A to B
We subscribe to a fantastic magazine called A to B. Itâs lovingly produced by David and Jane Henshaw in Somerset, aided and abetted by young Alexander (who is apparently an enthusiastic magazine packer), and covers alternative modes of transport. There are articles on the increasingly arcane art of combining train travel with cycling, folding bikes, trailers and electric bikes: everything you need to know to avoid relying on cars as your primary means of transport. Despite the fact that it is more or less home-produced, itâs a very professional affair, with good writing, detailed reviews of bikes and accessories and lots of useful information1.
The current issue has a great article about the Caledonian Sleeper trainâa subject close to my heart. Iâve used the Sleeper twice, both times travelling with my bike from London to Glasgow, and then getting the train to Oban to make the ferry journey to the Isle of Mull. On the first trip, I travelled on my own, returning a year later with my new boyfriendânow my husband. Even if it wasnât the cheapest and most convenient way to get a bike to the north of Scotland, I would still go by Sleeper because it feels so special. The train leaves London around midnight, and it feels odd to be pulling out of the city in the middle of the night. The cabins are pretty tiny, but comfortable, and as you have a drink in the bar before you turn in, you canât help feeling that youâve just stepped into an Agatha Christie novel. Itâs pleasantly old-fashioned.
I found the movement of the train quite soothing, though I was woken up both times by a jolt as the train separated in the early hours of the morning. You wake to the Steward bringing you your morning coffeeâsadly, in a plastic cup rather than bone china, but then it isnât the Orient Express, however much it feels like it. When you get off the train in Glasgow at 8 am, you really feel like youâve travelled, and it seems almost magical that you can have covered all that distance and not known about it. You fall asleep outside London and wake in Glasgow, just in time for an epic Glaswegian fried breakfast.
I can also heartily recommend the train from Glasgow to Oban. It must be one of the countryâs most spectacular rail routes, weaving through the Highlands, into Glens and past Lochs and mountains. If you combine it with the Sleeper, you get gorgeous early morning light on the outward leg, and a stunning sunset on the return (if youâre lucky with the weather, of course). I spent most of the time with my face pressed up against the glass, my jaw open and a bit of a lump in my throat with the beauty of it all.
1 I should say that I donât have anything to do with the magazine, other than being a happy subscriber.
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I once did a return Edinburgh-London trip on the sleeper, and it was indeed wonderful and romantic. The only problem was that, being skint, I'd booked a normal seat rather than a cabin; so didn't really get much sleep. Particularly as the seating coaches have very loud brakes, so whenever I did drift off I'd wake up again when the train needed to slow down.
Strongest memory: wanting to stretch my legs and get some fresh air, at about 4am. I went out into the corridor and opened the carriage door window. We were trundling through the West Midlands suburbs via some complex route that avoided Birmingham station, and spent quite a while running alongside the M6 viaduct, at ground level, weaving amongst the viaduct pillars. I vividly remember seeing, on the waste ground under the viaduct, a burning oil drum surrounded by a crowd of homeless men.----- my only personal experience with a train was as a very little girl on a very short trip... but if i could build a time machine, i'd ride the twentieth century limited... the next best thing would be, of course, what you've described... probably worth the hours of sheer terror i'd experience crossing the atlantic...
by stacy @ 28/02/2004 12:03 pm • Permalink •
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Stacy, I hope you'd be riding with Carole Lombard and John Barrymore, and with Ben Hecht scripting your conversation! One of my favourite films.
One thing I like about train journeys is that passing by the untidy backs of houses makes you feel like you are passing through the insides of a towns or city, underneath it's clothes so to speak.
The thing I miss most in "modern" trains is a proper dining car. You used to be able to get the most magnificent cooked breakfasts which could include stuff like porage, or kippers, or kidneys. Settling into one of those early in the morning at the beginning of a long train journey while watching the world go by outside the window was sheer heaven.
by ThoughtBadger @ 28/02/2004 11:03 pm • Permalink •
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Caitlin: That sounds great. I love seeing âhiddenâ things. I always get the same feeling when Iâm wandering around towns very late at night (which doesnât happen that often!) and I see a fox trotting through the main shopping street.
Stacy: There must be some classic train journeys closer to home. I know that thereâs certainly a spectacular train line running through the Rockies in Canada.
ThoughtBadger: I know what you mean. The approaches to big cities by train are rarely the grandest sights, but itâs more ârealâ somehow. I used of amuse myself going from Surrey into London by train by narrating the journey (internally, I hasten to add!) as a faux David Attenborough monologue: âAnd here, on the rolling plains of Coulsdon, we find the majestic stretches of allotments reaching into the limitless distanceâ¦â
by bsag @ 29/02/2004 7:03 pm • Permalink •
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Many years ago I remember catching the Glasgow-Fort William train (not the Glagow-Oban admittedly but similar), and it taking 4 hours to cover the journey, over similarly spectacular country. A few years ago I walked the West Highland way. which follows the same ground, and was amazed that it was only about 90 miles, and I could walk the distance in less than a week.
The train journey back was interesting as well, I squeezed into about the only seat left in a compartment filled with huge trawlermen just landed at Mallaig from a couple of weeks at sea, at least they seemed huge at the time, I was just a skinny 16 year old. I was fairly terrified of them, until they offered me a can of Tennants (it was about 10am), and proved to be very friendly, telling me stories of life on a trawler until we got to Glasgow.
by Keith @ 29/02/2004 8:02 pm • Permalink •
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