I like trains more than your average person. Not in a weird, obsessive way (honest!) but I will admit to using my lunch break in order to look at pictures of vintage rolling stock. I’ve also travelled three days on Amtrak from Los Angeles to Chicago, and always enjoy the low-level thrill that comes with a window seat and a decent view. Yet the idea of 48 (or more) hours stuck in cattle class on a British train has never quite appealed. A weekend on Belmond’s luxury Royal Scotsman sleeper however? Well that’s a different proposition entirely.
Starting at an eye-watering £5,300 per person for a two night trip, this lavish train is more expensive than a stay in London’s poshest hotels. In lieu of a surprise windfall from a forgotten and fabulously wealthy great uncle, I was jammy enough to be invited as guest onto the Royal Scotsman as it sailed around the Highlands for a weekend of unrivaled, track-based opulence.
With its 1930s-styled soft furnishings, the occasional potted palm and mahogany-paneled corridors, the Royal Scotsman might look like something out of the pages of an Agatha Christie murder romp, but actually only dates back to 1985. A ride on this train isn’t about getting anywhere quickly: it’s about the indulgence of the journey, not the destination. This is Belmond’s bag, who run 32 luxe hotels from Cape Town to Cusco, as well as six equally glammy tourist trains, including the Venice Simplon-Orient-Express, the British Pullman and the newly-launched Britannic Explorer.
Over the course of the weekend, we pootle about the Highlands, chugging over the monumental Forth Bridge before heading to Aviemore via the Cairngorms then winding up for the night at the historic Boat of Garten station, and Perth the following night.
The trip is flamboyant from the start, beginning at Edinburgh’s Waverley station and seeing my fellow riders and I whisked away to the sounds of an impressively bearded bagpiper, while garden-variety commuters gaze on with a mixture of admiration and hatred. After Champagne and strawberries – reader, you’re not on LNER anymore – each guest is shown to their quarters. Sure, the bedroom is small, but it’s an actual bedroom, with a shower and toilet, two single beds, a dressing table, and, somehow, plenty of storage. The room is kitted out in the same elegant Edwardian style as the rest of the train, and a quick bounce on the bed reveals it to be not just adequately comfortable, but sink-into-the-matress-and-never-get-up-again levels of cosy.
With 20 passenger cabins on board (including two grand suites) you’d think that shared space would be at a premium, but as well as two dining carriages, there’s also an impossibly glamorous observation car. This comes complete with an outdoor deck, which I retire to regularly and pretend to be onboard some kind of Wild West train from the 1910s. And let’s not forget the two Dior spa treatment rooms, where you can score a massage or a facial while at speed. There are also 70 different kinds of whisky aboard, part of a full bar from which you can order whenever you feel like it. So in the grand British tradition of time being but a construct while travelling (see the early morning airport pint), you may order a 9am negroni if you wish.
The views from the windows are as spectacular as the train itself. We roll past golden gorse fields, many distilleries and hilly fields dotted with livestock. As if to assuage any possible threat of claustrophobia, there are plenty of moments to get off the train and take in the sights up close (think of it more as a cruise, with regular scenic stop-offs than constant travelling). There’s a day trip to the grand Rothiemurchus estate, where I try my hand at trout fishing, while others groom highland cows, do a touch of archery, forest bathing and kayaking. A nice man then tells everyone about woodland foraging while his mum cooks up a feast from the woods, with roe deer kebabs, wild garlic pesto and roasted beetroot with dukkah. The vibe is very Scottolenghi, if you will.
Yet despite the fancy excursions, my favourite part of the Royal Scotsman is being rocked to sleep (after a couple of those 70 whiskys) in my cabin. The white noise of a chugging train helps deliver the best night of sleep I’ve had in months. Is that worth £5,300? If you can afford it, I’d say so.
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