On bags and bungling

When you travel as much as I do, it’s not surprising that, occasionally, a piece of luggage fails to arrive when it is supposed to.

In thirty years of travel writing, my checked in bag has failed to appear on the carousel on no more than three or four occasions. With one exception, they reappeared within a day or two and were promptly delivered to me at a convenient location and time. Apart from filling in the form, no further action was required on my part.

But when United Airlines managed to lose my suitcase between Chicago and Lansing, a distance of just over two hundred miles, you would have expected the matter to be resolved quickly and efficiently.

After all, after the carousel emptied after the 29 minute flight to Lansing, they KNEW that the bag was still in Chicago. The lady on the United ticket desk said it had just been sent to the wrong pier and would be arriving on the next flight, three hours later. Not a problem, especially as they had a courier service scheduled to depart at 10pm. I filled up the appropriate form, and departed with the promise that ‘someone would call’ with the delivery details. Reassuringly, my copy of the delayed baggage report told me that United was ‘doing everything possible to quickly reunite me with my property’.

Just after 11pm, I thought it wise to check the status of my baggage online. But not only was the wrong type of bag listed, they were apologising for the fact that the bag had still not been located.

The number to call for assistance required much button pressing and voice recognition before I got through to a human being. The guy had a lot of trouble understanding me and I him. I put it down to the lateness of the hour and the fact my brain was locked into a time zone five hours ahead. But eventually, I was reassured that my bag was in fact in Lansing and would be delivered ‘first thing in the morning’. The wrong entries on the online web tracking service would, he assured me, be corrected.

When, by 8am the following morning, the bag had still not arrived and there was no message on either the house phone or my mobile, I checked online again. My silver hard shell suitcase was still being listed as a grey zippered bag. Worryingly, it still reported that they had not located it. I was not reassured by their statement that ‘most bags turned up within 24 hours.

So I initiated another phone call. The voice recognition they use is pretty clever. It finds out your name, your bag tag details and, having ascertained all of that, tells you it will pass that information on to their baggage agent. Well it doesn’t. You have to go through the whole rigmarole again.

The bag is at Lansing airport waiting for me to collect I was cheeringly told. I took a deep breath, asked why such a simple job as delivering my suitcase was being so incompetently handled and was reassured, after much apologising (but not a great deal of sincerity) for the inconvenience, that it would be delivered to my address as a priority.


Two hours later, I emailed another department at United, guest response, who’d been very helpful and efficient prior to my trip. The lady called me within a few minutes, apologised profusely and promised to sort it out. Apparently the driver who was supposed to be delivering to me had been sent north and would not be back for some time. But she had the agent at Lansing airport on the other line and the bag would ‘certainly be delivered by lunchtime’. As I was heading out to lunch, we agreed that I’d leave a little note on the door telling the delivery service where to put it and my cell phone number so they could confirm that they’d found the house and the case was there.

Returning home at 3pm, there’d still been no call and no sign of the bag, so I emailed guest response again who responded by return, saying they’d been told the bag was on its way and that the delivery company had been told to ring me by return.

At five, having heard nothing, I went online, nothing updated there, so I rang the baggage number again. This time I discovered that all the button pressing and voice recognition was a complete waste of time. Apparently the systems don’t pass on all the information you have so painstakingly entered.

After a lot of waiting, repeating information, spelling out details in the International Phonetic Alphabet which is clearly not taught to the baggage agents, I asked where my call was being handled. ‘New Delhi’, I was told.

After about twenty minutes, the man handling my call decided that the incident was above his pay grade, so I was passed to Vipul, his supervisor.

As I had been waiting for so long, I asked if he would call me back.

It’s now 24 hours since I arrived in Lansing, Michigan. There’s been no call from the courier company. No call from Vipul. No call from United Airlines at Lansing airport.

And there’s still no sign of my bag.

Very occasionally things go wrong.


But what credence do you give United’s claim that ‘they are doing everything possible to reunite me with my baggage’?

I rest my case.

Well I would, if I had it.

