31st May/1st JuneJan and I arrived at Lpoo St about ten minutes before Annie and we joined forces to tackle the ten o'clock traffic, which was surprisingly unpleasant. We had an altercation with a yoof on a BSO who, after having undertaken me and cut right across Jan, made some comment about not being "professional" in our riding. He received some choice language in response. For some reason the traffic lights and pedestrian crossing on the Euston Road were out of action and the bastard drivers were in unforgiving mode. Eventually we crossed and had a little time to wait before the sleeper was available for boarding.
Annie had the bright idea that some wine would be a useful addition for the train so I had a hunt around and discovered that an all-night Sainsbury's was immediately adjacent to Euston Station. Armed with a bottle of white, and a few other comestibles, I returned to the others and soon enough the train was announced on Platform 1. We hung the bikes up and found our seats. Every one of the reclining seats was taken. We managed to do a deal with a couple of young chaps so that the three of us could sit together: it's a factor of Scotrail's website that you only seem to be able to book tickets in pairs and a separate transaction is needed for the odd ticket.
I was rather concerned that this was going to be a long night because there was a fractious toddler amongst the passengers. As luck would have it, he went to sleep pretty soon after we set off. Annie and I consumed the wine (Jan had orange and tonic) and then we tried to settle down to get some sleep. It was a long time before I nodded off - somewhere in the region of Warrington I think - and I couldn't have been asleep very long because when I woke up the train was standing in Preston Station. I waved at the University of Central Lancashire, which presumably would have been Preston Polytechnic in our day when our teachers' training college was associated with it, and not long afterwards I detected light in the sky. After Lancaster, the scenery became spectacular with the Cumbrian Hills to the west and the Pennines to the east. I could just make out Crinkle Crags, where Jan and I had had a walk when we climbed Bow Fell about 7 years ago.
I had been very impressed with our fellow passengers in that they had all been remarkably quiet sleepers: no snoring or farting that I could detect, until suddenly at arond 6.30 the peace was shattered by Annie's phone. She did her best to answer it speedily but it was buried at the bottom of her bum-bag and she became rather butter-fingered in her haste to shut it up. Eventually we arrived at Glasgow Central, took the bikes out and loaded the luggage and rode around the corner to Queen Street, where we had almost 40 minutes to wait for the Oban train. I bought some breakfast but neither of the ladies wanted any.
The trip to Oban was made a little more exciting than normal as, for some technical reason which seemed to baffle the train crew, we were unable to set off from one of the stations. The guard opened and closed the door many times and eventually whatever was wrong seemed to right itself and we were under way again. However, we were now about 20 minutes late and those passengers who were hoping to catch the Craignure ferry were asked to identify themselves so that the ferry captain knew the numbers for whom he had to wait. I found it ironic that rail companies expect Caledonian MacBrayne to hold up their ferry to wait for a train, but rail companies themselves hardly ever do this when a connecting train is delayed.
Our ferry was due to leave at 1.40. We arrived at the station, met Jeff and Jo and the five of us settled down to some 11ses. Our ferry was very late, as a result of the sheer volume of traffic heading over to the Isles. When it did arrive, the crossing was, quite frankly, amazing. Firstly, it was so warm, calm and sunny that attractive young ladies were stripping down to their bikinis and lying down on any spare bit of deck they could find, and there wasn't a lot because the entire deck area was crowded with passengers who were pretending that they were on a Caribbean cruise.
The second remarkable aspect was the number of cyclists who had boarded the boat. On the previous occasions that we have boarded CalMac ferries, we have constituted at least 50% of the cyclist on board, but not this time. There were about three dozen of us and all the steeds were leaned two or three deep against the sides of the ship, all secured with a long rope. We arrived at Castlebay at 7.15 - this must be the longest British internal ferry crossing - cycled up the hill, and there was Endeavour Guest House with Jill, our landlady for the next two nights, standing in the doorway waiting for us.
We unloaded most of the luggage, decided to order a takeaway, Jeff and I cycled to the Co-op for essential supplies of the liquid variety, we ate our curries / bolognaise / lasagne, I was so tired that I was falling asleep sitting up and several times I woke up just before I fell off my chair, and then went to bed for an excellent night's sleep.
Bikes on the ferry
Oban distillery
Flesh!
Cuillins
