Little Rock to New York Post 9/11 - Autumn 2001

After several days of not knowing whether or not this trip was going to happen as planned, my travel agent called and said it was a "go" So bright and early on Sunday Morning, September 16, 2001 I presented myself at the Little Rock Airport at 5 a.m. and began what was one of the longest days of my life. I started to say one of the most tedious, but on reflection it was only tedious in spots. Both the plane from Little Rock to Atlanta and the one from Atlanta to La Guardia was only about one quarter or less full. But security all along the way was as tight as warned and the delays were as long as promised. The flight from Little Rock into Atlanta was uneventful and I had no problem making my connection to New York. The plane into New York flew right over Manhattan and we got a literally a bird’s eye view of the huge hole with smoke billowing up from site where the World Trade Center had stood.

Because the Port of NY had been closed by the New York Port Authority, both the QE2 and the Coronia had been diverted to Boston. Since all passengers had made their travel arrangements for New York's La Guardia Airport and it was too late to change them to Boston after September 11, Cunard picked all incoming passengers from LaGuardia and JFK and ferried everyone to the Hotel Sheridan in Downtown Manhatten where they had arranged for tour buses to take everyone on to Boston. In the process we got a wonderful unscheduled mini tour of Queens and Manhattan that included passing by Radio City Music Hall, Central Park, and Park Avenue.

Hundreds of passengers destined for both ships were being gathered up and deposited in the Sheraton's huge ballroom. Harried Cunard staff members were desperately running around sorting passengers and luggage into groups that would fit on a bus, and hopefully all going to the same cruise ship. While Cunard was obviously doing everything possible to make sure everyone got sent in the right direction, it definitely felt like we were being rounded up, sorted, and shipped out like cattle. Finally about 3 p.m. they got it all figured out and they started loading everyone into buses for the 4 ½ hour trip to Boston.

On the way out of Manhatten one of the areas I recognized was Harlem. The sign on the Appolo Theatre gave it away. Although this was not a tour bus, the driver did point out the building where Clinton now has his offices. From watching the news in Little Rock you could easily get the impression that NY was all a smoldering ruin. The actual devastation is only in what looks like one little spot from the air. The rest of NY is carrying on what looks like business as usual except that you see flags everywhere. In windows, hanging from balconies, on cars, every place you can stick one. This little unintentional tour of New York was a little bonus I wasn't expecting. I would love to spend some time there someday. It looks like such an exciting place.

We arrived in Boston about 9 p.m. into mass confusion at the dock. We discovered later that there had been a bomb threat to the QEII and we were met by the Military. The FBI was screening every passenger and every piece of luggage that was going aboard. It was a little after 11 when I got to my stateroom, starving to death since I hadn't eaten anything all day except for the breakfast sandwich I had brought from Little Rock to eat on the plane. I consulted the map of the ship that was provided in the packet of papers I found in my cabin, and by more luck than skill at reading maps, found the Lido Grill. I don't even remember what I ate, but it took care of my hunger.

Back in my stateroom I barely had my wits about me enough to glance through the information in the packet to see if there was something urgent I needed to know. Sure enough, instructions for having your breakfast served to you in your stateroom which, you have to admit is pretty urgent information, as well as an announcement of a life boat drill the next day and a list of the entertainments scheduled the voyage. Tomorrow, I will think about all that stuff tomorrow

Bristol & Bath - Autumn, 2001

Bristol & Bath

First Day Lunch at The Swan, Portsmouth

Bob and Jenny were at the terminal to meet me when I arrived in Southampton. We drove to Bob's sister Kim's house where that branch of the family had gathered. After visiting for a little while we all went out to lunch at a lovely old pub. I have never been able to remember the name of it but I think it was The Swan, or maybe The Goose. It has been so nice to be able to enjoy the first day of my visit without having to deal with jet lag

This is my first visit to Bristol and I am so impressed. It's a very cosmopolitan little city, lots to do, lots to see, but not in the least bit intimidating. I can see why B&J love it here so much. It seemed strange at first to be visiting them in another place other than Helensburgh, but I very quickly got over that.

