October 19th, 2011 by Murray Barnes | Posted in Photography, Railways, Travel, Trip Report | 9 Comments »
Two of the most popular posts on this blog were my reports of riding the Kyle of Lochalsh and West Highland railway lines. More than just popular on the blog, the trips themselves were fun. Tiring, perhaps, but certainly worthwhile days out. It’s been over a year since I last took a scenic train trip, and I was itching for a bit of adventure, so I booked myself some tickets on the Far North Line up to Wick.
You can perhaps see why it got the name Far North Line. Click here to view bigger.
The Far North Line starts in Inverness, and takes nearly four and a half hours to wind its way slowly up to the top of Scotland. Now, obviously, I don’t live in Inverness, so I had to get a ticket starting from Glasgow. My itinerary looked like this:
- 0706 – 1029 | Glasgow Queen Street to Inverness
- 1038 – 1455 | Inverness to Wick
- 1600 – 2009 | Wick to Inverness
- 2015 – 2339 | Inverness to Glasgow Queen Street
Yes, it has been pointed out to me that travelling for nearly 8 hours each way to spend an hour in a town might be considered abnormal, but as Robert Louis Stevenson once said, “For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move.”. I like trains, I like riding on trains, and spending a day riding on trains through the highlands is my idea of a day well spent. Using my young person’s railcard, the journey cost me £35.30, though I’ve seen tickets for less than £10 each way before.
Now, cleanse your mind and prepare to see some photos. Usual caveat applies for these pictures; good enough to give an indication of what the train journey is like, not particularly good as photos otherwise due to reflections, etc.
Eurgh. That’s A.M. Dreadful time to wake up. Except that in my excitement, I’d been awake since three!
Departures board from Queen Street Station.
A bit dark to be taking photos. This is the Class 170 turbostar that would be hauling me up to Inverness.
The sun started to rise as we approached Stirling. There was a nice orange backdrop behind the Ochill Hills.
Dunblane Cathedral. I take this part of the line so often that it’s easy to forget it’s actually quite scenic on its own.
Somewhere around Dunkeld, the line just comes into its own.
The River Garry, probably.
Approaching the Drumochter pass. I once cycled through it in June and had to pedal, hard, in the lowest gear to get downhill.
Heading up towards Slochd, I saw a tractor. Did you ever hear about the magic tractor? It drove down a country road and turned into a field!
A nice A9 road bridge near Tomatin. Here’s a photo of that bridge, and the bridge the train is on, taken from a third bridge, from when I cycled to Inverness in 2007
After only three and a half hours, we’d made it to Inverness. I had nine minutes to make my connection which was plenty of time considering how small Inverness station is. The Highland Main Line to Inverness usually uses Class 170 Turbostars, which are fairly comfortable and the most modern diesels in Scotrail’s fleet. Past Inverness though, Scotrail use the older Class 158 Express Sprinters. While not as attractive as the Turbostars from the outside, I actually find them slightly more comfortable inside; plus they have the advantage that the seats actually line up with the windows. The Express Sprinters are a massive step up from the Class 156 Super Sprinters used on the West Highland Line, a journey of similar length but much less comfort.
The train wasn’t particularly busy. I got this entire table to myself.
Actually, I got two entire tables to myself. Perfect.
The train that hauled me to Inverness, taken from on board the train that was going to haul me from Inverness. How meta.
A boat in the sea lock at the northern end of the Caledonian Canal.
The weather had been miserable in Glasgow, but was threatening to be quite nice this far north.
I always make the fallacy of assuming the highlands is just tourism and sheep, but there is actual industry out there too.
I’ll be honest, the scenery didn’t really start getting super interesting until after Tain. I mean, it’s nice and all, but not awesome!
Perfectly pleasant, but not particularly powerful.
Nothing to complain about, certainly, but nothing to rant and rave about either.
I do like a little bit of white water. And this is entirely little.
I did like these train running information signs, which I’ve never seen elsewhere in Scotland before.
This river, in the town of Brora, marked my favourite part of the line, between Brora and Helmsdale.
The train travelled on a thin strip of land between beautiful red sand beaches and what appeared to be huge sandstone dunes.
Admittedly it’s no west coast…
… but you wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to play on that beach on a sunny day, would you?
I liked the coast, that’s what I’m saying.
I just wanted to get off and balance me some rocks.
At Helmsdale, we headed inland, up the Strath of Kildonan towards the Flow Country.
There were some nice enough mountains.
And the River Helmsdale was pretty nice.
I do like a nice Highland bridge, presumably built by Telford.
The weather couldn’t quite make up its mind whether it wanted to be nice or horrible. In the end, it decided to be both. The starboard side of the train was bathed in sunshine, while the port side got rain on it.
That would be a nice spot to camp, I feel.
A badly taken photograph of deer! Other wildlife I saw included plenty of birds of prey, and some rabbits.
The Far North Line even has its own version of Rannoch Moor, the Flow Country. Very desolate.
