Aboard the Royal Scotsman

As the British Airways jet breaks through the base of the clouds, I catch my first look at Edinburgh and its surrounding countryside. Dark volcanic cliffs contrast with the lush verdant carpet covering the rolling hills. Edinburgh Castle rises majestically above the center of the city.

The next morning a Scottish friend, Bill Stewart, drives me down to the train station for my departure aboard the Royal Scotsman. We have a glass of lager before I say goodbye and head for the departure track.

I hear bagpipes. Their mournful sound is the official greeting for all the passengers of the Royal Scotsman. The piper is an older woman named Elizabeth, and she is wearing the traditional Scottish kilt and tunic. I am among sixteen passengers ready to board the train. John CoWan, our official Scottish Blue Badge Tourist Guide for the trip, greets us. As our bags are being stored in our private cabins, we are shown to the observation car to relax while final departure arrangements are made. A selection of hors d’oeuvres awaits us, but not for long. I take a look at the wine list, which includes Pouilly Fume, Domaine des Berthiers, Dagueneau, 1988 and Clos du Bois, Merlot, 1986. My decision to lose eight pounds before taking this trip is confirmed. I only wonder whether I lost enough.

The observation car is of Pullman vintage. Sofas and armchairs are strategically placed to allow thirty-two passengers a panoramic view of the Scottish countryside. The open veranda at the rear is a great place to watch Scotland unfold behind you.

Guests begin to introduce themselves to one another. Aboard are people from Australia, Holland, England, Germany and the United States. Another sixteen will be picked up a few days into the journey.

There is a whistle from the steam engine, and the train begins to pull out from Waverley Station on our six-day tour into historic Scotland and breathtaking scenery. We cross the Lowlands to Glasgow where the Delta Queen Steamboat was built and from there we follow the estuary of the Clyde River.

As we continue north, I go out on the veranda of the observation car to smell the freshness of the open countryside. Loch Lomond is to our right and so is a peak called Ben Lomond. Puffy white clouds make their home there and seem to be playing tag with Ben Lomond and other peaks around the loch. Across the loch is Inversnaid, the area once roamed by Rob Roy MacGregor, the legendary warrior, robber and folk hero.

The train climbs onto Rannoch Moor. Sunlight glitters on the countless pools, and the heather and grasses are ablaze in color. The moor is hundreds of square miles of peat bogs, lochans (small lakes), boulders and streams. Only the railway roadbed crosses over it, and does so on a floating bed of roots, brushwood and thousands of tons of earth and ash.

After a delicious lunch of fresh salmon, I return to my cabin to unpack and relax. The cabin is fitted out in rich wood and inlaid marquetry and comes with two beds, a table, a desk, a full-length wardrobe and a private bathroom with a shower.

Later in the afternoon, John CoWan calls us together in the observation car. “ I have a wee story to tell you.” He says. This first session is about the history of the sites we will see on this first day of the trip. The wee story lasts as hour; maybe more, and I realize that John doesn’t mean a small story when he says, “wee”. He must have his fingers crossed when he says “wee”.

In this wee story we learn that we’ll visit Achnacarry, the home of Sir Donald and Lady Cameron of Lochiel. After John finishes, he announces that he has a wee song to sing. We all join in, singing the old favorite, “Loch Lomond.” We sing enough wee songs to last an hour or more.

It’s four o’clock. The train stops at the Village of Spean Bridge, where a bus is waiting to take us to the Cameron estate. At the entrance to the home---more a castle than a home, actually--- Sir Donald himself greets us. He is a tall elderly gentleman, balding, with white hair. A smile is permanently etched on his rosy-cheeked face. We follow him into the house and marvel at the collection of medieval swords, spears and breastplates in the hall.  The walls abound with historic paintings of family members and royalty. Collections of ancient coinage (some from Roman times), family jewelry and Bronze Age gold amulets are also housed on the estate.

Sir Donald explains his family association with Bonnie Prince Charlie. Sir Donald’s clan supported the Bonnie Prince in the 1745 uprising against George II. When the prince was defeated, the Cameron clan lost all its ancestral lands and its old castle was destroyed. But during the reign of George III, the lands were returned to the clan, and the work of rebuilding began. Work on this current residence was begun in 1802.

