As it turned out it wasn’t too busy. The seat across the table was occupied to Newcastle and reserved from there to London but the guy that boarded at Newcastle decided to forego the window and sit on the aisle side so we both had legroom. He then proceeded to extract from his bags and spread out on the table and seat lunch, drinks, phone, toiletries, a mouse, a mouse mat, and two laptops! Make yourself at home son. I passed the time reading, listening to podcasts and watching the scenery rush by. The run down the north east coast is still spectacular.

 

At 1449 the train pulled into King’s Cross. All going well so far. It couldn’t last, I got the Hammersmith and City Line to Paddington only to find on arrival that everything was screwed with multiple cancellations and delays caused by a points failure somewhere near Slough. It always seems to me that when it all goes wrong GWR are involved  in some way. A tannoy announcement advised anyone heading for Reading to go via Waterloo instead so I got on the Bakerloo Line and crossed London for a second time. I caught a SWR train to Guildford, not entirely sure if my Super Off Peak ticket was valid but the ticket inspector didn’t query it. An angry posh mum sat opposite on the phone complaining about her little darling being suspended from her public school. It's all so unfair and all the school’s fault apparently. She carried on moaning all the way through Woking before a dropped signal cut her short. At Guildford I caught the next train to Sandhurst, it looked as if it was going to rain just to top things off. In the event I was home at 1735. And dry too.

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I had a good trip despite the hiccups on the last leg (at least GWR has coughed up under delay repay and TfL only charged me for one journey from King’s Cross to Waterloo via Paddington) and enjoyed the North of Scotland. It had been some years since I’d been up there and I hope to return again in the future, whether by train or some other mode of transport. Meanwhile I’ve got about 250 photos to look through and this blog to remind me how much I enjoyed it.

Even if it did take a long time to get around to it. 

Here’s the Flickr Album with all the photos (249) that I took on the trip.

 

A train trip to Scotland, part 2.

A train trip to Scotland Day 3: 12/05/2023 Inverness to Thurso.

I was up at 0730 feeling much refreshed after a good night’s sleep. I had a cup of tea and a hot shower then checked out and walked back to the city centre, stopping at Morrisons’ supermarket to get breakfast and lunch for the journey. It was overcast and a little cold but importantly not raining so I sat by the River Ness and ate my sausage roll, leaving a pile of puff pastry crumbs which I’m sure the pigeons took care of when I’d gone. Returning to Inverness station my train, a two coach Class 158 was already at the platform and ready to board. I had a seat reservation for this trip which was A50. There was nothing on the outside to indicate which of the two was coach A so I guessed correctly that it was the front one, confirmed by the label on the seat. Seat A50 turned out to be a table facing backwards by the cycle storage so lots of legroom. I settled down and was able to confirm to every passenger that got on after me that this was indeed coach A. Because every one of them asked. I was also glad I’d picked up something for lunch as the guard announced that there was no catering service on this 4 hour journey and anyone who wanted to rush out and get something had about 15 minutes to do so. Today was actually a national rail strike day but fortunately this didn’t affect ScotRail - unless it included the caterers. 

We departed on time at 1041 and headed East along the South side of the Beauly Firth. The better views were out of the opposite side of the train but after 10 minutes or so I did spot four hares haring around a field. At Beauly we turned North up through Dingwall and from here it was only getting more scenic. The little train rattles along at a fair pace and I mean rattles as much of the line is old style jointed track rather than modern continuously welded stuff. Oh but the views! Although lineside trees made getting any good photos difficult. There are several request stops along this line where the train slows but does not stop unless someone is waiting to board or has informed the guard that they want to alight. Rogart was the first of these at which we stopped and was accompanied by the announcement that “Rogart has a low platform please take extra care when alighting the train”. Which makes a change from the usual “Mind The Gap”. The unique and picturesque Dunrobin Castle seemed to be the busiest request stop, serving as it always has the turreted, opulent castle, Clan Sutherland's home since the 1400s, and its museum. At Brora we were treated to the loud speakerphone conversation of a bleached blonde in a puffer jacket. Why would anyone do that? I believe the local term is “Ned”.