It had taken practically forever, but I had made it to Wick. I had two priorities. The first was a bathroom (I’m not a fan of pooping on train toilets), and the second was to get a sandwich and drink for the journey home. I also only had 65 minutes to achieve both, in a town I’d never been to before. Luckily the railway station, while small, was able to fulfil my first need, and a map outside the station pointed the way towards the second.
Little more than a roof, but that’s still more than pretty much any other station on the line.
A rather unassuming building, but the terminus for my 8 hour, 350 mile journey.
The Station Hotel, across the river from the station.
Wick has a Wetherspoon’s free house. Incredible.
I only took this because my mother’s name is Morag.
I rather liked Wick. I kind of wished I’d gotten to spend more than an hour there.
The Bridge of Wick.
I’m not sure what this building is, but he’s surprised to have his photograph taken.
Katie had to do a module on the architecture of Carnegie Libraries as part of her Masters in Library Science, with which she blinded me. Anyway, I like finding little touches in remote places that remind me of her.
A standard Wickian street.
I basically spent my hour wandering, finding a co-op store where I spent a good ten minutes queueing while the checkout lady tried to scan a reduced to clear chicken for the lady in front of me. Good times. Wick really seemed to be a nice small town which I’d like to know a little better. An hour was too short a time. After that hour was up, I was once more on the same train on which I’d arrived, with the same conductor. She made a comment along the lines of “You didn’t spend long there, ” and I replied “It’s a day out, isn’t it?” She rolled her eyes at me, audience. Poor show.
On the journey home, I took considerably less photographs due to failing light and fading enthusiasm.
The far north is surprisingly fertile. I almost felt like I was passing through the fields near Perth again.
The train followed a nice gorge into Thurso.
Georgemas Junction, where the train stops, reverses to Thurso, before coming back to continue on to Wick. (Or, indeed, the opposite when heading south).
A ruined croft from the clearances maybe?
A mountainy bit? Captions are not my strong point.
My favourite station on the whole line, because of…
…life sized model trains!
So, in the end, was it worth it? Well, I’m glad I did it. It was a nice journey. I wouldn’t do it again though. It’s too long, and the rewards aren’t really worth it. I can see why the Kyle and West Highland lines are more popular. Turns out sixteen hours on a train might just be my limit.
Incidentally, in a post announcing that I’d be taking this trip, I mentioned I’d be riding on the Settle-Carlisle line. I have done so, but unfortunately the day was so dreary and wet I didn’t take any photos. I would say, though, that it’s a very nice line and well worth riding if you get the chance. I just won’t be doing a blog post on it anytime soon, as I have no photographs.
Two of the most popular posts on this blog were my reports of riding the Kyle of Lochalsh and West Highland railway lines. More than just popular on the blog, the trips themselves were fun. Tiring, perhaps, but certainly worthwhile days out. It's been over a year since I last took a scenic train trip, and I was itching for a bit of adventure, so I booked myself some tickets on the Far North Line up to Wick.
You can perhaps see why it got the name Far North Line. Click here to view bigger.
The Far North Line starts in Inverness, and takes nearly four and a half hours to wind its way slowly up to the top of Scotland. Now, obviously, I don't live in Inverness, so I had to get a ticket starting from Glasgow. My itinerary looked like this:
0706 - 1029 | Glasgow Queen Street to Inverness
1038 - 1455 | Inverness to Wick
1600 - 2009 | Wick to Inverness
2015 - 2339 | Inverness to Glasgow Queen Street
Yes, it has been pointed out to me that travelling for nearly 8 hours each way to spend an hour in a town might be considered abnormal, but as Robert Louis Stevenson once said, "For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move.". I like trains, I like riding on trains, and spending a day riding on trains through the highlands is my idea of a day well spent. Using my young person's railcard, the journey cost me £35.30, though I've seen tickets for less than £10 each way before.
Now, cleanse your mind and prepare to see some photos. Usual caveat applies for these pictures; good enough to give an indication of what the train journey is like, not particularly good as photos otherwise due to reflections, etc.
Eurgh. That's A.M. Dreadful time to wake up. Except that in my excitement, I'd been awake since three!
Departures board from Queen Street Station.
A bit dark to be taking photos. This is the Class 170 turbostar that would be hauling me up to Inverness.
The sun started to rise as we approached Stirling. There was a nice orange backdrop behind the Ochill Hills.
Dunblane Cathedral. I take this part of the line so often that it's easy to forget it's actually quite scenic on its own.
Somewhere around Dunkeld, the line just comes into its own.
The River Garry, probably.
Approaching the Drumochter pass. I once cycled through it in June and had to pedal, hard, in the lowest gear to get downhill.
Heading up towards Slochd, I saw a tractor. Did you ever hear about the magic tractor? It drove down a country road and turned into a field!