After the tour and a walk through the gardens, we return to the dinning room, where wine, tea and a tempting selection of fresh and smoked salmon and venison hors d’oeuvres have been prepared for us. We dig in, appreciatively.

Back on the Royal Scot, I change into formal attire for the first of three formal dinners aboard the train during the trip. These dinners are usually three or four-course meals, and you should be ready to partake of the best haggis, watercress soup, and fillet of Aberdeen beef (with Madeira sauce) that you’ve ever tasted.

The Royal Scot has two dinning cars, one of which has a teak exterior. Each car seats sixteen, and both are fitted with small overhead lamps that accent the warmth of their wood interiors. Dining tables are set with fine crystal, china and silver. The ambience is exactly what I’ve always associated with the romance of traveling by train.

I take my first evening meal with a couple from Florida, the Hamilton’s. I talk mostly with the husband Joe, and am afraid that his wife’s name now escapes me. We rave about the dinner. “I hope the chef takes a day off,” says Joe, “because something is going to give, and I think it’s going to be me.” We laugh, we understand. “Simply perfection,” announces Joe’s wife.

After dinner, John CoWan tells us that he has a special treat for us in the observation car. “Would you please follow me?” We do, and the special treat is that of listening to the music of Aonghas Grant, a renowned Scottish fiddler. Grant entertains us with a wonderful selection of Scottish music into the wee hours.

It’s the second day of the journey, and we are on the way to Fort William and Mallaig. I see streams that tumble down the hillsides; the water looking like hammered silver glistening in the sun. We pass a loch, and I am surprised to see it studded with tiny islands, each covered with tall silver trees.

We stop at Fort William and visit the ruins of Kilchurn Castle, stronghold of the Campbells. The train then takes us to Inverawe for a late afternoon visit to a smokehouse. We see how salmon, trout and other delicacies are smoked. We also check out how they taste. Delicious!

On the way again, we pass Loch Shiel and the monument marking where Bonnie Prince Charlie landed to commence his ill-fated rebellion. Each day as we roll along, John recounts the history of Scotland, from the time of James Stuart VI in 1567. We stop at Mallaig, which is on the Atlantic coast, and leave the train to wander around town. I stroll around the harbor and take photographs.

The train retraces its route back toward Edinburgh, except to head north up through Stirling, Perth and finally Boat of Garten, where it is stabled for the night. We begin the next day with a visit to the eighteenth-century estate of Sir Fitzroy and Lady Maclean. Sir Fitzroy, the fifteenth hereditary keeper and Captain of Dunconnel, is a former British diplomat, with postings in Paris and Moscow. During World War II he served in the Cameron Highlanders and Special Air Service regiments.

He is a former Member of Parliament and has written several books. Some say that Ian Fleming based some of his James Bond novels on Sir Fitzroy’s adventures during the war. To the locals, he is known as the real James Bond. It is said that Joseph Stalin put a price on his head.

He is an imposing figure of a man, tall but slightly bent because of age. The cane he uses is nearly as tall as he is. A female guest asks if he really knew all those women as depicted in the 007 films. There is a twinkle in his eye as he looks at his wife nearby, and a hearty laugh pours forth.

That evening after dinner, a fellow traveler and I talk about what great fishing there must be in all the lovely lakes and streams of Scotland. He says he has arranged to go trout fishing at nine the next morning. “I wish I had thought of talking to someone about going to one of the grouse hunting estates,” I say.

There is a tap on my shoulder. John CoWan has overheard my comments about hunting and says, “If you’d really like to go to Tullchan---it’s a premier hunting estate in all Scotland---I’ll try and arrange it for you.”

“It’s nine-thirty,” I say. “Do you think you can arrange it?”

“Give me a few minutes,” he says as he walks off to the staff quarters.

Twenty minutes later, he returns: “It’s all arranged,” he says. “The Tullchan estate driver will pick you up at eight-thirty tomorrow morning.” I can hardly believe it.

The driver arrives promptly at eight-thirty, and we arrive at Tullchan estate in less than an hour. The massive gray stone house sits on the side of a hill, surrounded by tall pines. In the house, wood paneling is everywhere, as are oil paintings that depict hunting scenes. A fine collection of shotguns, said to be worth one million dollars, is especially impressive.

