Great Train Rides: Run Away on the Rails
SCENE STEALER: South of Helmsdale in the Scottish Highlands, the train runs past the North Sea. Getty Images
IT’S MIDNIGHT, AND I’VE GOT two options. Maureen, a conductor on the Caledonian Sleeper train from London to Edinburgh, lays them out in stern, Scottish tones. There is a “microwavable” breakfast of “beans, tomato and a sausage.” Or a continental. Either will arrive at 6:20 a.m. sharp.
Traveling by train in the U.K. isn’t the luxury it once was. But while brass-and-leather bar cars and china teacups might be ancient history, there are still few better ways to see the island’s remote and beautiful corners—and everything in between.
My first-class cabin is well-worn and industrially lit, with a small berth, space to hang clothes, and not much else. But the moment I’m in bed, the magic that clings round the “sleeper” kicks in. The train’s soft clicking and rocking soothes like no other mode of transportation—particularly not the bright, overstuffed spaces that airplanes have become.
After six hours of deep sleep, I open the blinds to glimpse a dawn sky over Scotland’s Pentland Hills. The train pauses at Carstairs, a village in South Lanarkshire, and I discover that one of the panels in my cabin lifts to reveal a sink, with hot water and a tiny towel. My continental breakfast is more delicious for being eaten in bed, as the train begins to move. We’re traveling northeast, and the light comes in shafts from the seaward side, almost lulling me back to sleep.
Great Train Rides: Run Away on the Rails
The line passes through hills like an old oil painting with smudged colors—bracken, gorse, chopped earth—and pockets of surprising light. We pause in Perth, then Pitlochry, and continue toward Dalwhinnie, crossing heathland covered in dark brown-red heather. To the northwest, snow-covered mountains appear as we skirt the Cairngorms National Park.
“ For long stretches, the track hugs the coast so close that we’re almost on the beach ”
My final destination is Thurso, just a few miles from John O’Groats, the country’s northern tip. From there I’ll take a taxi to the ferry terminal, then a boat to the Orkney Islands, where I’m researching a story on marine energy.
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