Jenny took me on a drive around the city and then down to the City Centre area and the harbor. It's lovely down there. Years ago this was one of the busiest ports in Europe. John Cabot sailed from this harbor in 1497 on his voyage to North America and was a major slave trading port in the 1700's. It was also a popular embarkation point for emigrants going to the America's. Today, while it is still a functioning port, the docks in the City Centre area are definitely geared to the tourist trade.

Last night Jenny and I went downtown to Bristol's Old Vic, the oldest theatre in Britain by the way, and saw Love and Other Fairy Tales, a loose adaptation of Chaucer's Wife of Bath's Tale. It was beautifully acted and was full of sly English humor. I has inspired me to try to read The Canterbury Tales. Bob, who has read and enjoyed Chaucer is encouraging me to give it a go, but says that I need to find a recording so that I can hear the old English spoken, as well as a translation guide. Under all the rubble, is a wonderful story. (Says he)

Bristol Temple Mead Station

I love riding the trains and buses in this country. It gives me such a sense of freedom to know that if I decide that I want to visit some place on my own, Britain’s marvelous public transport system will allow me to do so. A lot of Britains that I have talked to don't realize how lucky they are to have it. That is because, in my opinion, they have never had to do without it. One of the first things I do when I arrive in Britain is to buy myself a Senior Rail Card that gives a 30% discount on all trains and many ferries. If you plan to do a lot of traveling in a specific amount of time, you can also purchase a British Rail Pass before you come. If you’re not a UK resident that is. But I never bother with that, I purchase a Senior Rail Card which gives a nice discount off the regular fare, and if possible, book ahead for an additional discount. I feel like I have more flexibility that way.

Today I went to Bath, as in the City of. The journey to Bath is almost as much fun as the visit to the city. Leaving Bob and Jenny's house I walked up the road about four blocks and then caught one of the red double decker buses you always see in the movies rumbling around London. Well they have them here in Bristol as well. It's about a 20 minute journey to the City Center where I transfer to another bus that drops me off at the door of the Bristol Temple Meade train station.

If you want to experience the flavor of Britain, there is not better place to do that than to ride the local buses and trains. One of my favorite things to do is to go up to the top deck, as the view from up there is completely different from the one you get riding on the lower one. I am constantly amazed at how much people over here drag onto the buses with them. A pretty young girl who reminds me very much of my Granddaughter Kristen got on the bus at the train station with a very large, soft suitcase stuffed so full it was about to burst its seams, a large paper shopping bag which did burst when she boarded, three gallons of paint in cans, a floor lamp and a plastic shopping bag with two paint rollers, a pan and several brushes in it. That's got to be a world’s record. What was really funny to me, no one except me looked on in amazement, and the young girl didn't seem all that harassed either.

While I was in Bath this time, the only touristy thing that I did was to ride the cream and green tour bus. I always do this in any city that visit here. It is the best value a tourist can get for their money. It doesn't seem to matter how many times I have visited the city before, because there is always get a different tour guide so I get their impressions of the city along with the memorized spiel.

But aside from that, I didn't visit a single other tourist attraction but instead explored all the little wynds and ways, poked around the shops and book stores, had lunch in a riverside café under the Pultney Bridge and tea in the Cadbury's shop. I also splurged and bought myself a lovely wool cape that called out to me from the window of a shop that specializes in woolen goods from Scotland.

Tomorrow we are traveling up to Scotland so my next journal will be from there. I plan to be there about two weeks.

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The Last Travel Journal of 1999 trip to England and Scotland

I am writing this Journal on a the plane, somewhere over the Atlantic while sipping on a Bloody Mary. We were an hour late leaving Glasgow and I had to literally run to make my connection in Brussels. I am too old and too fat for that kind of nonsense. After that mad dash I certainly needed the Bloody Mary. In fact, I may have another. I haven't taken my Zanex yet I am saving it in case the plane starts bouncing around and scaring me.