One of the staff greets me and asks whether I’d like some breakfast. She shows me to the main dinning room, where Italian and Japanese hunters are having their breakfasts. A few minutes later the general manager arrives and arranges to take an Italian hunter and me to the moors.

The heather is in bloom on the rolling hills, and it looks like a scene from a Robert Mitchum film. A shaft of sunlight breaks through the clouds and races across the valley floor below, illuminating Tullchan in the distance. The air is fresh and snappy. The breeze is brisk, just right for walking through the deep heather.

The dogs are anxious and in minutes are pointing. About twelve red grouse fly up, and the Italian gets two of them. I shoot, too, but my shooting is confined to taking photographs. Two hours fly by, and suddenly it’s time to return to the train. I promise myself to return someday and to be shooting with a shotgun rather than a camera next time.

On Saturday, we travel through the battlefield of Culloden, where Bonnie Prince Charlie’s cause was crushed in 1746. We tour Brodie Castle and then walk through the Strathisla distillery, which dates from 1786 and is the home of Chivas Regal. We spent the evening at the distillery sipping fine whiskey and dancing to the tunes of a piper. It was a grand evening.

On our last day, we visit Glamis Castle, the historic home of the Earls of Strathmorre and Kinghorn and the reputed setting for Shakespeare’s Macbeth. A residence of the royal family since 1372, it is the childhood home of Queen Mother Elizabeth.

It’s after dinner, and Joe Hamilton and I have a conversation in the observation car. His mother was from Scotland, from a family of twelve, and his brother was born in Glasgow. All his cousins were born in Scotland as well. He is the only clan member not born in Scotland, though as a young boy, he spent time in St. Cyrus, the site of the family home. This is his first visit since the age of five.

I ask him why he chose the Royal Scotsman to visit Scotland. “ It gives you the opportunity to relax and see the countryside with someone like John,” he says, “someone who can narrate what you are going to see before you see it, so you can understand it completely.”

Joe prefers travel by train to that by car, at least in Scotland. “Driving a car, you have to worry about if your driving on the proper side of the road,” he says. “You have to watch out for road signs and people, think about where you’re going and where you’re going to have lunch.”

Joe and his wife had been planning to see Scotland aboard the Royal Scot for quite a while. I’ve been thinking about this trip for three of four years now, and it’s better than I dreamt it would be. The food and people are fantastic,” says Joe.

At Dundee we begin the last leg of the journey. No sooner have we had an afternoon tea than we are passing through the farmlands of Fife.

When Edinburgh Castle comes into view, I come to accept that the journey is virtually over. We enter Waverley Station, and I begin my farewells, to the Hamilton’s and to the other guests. I shake the hand of John CoWan and thank the rest of the staff for their hospitality.

I hear bagpipes. I expect after today it’ll be a good while before I hear them again. A mournful sound never sounded so good.

Words 2330

Author

Jerry Sinkovec

5045 Brennan Bend

Ammon, ID 83401208-523-1545

photojournalistjerry@msn.com

 affected by her charm

Standing beneath the shadow of the Gateway Arch in Saint Louis, I could look down the flights of stairs to the Mississippi River where the Delta Queen was tied up to the wharf. She looked like a floating white wedding cake setting a top a finely etched crystal platter.

"Mississippi steamboats were 'magnificent', they were 'floating palaces'...terms which did not over express the admiration with which people viewed them."  "The face of the water, in time, became a wonderful book...delivering its most cherished secrets as clearly as if it uttered them with a voice. And it was not a new book to be read once and thrown aside, for it has a new story to tell every day."

MARK TWAIN

It brought back memories of twenty years ago when I first saw the Delta Queen. I was photographing a rendezvous of mountain men and voyagers at Villa Louis, a historical site in Wisconsin. Then, in the distance, from down river, came this unreal sound; like the sound of wailing banshees. It was the Delta Queen with her calliope proclaiming that she was about to arrive. As she pulled up to the dock, throngs of people surged forward to greet her. It was then, I promised myself, that someday I would make a trip aboard the Delta Queen.