Postcript

At 7.15pm, 24 hours after I had arrived minus bag, I rang Vipul in New Delhi. After an interminable wait, he came on the line. ‘Why did you not ring me back?’, I demanded. ‘I couldn’t get hold of the courier company he said. His fortune well and truly read, he range me back 15 minutes later. ‘Your bag will be picked up at eight and delivered by midnight.’
At ten past eight, a jolly man in a woolly hat arrived at the front door. ‘Sign here’, he said.

I enquired when he first new about my bag. ‘Ten mminutes ago’, he replied. ‘They didn’t answer their door at midday. It happens a lot’

I asked him how much he was paid for delivering this ‘priority’ service’. ‘Four dollars’, he replied.

You might think that’s not very generous for an eight mile ride and certainly not the rate for a ‘priority’ service.

I’ve been looking at United Airlines’ impressively worded 12 point ‘customer commitment’. Here are extracts from points 3 and 12.

‘Once your belongings are located, they will be returned as quickly as possible’.

‘Our Customer Relations representatives have one goal: to acknowledge customer questions and complaints and provide prompt resolution’.


Now I DO rest my case.

Losing the Abbey Habit

I’m relocating my UK base. So I’ve written something like 50 letters telling the taxman, the banks, and my pension funds. It’s amazing just how many people need to know.

By return, letters flood back. Sometimes two; one to my old address and one to the new. The process is remarkably easy and pain free.

With one exception.

Grupo Santander, the Spanish operation that is now the owner of the Abbey National, requires me to present myself in person at my branch. With ID. ‘Just to keep your account safe, we have kept the passbook.’

Now it happens that I spend the winter in Spain. Santander knows that because they write to me every month in English and in Spanish telling me how little interest they are paying me on my Sterling and Euro investments.

But the letter telling me that they cannot do the change by post has been sent to my new address in England. The very one that they supposedly cannot use until I present myself in person. Together with a form of identification.

My builder rescues the letter from an area between his concrete mixer and my new study and informs me of its contents. Not only does Santander want me to present myself in person with some ID, they also want a form filled up. I have to submit details of my marital status, whether I am earning and a lot more besides.

I ring a chum from another life, who is now editor of one of Britain’s leading financial publications and seek his advice. ‘It’s nonsense’, he says. ‘They have no right and no regulatory requirement to demand any of that information.’

Unusually, my presence in England is required in the dark depths of winter, so I call my Santander Branch to enquire if they really do need all that they are requesting. Upon their affirmation, I request to meet with the branch manager the following morning.

The day arrives and I present myself with several forms of ID at the former hotel that now houses the local branch of the organisation that gave me my first piggy bank at the age of four or five.

A short while after announcing the purpose of my visit, a woman arrives clutching my passbook. No handshake, no smile of welcome. This is a woman on a mission. Clearly out to achieve a victory.

‘I don’t have a meeting with you,’ she declares abruptly.

‘But you have my passbook,’ I splutter, ‘you must have been expecting me.’

This extraordinarily brusque tirade continues for ten minutes.

No question of ‘I am terribly sorry for the inconvenience and would be grateful if you would fill up the official form. Or ‘no, we don’t actually need to know if you are married or if you are working or not.’

This is a case of being told, rather like a five year old at primary school, that if I don’t eat up my scoops of mashed potato, I can’t have my tapioca pudding. Or my passbook. The woman’s attitude is appalling. I wonder several times who is supposedly providing the service.

I query why my signed letter is not sufficient. ‘We don’t have a copy of your signature at the branch.’ ‘What about the one in my passbook?’ I enquire.

I produce a folder containing copies of letters from a host of banks and other financial institutions who have changed my address, including the Alliance and Leicester, also now owned by Grupo Santander.

‘I don’t care how anyone else deals with this. I need you to fill up the form and I am not giving the passbook back to you until you have done it. Apart from anything, my staff could have dealt with this, you didn’t need to ask for me’.

