One way ticket
With what could only be described as an interesting and quite unique experience of a weekend behind me, the Sunday night train from Glasgow to Fort William set off into the dark, cool evening. Around 7.30pm with the snow on the ground increasing in depth as the temperature dropped, the train came to a sudden stop somewhere on Rannoch Moor. As time went by fellow passengers began glancing about anxiously in an attempt to ease their curiosity as to why we had remained stationary on the UK’s most remote railway during a snow storm.
Time ticked by and nothing happened. Then, as suddenly as we stopped, a hurried announcement came across the in-train PA system “unfortunately the train has become derailed and we are going to be stuck here for sometime”.
Not very reassuring! Looks of amusement crept across the faces of the younger passengers sitting by me. As the snow continued to fall and no progress appeared to be being made the sense of amusement was slowly being replaced with worry. Then a loud bang, bang, bang shot through the two car train. In an effort to relieve boredom I went to the front of the train to investigate. Some of the Scotrail crew were attempting to rectify the fault in the frozen points that had caused the accident by applying the skill of large rocks at considerable force to the steel. This only served to frighten the passengers nearer the back of the train.
The snow continued to fall and the level of desperation amongst the members of the crew began to become quite apparent. With a shudder and a pop the lights went out. Complete darkness enveloped the restless passengers. Within seconds the lack of heating became chillingly obvious and the open electric door sucked in the Scottish winter weather.
Fortunately the lights came back on but without the heat leading a couple of hikers to decide they would brave the weather, the terrain and without knowing exactly where we are to head out to find civilisation.
Rising levels of fear, desperation and boredom spread through the train. Efforts to request help by the crew appeared to be fruitless and the free drinks were a welcome to many who were shivering in the refrigerator temperature. Not being a hot drink drinker I was more interested in easing my increasing hunger. Scenes from the movie “Alive” came to mind.
6 hours after the drama had begun the hikers returned. A collection of vehicles were less than 50 metres away. The 100 or so Christmas shoppers squeezed in amongst gifts, shopping, kids and umbrellas. I found myself in the back of a Royal Mail postbus with a mother and screaming child. I didn’t care. The next 3 hours of treacherous, unploughed roads winding through Glencoe finally led me home.
My passion for travel oddly untarnished. Perhaps injected with excitement having survived yet another encounter with the bizarre.