As I approached the gang plank, a cabin attendant rushed off the Delta Queen and garbed my bags. "Don't worry sir," he said, "your bags will be outside your cabin door after you check in with the purser."  What service and efficiency I thought. On shore, at the end of the gang plank stood this beautiful gray haired lady dressed in a turn of the century bellowing dress. As she greeted me aboard, she placed a faux plastic pearl necklace with a Delta Queen medallion around my neck. As she did I said, "I always thought you received a nice lei when you went aboard ship." She thought I ment something else. With out batting an eye, she replied, "all you'll get from me is a kiss," which she proceeded to give me. The laughter poured out from all those standing around us. It was one of life's most embarrassing moments.

After I settled into my comfortable air conditioned cabin, I decided to explore part of the ship. My cabin opened into the elegant Betty Blake Lounge. It has the feeling of a parlor from a well appointed turn of the century estate, with warmth and comfort of prime importance. The walls are covered with richly colored oil paintings of the Greene family members and prior steamboat captains. The dark, highly polished tables and bookcases contrasted with the white, gold trimmed walls and ceiling. The crystal covered lights give the room a soft warm glow. The deep luxurious chairs in floral patterns and soft rose colors seemed to invite you to sit down and relax with a good book. The bookcases are filled with hundreds of books and maps, including many on the history of the Mississippi and steamboating. There is an ample supply of games for the children to while away the hours.

I decided to go to the bow, which takes you into the Forward Cabin Lounge. As you pass through the doorway, you come upon the elegant Grand Staircase. With it's gleaming brass, highly polished wood railings and panels, ornate cast grill work and crystal chandelier at the top, it speaks of an era gone by. In the lounge, passengers playing cards and other people making new friends. There was a wonderfully arranged buffet table with fresh fruit salads and bakery. The smell of fresh coffee rolling in the air, along with orange juice and lemonade got my juices flowing. I decided to just have some juice and not ruin my appetite for this evenings dinner, which I was sure would be a dinning experience.

Since I had a few hours before we left Saint Louis and had dinner, I decided to go back to the Betty Blake lounge and find a good book or two to enjoy during my river voyage. The first bookcase I came upon was crammed with books and maps on the rivers, steamboating and the Delta Queen. I decided on a book about the Delta Queen. I sunk into a comfortable chair and opened the book.

It was interesting.  The Delta Queen Steamboat Company has carried passengers and freight along the rivers of the midwest for over one hundred years. When Captain Gordon Greene purchased his first steamboat in 1890, the sternwheeler H.K. Bedford; Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show starring Annie Oakley and Sitting Bull was playing to full arenas and the massacre of the Lakota Sioux at Wounded Knee took place late that year. The Greene Line, which would become The Delta Queen Steamboat Co, flourished over the years. They owned and operated twenty-eight steamboats along the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers during the early years. Captain Greene was well liked and was known for his business acumen. One of his pilots was known to have said, "Nobody ever treated me better than the Greenes, or paid me less."

It was Captain Gordon Greens's son Tom who stepped in to run the company in1944. He was a visionary and a dreamer, and his goal for the Greene Lines was to provide the finest passenger steamboat ever to ply the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers. In early 1946, he found it in the steamer Delta Queen, which came a long way around to fulfill her destiny on the Mississippi.

The Delta Queen's steel parts were originally fabricated and assembled on the River Clyde at the Isherwood yard in Glasgow, Scotland. The parts were marked, then knocked down and shipped to Stockton, California, where hull and superstructure construction were completed in 1926. The machinery was built in Dumbrton, Scotland; the wheel shafts and cranks were foraged at the Krupp plant in Germany; and the four decks of cabins were built largely of oak, teak, mahogany and Oregon cedar by American shipbuilders.

The Delta Queen weathered the Great Depression and traveled the Sacramento River for 14 years. In 1940, during World War II, she was charted by the U.S. Navy. Painted drab gray, the former pleasure craft served gallantly, ferrying troops to and from ocean vessels in San Francisco Bay and taking wounded men from ships to hospitals. In August 1946, the Delta Queen was deactivate by the Navy and turned over to the Maritime Commission for sale. She went to the highest bidder, Captain Tom Greene, for the astonishing sum of $46,250 for this elegant lady.