 

I can see the sea out of the opposite side of the train. Is that a seal? Nope, just dirt on the window. At Helmsdale, which sounds to me like somewhere from Tolkein’s Middle Earth, the sun came out and the scenery got even more impressive - in fact it wouldn’t have looked out of place in Lord of the Rings. From Forsinard to Altnabreac huge stretches of empty moorland upped the wow factor again. At Georgemas Junction the train does the strange thing of reversing to travel up to Thurso before coming back through Georgemas Junction to terminate at Wick. So for the last 10 minutes of the journey I got to travel facing forwards.

 

And so I arrived at Thurso, the most northerly town on the UK mainland, on time and in brilliant sunshine. With half an hour to lose before I could check in to the Premier Inn adjacent to the station I went for a wander round town to check out the lie of the land, get a can of Irn Bru (because Scotland) & a cake, which I ate in the gardens in the middle of the town surrounded by colourful tulips. Not an obviously Scottish scene.

 

My Premier Inn Thurso room on the second floor directly overlooked the railway station, so good for trainspotting if there had been more than 5 trains a day. It seems to be quite a new hotel too, or has recently been refurbished. After a rest and a cuppa and a shower I headed out into the evening sunshine in search of food and since it was Friday only a fish supper was going to suffice. A most excellent fish supper was obtained from the chippy between the Co-Op supermarket and the River Ness which seems to be called either Reid’s according to my receipt or #500 Catering Group - Big Fish, Little Fish in a cardboard box according to Google Maps. I think it just said Big fish little fish on the shopfront. Whatever it’s called I thoroughly recommend giving it your custom if you’re in Thurso. I found a bench by the river and thoroughly enjoyed my haddock and chips. Thus fortified I walked along the river to the harbour mouth and around to the beach. The sun was shining on Dunnet Head to the North East, which is the northernmost point of the UK mainline so what’s that land to the North then? That was Hoy, in the Orkney Islands which I had never realised was close enough to be seen quite clearly from here. You live and learn. At the West end of the beach I climbed the steps and path up onto the cliffs where I found the campsite which must have one of the best views in the UK, perched on the cliff top overlooking the Pentland Firth and Orkney Islands. It’s also across the road from a Lidl so I popped in there for supplies and walked back to the hotel much the same way as I went. I planned to go to Wick the next day but a piece of paper posted in the ticket office window at the railway station said sorry but it would be closed Sat 13th May and there’s no ticket machine. So I downloaded the ScotRail app to buy a return to Wick for the next day. What a palaver. It’s not a good app. Why do I have to activate the ticket that I’ve already downloaded? Why can I only do this on the day? Why no pdf ticket? Why can’t I add it to Google wallet? All completely unnecessary. This feels like a crappy bus company app. It actually made me appreciate the GWR app that I usually use and that’s going some.

 

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A train trip to Scotland Day 4: 13/05/2023 Thurso and Wick.

I breakfasted on seeded wholemeal rolls with soft cheese and Kabanosi so sort of healthy.

I activated my railway ticket in the stupid app, showered, dressed, and was at the station 15 minutes early to get the 1102 departure. There are not enough trains per day to risk missing one. The next one isn't until this afternoon. The return train will be at 1600 so Wick better have enough interest for 4 hours. It’s pleasantly cool with broken clouds but I still packed a waterproof coat in my day bag because Scotland. There is a gull nesting in the cess opposite the platform at Thurso about 12" from the rail. It did not seem happy that I had spotted this fact. It flew a short distance away and watched me. The nest full of eggs was well camouflaged against the ballast without the white gull on top of it. The train arrived, the gull stayed put. The train left on time and rattled along through mostly flat or gently undulating countryside scattering startled lambs across the fields as it went by. It only takes about 28 minutes to get from Thurso to Wick. I finally arrived at Wick three and a bit years later than originally planned and six years after I had the idea of doing so. There were no unexpected celebrations or flags out ;-) 

 

In fact I don’t think I’ve ever come across a town that was so quiet on a Saturday lunchtime. Quiet that is apart from the 2nd hand shop with a set of huge speakers out on the pavement playing pop music. This was next to the street market which was made up of half a dozen yellow tents and a Police car. Two of the tents were empty. There were plenty of retail opportunities available at reasonable rents - i.e. empty shops, much like any other UK town. I walked down to the harbour which still has some working boats, Wick used to be a major herring fishing port, now servicing the offshore wind farms appears to be a bigger business.

