Rail and Sail

Well, it turns out you can only get the ferry and rail combination pass at seven in the morning and noon. So, Michael graciously hosted me for another night and I got a few more hours to explore Belfast. This time (at his suggestion) I walked down by the docks to expl0re the original construction site of the Titanic–Belfast’s main historical tourist attraction, it seems. The problem is that at the moment nearly that entire waterfront area is under intense development. This was a bit interesting in itself, just to see the grand plans on display–and if even half of them come true, Belfast will truly be one of the prettier cities of western Europe.

The next morning Michael drove me to the ferry and dropped me off just before the first ferry of the morning departed. Unfortunately, they required booking half an hour in advance, so I sat and read and waited for the next ferry. It came soon enough and I boarded–Stena Lines uses something like a floating shopping center for it’s Belfast-Stranraer (Scotland) crossing, with three separate mid-sized movie cinemas, several restaurants, and an entire miniature shopping mall in the center. I made my way to the front and watched as the rounded shores of Ireland fell away behind us. In less than an hour’s time the Scottish coast was coming into view–dark hills sloping down to the rocky shores, glens of dense forest in the valleys, with only the occasional farmhouse to break the expanses of green. A much wilder scene than the developed farmland around Belfast. I liked it already.

I’d purchased the Rail and Sail ticket all the way to Glasgow, so immediately on docking I headed for the train station and found a seat. There was a brief wait as the train waited to pick up the rest of its passengers, and then we rolled out, through Strenraer, and into the Scottish countryside. At first, we were passing through green, rolling farmland, broken here and there by groves of trees or small farmhouses. Then, as we moved further along, the fields faded into stark sheep country, short-cropped hills yellowing under the gray sky. Old stone walls, most of them crumbling, crossed the fields, bolstered by modern barbed wire, and the occasional muddy jeep track cut across the landscape. Here and there dark forest filled the valleys, and through these I caught the occasional glimpse of human settlement, past and present: an old stone house, the broken remains of a castle and, in one case, an enormous stone mansion sequestered far from any other human habitation in the dark Scottish evergreen forest.

Then, suddenly, we were descending from the sheep country into a series of low villages. The coast opened up again on our left, rocky islands silhouettes out to sea. Before, train stations had been small and lonely affairs, usually a single run down building along a mud or decaying asphalt track. Now they were full towns, and we began to acquire new passengers. Two middle-aged Scotsmen seated themselves next to me and I spent the next half hour conversing–or trying to–with one of them. His accent was so thick I could catch only part of what he was saying. As far as I know, he started off by telling me the history of relations between the Scots and the Irish. This was followed by a series of either derogatory or complimentary remarks about both the English and the Irish, and then a description of the local golf courses, one of which he was going to visit now. He got off at the next stop, which was the first of no less than five separate golf courses in the forty-five minute ride the rest of the way to Glasgow–the Scots, it seems, are still fans of the sport.

Glasgow itself is beautiful, and seems very alive, though I’ve only been here a few hours. The train station is a cavernous construction which I’ll return to tomorrow to order my tickets to Fort William on the famous West Highland Line railway. The streets were alive with pedestrians, far more than Belfast and more even than Dublin–it had the fast-paced sense of human movement one gets in places like New York City, right down to the crowds gathering around street performers and cars driving too fast down narrow alleyways. I’ll be leaving tomorrow around noon, so I’ll have more time t0 explore tomorrow morning.

For now, it’s time to find a place to sleep.