I awoke in my standby hotel (which was perfectly fine by the way) eager for the Orkneys. Today I would finally set foot on these fabled isles. But first I had to set foot on a train.
With the sun high in the sky I found myself hanging around Inverness train station trying not to look like I make a habit of such behaviour. Fortunately the rest of my tour group arrived before the police moved me on. Like most Intrepid tours the travelers were an eclectic bunch hailing from the four corners of Australia. Our guide was also Australian although he had lived in Scotland long enough to go native.
From Inverness we would catch a train to Thurso then a rather large ferry to Stromness and voila; Orkneys. Drama started early when it became apparent one of our number was missing. I looked very carefully but it wasn’t me. Eventually deciding to abandon her to her fate we piled onto a rather small train and headed for the coast.
Once on board the other members of our group introduced each other in the traditional manner by hurling hot chocolate at each other. We are now united as one family or possibly have started a blood feud which will last down the generations.
With its passengers glaring at each other and hot chocolate running in the gutters like blood the train set off on its journey. It travelled at a pace that afforded great opportunities to enjoy the highland scenery and enjoy it I did. There were cattle, sheep, horses more cattle and no end of sheep. Having hit the coast the train sensibly turned left rather than run us into the North Sea. Our guide attempted to impart essential information. “Seal!” I screamed in excitement before apologising. We all decided seeing a seal was way more important than whatever our guide was saying. I still don’t know what he was trying to tell us. At later points in the journey I would shout “Rabbit!” And “Deer!” but by this time they thought I was making it all up. It’s a good thing I didn’t see a wolf.
What is a train without a delay? The two go together like Sydney and rail. Our train stopped at a tiny Highlands station for fifteen minutes or so while another apparently far more important train was permitted to go past us. Our guide looked mournful and muttered something about calling the ferry to make sure it didn’t go without us. At least I think that’s what he said I was busy shouting animal names at the time.
Finally we turned up in Thurso and immediately piled into a taxi to get a little more ferry adjacent. The ferry was named something Nordic and had a Viking painted on the side. I understand wanting to keep in touch with your proud seafaring history but I wonder at the wisdom of reminding the locals of what used to happen when Scandinavian ships sailed into harbour. Fortunately we weren’t met with a hail of arrows.
It was evening by the time we arrived in Stromness and we were immediately bundled into another taxi to take us to god knows where. I’d stopped caring by this point and just assumed accommodation would present itself at some point. For once I was right.
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