Last Monday was a badly needed day of just laying around doing nothing much except laundry and a quick trip into Glasgow. Tuesday we worked all day transferring pictures from the video Bob shot with his fancy digital camera, (the likes of which I'll never be able to afford in this lifetime) onto a CD Rom. I saved about 150 of them so along with this journal I should have a good record of my trip. Jenny went all out and fixed a roast chicken dinner with all the trimmings and for desert we had.....Spotted Dick. Now I realize I had said that Clotted Cream was the most disgusting sounding desert I had ever heard of. But that was before I discovered Spotted Dick! Does that or does that not sound like something you need to be vaccinated for? In fact, its really very good. It's a very moist cake with raisins in it that has been steamed instead of baked. It's served with a delicious custard poured over it.

Wednesday it was back in tourist mode and Nicky and I visited Edinburgh. The Museum of Scotland was the first place on the list and we never got any farther. The museum is only a couple of years old, and it is a part of (or at least attached too) the Royal Museum of Scotland. The Museum of Scotland presents Scotland and its people from around 8000 BC to the 20th century. Sound Guides are provided, and there are Multimedia screen presentations that compliment the exhibits by providing additional information. There is also a Discovery center for kids where kids can touch, and play with objects from the past. In fact, there may still be one family in there from Wednesday as there was a big box of 17th,18th, and 19th century clothes, hats and accessories for kids to try and one little girl about eight or nine was prancing around there, highly pleased with herself in a 17th century dress and 19th century wide hat and a pair of long gloves. I'm not sure anyone would have be able to get them off of her. Before we left we went up on the Roof Top Terrace and enjoyed the panoramic view of Edinburgh. When I looked at Arthur's seat I tried to imagine Pokey climbing that in dress shoes. Brave girl our Pokey. They had scaffolding up again on the Sir Walter Scott Memorial. I have no idea what they are doing to it this time. They have been working on it for years now. I hate to say this, but the only way they are going to improve it is to blow it up. It's sooooo ugly
.
Next trip I will make it to the Royal Museum which has more generalized exhibits featuring The Natural World, Science and Industry, and Decorative Arts.

Thursday I went into Glasgow on the train by myself. With a senior rail card it only cost me 2.80 which is dirt cheap for such an interesting trip. After leaving Helensburgh the first stop is Cardross. Cardross was the site of one of Robert The Bruce's Castles and where he died. There are some old ruins there that I have been intending to visit for the past 20 years but we keep zipping past on the way to somewhere else and the opportunity hasn't presented it's self....yet. After Cardross comes Dumbarton with it's huge rock/mound/cliff, whatever with Dumbarton Castle sitting forbiddingly on the top, As castles go, this is a pretty grim looking one. It was from his castle that Mary Queen of Scots left Scotland as a small child for France to be married off to the French Dauphin. It's' also the site of William Wallace's capture by the English after he had been betrayed by the Sheriff of Dumbarton. Another interesting site in Dumbarton is the rows of long, concrete, almost bunker like buildings that comprise the warehouses where bonded Scotch Whiskey is stored while it ages. Ballentine and J&B Scotch Whiskey are made in Dumbarton and sometimes when I go to the big Safeway Store there with Jenny you can smell it distilling. I do not like Scotch Whiskey but I love to smell it distilling. Kind of like chocolate chip cookies.

After the train leaves Dumbarton it starts traveling right through residential neighborhoods. You can see straight into peoples back yards, and in a lot of cases right into their kitchens and dining areas. In most cases, back yards are just as beautifully kept as their front yards. The Brits are, with a few exceptions, such as my family, manic gardeners.

