So yesterday I promised to take pictures of the sleeper compartment on the train. Didn't happen. By the time the train came (it was late) and we got the bags stowed (have you ever tried to stuff fat duffle underneath a low bed in a very narrow compartment?) I was too tired to dig out the camera.
I got so cold in the train station, waiting and writing, that I actually had the shakes. A hot cup of tea helped, as did zipping up all my layers and getting up to walk around. Oh, and I bought some shortbread and had a couple of pieces. I'm sure that helped (I was soooo good -- resisted the peanut Snickers).
The train was quite a civilised (when in Great Britain, spell like the Brits) way to travel. Once we finally got the bags stowed, we repaired to the club car where B & T sipped single-malt whiskey and I had white wine (from a plastic bottle, yet). Tucked into my lower berth, I slept fitfully, nearly waking when the motion of the train changed. We slowed several times and stopped once to change engines, or maybe to split the train. Morning came early. The attendant asked us the night before whether we preferred coffee or tea with our wake-up call.
I got my tea twice -- once in my dreams and once for real. The "for real" was much the more satisfying of the two. It was announced by a rap on the door. Rolling over (not very far) and unlocking the compartment, I let the door open. The attendant deposited two brown paper bags on the compartment floor. Two hot waters, one with tea bag, one with packet of instant coffee, cream and sugar for each, along with a single shortbread finger for each of us. I plunked the bag in the tea and drank it while prying my eyes open. By the time we got up, washed, dressed, and hauled out our bags, it was nearly 7:30. Not bad - get on the train at midnight, drink in the club car for an hour, five hours sleep. Oh, no wonder I feel so tired.
We repair to the Glasgow train station in search of breakfast and information on our local train to Milngavie (remember, it's said "mull - gai", accent on the second syllable). We find a "vegetarian breakfast" (English breakfast without the bacon and sausage), and the barrista is very obliging, furnishing second cups of coffee and tea on the house. We linger a while, then trudge down a couple of escalators to Track 17 (the highest-numbered track in this station), for the local.
The ride doesn't take long; just a half dozen stops or so. We alight at the end of the line, and follow the printed directions to our hotel for tonight: left from the station, past the Tesco and the Police Station, hotel on the left -- about 300 meters. Ha! Left out of the station we take an underpass and walk a ramp up to the edge of the town center. Hmmm, more than half that 300 meters already? We pass the stele engraved "West Highland Way" and the marquee over the trail entrance, so we know we're generally in the right place.
The hotel's address is 103 Main Street. Oh, there's Main Street up ahead. We turn left down Main, which appears to end with a set of stairs to one side and a curving walkway to the right. "Are you lost?" a kind gent asks. We tell him where we're going. Oh, go round to the right and keep on. It's down a bit on the left. We are carrying packs and wheeling our duffles; it is cold and gray and the wind finds every opening in our clothing. We carry on down the walkway, which debouches to a sidewalk on a busy street.
This is Main Street. Cars are stopped at a light. Another kind gent rolls down his window and asks, "Are you lost?" "Don't think so," we reply. We're just down here on the left." We cross the street (legally this time, with a light) and slog on. I am so tired. We walk on and on (or so it seems). Finally, suddenly, there is the police station and there is the sign for our hotel. Hurrah! I sure hope our route finding is better on the trail.
We get checked in, shower and start repacking for tomorrow. The tour company will move our duffles, and we will carry only what we need for the day in our packs. Then we set out to do some exploring and find some lunch. (Have you noticed how important eating seems to be to the four of us?)
The first pub we come to looks promising, but the kitchen is closed on Tuesdays. So we continue to the town center and, after an abortive attempt to find someplace to get some laundry done, settle in the snug at the Cross Keys. The atmosphere is warm and welcoming, and we're sitting tucked into a corner in club chairs. B and I order beef and sausage pie to share, with a side salad. it's really very good, the gravy tasting pleasingly of tarragon. With our sharp ale, this is a treat.
After lunch, we browse the Marks & Spencers Mostly Food. I find nougat (a besetting sin) and a dark chocolate bar for the trail, and a cheese and walnut flatbread for our pre-dinner snack. B selects a bottle of wine for same. Then we continue to the Tesco (we never passed it on our way into town). We go down the stairway to the left, rather than following the walkway to the right. It must be just around the corner from the station. B declares that the wine selection here is better than Marks & Spencer, and the prices are better.
We head out up the stairs and down the walkway, back to the hotel. The afternoon we spend on the computer and repacking. B & I even get in a short snooze. We all meet after 6 for wine and snacks, and then return to the Cross Keys for dinner. The food was really good! T has chicken in wine sauce, on a bed of haggis mousse; D has salmon; B and I share fish and chips, and each have a small bowl of leek and potato soup as well. We wash it down with a Chilean Sauvignon Blanc.
Again out into the night we go, and back to Tesco. We have decided that tomorrow we will carry sandwiches for lunch; we'll get them in the morning at a little deli in the town center. We will need a bottle of wine to go with the sammies, and some plastic wine glasses. I also get some cranberry juice. Satisfied, we troop the now familiar way home to our hotel.
So tomorrow we hike some 12 miles to Drymen (pronounced 'drimmen', go figure), doing two legs of the trail this day. We will pass Glengoyne Distillery, where we will pause to tour the premises and have a wee dram. And somewhere along the way we'll stop for a hot drink. And we'll stop lots of times to take pictures.
Today's few pictures start here. Don't know when we'll have internet service again, but will write each night and post when we can.
Comments