Thursday

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The above is a picture I took from a moving train as it sped (slowly) from Fort William to Mallaig some years ago. I suspect this was the steam train that runs there during the summer but it may have been the routine service.  It is of course Lock Eil, and we are looking south west towards mountains with unpronounceable names. I loved this view, the differing shades of blue in the mountains as they recede into the distance, the calm water, the boats gently bobbing happily. An idyllic peace filled view, although I suspect that any January morn will find the scene covered with snow. The highlands are wonderful when the sun shines, but not in deep midwinter! Then the locals are joined only by that daft type of man that has to 'prove himself' by walking over the hills and thus giving exercise to the mountain rescue people. A surprising number wear jeans and trainers when endeavouring to survive with a bar of 'Kendal Mint Cake' and a mobile phone. The highlands are to be seen when the sun shines and black cattle are mooing in the fields, sheep are dotted around the slopes and the hotel has a decent view and a warm bar!

The beauty, to someone who was living in London at the time, of the distant outback of Britain was the routine annoyances of the locals. I do not refer to the tourists although that must rank high, but I mean the way the guard and the driver have to leave the train and wander down the track to the lock gates and close them properly, some English tourist joyrider having failed to do his job. The danger of falling off a lock gate into a Loch is not one often heard of in Paddington.  When I was there I did detect a cynicism towards tourists, one I can understand. I did however get bored with surly service in shops from those unhappy with their lot. Just because you are trapped in a mediocre tourist trap does not mean you have to let your feelings show Hamish! I say 'Hamish,' but I think many are actually English folk who have been attracted by an escape to the country and found it is harder work than they thought.

As I espied this church it spoke to me of centuries of worship among the ancient clans of Scotland. In my minds eye I could see them, wrapped in their plaids, scurrying along on the Sabbath to worship. Generation after generation must have trod there I thought. Families going back into them midst of time gathering here each Sunday morning as the bell sounded around the hills.

Nonsense of course. It turns out it was a Catholic Church built in the late 19th century and already looking as if it has been closed down. So much for the romance of the hills.Another shot taken from a moving train and I am quite happy with the result. Using the PC to alter it slightly, cutting of the faded bits of the print, and removing the streaks that ought not to be there, is a great improvement to my photography. One day when rich I will buy a better camera and enjoy myself taking shots both good and bad, but having a great time!

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