One of the quirks of ScotRail are the request stops. They operate kind of like secret menu options at In-N-Out. Care to get off at Achanalt? Then you better speak up a stop or two ahead of time otherwise you will be getting off at Lochluichart instead. And trust me, no one wants to be in Lochluichart.
Just kidding Lochluichart. I’m sure it is lovely there. The next few days though for us are a series of request stops. We were going to head south via a ferry and a different train line to a town called Hellensburgh. But then Tiger Woods, but, a couple hundred years of unchecked industrialization, ongoing labor strife and Covid conspired against those plans. So now we are making our way towards Glasgow via Inverness which means a return trip on the same line that brought us to the Isle of Skye.
The same train we took on Thursday again chug-chugs it’s way across a single track. This time though the car is nearly empty. Corey sleeps, Henna listens to the Mountain Goats and I stare out the window relieved not to be driving. There are worse things to do again.