Hello,
My name's Rachel,
And in this story,
You will board a magic train with me from Scotland's historic capital city,
Edinburgh,
That will then travel past Scotland's rugged mountains,
Serene lochs and medieval castles,
And allow you glimpses of elusive mythical creatures that inhabit this ancient landscape.
This is no ordinary train.
This train can make its own tracks and go anywhere it wants to,
Through romantic ruins of castles,
Up snow-capped mountains,
And even cross the inner seas to Hebridean islands,
Such as the Isle of Skye,
Or Cloud Island,
As it is known in Old Norse.
So close your eyes,
And coorie in to whichever comfy spot you might be sitting or lying in,
And come with me to Scotland.
Edinburgh's Waverley Station is situated in a steep,
Narrow valley between the Georgian New Town and the medieval Old Town,
With narrow,
Cobbled streets dominated by a medieval fortress.
You enter the train station from Princess Street,
And are engulfed in a symphony of motion and sound,
As you make your way through the bustling station.
The arrhythmic clatter of arriving and departing trains merges with the murmuring of diverse conversations.
Gentle streams of people weave in front of you,
Making it a bit tricky to decipher where you need to go,
But then you hear a low,
Melodic whistle pierce the air,
Announcing the arrival of a classic steam train known as the Flying Scotsman.
This one-hundred-year-old train has a distinctive green livery,
With polished brass and a double chimney,
Which give it a timeless charm.
As you make your way over to its platform,
You feel the pull of its nostalgic allure,
What landscapes this train must have traversed,
And the stories it must have heard in its hundred years of service.
The train conductor gives you a warm smile and a tip of their hat,
As you reach the train's gilded steps and climb aboard.
As you board,
The doors close with a soft click,
And you move towards the plush,
Tartan-crafted seating.
No sooner than you have relaxed in your seat,
A steward arrives,
Setting down a charming tea set and a shortbread biscuit.
On the small,
Polished table in front of you,
They quietly move away and you are left alone,
Feeling relaxed by the ambient lighting coming through the rectangular windows.
As you sip your warm tea,
The train begins to move.
The misty air seems to carry the faint sound of bagpipes,
And as the mist clears a little,
You realise that you are now out of the station,
And the train is now rhythmically clattering through a remote glen,
Surrounded by the misty,
Verdant Scottish moors.
You settle further into your comfy seat,
Feeling lulled by the gentle motion of the train as it glides along the tracks.
You take a deep breath in through your nose,
Smelling the sugary shortbread,
And you exhale slowly through your mouth,
And you feel the tension of the busy station leave your body,
And you feel fully present in this beautiful moment.
The sound of the train's wheels on the tracks becomes your anchor,
A soothing and calming presence.
Now you begin to bring your attention to the scenery outside your window.
You observe the earthy greens of the deep emerald trees,
The soft green moss,
The muted blues and greys of the hills and sky,
And the vibrant purples and pinks of the blooming heather which creates a breathtaking carpet across the landscape,
Painting the moors in rich,
Regal tones.
In the misty,
Heather-covered moorland,
You then observe a magnificent sight.
A massive Scottish stag,
With a crown of impressive antlers,
Raises its head and stands proudly,
Surveying you as the train goes past.
The stag's presence exudes strength and grace,
And you're filled with a deep sense of admiration for this symbol of the wild and untamed beauty of Scotland.
The train then continues on,
Coming to the edge of a mist-covered hill.
You can feel your spine and the back of your head softly melt into the comfy seat as the train makes its magical ascent off the hill.
As you get further up,
The carriage becomes a silhouette against the sky,
And you feel excited at the promise of unseen landscapes awaiting you at the top.
You then gasp at the awe-inspiring sight that unfolds before you.
An ancient,
Weathered castle sits atop of the hill,
Its towering walls of ancient stone adorned with ivy.
The history and tales of generations seem to whisper in the wind as the train weaves through this majestic ruin.
You can't help but imagine the Scottish kings and queens that perhaps lived here before,
And the intrigue that once filled these time-worn halls.
You glimpse a sight of a pure white unicorn with a glistening horn,
Standing regally amongst the castle ruins.
Its large,
Gentle eyes meet yours,
And a sense of enchantment washes over you as you watch Scotland's national animal,
In symbol of strength and purity,
Gallop off and disappear into the white mist.
You leave the castle behind,
And the train continues its gentle ascent,
Until you find yourself weaving through snow-capped mountains,
And a serene winter wonderland unfolds outside your window.
The landscape is blanketed in pristine white,
And the trees wear frosty coats,
Standing like sentinels against the cold.
You notice your breath creating small clouds against the window,
A reminder of the temperature divide between the snug sanctuary within the carriage,
And the chilly world beyond the glass.
As you wipe the condensation away from the windowpane,
You notice the lone figure of a wolver.
This shy creature,
With the body of a man,
And the head of a wolf,
Is known for its love of solitude.
Some legends describe the wolver as a protector of lost travellers,
Providing them with food and guiding them to safety.
It keeps its gentle head bowed,
And then disappears behind a rocky crevasse as the train passes on by.
The train gently starts descending the mountain,
Leaving behind the snowy panorama,
And unveiling a new stretch of the journey ahead.
The train is now following a track along a rugged coastal path.
The rhythmic clatter of the wheels on the track grows louder,
As if spurred on by the crashing waves and whirring winds.
You feel warm and safe as you look out at the stormy skies and tumultuous seas.
On a secluded rocky shore along the rugged coast,
You catch a glimpse of a seal.
Although this is no ordinary seal,
You realize,
As it slips out of the water,
And to your amazement,
Its sleek,
Glistening skin starts to drop to the floor,
And a graceful figure emerges.
A selkie human with deep,
Soulful eyes and long,
Flowing hair.
Transfixed,
You watch as the selkie begins to sing a hauntingly beautiful song that gently echoes through the air in the carriage,
Before fading away as the train continues on along the coast.
You are feeling very sleepy now,
As night time approaches,
And the train becomes a haven of soft,
Ambient light.
Outside,
The Scottish landscape transforms into a tapestry of shadows and muted hues.
You are just away to close your eyes,
When suddenly,
The train ventures into the northern reaches,
And a celestial spectacle graces the night sky.
The northern lights,
An ethereal dance of vibrant colors,
Paint streaks of green and purple and pink across the darkness.
You gaze in awe at this display of charged particles colliding with the Earth's atmosphere.
It's a fleeting,
Otherworldly experience,
Where the cosmic ballet above adds a touch of enchantment through this nocturnal Scottish journey.
You settle into your seat,
As the hum of the locomotive becomes a lullaby,
And you fall into a beautiful sleep,
Under the quiet embrace of the night,
In your magical,
Safe and warm Scottish train.