When the train gets about 10 minutes out from Queen Station is suddenly dives down into a hole in the ground and becomes an underground train. After getting off at Queen St. Station I wandered down Buchannan Street, dodging the mess because they are doing something major to it and have it all torn up. Had a good wander through Borders but still no Through The Stones.(sigh). I didn't really buy anything, I just wanted to wander around in Glasgow and ride the train. When I got back to Helensburgh I went to the local book store and ordered Through The Stones. Nicky is coming over in 2 weeks and hopefully she can bring it. If not Jenny will mail it


In the evening we went out to dinner at Drymen to the Clachan Inn, the oldest Inn in Scotland, est 1734.  Link to Clachan Inn website The front insert from the menu that somehow ended up in my handbag reads: "The Clachan Inn, Dryman holds the proud distinction of being Scotland's oldest registered licensed premises. The name 'Clachan' in the Gaelic tongue means hamlet. One of the first owners was a certain Mistress Gow who was the youngest sister of the notorious outlaw Rob Roy McGrreggor (in those days the scourge of law and order in the district). Gow being a diminutive of the name McGreggor. Since 1734 the Clachan has been famed for a warm welcome and good food and drink, a tradition carried on today by the present owner Mrs. E. Plank". The comment about the food was not an idle boast. Also, in honor of this being my last evening in Scotland, (snort) a Pipe Band serenaded us on the green outside the Inn.

So here I am, bouncing around somewhere over the Atlantic, calm as I can be. This has been a fabulous vacation. We did everything we wanted to do and then more. We are toying with the idea of a Greek Island somewhere for next time. We figured that would have something for us all. Ruins for me, Sun for Jenny and a beach for Bob.
I have enjoyed writing this journal. It's the first time I have even done something like this, but believe me it won't be the last. In a couple of years if I have saved up enough money perhaps some day when you check your e-mail you will have Travel Journal #1, The Greek Islands.

The end!

The Isles of Scilly - Summer 1999

The beautiful Isles of Scilly

When we checked into the Seaview Chalet and Caravan Park we were given a bag of brochures advertising the places of interest in Cornwall. One of the brochures was from British International advertising Helicopter trips to the Isles of Scilly for 60 pounds return. We decided to throw caution to the winds and have an adventure. So we got up at 6:15 a.m. on Friday which I think must be some kind of a record for us and drove into Penzance to catch the 8:45 flight to St. MaryÂ’s, the largest of the Scilly Isles.

My first helicopter ride

This helicopter flying business was not what I expected. For starters, I had never thought about flying in one. It was not something I had ever pictured myself doing, and certainly not to somewhere I had never heard of until a couple of days ago. There was no sensation of flying during the trip. There was a lot of noise, lots of vibration and that's it. I couldn't feel it when we took off, or when we landed. Very weird. It certainly ruffles your little feathers though when you walk under the rotors.

Red dot shows location of  The Isles of Scilly

The Isles of Scilly are a cluster of small granite islands set in the clear blue Atlantic Ocean some 28 miles south west of Land's End in the United Kingdom. There are five inhabited islands: St Mary's, St Martin's, St Agnes', Tresco and Bryher, and about 50 others which would be classed as islands as well as hundreds of rocks. The name 'Scilly' comes from SULLY meaning the Sun Isles which describe its climate with an excellent sunshine record. The temperature is remarkably constant throughout the year with only a 9-degree Celsius variation between the average of the hottest and coldest months.

We arrived on St. Mary's Island and took the bus into Hugh Town, the place where everything happens. All the major shopping for the islands is located there as well as the local Council offices and banks. We wandered around aimlessly for a while, window shopping and reading the posters in the Estate Agent's windows advertising property for sale locally. As you might expect, it was way beyond any of us could even dream about.

The Isle of Tressco

We checked with the island tourist board about sights to see and discovered that the Isle of Tressco is famous for it's large and unusual gardens. Known as the 'island of flowers' it boasts more than 300 exotic plants, more usually found in New Zealand and South America. So we hopped on an inter island, open air ferry named Kingfisher of St. Mary's and had a brisk 20 minute ride over to Tressco. I am getting to be an old hand at this ferry riding business.