A nice A9 road bridge near Tomatin. Here's a photo of that bridge, and the bridge the train is on, taken from a third bridge, from when I cycled to Inverness in 2007
After only three and a half hours, we'd made it to Inverness. I had nine minutes to make my connection which was plenty of time considering how small Inverness station is. The Highland Main Line to Inverness usually uses Class 170 Turbostars, which are fairly comfortable and the most modern diesels in Scotrail's fleet. Past Inverness though, Scotrail use the older Class 158 Express Sprinters. While not as attractive as the Turbostars from the outside, I actually find them slightly more comfortable inside; plus they have the advantage that the seats actually line up with the windows. The Express Sprinters are a massive step up from the Class 156 Super Sprinters used on the West Highland Line, a journey of similar length but much less comfort.
The train wasn't particularly busy. I got this entire table to myself.
Actually, I got two entire tables to myself. Perfect.
The train that hauled me to Inverness, taken from on board the train that was going to haul me from Inverness. How meta.
A boat in the sea lock at the northern end of the Caledonian Canal.
The weather had been miserable in Glasgow, but was threatening to be quite nice this far north.
I always make the fallacy of assuming the highlands is just tourism and sheep, but there is actual industry out there too.
I'll be honest, the scenery didn't really start getting super interesting until after Tain. I mean, it's nice and all, but not awesome!
Perfectly pleasant, but not particularly powerful.
Nothing to complain about, certainly, but nothing to rant and rave about either.
I do like a little bit of white water. And this is entirely little.
I did like these train running information signs, which I've never seen elsewhere in Scotland before.
This river, in the town of Brora, marked my favourite part of the line, between Brora and Helmsdale.
The train travelled on a thin strip of land between beautiful red sand beaches and what appeared to be huge sandstone dunes.
Admittedly it's no west coast...
... but you wouldn't turn down the opportunity to play on that beach on a sunny day, would you?
I liked the coast, that's what I'm saying.
I just wanted to get off and balance me some rocks.
At Helmsdale, we headed inland, up the Strath of Kildonan towards the Flow Country.
There were some nice enough mountains.
And the River Helmsdale was pretty nice.
I do like a nice Highland bridge, presumably built by Telford.
The weather couldn't quite make up its mind whether it wanted to be nice or horrible. In the end, it decided to be both. The starboard side of the train was bathed in sunshine, while the port side got rain on it.
That would be a nice spot to camp, I feel.
A badly taken photograph of deer! Other wildlife I saw included plenty of birds of prey, and some rabbits.
The Far North Line even has its own version of Rannoch Moor, the Flow Country. Very desolate.
It had taken practically forever, but I had made it to Wick. I had two priorities. The first was a bathroom (I'm not a fan of pooping on train toilets), and the second was to get a sandwich and drink for the journey home. I also only had 65 minutes to achieve both, in a town I'd never been to before. Luckily the railway station, while small, was able to fulfil my first need, and a map outside the station pointed the way towards the second.
Little more than a roof, but that's still more than pretty much any other station on the line.
A rather unassuming building, but the terminus for my 8 hour, 350 mile journey.
The Station Hotel, across the river from the station.
Wick has a Wetherspoon's free house. Incredible.
I only took this because my mother's name is Morag.
I rather liked Wick. I kind of wished I'd gotten to spend more than an hour there.
The Bridge of Wick.
I'm not sure what this building is, but he's surprised to have his photograph taken.
Katie had to do a module on the architecture of Carnegie Libraries as part of her Masters in Library Science, with which she blinded me. Anyway, I like finding little touches in remote places that remind me of her.
A standard Wickian street.
I basically spent my hour wandering, finding a co-op store where I spent a good ten minutes queueing while the checkout lady tried to scan a reduced to clear chicken for the lady in front of me. Good times. Wick really seemed to be a nice small town which I'd like to know a little better. An hour was too short a time. After that hour was up, I was once more on the same train on which I'd arrived, with the same conductor. She made a comment along the lines of "You didn't spend long there, " and I replied "It's a day out, isn't it?" She rolled her eyes at me, audience. Poor show.
On the journey home, I took considerably less photographs due to failing light and fading enthusiasm.
The far north is surprisingly fertile. I almost felt like I was passing through the fields near Perth again.
The train followed a nice gorge into Thurso.
Georgemas Junction, where the train stops, reverses to Thurso, before coming back to continue on to Wick. (Or, indeed, the opposite when heading south).
A ruined croft from the clearances maybe?
A mountainy bit? Captions are not my strong point.
My favourite station on the whole line, because of...
...life sized model trains!
So, in the end, was it worth it? Well, I'm glad I did it. It was a nice journey. I wouldn't do it again though. It's too long, and the rewards aren't really worth it. I can see why the Kyle and West Highland lines are more popular. Turns out sixteen hours on a train might just be my limit.
Incidentally, in a post announcing that I'd be taking this trip, I mentioned I'd be riding on the Settle-Carlisle line. I have done so, but unfortunately the day was so dreary and wet I didn't take any photos. I would say, though, that it's a very nice line and well worth riding if you get the chance. I just won't be doing a blog post on it anytime soon, as I have no photographs.
. It is only 69p, too.