 

I found a map of local walks and decided to head south along the cliffs to Wick Old Castle and back which would occupy a couple of hours. The wind proved to be cold but if I put on a coat it was too warm so I took it off again and just walked a bit faster. My route along the cliffs took me along Trinkie Road. The Trinkie is a seawater swimming pool at the foot of the cliffs. Trinkie is the Scottish word for trench and the pool was created about 70 years ago from part of a quarry. When I passed a crew with pressure washers was cleaning the green algae and seaweed from the white painted rocks that form the pool. Ready for the summer visitors I suppose.

 

A sign at the castle car park said the castle was closed due to the danger of falling masonry but the path to the castle remained open so I carried on. On the way up a random old man coming the other way stopped to tell me they "hadn’t made this path properly and should have used quarry dust and rolled it", though why he felt I needed to know this and what he expected me to do with the information I can't imagine. Anyway the castle which is situated on the edge of precipitous sea cliffs turned out to be small enough to see most of it from outside the temporary metal fencing that surrounded it. It’s also within a military firing range so there’s a sentry hut by the path and a flag pole which fortunately today sported no red warning flag.

 

It was a pleasant walk with a lot of seabirds to see and as predicted took a couple of hours there and back so on returning to town I rewarded myself with a pint. In the Alexander Bain. Yes it’s a bloody Wetherspoons, don’t @ me, all the other bars looked a bit sketchy - something to do with the lack of windows, I don’t like going into pubs with no windows, it’s one reason I’ve never been in the Blind Beggar. Wick’s main town centre shop seems to be Poundstretcher so I got some bits I needed there and walked back to the station along the river and across the two footbridges. There was now mist visibly billowing in from the sea so it was nice to get on a warm train back to Thurso.

Wick. Tick.

It was much brighter in Thurso so I had an evening stroll then came back to the hotel to watch TV. Oh, the Eurovision Song Contest. Turned off the TV and read Agatha Christie’s ‘The Man In The Brown Suit’ instead.

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A train trip to Scotland Day 5: 14/05/2023 Thurso and Scrabster.

It was, as they say in Scotland, dreich. It was also Sunday. Not wanting to waste a day hiding from the weather I wrapped up in my waterproof coat and walked along the coast to Scrabster. From the clifftop at Thurso I could see the huge white mass of a cruise ship dominating Scrabster harbour. This it turned out when I got to the harbour was the Seabourn Ovation which at 690 feet long and 92 feet wide is deemed to be a small cruise ship. Even so I wouldn’t want to have to try to hide it.

 

Scrabster is very much a working port with fishery and timber companies filling the harbourside area. It’s also the port for Norhlink ferries to Stromness in Orkney which explains the number of German motorhomes and motorcycles that were queuing up at the port. The ferry port aside Scrabster was very much shut on a Sunday morning which was a shame as by now I was quite wet and would have welcomed some shelter and a hot drink. This was not to be so I turned round and walked back the way I’d come to Thurso.

 

At least the rain was clearing. There Are some nice houses along the cliff top road East Gill between Scrabster and Thurso although they are probably very exposed in the depths of winter. Near where the excellently named Wolf Burn empties into the sea is a second world war pillbox on a small, lumpy promontory sticking out from the cliffs. This is on the site of the ancient Scrabster castle or the 'Palace' of the Bishop's of Caithness, first recorded in 1328. You wouldn’t know this unless you looked it up like I did, there didn’t seem to be anything on the ground to indicate that it was just another WW2 pillbox.

 

All the cafes in Thurso were shut too. I went back to my hotel and of course the sun came out as soon as I arrived but I’d had enough exercise for the time being and decided to spend Sunday afternoon resting my sore feet.