It was well worth the trip. There are no cars or buses allowed on Tressco, only a couple of tractors and some golf carts. It was about a one mile walk from where the ferry landed to New Grimsby where we caught the ferry back. The entire walk was wonderful. None of the three of us are knowledgeable plant people, but we do enjoy them very much. Cornwall itself is one huge garden with plants and flowers everywhere. But the Scilly's are home to some really strange plants the likes of which this Arkansas woman has never seen.

I love these little ferrys

We had lunch at the Island Hotel and then sat out on the patio and sunned ourselves until it was time to meet the ferry for the ride back to St. Mary's. Then we repeated the trip over in reverse order and arrived back at the Sea View Chalets where we were staying at dusk, around eleven p.m.

Wedding at Hitcham, Runneymeade and Poulton Park

Paula and Steve

Shopping in Slough

On Saturday morning we went into Slough, which is a town of some size and had a large shopping mall. While it's not one of those picture postcard places it looks like it would be a pretty nice place to live. It's certainly been around long enough.The first recorded instance of the area was in 1196. The name at that time was written Slo. In 1336 was also recorded as Sloo. There doesn't seem to have been much of a push to preserve any historical buildings like you see in other communities. Slough seems to be pretty firmly grounded in the present.

 The reason for our visit here was that Jenny had informed me that I needed a hat! It has been at least 30 years since I've had to wear a hat and I want you all to know I looked bloody stupid in it. Jenny said that if I didn't include the fact that I moaned all day about it she was going to go into my computer, steal your e-mail addresses and tell you all herself. I told her when we bought it that she better become fond of it because I wasn't taking the stupid thing home.

All Saint's Church, Hitcham

 The wedding of Bob's cousin was held in a wonderful small 12th century church in Hitcham. I picked up a brochure by the door and it said that the first recorded Rector of St. Mary's Church was John the Clerk who came to the parish in 1167, when Henry II, great-grandson of William the Conqueror was King of England. I was so impressed with the church that I have only a vague recolection of the ceremony. In the Nave of the church were six long ropes hanging down from the bell tower. Each one was pulled by a bell ringer person so the wedding was announced to a regular cacophony of bells. (I have always liked that word and am very pleased to have such an appropriate place to be able to use it.

 There were inscriptions and memorials all along the walls of the church but one in particular caught our eye. Apparently in years past, if you were prominent enough you got to be buried inside the church instead of out in the churchyard with everyone else. The inscription reads:

Underneath Lie the remains of George Crookshank, Esq. Formerly a merchant of Amstead(?) who by uncommon abilities and indefatigable application acquired ample fortune with the strictest integrity and honor; employed in constant acts of charity generosity most agreeable to his nature. No men ever possessed a greater share of natural talents, and none (in busy life as his was) ever improved them with more acquired endowments which were aided by such a perspicuity of judgement and of reasoning on all subjects, as convinced and delighted all who conversed with him. Superior to every interested consideration all the actions of his life discovered the most enlarged and benevolent mind in fine, the greatness of his capacity was equaled only by the goodness of his disposition Finetta his wife (one of the daughters of Henry Pye late of Farringdon house in the county of Berks esquire, by Anne sister of Allen Lord Bathhurst) who possessed his most tender affection returned the same particularly by a faithful and constant attention to him during a tedious illness, which alas! being ineffectual to preserve him longer in life, she hath erected this monument of her affection for him in death. he dyed September 10th 1765 aged 50 years. 

The very spot?
Where the Magna Carta was signed

 On Sunday, the day following the wedding we got up early and drove out to Runneymeade, the site of the signing of the Magna Carta. Runneymeade is now just a meadow where hay is grown. The actual place where it was signed (how do they know where is actual spot was, I ask myself?) is about a quarter of a mile from road, up the hill, through the wet grass. We settled for tea in the nearby tea room and purchased a copy of the document. The interesting thing that happened while we were walking along the road to get a camera shot of the monument, was a glimpse of the Queen as she sped by in her ugly black limo.

