Spent most of the day on the train through Highlands to Fort William
I had read a newspaper article extolling the wonderful scenery on this train route, the West Highland Line, running from Glasgow to Mallaig and over the bridge made famous in the Harry Potter movies. It was somewhat foggy, so the views were a bit less than we had hoped for, and we foolishly got off the train before the famed bridge. My travel journal summed it up:
Bare hills, waterfalls, sheep, moor,
cute train stations
 |
| This is one of the train stations in Glasgow, shot from inside our car. |
 |
| Greg always sees the advantage of a nap (this one was through the suburbs of Glasgow). |
 |
| The weather closed in along the way north. |
 |
| I am sure there are sheep on this picture; I just can't see them. |
 |
| Every now and then, there was a house. |
 |
| Rather forbidding land |
 |
| More moor-like terrain reminded me of Wuthering Heights.. |
 |
| Hikers walk along a path through the moor. |
 |
| The train stations are so handy and they have cafes or bars. |
Fort William? We should have continued
to Mallaig.
There was
not much for the jet-lagged to do in downtown Fort William. Only after the
worst lunch we had all trip (some sort of barley soup and something called
tongs, which turned out to be large tasteless white-bread buns), did we found the
tunnel under the railway tracks to the main part of town, where there were better restaurants.
We sat on a park bench, and hoped it wouldn’t
rain. It didn’t. Took turns visiting two churches bordering the green (the bench-sitter guarded the luggage, which we were too tired to haul around). We window shopped: so many thrift stores for so many charities.
Our meandering got us to the other end of the pedestrian promenade where a sign
said "taxi stand." We waited patiently, but alas no taxi came. Finally, we retraced our steps and bought some stuff at a Tesco store to eat at our bed and breakfast, which was too far out
of town to walk to. All along the way, we passed places I could have chosen to stay at.
Got one of
the last cabs running that day, apparently. They seem to quit about 5:00. The driver of the first
one we hailed had just gone off-duty.
Interesting conversation
about whiskey with the cab driver who was still available and who opined that Famous Grouse, a whiskey Greg likes, was only one step
above rot gut. That cheered Greg enormously.
Plunked ourselves in our very tiny, very green room. The bathroom
was across the hall on the other side of the stair well with another in what was to be a long series
of perplexing faucet arrangements.
 |
| One never knew what temperature the water would be: frigid or scalding. |
Notice the electric
wiring running into the water heating compartment. Yes, I pushed that red button and turned it on. At least
if I were electrocuted, I would never have to eat another tong.
We went out
for a walk in a undecided drizzle and discovered a restaurant just down from
the B and B. We were not that hungry. On top of that, my intestinal complaint
began to make itself known again. Very bad cramps: so back we went to our little lime hidey-hole and the comfort of modern conveniences.
I had a shower to save time in the morning, and we watched a Father Brown re-run on one of the
tiniest TVs I have ever seen.
However, one of the remarkable
things about this B and B was my finding a recent murder mystery by Canadian Louise Penney, The Long Way Home. Rather well-named considering the circumstances... it was sandwiched between a few Nora Roberts and a John Grisham or two in a book shelf in
the hall outside the bathroom. I enjoyed
a couple of chapters before bed at 9:30.
I had to put the alarm clock in the closet so the ticking wouldn’t keep us
awake. However, I was awake at 4:00 and up
at 6:00.
Which just goes
to show that not every day can be full of fun and adventure. Some days you are
just thankful you made it to the washroom in time. (Thank you, Eeyore)
No comments:
Post a Comment