The train slowly gathered speed after negotiating the tight curve, and commenced the long incline. Traffic on the nearby road moved more quickly as the train's wheels rhythmically clattered over the joints. The carriages were full this afternoon, mostly filled with eager visitors to the west coast, due to go on across the sea.
The forest was left behind after a while, and the line climbed further and further up into the desolate moorland. Austere mountain tops glowered down from aloft, almost as if to question the very presence of humanity in their domain. With a quip here and some advice there, the conductor moved through the train. Although not used frequently, the request stop by the inn was required today. As the doors opened, gusts of wind blew into the carriages. Heavy backpacks left the train and walked down the track to the hotel. A shower blew in from the west, obscuring the view north. The doors-closing signal sounded and after a quick blast on the hooter, the Sprinter went on its way northwest. Aultguish Halt soon lay deserted again. A door opened from the signal box.
A sharp clack confirmed that the points had been set on the passing loop by Aultguish. The stationmaster descended from his hut to check the station platform, ahead of the next train, due in from Braemore. Not that there was much of a hurry, trains at Aultguish were few and far between. The west bound service disappeared from sight along Loch Glascarnoch, and the westering sun was dazzling. Traffic whizzed by on the road below.
A strange haze seemed to pass, and the scene was suddenly altered.
Gone was the tall dam behind the inn. The road was much further away, closer to the river, and narrow. Furthermore, there was no loch. Just a river valley. The mountains still glowered around, displeased with the presence of humanity. Wearing their white caps of winter, with a bitter wind blowing. The station master ascended the steps to his cabin, taking care not the slip on the icy rungs. A train was due in about half an hour's time, and Dingwall had already signalled that it was running late. Unusually, extra services were also laid on, due to follow one and two hours later. All these three trains would be going on to Ullapool, no extra service for Gairloch.
The 3.40 chugged its way up the steep inclines from Garve, finally levelling up on the approach to Aultguish. For those on board, the mountains were not the object of interest. Many's a time, the naval reservists had seen them marching past the train windows, as they journeyed to and from home. There was an air of joy in the carriages, and some had already contrived a plan. Get off at Aultguish, nip down the inn for a quick deoch an doras, one for the (rail) road, and rejoin the later extra services. Chatting excitedly, a burden finally taken off their shoulders after four years of war. The train's whistle interrupted their banter, and they got ready to leave the carriages. The lonely platform was suddenly full of young men, milling around and making for the exit. The lights in the inn were on, with daylight slowly fading. They were going to do a roaring trade in those one or two hours. The ribbon of the road disappeared into the dusk, with the river gleaming dully in the light. The mountains presently faded into the darkness, looming up from the east. The train had left the platform, and was headed west for the next stop, Braemore. With a clunk, the signal changed from danger, as the westbound service cleared the Glascarnoch section. The points could remain as they were, as no eastbound service was due in the next couple of hours.
Lazily, the clock struck four. The sound was almost fully drowned out by the hubbub in the bar of the Aultguish Inn, where a veritable throng of young men, all in naval uniform, and most of them with unmistakable island accents were catching up with their friends, neighbours and relatives. All had been granted leave to return home for Hogmanay, and all could not wait. The last light from the last year of war had faded into the mountains, but nobody was bothered by that. It was a time of relief, joy - and of sadness. Because so many had not made it back, after the years of war, of slaughter in the trenches, or the submarine warfare in the seven seas. But for a brief moment, all that was forgotten. When the clock showed 4.25, the innkeeper shouted that the train was due and anyone who wanted to catch it should make their way back to the platform. That would not take long. It was right outside the inn, outside its backdoor in fact. So, a steady trickle ventured out into the icy gloom. As they regained the platform, the signal at the far end swivelled round and fixed into position with an audible clunk. The stationmaster assumed his position and when the light of the train appeared round the bend in the distance, he showed his red light. With a mighty hiss of steam, the engine came to a stop, and the conductor shouted "Aultguish". More men came off the train, and headed for the backdoor of the inn. A handful rejoined the service. At a quarter to five, it headed off into the darkness for its next stop, Braemore Junction. Silence presently resumed. Just a subdued hubbub from the backdoor of the inn.
Time passes quickly in a convivial setting, and once more, the sailors in the inn were prompted not to miss their train. It would be the last one that day, and there would be no service the next day - it being New Year's Day. Some grumbling, others laughing and joking, they all made it out of the backdoor and onto the freezing platform. For the third time in as many hours, the lights of a train appeared from the direction of Garve and pulled up at the down platform at Aultguish Halt. With a bit of jostling, all were aboard after a couple of minutes. The conductor blew his whistle, the stationmaster swung his light. And the 5.45 for Ullapool set off into the darkness of Glascarnoch. The strange thing was, that not all who had disembarked from earlier trains made it out of the inn on time to catch the last service. Quite a few of them in fact.
A strange haze shimmered in the lights of the platform, which inexplicably seemed to move well away from the inn, up the hill. The clatter of the train's wheels faded beyond the Glascarnoch Dam and the lights of its windows lost its clarity, appearing to be from under the water. A deathly silence now hung in the air, only torn asunder by the agonising scream of a steam engine's whistle, coming from the direction of Loch Glascarnoch.
The fire blazed in the lounge bar of the Aultguish Inn. The New Year was due, but the atmosphere was subdued. if you stood outside in the cold, a train would sometimes appear, although none was due. Excited voices rang out from inside the carriages, before it headed off towards the Glascarnoch Dam. And those watching from the road, as it angled up the slope above the loch, could sometimes see the train racing along under water, before disappearing. A mass of ghostly figures would stand on the platform, looking west. Whispers suggested that this was a representation of the tragedy that unfolded at Stornoway, 75 miles to the west, on New Year's Day 1919. Perhaps it was linked to the old steam engine, that was left in the Aultguish siding, when the station was relocated up the hill in the 1950s. For that engine had pulled one of the extra trains to Ullapool. The port for Stornoway in the modern era.
Postscript
There never was a railway line between Garve and Ullapool, and no station ever existed at Aultguish, Braemore, Ullapool or Gairloch.
Loch Glascarnoch was formed in 1957, when a dam was constructed a little distance west of the inn.
Around Hogmanay 1918, sailors from the Western Isles were transported by train to Kyle. From there, those for Lewis sailed to Stornoway in the mailsteamer Sheila, and in HMY Iolaire. The latter ship came to grief on the Beasts of Holm, just outside Stornoway. More than two hundred were lost. My story is in tribute to them. In the years I have been in Lewis, this has been one of the most heartrending tales I have come across.