 This being Father's Day Bob's Father was guest of honor at lunch. We then went to what I thought was a marvelous old country inn called the Fox and Pheasant. While I was sitting there being impressed with the inn, Jennifer informed me that it was fake, having been built only a couple of years ago. Spoilsport!

After lunch we hit the road again and Fareham, right outside Portsmouth to visit with Granddaughter Joanne and family. She has two darling children so I got to play G-Grandma and enjoyed it thoroughly. We had originally intended to spend Monday on the Isle of Wight but altered our plans and went to Paulton Park which was a much more pleasant day out for the children. Paulton Park is sort of a Zoo/Kiddie Theme Park/Botanical Garden kind of place. The kids had a blast, Jade, my five year old G-Granddaughter managed to con the assorted parents, grandparents and even the great grand parent into riding the log flume with her for a cumulative total of 12 times. Here she is on the right dressed in her Granddad's jacket, hat and sunglasses trying to warm up.

Road Trip from Helensburgh, Scotland to Maidenhead, England

We left Helensburgh around 10 a.m. and headed south on the M74/A74 and then joined the M6 below Birmingham. I found the journey very interesting because I think the British countryside is so beautiful. The most notable thing was the price of gasoline. MY GOODNESS!!! We stopped at the services near Gretna and gasoline was selling for 75p, 79p and 81p per liter. With help from Bob I did a little math and figured out the price per U.S. gallon in U.S. dollars. Bob's cell phone doubles as a calculator so we used it to do the conversion. We put 33.5 liters of gas in the car @75p per liter and paid a total of 24.87 pounds. Bob was the clever one who knew that there are 4.5 liters in an imperial gallon and 3.56 liters in a US gallon. Using the 3.56 liter figure @75p and using $1.66 as the exchange rate, we came up with a whopping $4.40 per gallon. I'll tell you this figure had me gasping for breath for a mile or two. Now if anyone wants to do the math for themselves and comes out with a different answer, remember we did the math while zipping down the motor way punching numbers into a cell phone.

I have been up and down the A74/M6 so many times that I ought to have every mile of it memorized. I always enjoy the drive, and I always see something new. One of these days I am going to spend some time in the borders area of Scotland. As you near the border of England, you pass the sign for the exit to Lockerbie, the site of the Pan Am bombing. I always get a lump in my throat as we pass. The start of the Cheviot Hills are off to the left, and The Pennine Way, a lovely hiking trail is also over in that direction somewhere.

Anyone familiar with regency romance novels knows all about Gretna Green. It was the Las Vegas of it's time. Gretna Green is one of the world's most famous wedding venues, conjuring up stories of romance, scandals, and illicit trysts. For 250 years, couples have traveled to Gretna Green, where they can get married with no waiting period under Scotland's lenient marriage laws. Traditionally, in Scotland, a man and woman over the age of sixteen could be married by declaring themselves husband and wife in front of witnesses. In England, such marriages were prohibited by an Act of Parliament passed in 1745. As a result eloping couples began to flee to Scotland for their marriages. Gretna Green remains a popular place to get married today. More than 4,000 couples marry in Gretna Green annually - about 13 percent of all weddings performed in Scotland. I looked it up on the internet.

The rest of the trip was pretty uneventful. Driving down the motorway at the speed Jenny drives is not the most exciting way to see England, unless like me you think that traveling at 90 miles an hours is exciting. Our pace was considerably slowed when we reached Manchester at rush hour. What a traffic nightmare that city is at 4 p.m. in the afternoon. But as soon as we got around the city it was back to 90 miles an hour. I had to look very quickly at the passing scenery or miss it entirely.

Once we left the M6 at High Wycomb and got onto the secondary roads this trip became much more enjoyable. This is such a pretty part of England. One of the first villages we went through was Marlow, which has a reputation as being the prettiest village of the many that are scattered along the banks of the Thames River. We crossed a lovely old suspension bridge, where they were preparing for a Regatta the next day. If I had to choose the lovliest villiage of all the ones we zipped through in that area I guess I would have to pick Marlow. When I checked out Marlow on the internet I discovered that it was the village where the Shelley's lived when they returned to England from the continent in 1817, and that most of Frankenstein was written there. I did purchase a post card which I have scanned to show a little of how lovely the village is.

