Far North Line
In the first part of a special two-part focus on Scotland’s Far North Line, ANDREW MOURANT travels from Inverness to Thurso, with storm Ophelia threatening his journey through remote hamlets
In the first of a two-part special focus, RAIL travels on Scotland’s Far North Line from Inverness to Thurso.
The easyJet aircraft had twice circled the runway at Bristol Airport before finally daring to land in a stiffening cross wind. After a swift turnaround, it wobbled unnervingly on take-off for Inverness. It was the first stage of RAIL’s journey to Thurso - planned on a balmy day in early October, but undertaken amid the remnants of hurricane Ophelia.
The omens weren’t good. This could become a tale of missed connections, or even of a knockout blow for the Far North Line’s sole afternoon service. Ophelia (what remained of her) was due to rip through Caithness by early evening. What might that mean for a line notoriously susceptible to late running?
This was a last chance day - the final one when a cheap return flight from Bristol linked to a train that should, in theory, make it most of the way to Thurso before nightfall. There would be no more easyJet bargain days before the end of summer time drew a black blind over northern Scotland by mid-afternoon.
Yet, as luck would have it, Ophelia didn’t blow the timetable off-course. The 1400 from Inverness was a runner - nearly full, with most seats reserved. There were passengers of all ages, many with small suitcases - the baggage of short-break holidaymakers.
On time, but no catering trolley service. That’s all too often the way, according to those who monitor the Far North Line’s daily performance. Inverness station offers a meagre choice of food and drink, so travellers should arrive prepared. Otherwise, anyone venturing to Wick faces almost four and a half hours without sustenance.
The train is a two-coach refurbished Class 158. Its plus points: a luggage rack midcarriage, and WiFi that works. Comfortable enough, although too little leg-room if you sit at a table. My travelling companions sitting opposite are a partially sighted young woman
and her affectionate black Labrador guide dog, already with a four-hour rail journey from Edinburgh under their belt. It makes for a bit of a squeeze.
First stop is Beauly. The original station building is a foursquare stone house with Dutch-style stepped gables, served - like so many with short platforms on this route - by a single exit, the rear door of the front coach. Not just short - at 49.4 feet Beauly’s platform is the UK’s shortest.
Pulling away, something unnerving starts to unfold. Daylight begins draining away as though early afternoon is making a freakish headlong dash for darkness. Half past two has suddenly come to resemble half past six. The view to the south east is of a satanic blackness more profound than at the sun’s total eclipse.
The sky looks doom-laden, threatening a downpour that might wash away anything in its path. (A trick, it later transpires, of Ophelia’s weather system, which had sucked in Saharan dust and smoke from forest fires sweeping across central Portugal.)
At Conon Bridge, reopened in 2013 after 53 years closure, street lamps are already on, and lights glow from living rooms.
At Invergordon, two stops beyond Dingwall (the point at which the line to Kyle of Lochalsh peels off west), the sense of daynight is heightened as oil-rigs anchored in the Cromarty Firth, animated by studs and splashes of light, creep spookily into view. Over the water, the landscape of Black Isle is barely visible.
The Far North Line (FNL) is renowned for magical scenery, but rarely can it have looked like this before mid-afternoon. As the time inches towards 1500, something of the blackness lifts, but not completely, although we are spared the torrential rain that had looked inevitable.
The line is dotted with comforting domestic station buildings, as well as small functional modern shelters. At Tain, it swings north west following the southern flank of Dornoch Firth, and runs exhilaratingly close to a shoreline of rocks, seaweed, mud and sand - delights that make any joyrider wonder ‘why would anyone actually want this line to run more quickly?’ (In this leisurely spirit, the loop of pre-recorded stop announcements is lagging one station behind!)
Yet pragmatists do. People worry about the economics of FNL’s survival and the
Inverness station offers a meagre choice of food and drink, so travellers should arrive prepared. Otherwise, anyone venturing to Wick faces almost four and a half hours without sustenance.