With hands shaking with rage, I fill up the form, querying on several occasions whether my marital and employment status are actually needed. I point out that my financial journalist chum tells me there is no FSA requirement for such information.

She is as impressed with this as my helpful suggestion when she has last been on a customer care course and whether she is hoping for a long career with Santander.

On completion of my form filling and presentation of my driving licence, I ascertain whether this amazingly customer-focussed individual is now happy that I have provided sufficient information to change my address. The one to which they have already written to me telling me that they can’t.

‘Yes,’ she replies, ‘this meeting is at an end.’

‘No, it’s not, said I. ‘You have just discussed my financial affairs with a complete stranger for fifteen minutes without, until now, checking my identity. NOW the meeting is at an end.’

When I tell my editor friend of the altercation, he laughs. ‘My wife had exactly the same treatment. They really do not care about the customer any more.’

There’s no point in complaining. I shall just move my investments from Santander in the UK and Spain. I shall sell my shares and in due course accept the proceeds from the endowments they mis-sold me nearly 25 years ago. I shall remove all traces of a fifty-year long relationship with an organisation that certainly used to be quite habit-forming.

But I shall tell everyone I know about what happened, including some senior folk at Grupo Santander. Maybe, just maybe, madam will have her fortune told, be sent on a customer care course or, better still, be given early retirement.

I have my passbook in front of me as I write.

It contains £4.28

ENDS

Air Canada's Lack of Communication

I have been writing about travel for almost all of my adult life; for half of those forty years I ran a media consultancy specialising in leisure and tourism. Twice we featured in the listings of Britain’s leading PR agencies. For many years, as a consultant, I acted as head of group communications for one of the UK’s top 5 business travel firms. My other clients included Air UK, KLM, British Airways and several leading retail travel agents.

I think, therefore, I can justifiably claim to have a pretty good understanding of what good communications practice in the travel industry should be.

Last week, I was on a great press trip to Ontario with five other journalists. The group included representatives from Britain’s biggest circulation Sunday paper, the two leading regional titles in Scotland and England and the UK deputy editor of an international magazine with a worldwide circulation of nine million. Together, we brought potential coverage, just for the UK market, of around 4.2 million.

Trying to get a decision from Air Canada as to whether or not they would become involved with the event was a nightmare. I offered to use my contacts to help out, but it was like trying to make your way through treacle. Calls and emails to Air Canada’s media team went unanswered. I have never experienced anything like it.

Eventually, apparently reluctantly, the airline did confirm the seats, but in the intervening four weeks of dithering, the price of my connecting flight had gone up from £75 to almost £300. The transatlantic seats were not on a complimentary basis; they were at a ‘media special rate’. In other words, they had to be paid for; we owed the airline nothing.

Now you would have thought that a write up in some of the leading newspapers in the land would have meant something to Air Canada. It is almost unheard of on these trips for the airline not to make an effort to curry favour with the media. This can range from an extra baggage allowance, entry into the business lounge, a little overnight kit or an upgrade on at least one of the legs.

But Air Canada’s team did nothing. No phone call, no press release, and no email. Zilch. Nada. That despite countless emails and telephone calls to their sales and PR teams.

They couldn’t even be bothered to make a comment on the booking to tell the check in people or the cabin crew that journalists were on board.

Now, of course, you might say that we should be given no other privileges than anybody else. And I understand that. But from the perspective of someone who has always prided himself in attention to detail, I find Air Canada’s attitude to the media both astounding and remarkably complacent.

It’s tough out there. There is enormous competition on routes between the UK and Canada. It was an opportunity to get positive PR completely missed.

For the record, the fairly antiquated 767-300 on the Heathrow to Toronto flight had a load of about 25%. We all had space to sprawl. Executive First, AC’s business class product, had empty seats aplenty.

Catering consisted of a mediocre breakfast shortly after takeoff and a hot wrap just before touchdown. On arrival in Toronto, everybody was starving.

There were no games and a lot of functions inoperable on the outdated in-flight entertainment system.