Later I ventured out into the evening sunshine and a northerly breeze that meant it wasn’t as warm as it appeared from indoors. Exploring the back streets of Thurso I stumbled across the ruined Old St. Peter's Kirk tucked behind the houses near the river. You could easily walk past and not realise it’s there, indeed I had previously done just that. I went for a last look at the beach and there was an orange-hulled ship anchored in Thurso Bay, not sure what it was but looked similar to the vessels that service the North Sea oil rigs so maybe that or the offshore wind farms? I would have hung around to get a sunset picture but for the cold wind and that sunset doesn’t happen until past 2130 in Thurso in May so retreated to the shelter of the hotel, TV, and got ready for the journey back to Inverness the next day, the start of the return home.

Part three will follow, Inverness, Elgin, Edinburgh and the long journey home.

Here’s the Flickr Album with all the photos (249) that I took on the trip.

 

A train trip to Scotland, part 1.

A trip to the North of Scotland by train, May 2023.

In 2017 when the All The Stations team of Geoff Marshall and Vicki Pipe finished visiting all the railway stations in the UK they did so at Wick, at the end of the North of Scotland line. Watching that final episode I had the idea that I wanted to visit Wick by train too. A reason to do so wasn’t required – the journey is the journey.

Fast forward 3 years and booked the leave, booked the hotels, booked the tickets, and was all packed and ready to go. It was 20th March 2020. So that didn’t happen.

Another 3 years on and I thought I’d try again. My previous plan had been to take the Caledonian Sleeper to Inverness, then ScotRail to Wick, stay 2 nights and then come home via Glasgow. Since the only company to actively avoid giving me a refund 3 years ago due to not being able to travel because of the Covid 19 lockdown was Caledonian Sleeper they were definitely not getting another chance to screw me over. Also I have more time now since I don’t have to fit trips around work. From what I’ve since read about the Caledonian Sleeper service it seems to be an expensive lottery of a service with no guarantee of a night’s sleep, or even any hot water.

This time I would take daytime trains and stop over in Edinburgh and Inverness on the way to and from Thurso, where I’d stay the weekend and take a trip to Wick and back on the Saturday. I booked my tickets via GWR not because they are good but because I already have an account with them and had physical tickets delivered by post. Having a Senior Railcard now makes for a slightly less painful bill.

So if anyone is interested in the ramblings of an old man on a train trip here’s how it went, helped by some notes I made on my phone as I went along.

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A train trip to Scotland Day 1: 10/05/2023 Home to Edinburgh.

I had by way of deft packing and compression straps managed to get enough stuff for the trip into a 40l backpack. I like to travel light and I like to have both hands free if possible. Also I’ll have a mile walk to and from the station more than once on this trip. Wheelie suitcases are a pain and the handles are never long enough for me to avoid stooping or catching my heels.

The Sandhurst to Reading train was on time for a change. This leg of any trip is always the one that makes me nervous, I’ve had it all go wrong at this stage more than once before and is why I favour flexible tickets over advance singles. The guard actually appeared and checked my ticket, she remarked that I had a long trek ahead and I replied that it had at least started well. At Reading I was to get the 1104 to Paddington but experience has taught me to jump on the first available train, in this case the 1054 from Newbury. Checking later this turned out to be a good move, the 1104 was delayed getting to Reading. Quite normal for GWR. 

No problems with the Hammersmith & City Line so I arrived at King’s Cross with plenty of time before my departure on the 1218 Lumo service to Edinburgh. This was my first experience of a Lumo train and it was a positive one. Their baggage restriction wasn’t going to affect me but thankfully does put off those who cannot travel without taking the entire contents of their home with them. Although I was in a window seat at a table I was a bit hemmed in by the mobile office crowd with their laptops open and plugged in, charging cables tangled round all our feet, even when most of the time they were scrolling on their phones. It’s a bloody long way to Edinburgh but just north of York we were welcomed to “The North '' by a torrential downpour. I hoped this wasn’t to be a foretaste of things to come. We arrived on time at Edinburgh Waverley at 1641.

