Robert Hampton

I need to start by apologising to Logan, the guy manning the catering trolley on the 8.30 train to Mallaig. Ian and I used that train on both Wednesday and Thursday morning. On the second day, you recognised us, and tried to engage us in friendly conversation. Unfortunately Ian and I were both so struck by your good looks that we got tongue-tied and could only babble the briefest pleasantries while you pumped your hot water urn. Sorry about that, Logan. If it makes you feel better, all you missed out on was some awkward and borderline inappropriate flirting from two men who are roughly a decade older than you. Don’t take it personally. You did a good job and your hot chocolate was very nice.

Where I was I? Oh yes, travelogue…

For the second day in a row, we were heading to Mallaig. This was the last time we would travel on the West Highland Line on this trip, but I already knew I’d be back. I want to visit Arisaig (most westerly station in Britain, fact fans) and Glenfinnan (home to that-viaduct-from-the-Harry-Potter-films and a small railway museum).

Our destination was, once more, Mallaig Harbour. No tiny Knoydart Seabridge this time, however. Instead, we were going to board the Caledonian MacBrayne ferry to Skye. As it was included in the validity of our Highland Rover ticket, it seemed rude not to.

Our plan for the day was audacious in its scope. When Ian first suggested it to me, I thought he was mad. MAD, I tell you. Of course, I went along with it, because I am quite mad too.

First, we would take the ferry to Armadale. From there, a bus would take us to the small settlement of Broadford, where we would change to a second bus to continue over the Skye Bridge to Kyle of Lochalsh. There, we would rejoin the rail network and take a train to Inverness, where we would spend Thursday evening.

There is, of course, a direct bus from Fort William to Inverness which takes a little under two hours, but where’s the fun in that?

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What a year 2010 was! It had twelve months, each consisting of at least 28 days. On some of those days I made blog entries. Here are the highlights.

I began the year in January fretting about an alleged Crystal Maze remake starring Amanda Holden. This story fortunately turned out to be utter bollocks. Ginger people again proved that (yours truly excepted) they have no sense of humour or perspective. Britain experienced a deluge of snow, and Merseyrail impressed everyone by soldiering on throughout, a feat which they would surely repeat next time we experienced awful weather… right?

I finally joined the Wii owners’ club, just as the console stopped being cool. My rekindled love for video games did not result in me getting rickets. I also celebrated my first Twitterversary and cautiously welcomed the iPad.

I also took time to blog at length about a US comedian no-one has heard of over here, illustrating my post with YouTube clips which have now been removed for copyright infringement.

In more serious matters, the Haiti earthquake occupied people’s thoughts as a humanitarian catastrophe unfolded in the devastated country.

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On Thursday it was time to say goodbye to Knoydart and head back to Glasgow. We boarded the morning ferry at Inverie Ferry Terminal (a fancy name for a small hut containing a bench and a toilet).

The boat deposited us safely back in Mallaig just before 12 o’clock, and we immediately headed back to the station to work out our plan of action. Our goal: secure a place on the Jacobite steam train to Fort William. We had tried to book tickets online but had been told they were all sold out. The web site did offer a slim ray of hope, however: some tickets are sold on the day by the train crew. I therefore wanted to meet the train as it arrived from its inward journey.

We had about half an hour before the train was due, so I took the opportunity to have a look around, as our rushed connection on Monday afternoon had left no time to explore. I was pleasantly surprised that Mallaig station, despite only serving five trains a day, had a fully fledged station building with toilets and a staffed ticket office.

I was just relieved to have shelter from the rain, which was coming down rather heavily at this point. While Nuno hunted for somewhere to leave our luggage, I sat observing as the lone ticket clerk dealt patiently with a procession of foreign tourists who needed to get to London (impossible unless they stayed somewhere overnight or had sleeper tickets, as they couldn’t reach Glasgow before 9pm, well after the last London train would have left).

I wasn’t the only one making use of the station facilities, as some seagulls had decided to nest on the track! The rails they were using appeared to be disused, thankfully.

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We were up bright and early on Monday morning to head for Glasgow’s other main station, Queen Street. This is the starting point for services to the North, including the long and winding route to Mallaig. Armed with a bottle of Irn-Bru for refreshment (made in Scotland from girders… and E-numbers), we boarded a well-appointed ScotRail Super Sprinter and settled in to our table seat for the 5 hour, 2 minute journey ahead.

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