On our return leg, an almost full aircraft with a pretty ropy dinner and, wait for it, a muffin for breakfast. Yes, a muffin!

Finally, two of us on the trip have Star Alliance frequent flyer cards. One of us, Elite. The other, Super Elite. The Alliance’s top two tiers.

But, because we were travelling on a ‘media rate’, Air Canada said that they would not be honouring them.

Now how bonkers is that?

Scottish Training in Style

The very name Orient Express conjures up romantic notions of luxurious rail travel and is synonymous with a journey from Paris to Venice. But the same company runs a comprehensive programme of trips throughout the UK on trains such as the Northern Belle.

Given the option of travelling from London to Cambridge, Mike Souter chose instead to head north to his native Scotland to combine the journey with this year’s Homecoming Scotland celebrations

Whichever weather forecaster came up with the phrase ‘Barbecue Summer’ should have been at Dumbarton Central station to await the arrival of the Northern Belle. This was western Scotland at its wet and windy best, in a railway station which certainly lacked anything approaching a luxurious setting or facilities.

Trying to run a private train and dovetailing the schedule in with existing timetables is a hugely complex operation. That was one of the reasons why passengers, many dolled up to the nines, were lingering at such an uninspiring venue for the train which had set off originally from Edinburgh.

While Glasgow Queen Street’s impressive canopy would have been a much more attractive departure point with immensely superior facilities, non-availability of platforms and slots in Network Rail’s schedule meat that wet and windy Dumbarton was the only workable option.

In fact the Orient Express people slot the day trips into the trains’ busy schedule while passengers on longer journeys are off enjoying other activities. Our train, normally based in the upmarket surroundings of Crewe South Shed, had journeyed up from London the day before, decanting passengers to enjoy a 24-hour stay at Loch Lomond while we journeyed north to Oban.

It was slightly disappointing for all joining passengers to be handed a map giving the distances only from the point of origin. We were not, after all, journeying from Edinburgh to Oban via Falkirk High. It’s a small detail, but I would expect it from the Orient Express of the North.

For the first part of the journey, we caught only a glimpse of the views through the rain-soaked windows. Mind you, the foliage at the side of the track is so dense, that there would not have been much to see even had the weather been perfect. But we snatch just a glimpse, far below, of the Clyde Submarine Base with its Trident nuclear-equipped boats.

But, to my mind, the view is secondary to the experience of the train. We were travelling in the exquisitely decorated Alnwick carriage, configured like normal first class rolling-stock, but with wonderful inlaid woodwork and splendidly upholstered armchairs.

Nowhere on National Express do you get fresh flowers and Molton Brown accessories in the toilet plus individual cotton hand towels. Nor, sadly any more, table service in a restaurant car.

The much-vaunted Orient Express Bellini, a sparkling white wine with peach juice, arrives. Not at all to my taste, I’m afraid. We are badly in need of a coffee but it takes several requests before it appears. (It later transpires that the machinery involved in coffee production is rather antiquated and hence rather slow).

While ‘scrambled eggs wrapped in a smoked salmon parcel finished with fresh Whitby crab, Hollandaise, tomato and chives’ sounds lovely, the star turn in the brunch menu turns out to be an excellent fresh fruit cocktail.

At Crianlarich, the train heads west for Oban, the weather clearing perfectly in time to catch a splendid view of Loch Awe.

The previously-mentioned difficulty in scheduling has also meant quite a drastic change to our programme. The six hour stop in Oban originally included a trip on a Caledonian MacBrayne ferry to Mull and a visit to Torosay Castle and Gardens.

But CalMac wouldn’t wait if the train was late, nor guarantee an on-time return to Oban, so, to fill some time, they’ve put on afternoon tea and a Scottish ceilidh in the Argyllshire Gathering Halls. It’s a good effort with a very good band and the excellent champion Highland Dancer, Eilidh MacInnes. But it’s hard to see why there is such a cachet being invited to apply for a £200 plus ticket for the official ball after the region’s main Highland Games. The hall is long overdue for a major make over. Mind you, the tickets buy never-ending alcohol and by the time the great and the good head home at 7am after a bowl of Scotch Broth, they are probably past caring.