It was easy enough to find the Terrace Hotel although I’d not registered that the route from the station was up and over Carlton Hill and I’d forgotten what a big lump that is to climb over. From the info on booking.com I’d been a little concerned that the hotel was still in full COVID19 mode but it was OK. The restaurant was still closed, not that I usually eat in the hotel, and a selection of (not cooked) breakfast items could be ordered and would magically appear in the early hours in a paper bag outside your door.  The building itself is part of Royal terrace built between 1823 and the early 1830s and reputedly the longest Georgian terrace in Europe. It’s within the Edinburgh New Town UNESCO World Heritage Site. What that really means is there’s no lift and you’re on the top floor. It’s nice though and quite relaxed, you’re given the room and front door keys and told to just leave them on the table in reception when you check out. I had a twin room with a huge bathroom with a skylight. Also free WiFi that doesn’t require you to hand over all your personal data. I did have to turn off the heating mind you – it is nearly Summer!

Later I walked back to the city centre to find somewhere to eat but it was pretty packed with overseas tourists. Decided nothing more adventurous than KFC would have to do. Walked out of the city to Abbeyhill where it was quieter and to the Artisan’s Bar where a pint of cask Loch Lomond could be had for only £4.30. So I had two and then retired to my hotel bed.

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A train trip to Scotland Day 2: 11/05/2023 Edinburgh to Inverness.

I had a disturbed night’s sleep, nothing to do with the hotel or the bed which were fine but a week or so ago I did something to my shoulder and last night it decided to give me gyp. Getting older sucks.

I ate my breakfast, keeping back a couple of things for the journey then showered, packed, and checked out with plenty of time to walk to Waverley station. With time in hand I was able to climb to the top of Carlton hill and get some photos in the bright morning sunshine. The air was clear and you could see a long way from the top. Coming down the other side I faced several busloads of German tourists climbing up from the city. I found a seat in Princes Street Gardens by Walter Scott’s monument to wait until it was time to go and get the train. Here I could watch a succession of young ladies from the far East posing for Instagram snaps. I took the opportunity to use the station loo before getting on the train, coming out of the gents I was halted by some utter cockwomble trying to wheel his huge fat-tyred electric mountain bike into the toilets. What is it with cyclists? Does the constant battering by the saddle damage their brains?

 

The platform number for the 1033 to Inverness wasn’t announced until 10 minutes before it was due to depart, even though the train was standing at the platform, which resulted in a rush to the ticket barriers as everyone tried to get through. Then we all stood and waited another 5 minutes before then opened the train doors so then there was a scramble onto the train. I bagged a priority seat for legroom purposes, window side but facing backwards. We departed at 1040, perhaps they should have let us on board earlier and could have left on time. Away from Edinburgh the scenery just got better and better and the train was pretty quiet making for a pleasant journey. Managed to spot the surreal looking Falkirk Wheel canal boat lift some way off from the railway.Sitting on a train watching the scenery pass and listening to podcasts is a nice way to travel. The sun stayed shining and yet there were still patches of snow on the tops and upper slopes of the Cairngorms. It stayed bright until about half an hour from Inverness when everything went grey and Scotland disappeared into the mist. By the time we got to Inverness seven minutes late the mist had cleared to be replaced by overcast clouds and a cool breeze.

 

Premier Inn Inverness Central is a bit of a misnomer being nearly a mile walk from the station and not wanting to walk back and forth too many times I got something to eat for tea and a couple of beers on the way to the hotel. Premier Inn now has self check-in terminals in the reception but I gave that a miss as one couple were already fighting it and when they’d finished they still had to join the queue anyway. Not sure what the point of those is if you end up queueing twice. I was given a ground floor room at the back away from the busy road. It was 1630 and my lack of sleep was catching up so I had a cup of tea and then decided on a short nap. Woke up 90 minutes later. Had some food and a couple of beers in front of the TV and then turned in. Slept like a log.

 

Part Two to follow, Inverness to Thurso, the Far North.

Here’s the Flickr Album with all the photos (249) that I took on the trip.