Taking the train to dinner

The West Highland line runs from Glasgow to Mallaig across the water from the isle of Skye. It is possible to take an evening berth in London and wake up on the West Coast on the way to the Hebrides-
or at Corrour station.
Corrour is a stop to nowhere.
There is no town here, no village.
No homes in fact.
Just bare hill, water – and some station buildings.
The nearest road is 17 miles.
Lynda and I are on that road driving west from the farm for half an hour, before pulling off the road at the postage stamp of a sign directing traffic to Tulloch station.
We join a southbound train, curving away from the road along the shore of a wide stretch of cold water. There are no trees on the hills, the horizon is low, the colour wintry under rain laden cloud.
A single white house crouches at the end of a loch – with no road apparent.
Names slide across the carriage end in digital orange: Corrour, Rannoch, Bridge of Orchy, Crianlarich….
We alight at the first – the wind blows unshielded from the north, but there is a friendly wave from the station door. We walk down the platform and cross the tracks. It is our hostess: Lizzie, who with husband Ollie provides food and rooms made all the more comforting and inspiring by contrast with the context.
Three hours later, we are back on the platform.
Lizzie appears once more in the doorway to shout that the train is delayed by an hour- she was phoned by the guard concerned about passengers kept waiting on the windy platform. She phones again when leaving Bridge of Orchy; we wait in the comfort of the station restaurant exiting into the wind with just five minutes to wait.
Twenty minutes later we arrive back at Tulloch; the guard releases the electric lock on the door.
‘Do you have torches?’
We don’t.
‘The crossing is at the far end. Use the lights from the train to walk down.’
She holds the train for us until arrive at the end of the platform, and cross (slightly nervously) in front of the train.
I give a thumbs up into the glare of the lights, and we fumble our way onto the platform and out of the gate to the car park.
We drive home.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s