I’m afraid my view on Oban is that it, too, is tired and in need of updating. Much as our most excellent and hard-working guide, Eileen Stewart, herself a native of the town, tries to persuade me otherwise. Oban has, to my mind, become a horribly touristic and tatty town, with too many fish and chip, jumper, stick of rock and postcard shops.

It’s significant that, long before we are allowed to re-board the Northern Belle for the return trip to Glasgow, most of the passengers are queuing patiently at the platform entrance.

Clearly there’s a bit of embarrassment at Orient Express at the change to the schedule, which caused 20% of those booked to cancel, so every couple is presented with a complimentary bottle of champagne. (I suspect that, behind the scenes, CalMac will have been getting a tough time from assorted castle owners and senior Orient Express folk).

On the return journey, there’s quite a nice game terrine and an excellent cheeseboard, but the canapés are dreadful and the venison main course is overcooked, tough and looks rather lonely on the gigantic plate with its pitiful bit of potato puree.

The carriages of the Northern Belle are beautifully appointed and extremely comfortable. Service from the largely Liverpudlian and Mancunian crew is friendly without being servile.

But I can’t give a gold star to the food.

ENDS 888 words

Fact File

The Orient-Express of the North, the Northern Belle, (www.orient-express.com) runs trips throughout the country. The Oban Excursion on the Northern Belle enjoyed by Mike Souter cost £285 per person, including all meals and the ceilidh.

Homecoming Scotland 2009 is a year-long programme of events and activity celebrating many of Scotland's great contributions to the world and providing a platform for Scotland to re-connect with the many millions of people around the globe who have Scottish ancestry or affinity with the country. This is a Scottish Government initiative being delivered by EventScotland in partnership with VisitScotland www.homecomingscotland2009.com/default.html

ScotRail is the largest regional operator in the UK, operating more than 340 stations and running more than 2,100 services every day. ScotRail also serves famous rural and scenic lines such as the Far North and West Highland routes and runs the Caledonian Sleepers to and from London. ScotRail offers day return trips from Glasgow Queen Street to Oban for £23.70 per person. For details, visit www.scotrail.co.uk.

PHOTO CAPTIONS

Champagne all the way on the Northern Belle

The Northern Belle offers a high quality dining experience

Oban is very much a working harbour

Scratches on a carriage from trackside bushes

Serving cheese in the Alnwick coach

The table setting for dinner

Stewards welcoming passengers aboard

All photographs Mike Souter, SouterMedia.Com

SCOTLAND HOMECOMING BY RAIL

With Scotland this year marking the 250th anniversary of the birth of poet, Robert Burns, with its ‘Homecoming Scotland 2009’ campaign, travel writer and broadcaster Mike Souter is one of many Scots who was delighted to have been lured back to the land of his birth. Especially as he was doing much of the travelling by train - his favourite mode of transport:

