Ten Minute Tales THE RETURN TO LOCH SHIEL by Richard Tearle

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THE RETURN TO LOCH SHIEL

by Richard Tearle

 

Loch Shiel and the Monument
 © https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/User:Flaxton

Summer 1966

After a week camping in the shadow of Ben Nevis, the three London boys decided to move on and take the train from Fort William to the end of the line at Mallaig in the Western Highlands of Scotland.

   The train moved unhurriedly along the line, lurching around some of the tighter curves. Whether by luck or due to the Scottish sense of hospitality they would never know, but they found themselves in prime seats: the last carriage had once been used on a crack express train service between London and Edinburgh. The rear of the coach sloped outwards and sported two large windows. The three friends had been allocated three of the four seats that faced outwards thus, combined with the normal windows either side, gave a panoramic view of the countryside.

   They had watched Ben Nevis disappear into the distance.  Ray Turner, sixteen years old, was enthralled. Never had he seen such a beautiful land.

He felt a tap on is shoulder. He turned and was confronted by a smiling woman. 'If ye look to your right, ye'll see Loch Shiel and the Monument.'

   Ray shifted his position. The train was crossing the Glenfinnan Viaduct, though he did not know the name of it then. From a high vantage point, he looked down. The loch, clear and blue, sparkling in the sunshine, reflecting the few clouds in the sky stretched out in the distance, tapering into a 'V' shape,  hills on each shore like protecting soldiers. It was magnificent and took his breath away.

   'See the Monument?' the woman asked, pointing to a spot on the near shore.

   He saw a round tower, crenelated, with what looked like a small figure standing inside them.

   'It's where Bonnie Prince Charlie raised his standard,' the woman explained with more than a touch of pride in her voice. '1745. The Jacobite rebellion. Och, here's ma stop. Nice to have met you, young man. Enjoy your stay in our wonderful country.' And she was gone.

   Ray turned back to the view. The train was slowing but even so the sight was gone all too quickly. The Guard called out 'Glenfinnan! Glenfinnan Station!'

One day I will return, Ray vowed.

FIFTY YEARS LATER

'You ready, Dad?' Denise called from downstairs.

   'Just coming' Ray shouted back. For the third time – at least – he checked his rucksack. All was there as it should be. The camera had not sneaked out of the bag!

   Outside, Denise's partner, Andy, was already waiting in the car, engine running, picnic bag nestling on the back seat. Ray opened the back door.

   'In the front, Ray,' Andy called over his shoulder. Despite a half-hearted protest, Ray climbed in.

   'How long will it take?' he asked as he buckled his seat belt.

   'From Lennoxtown to Glenfinnan? Two, maybe three hours. We'll go to the bottom of Loch Lomond, follow the western shore and then on into the Highlands. You'll love this!'

   He would. Spending time with his daughter and Andy had proved the best holiday of his life so far. They had taken him to Stirling Castle, The Wallace Monument and the Kelpies so far. The camera had been busy and Ray had ensure that he had charged it fully the night before.

    'Look,' said Ray, 'I really appreciate this. It's a long way and …'

  'Away with you,' Andy laughed. 'It's my pleasure to show off my homeland to you.  Tell you what, we'll stop off at Glenfinnan station first: maybe there'll be a train coming. It's a steam line now, y'know.'

Ray did. One of the most picturesque heritage lines in the world. Ray settled back in his seat.

   They made a couple of stops on the way; at Tarbet towards the north of Loch Lomond where pipers were on hand to play tourists onto the loch's cruise ship and then at Fort William for petrol and a comfort break. Ray was amazed at the knowledge Andy displayed about his country. Ray could sense the delight in the Scotsman's tone.

   The road from Fort William followed the railway line most of the way to Glenfinnan. Andy parked the car in the station car park and they made their way onto the platform. There they found a small museum and a tentative enquiry elicited the fact that there were, in fact, two trains due in about the following half hour. Denise suggested a coffee in the converted coach.

   Time passed quickly and soon they were out in the sunshine again, waiting for the first train which could be heard approaching, the beat of the cylinders clearly audible in the still air.

   Camera ready, Ray snapped two or three shots as the Stanier Black 5 seemingly strolled into the platform, eased to a steady and controlled halt and blew excess steam from the cylinders. It was a thrilling sight, one seen only rarely since his childhood. On that trip fifty years ago, steam had been replaced, the line's regular locomotives condemned to the scrap lines and the cutter's torch. A few more snaps and Ray expected the train to move off. But he was mistaken. The tracks merged into a single line beyond Glenfinnan station and this train could not move until the southbound train had arrived. Ray realised only too late that he was on the wrong platform; the approaching train would be obscured and the footbridge was now at the other end of the platform.

   The arriving train gave a whistle. A Thompson B1 running tender first. Such was Ray's position and the curvature of the track that he could not get a decent picture. Never mind: when the train stopped, he would have plenty of time to cross the lines via the footbridge and get some nice photos.

    Except the train did not stop.

  Albeit at a very slow speed, it passed straight through and the opportunity was missed.

   As the first train departed, Andy suggested that they walk to the loch less than a quarter of a mile down the hill whilst he took the car down to the visitor centre car park.

   'So many memories,' Ray murmured to Denise as they strolled down the hill.

   'Are you enjoying yourself, Dad?'

   Ray smiled. 'You have no idea how much!'

   She hooked her arm in his. 'I'm glad. That's what you're here for.'

   Ray smiled at his daughter. 'I don't want to go home – you know that?'

   Denise laughed. 'I can understand that.'

   The trees to their right disappeared and the loch suddenly appeared.

   'They filmed some of Highlander here, you know.'

   Ray nodded absently. He did know, but he was captivated by the sight of the shimmering waters and the dancing sunlight.

   Andy gave them a toot and a wave as he drove past. The visitor centre was on their left and they watched as Andy turned in.

   'You go on,' Denise said. 'I'll meet Andy and we'll follow you down.'

   Ray turned to his right, square on to the loch's edge some fifty yards away. 'Loch Shiel, you are beautiful,' he said out loud but directed at no one. 'I promised I'd be back and here I am.'

   At ground level, it seemed even more striking than the last time he had seen it from high up on the famous viaduct, sliding by as the train had shown but a teasing glimpse of it.

   And there was the monument. The very same monument that he viewed only so briefly fifty years before. The place where Bonnie Prince Charlie had landed and launched his ill-fated rebellion. There it stood.

Surrounded by scaffolding and swathed in a canvas covering.

© Richard Tearle

(Photo by the author)

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