Train Travel

The night train to Inverness.

Sleep your way to Scotland .

Crewe, Preston, Tebay, Carlisle, Carstairs: are a;; grand old names of a bygone industrial Britain of reminiscent of chimneys, soot and steam. Clickety-clack, clickety-clack, we pass through them, in nighttime darkness. The empty platforms are lit by great arcs of light, which catches the rain as it drips through the steel roofs, onto the old Victorian iron-and-brick stanchions beneath. Betjeman would have had a waxed lyrical summing up these scenes of desolation. .

Has train travel ever been romantic in the country once ruled an empire? This should be our foremost service, and here we are on the Caledonian Sleeper where the best the dining car can offer is a reheated ciabatta. We were not made to feel welcome here anyway. The jobsworth at Euston informed us that First Class was extremely busy tonight, and we are not on his ‘list’!.

A plastic coffee cup is in my window, sitting on top of the stained plastic cover over the sink. The trading estates in the suburbs slip by, the rain continues to pepper the glass. As we rumble over the points, I am reminded of the 1970s, when I first made the sleeper journey with my parents. Echoes of the era hang over the train: one almost expects to wake up in the winter of discontent..

And yet it works, this half-forgotten realm of the national travel infrastructure. The ancient rails snake northwards; would anyone ever pretend this was our homespun answer to the Orient Express? .

So, never mind the ciabattas. In fact, welcome them, two years ago, the steward offered to heat me a can of ravioli I remember. Things really are looking up on the sleeper. That nice Kirsty Wark who delivers Newnight travels home on it .

The days of the McEwan’s Export monopoly are long gone. ScotRail now offers a full wine, beer and spirits list, complete with all those impressive descriptions of berries and aromas and aftertastes, and prices to match. These may be small improvements; but when we finally have access to the strangely quiet first-class lounge, a steady process of inebriation can take place..

This, surely, is the joy of rail travel. No stop-start nervousness of air journeys, trudging round waiting rooms, countless security checks, and anodyne carpets and conveyor belts. The art of rail travel is to experience it as a different use of time; 9.15pm we crawl out of Euston, and at 8.30am we crawl into Inverness. We’ve been crawling all night. But I doubt I would I have been any better rested had I flown. .

The beds are fine: at six foot three, I can still stretch out, the odd toddy of a nightcap help overcome the more tortuous bits of the journey. Flitting in and out of sleep, each curve and incline gently tugs at the body and the imagination as we inch our way across Shap, Beattock, and Rannoch Moor shrouded in the inky blackness of the night..

Breakfast is served as we trundle almost apologetically into Inverness. The Kenco coffee is accompanied by one of those special, reheatable bacon rolls so loved by the rail catering industry — it provides a lasting farewell to the Caledonian Sleeper. The clouds are high as the sun glints on the Moray Firth. The hired car is there in the station car park. Soon we are away and heading along the A835 for the mountains of Wester Ross and their beautiful, ancient seascapes. .

Just four hours after leaving the train, we stare down on the lochs in the distance. The adrenaline is palpable as the fresh air pumps through the system, expelling the London grime out of our pores. Beneath us now, from our rocky arête known as the Fiddler, we can see the road leading to Achilti- buie and the Summer Isles Hotel, which proudly boasts a Michelin star. .

The food in this area of Scotland can be good. But beware the natives. The Highlands, out of season, can be insular, and no matter how internationally praised for its fresh seafood, the Summer Isles Hotel bar is not throwing open the warmest of welcomes. Local roughnecks crowd the counter, and after a swift pint of Red Cuillin ale we are heading back to Ullapool. We remember too late, that the nine o’clock curfew is approaching; and that after that sacrosanct hour, no self-respecting Scottish kitchen functions!.

The only option that remains is the Ullapool chippy, as recommended in a scrawled note from Rick Stein. The haddock isn’t too bad, but after six hours on the hillside, a little more local hospitality would not have gone amiss. As we head back to our beds in The Ceilidh Place hotel, too late we realise that the rival establishment up the road, the Seaforth Fish and Chip Outlet, was voted Britain’s best takeaway in Radio 4’s Food and Farming awards. .

Breakfast at The Ceilidh Place helps restore the digestive balance — there is a splendid array of apricots and figs and some nice touches to the cooked menu. Surprisingly the music is Mahler and not Ken Bruce, the waitress is charming but from Poland. .

Over the next two days we attempt to climb more peaks. Our man in reception helpfully informs us that there are always bad falls on An Teallach, the highest local mountain. Each year, falls end in oblivion, several hundred feet below onto Torridonian grit and scree . The ridge does indeed defeat us, just short of a particularly nasty ledge known as Lord Berkeley’s Seat, and so on the Sunday, before our return via First ScotRail, we opt for less arduous coastal stroll..

Night approaches in Inverness, and the Caledonian Sleeper beckons. We come full circle, and back in the dining car, a can of beer each and the Sunday papers spread out. The bar steward moves between tables with a nod and a wink with the regulars. Some passengers are smoking, many are reading, and there is not a laptop in sight. We are back in that delightful time warp that is the Caledonian Sleeper service. The steward warns there could be trouble ahead at Preston, “ What will it be in the morning gentlemen “ He enquires, “The bacon roll? .

Travel brief .

The train: First ScotRail (0847 555 0033, www.firstscotrail.com) operates daily (except Saturdays) sleeper services from Euston to Aberdeen, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Inverness and Fort William, and vice versa. Standard class in a double cabin is from £69pp one-way (£99 return), and first class in a single cabin is from £150 one-way (£220 return), with breakfast. .

Where to stay: The Ceilidh Place hotel (01854 612103) in Ullapool has doubles from £45pp per night, B&B; the Summer Isles Hotel (01854 622282, www.summerisleshotel.co.uk), 10 miles north of Ullapool, has doubles from £119, B&B.