On the Portillo trail of one of the great railway journeys of the world - Susan Morrison
Yorkshiremen have an affinity with trains. Well, the one I married does. He had a hankering for the West Highland Line to Oban, one of the great railway journeys of the entire world. Michael Portillo said it, so it must be true.
He’s not wrong. As soon as the train leaves Helensburgh behind and starts to hug the line of the aptly named Loch Long, the scenery just keeps on coming. Here to our left is a stunning vista of glittering water behind dark woodland and towering mountain peaks, all framed by an unbelievably brilliant blue sky.
Meanwhile, just up the track, waiting to the right, Loch Lomond is limbering up for its showstopping moment . Further north, Loch Awe shoulders forward with a ‘hold my beer’ attitude, confident in the star power of a ruined castle and the peaks of Ben Cruachan. And all of this finished off by Oban bay, Loch Linnhe, misty mountains and blue-hazed islands
Rather niftily, the incredible views switch sides. Everyone gets a good gawk at the sort of landscape that could feature a bare chested Hielan’ laddie chasing after his beloved time travelling lassie.
Actually, even whisking past the slopes at approximately 50 miles an hour tells you that only the foolhardy would go bounding about the bracken without donning decent footwear. There’s a reason hillwaking didn't get popular until the right sort of boot was created.
For a little country, we’ve got a frankly bonkers amount of scenery. It's like there are too many of those hills and glens.
Yes, there are bits of Scotland that make the hellscape of Blade Runner look like an aspirational place to live. Some even believe Grangemouth to be the stunt double for Rick Deckard's replicant hunting ground.
No offense to the fine folk living there, but I've driven past on a wet Tuesday in February and it does look uncannily similar.
The rest of Scotland, however, has gone big for the front of a shortbread tin, and it's what brings people from all over the world to sit on that train.
We travelled North like a United Nations peacekeeping outfit, only one which Americans were happy to join.
There were accents and languages from all airt and pairts, but you wouldn’t know it once the train started moving. Most of them immediately hauled out their kindles, phones and iPads to sit in silence. While Loch Lomond slid past sparkling in the sun, they were doing a Wordle.
I spent a fair old chunk of my trip battling the desire to scream at them to put down their screens and rest their eyes on the prize. I mean, for heaven's sake, people, this scenery is here to be admired. We don’t just lay this on for nuthin, y’know. This just doesn't happen by accident. You think everywhere in the UK looks like this? Have you been to Doncaster?
It’s a fabulous journey, helped immeasurably by a burst of summer sun. Scientists say we shouldn’t celebrate such waves of heat anymore, but no-one had told the people of Oban who were even seen to be smiling in the street, happy for a break from the infamous wilder west coast weather.
Well, if we can’t feel smug about our football team, at least we can look out a train window and know our landscapes can beat the world.