I can’t think of any other cities in the UK which give me such a rush of nostalgia as Glasgow. Having been brought up just eight miles outside, the memories of the city, especially its river, are deep inside the core of my being.
Sixteen floors up in the Crown Plaza Hotel, it’s amazing just how much has changed in the thirty years since I lived here. Then, my little flat on the Broomielaw, from where steamers used to set sail for the New World, was one of only six on the riverside. Now, gleaming apartment blocks are springing up all over.
The impressive Glasgow Queen Street station is just minutes away, giving fast access to the east and the north. Unusually for me, I have not planned my itinerary for today and, as there’s an imminent departure of a service for Aberdeen, I decide to join it.
I am impressed with ScotRail. All the trains I have used over the summer have been spotlessly clean, on time and with courteous and helpful onboard staff. This service is no exception.
I like Stirling and rate its’ castle well above that in Edinburgh. Apart from anything, the history in that part of Scotland, with William Wallace, Bannockburn et al, just oozes from every stone.
At Perth, I decide to continue on the coastal route towards Aberdeen. The line crosses the River Tay at Dundee, then hugs the splendidly scenic coast through Carnoustie and all the way to Aberdeen. The wetlands at Montrose call to me to get off, or ‘to alight’, as ScotRail signs and announcements rather quaintly seem to call it.
Several hotels in the area are announcing ‘high teas’. It’s an expression from my past that I had completely forgotten. But it’s lunchtime and I need a quick snack before heading south to Arbroath, where I have decided to spend the afternoon. Frosts the bakers entices me with a traditional Scotch Pie, which has as tasty a minced lamb filling as I have had in ages. Back aboard the train, dessert consists of an equally yummy rhubarb tart, washed down with ‘Scotland’s other national drink’, Irn Bru.
I’ve never been to Arbroath, but it turns out to be a lovely little town with a nice promenade and fishing harbour. It’s almost compulsory to purchase the local ‘smokies’, which cost £6.60 for two pairs. William Spink, who has been visited by Rick Stein, shows me around, while his daughter also sells me some wonderful oak smoked salmon.
I don’t think much of the town’s new visitor centre, where spending a penny now costs considerably more, but the nearby signal tower museum is not only free to enter, but has its own free loos. I want to climb up the tower, but I am told it has just been struck by lightning and ‘it’s only Norman Atkinson who can permit entry’.
Callum, an old chum from Primary School, has settled in Edinburgh and, as it’s the time of the Festival, I accept his kind invitation to visit. VisitScotland are at pains to remind me that Edinburgh has LOTS of Festivals and there’s probably one running as you read this. But THE Festival, especially the Fringe, is what attracts me and I am not disappointed.
I am guided round the City by Callum’s son, Drummond, who darts among the throngs on the Royal Mile, making me worried we will be parted. But he is never really far away and makes a close rendezvous when his tummy demands lunch to be served.
I have booked to see old favourites ‘Instant Sunshine’, making their 36th consecutive appearance. A surprise hit is a comedy show, ‘Sunken Luggage’, which we just happen upon. It’s what you do at Festival time.
It’s time to head north, this time taking the left fork at Perth to head north towards Inverness.
I am travelling with David Lang, a Canadian photographer brought up in Singapore and who is actually Scottish. At Culloden, we are both impressed by the splendid new visitor centre where we learn about the famous battle of 1746 that effectively ended Bonnie Prince Charlie’s Jacobite uprising.
While Culloden has been much improved by the stunning new visitor centre, both David and I find a visit to the nearby Bronze-Age Clava Cairns to be an even more memorable experience. Just HOW they moved all the huge rocks and standing stones is beyond comprehension.
It’s a gorgeous day, so we take a boat trip with Inverness Dolphin Cruises on to the Inner Moray and Beauly Firths. Pods of dolphin abound, the commentary is excellent and it’s just been a splendid day. The Corner Grill provides absolutely excellent sustenance, while bottles of ale from the local Black Isle Brewery wash everything down very nicely indeed.
It’s on the Black Isle that we discover the Munlochy Cloutie Well. This is a wood, where people tie bits of cloth to trees to bring them good luck. Very odd.
David heads off to Forth Augustus while I explore Cromarty. The court house is very disappointing, while the next door ‘Hugh Miller’s House’ is much more interesting. The sculpture in the garden is especially impressive. I have never heard of the bloke, but he made his mark in the 19th century as a geologist and evangelical Christian.
Driving back to Inverness, I stop to marvel at the incredible views across to Invergordon and Nigg Bay, where giant oil rigs far below look like dinky toys.
Dinner is at the Rocpool Reserve, the Roux Brothers first restaurant in Scotland, but the theme of ‘French country cooking with a Scottish twist’ doesn’t work for me. The restaurant just seems to be muddled about what it is trying to do.
Next morning, Jacobite Cruises has kindly invited me to sail with them on Loch Ness. The boat is mostly full of Italians, all wrapped up against some pretty incessant rain. But Captain Robin, who spends the end of the year as Santa Claus (he’s the spitting image), has a wealth of tales to keep me entertained as we peer through the steamed up windows towards Urquhart Castle.
At Drumnadrochit, I find a drowned rat by the side of the road. This
turns out to be Johannes, a very wet and cold German scout, whose
clothes literally steam as the car heating system puts some warmth back
into his body.
It’s slow going along the Great Glen, but outside Fort William the weather clears sufficiently for it to be worth taking the Nevis Range cable car. Loads of folk are taking up mountain bikes; there’s a VERY scary looking track back down.
We are given a tour of the Ben Nevis Distillery, now owned by a Japanese company, the highlight of which is when the manager takes us to the boardroom which Mel Gibson used as his changing room during the filming of Braveheart. Johannes is thrilled when he is given the opportunity to try on a kilt.
But there’s not a moment to linger, because we have to be at Fort William station to meet the Mallaig entry in the ‘World Cloutie Dumpling Championship’. This is being delivered by the Lancashire Fusilier steam train, which runs trips on what must be the most scenic rail route in Britain.
There’s nearly 40 entries this year, with the proud winner being named at the evening’s well-attended ceilidh at Lochaber College, the University of the Highlands and Islands (UHI). Since the college was opened in 1998, youngsters from the area no longer have to leave the Highlands to continue with their further and higher education.
The ceilidh is great fun, the Cloutie Dumplings are enjoyed by all and the College has pulled out all the stops to give a truly Scottish welcome.
Next morning, I catch the train south, enjoying the wonderful scenery through Rannoch, Bridge of Orchy and Crianlarich as I reach the end of my circuit by train. Since leaving school, I have travelled to many far flung corners of the world. But, despite the uncertainty of its weather, Scotland will always be home.
ENDS
1363 words
FACT BOX