After 10 very long hours we arrived at our destination. We got lost trying to find Dorney where Bob's father lives and where were supposed to stop first. I rather enjoy being lost as I get to see unexpected place. Over the next 36 hours we went so many places that all the little villages melted into one another, so that after a while my head was spinning. We passed through Eton, where the famous Eton Public School for boys is located. You could see Windsor Castle across the bridge from Eton but we avoided Windsor because of the royal wedding of Prince Edward..

The B&B I stayed in was in Maidenhead. The hotel is typical of the B&B's you's stay in if, like I was, you were traveling on the cheap.  It was, clean and not quite convenient. There was no shower, only a bath. I was instructed by the manager that you could only run the hot or the cold water, not both at the same time. I think it had something to do with water pressure. On the other hand, the bed was comfortable and the breakfast served in the morning was delicious. The first morning I shared the dining room with a group of very interesting ladies who "worked the tote at Ascot." They were the people who worked in the betting windows. Royal Ascot was going on right down the road.

West Highland Line, Helensburgh and Back Again

Helensburgh to Glenfinnin, June 15, 1999

Upper Helensburgh Train Station

My journey began at the Upper Helensburgh train stop. Helensburgh has a proper train station know as Helensburgh Central which is located down in the middle of the town. Helensburgh Upper is really just a train stop located about 10 blocks up the hill. It's a lovely little train stop situated between two embankments that are covered on both sides by wild Rhodendrum bushes. The bushes are in full bloom at this time of year so my brief wait for the train was very pleasant. The day was warm and sunny and two rooks carrying on a noisy conversation in a nearby tree provided the entertainment.  Sadly this station is no longer in use and I was too enamored with my surroundings to take a picture of it at the time.  I bagged this photo off wikipedia to show how it looked at the time of this journal entry.

Rannoch Moor from back of train

The trip from Helensburgh to Malig takes four ½ hours. I have taken this trip in the past and was totally unimpressed with Malig. It's a very small fishing port and it smells distinctly "fishy." Unless you live there, as far as I can tell the only reason for going there is that it is the end of the line of what the National Geographic Society has designated one of the Great Train Trips of the World, and it is a connection point for a ferry that runs between Malig and Skye. So, having no great desire to be stuck for a couple of hours in a fishy smelling town I decided to detrain (is that a word?) at Glen Finnan, four stops before Malig. Glen Finnan was the landing place of the Bonny Prince in 1745 for his ill-fated campaign to regain the throne for the Stuarts. According to the brochure, there is a Monument, a Visitors Center, a restaurant, and a Train Museum. More about this later.

The train arrived and off we started. The first stop was Garelochhead, at the head of Loch Long. A group of 10 year old school children heading out on a field trip got on our coach. At first it looked like there were at least 100 of them but after counting heads there turned out to be only 23. They were very good actually, the only stir they caused was when a few minutes after they got on, all three of the accompanying teachers suddenly leapt up out of their seats and started saying "no, no, it's not time for that yet." It seems that just about every one of them had gotten their packed lunches out and were starting to chow down. It was 9:30 a.m.! The only other excitement they caused was a burping contest between most of the boys and a couple of the girls. The teachers put an end to that as well.

There was a group of young people on our coach who were going Monro Bagging. According to my informant, one of the young lady Monro Baggers, there are 280 mountains in Scotland that are between 3,000 and 5,000 feet high. These are known collectively as The Monro's. Climbing them is called Bagging. Monro Bagging is a very "in" thing for sports minded young people and discussing how many Monro's you have bagged, which ones, and in what kind of weather is a subject of many discussions in local pubs. The picture on the right is my Grandson Matthew on Ben Nevis that I took in 1995, but we were not Monro Bagging. We had cheated and taken the ski lift to the summit, but he is representative of what the kids on the train were dressed like with the exception of his shoes. The shoes he wore on that trip had to be seen to be believed.

