A Rum deal

It was another spectacular train ride for 5 hours from Glasgow to Arisaig. First you go along the north side of the Firth of Clyde, then you follow the shores of Gare Loch, followed by the very well named Loch Long. You are afforded great views of the mountains beyond, notably The Cobbler, and then on the right you get the upper half of Loch Lomond and Ben Lomond. The train splits at Crianlarich, causing a flurry of confused looks. One half heads off to Oban while the other carriages go on across lonely Rannoch Moor to Ben Nevis and Fort William. From there, you follow the shores of Loch Eil up to Glenfinnan, where they announce its ”world famous” curved viaduct (as seen in Harry Potter films), which provides a superb view right down the length of Loch Sheil. Then it is on past Loch Eilt and Loch Eilort, mostly without pausing at the tiny request stops, before you get your first sea and island views across Loch Nan Uamh. There are beautiful big mountains all the way, far and near. This final section along the coast to Arisaig and Mallaig is possibly my favourite; but it is all a feast for the eyes.

I saw all of this in sunshine and it was the cause of much excitement to the other passengers. They ranged from a young, female solo Spanish cyclist – heavily loaded on an already heavy bike that I helped her lift off the train – to a few sleep deprived people who should have been arriving in Fort William on the Sleeper service from London, except that it had broken down in Edinburgh in the wee small hours! They seemed to feel this was a fair substitute.

Arisaig looked an absolute picture in the sun. It is a special little place, with its mountain backdrop and wide, yacht filled harbour, shielded on all sides by land, and looking out to the distinctive, flat, raised bulk of the Isle of Eigg, with its pointy Sgurr sticking up to the left, and the more mountainous, hazy Isle of Rum sticking up behind. I went for a long stroll along to Rhue, the arm of knobbly land that wraps itself around the harbour to the south. The tiny lane wound its way out for 3 miles towards the open sea, offering many fine views back across the water to the little whitewashed village of Arisaig, and even north to the mountains of Skye away in the distance. Apart from the gulls, a heron or two, and a large gaggle of greylag geese, I had it all to myself. A lovely way to pass the afternoon.

I mention all of this at length, and especially the sunshine part, because today – the day after – there is very little action to describe. The forecast was for rain; but I thought I should make the trip out to Rum anyway, because that is why I am here, after all. I have waterproofs. What could go wrong? So I got up, wrapped up, and cycled the 8 miles in the damp to Mallaig. I didn’t think it was that bad. Admittedly you couldn’t see the mountains or the islands, but it was OK for cycling. However, Calmac, the ferry operator, had other ideas.

It turned out to be a ”yellow weather warning” day. In these circumstances, Calmac advise against day trips to the islands. My ferry would drop me off in Rum and then go on to the smaller Canna. It should then have stopped back at Rum on its way back to Mallaig, giving me more than 4 hours to explore. But they wouldn’t guarantee that. If the weather forced the boat into a direct return to Mallaig, as it apparently sometimes does, I would be stuck in Rum without accommodation. As the lady in the Calmac office said, ”it is not a place to get stuck.” I decided I didn’t want to go that badly! Tomorrow looks better and I can go to Eigg. That will do.

What to do in a grey and drizzly Mallaig? Not much, really, as the many passengers on the steam train, due in at about 12.20pm, will doubtless discover. Most of the real excitement here is boat-based. But there is always enjoyment to be had in a long, drawn out breakfast. So I holed up in a pleasant cafe and took to my electronic devices. I gleaned much entertainment from watching the live BBC news feed, which was regularly updated with another government resignation or letter of no confidence in Boris. In the absence of a test match, or Wimbledon, it was the best thing on offer.

The rest of the day will contain only gentle exercise. I will cycle back the pretty way to Arisaig, using the old road along the coast. I may also venture inland a couple of miles to see if Morag, Nessie’s cousin, is anywhere to be seen in the mostly inaccessible and very deep Loch Morar (Scotland’s deepest freshwater loch). There are worse ways to spend a day. The weather may even improve later, who knows?