HOMECOMING SCOTLAND
Homecoming Scotland 2009 is a year-long programme of events and activity celebrating many of Scotland's great contributions to the world and providing a platform for Scotland to re-connect with the many millions of people around the globe who have Scottish ancestry or affinity with the country. This is a Scottish Government initiative being delivered by EventScotland in partnership with VisitScotland www.homecomingscotland2009.com/
For more information on visiting Inverness and Fort William this autumn, log on to www.visitscotland.com/autumn

For more information on Highland Homecoming part of the Homecoming Scotland 2009 celebrations, log onto www.highlandeventsandfestivals.com

RAIL
ScotRail is the largest regional operator in the UK, operating more than 340 stations and running more than 2,100 services every day. Its Strathclyde services cover the largest commuter network outside of London. ScotRail also serves famous rural and scenic lines such as the Far North and West Highland routes and runs the Caledonian Sleepers to and from London.

For details, visit www.scotrail.co.uk

Attractions
Hugh Miller Birthplace
T: 0844 493 2158
www.hughmiller.org

Inverness Dolphin Cruises
T: 01463 717900

Nevis Range
T: 01397 705825
www.nevisrange.co.uk

Culloden Battlefield
T: 01463 790607
www.nts.org.uk

Jacobite Cruises
01463 233999
www.jacobite.co.uk

Accommodation
Crowne Plaza Hotel, Glasgow
Advance purchase including breakfast is £81.
www.crowneplaza.co.uk
00800 8222 8222


Glenmoriston Town House, Inverness
01463 223 777
www.contrastbrasserie.co.uk

PHOTO CAPTIONS
All photos: Mike Souter, SouterMedia.Com

The lovely Lunan Bay, south of Montrose
William Spink sorting out freshly cooked Arbroath smokies
View of the wetlands at Montrose station
Dolphin pictured in the Inner Moray Firth
One of the re-enactment staff at Culloden poses as a French soldier
The River Ness just upriver from the town
The winning entry in the 'World Cloutie Dumpling' championships
Rannoch Moor
A masque-seller on Edinburgh's Royal Mile
The view from my room at the Crowne Plaza, Glasgow

You can see all the photographs from this feature and much more of Mike Souter’s travel photography at: http://picasaweb.google.com/MDSouter