photo bagged from Wikipedia

The scenery on this trip is absolutely breathtaking. The picture on the left is the Glenn Finnin Viaduct which is featured in the Harry Potter films. If I remember correctly, they fly over it in the car chasing the train in The Chamber of Secrets. I did not have my handy digital camera at the time I made these trips so the quality of my pictures is going to be pretty hit and miss. They are a collection of the ones I took with my cheap Wal Mart camera and pictures that I had taken years before on previous trips.
The next stop on the line was Arrochar at which point the track began to follow along Loch Lomand, one of the prettiest loch's in Scotland. After leaving Loch Lomand, the next stop was Ardlui. At that point the train started to seriously climb. You could plainly hear the engines going into a strain. Up too now masses of purple Rhodendrum grew wild along the tracks. After we started to leave sea level and start up into the highlands the Rhodendrum gradually thinned out and was replaced by Gorse, which is also in full bloom (bright yellow) this time of year. After Ardlui I began to see a lot of snow splotched "Monros."

I'm not going to go into detail over every stop on the way but it's truly a lovely trip. All of the small stations are so picturesque. The station at Rannoch Moor is the setting for the train station at Hogwarts in the Harry Potter films. Besides being spotlessly maintained, they all have hanging plants from the eves of the building, tubs of flowers on the station platform and flower beds wherever one can be fitted in. Sadly the trains themselves are not so well maintained, but then I imagine they get a lot of wear and tear. At that point the train started across Rannoch Moor. Rannoch Moor reminds me of something left over from the Ice Age. It's so desolate looking that it's beautiful in it's own way.
After we left Ft. William the train ran along the banks of Loch Eil. You could see ski lifts here and there on the sides of the mountains and there was an interesting looking Outward Bound Camp in Corpach. Lots of Kyacks (?) stacked around.

On the left is a picture of the Station at Glen Finnan. I just love these small Highland train stations. Glen Finnan was not exactly what I expected but I'm glad I went there anyway. It only took about two minutes to realize that this place was not your average tourist destination. Everywhere I went they acted so surprised to see me. The "Train Museum" was an effort by the local town council to preserve some of the railway history and was small, musty and charming. There was no admission charge, donation accepted. I'm afraid I was charmed into leaving a much larger donation than I normally would have done had this been some "professional" undertaking.

Excellent Food!

It was 12:30 p.m.. when I arrived so I though I would have lunch before I tackled the Monument and Visitors Center, which according to the Scot Rail Brochure was only a 10 minute walk from the station. The restaurant was a converted dining car, very clean, smelled heavenly, and was empty. The lady who was cook, waitress, cashier and probably dishwasher and janitor as well acted pleased, but very surprised to see me. I ordered the soup. One can NEVER go wrong ordering soup in the Scottish Highlands. The lady apologized and said that the soup wasn't done yet. (12:30 p.m.?) But informed me that the scones were fresh, so I ordered a scone. This was a melt-in-your-mouth scone, the size of a saucer, served with real butter, homemade apricot jam and a pot of delicious tea. Unfortunately they were "just out" of napkins. I licked my fingers, happily paid the lady the two pounds she asked and set off down the hill for the ten minute walk to the visitor’s center. They LIED folks. It was at least a mile down there, and a steep mile down at that.

The Monument and Visitors Center was very interesting and well worth the long walk down the hill. I did not climb the monument, as I gave up climbing monuments about 10 years ago. The entire time I couldn’t stop thinking about that mile, straight up, to the train station. I made it however, huffing and puffing all the way. By the time I got back to the restaurant the soup was done and well worth the wait. It turned out to be Creme of Carrot and Onion, served with home made bread. Yum.

The journey back was a replay of the trip up. I sat on the other side of the coach this time so that I could get a different perspective. The school kids got back on at Corpach but they were all tired and a little more subdued than they were in the morning. I'll bet those teachers were totally whacked when they got home. I certainly was.