Homecoming Scotland Part One

CELEBRATING SCOTTISHNESS

With Scotland this year marking the 250th anniversary of the birth of poet, Robert Burns, with its ‘Homecoming Scotland’ campaign, travel writer and broadcaster Mike Souter is one of many Scots who have been lured back to the land of his birth:

Thoughts of my childhood start even before touchdown. FlyGlobespan thoughtfully gives me an outstanding view of the Campsies and Blanefield before final approach over Milngavie and the River Clyde meandering out to sea. How that river courses through my life like a raspberry ripple through ice cream!
Travelling with hand luggage means that I am on the bus to Paisley within 20 minutes of touchdown although, at £1.60, the fare seems pretty high for the very short hop. Roll on the Glasgow Airport rail link!
Paisley’s Gilmour Street Station is an impressive structure, sweeping round a curve, with some lovely old windows, wooden mouldings and wrought iron work reflecting its Victorian heritage.
My first port of call, Gourock, is only forty minutes away. I am impressed with the cleanliness and punctuality of the ScotRail train. But I am in for a shock when we arrive at what used to be one of the Clyde Coast’s loveliest stations. Years of neglect and underinvestment by Network Rail and its’ predecessor means that Gourock is now run from portakabins, the glass roof long gone and the wrought ironwork rusting to decrepitude. How I could have wept. But there is no excuse for the litter. Nor for the station supervisor in his secure area ‘public not admitted’ having custody of the only key to the toilets.
It must be forty years since I took the CalMac ferry to Dunoon, to watch two of my brothers participate in the athletics meeting as part of the Cowal Games. I can bring back the memory of the 1000 pipers to this day.
I follow the sign to the tourist office, walk through the town centre, follow another sign back to the seafront with bag in tow, but never actually locate the information centre. (Locals tell me it’s on the prom and easy to find!).
But I have time to recall happy trips on Salar, an old wartime torpedo recovery vessel, owned in the 1960’s by a friend of my parents. I last saw her in Rothesay, looking very unloved.

Visit Scotland has kindly booked me into the Dhailling Lodge, a lovely little guest house on Alexandra Parade, nearly in Kirn. Afternoon tea is served in a splendid drawing room overlooking the prom, which gives you the chance to look at the menu for dinner. Very much a home from home with a great welcome from hosts who go the extra mile to make their guests feel welcome.
My visit to Dunoon is somewhat curtailed by the driving rain, but my walk through the centre certainly whets my appetite for a return visit.
Back at Gourock, the queue for the bus to Largs grows ever longer. The timetables have apparently changed and, when the bus arrives an hour later than expected, the poor driver has to deal with a load of angry pensioners using their concession tickets. I think I am the only passenger who actually parts with money, £3.70. But the McGills coach is warm, modern and the coastal views through the rain lashed windows are outstanding.
We pass Gourock’s outdoor swimming pool. Despite the conditions, people are actually using it. It may be heated to 84 degrees, but with lead-grey skies it really does look chilly.
Off Largs, HMS Hurworth is practicing minehunting, another reminder of my 38 years with the Royal Navy and Reserve as well as many visits to the Clyde on warships. Despite visiting Rio de Janeir, Sydney and Hong Kong, there is actually no river passage in the world quite as special as this one.
It’s my first ever visit to Millport and I am surprised to find that Cumbrae is only five miles from the mainland. A bus connects with the ferry for the 15 minute journey to the centre, £2.70 return.
Millport wraps itself around the waterfront, with Kames Bay being especially picturesque. It’s as if time has stood still with Victorian properties looking much as they would have done 100 years ago. I’d happily spend a few days exploring; next time, for sure, I will bring my bike.
I have time to explore Glasgow. I started my journalistic career at the art-deco Scottish Daily Express building in Albion Street, now apartments. With respect to subsequent owners, I’m slightly grumpy that it is now known as the Herald Building.

The City Chambers offers free guided tours. Although I have been inside on many occasions, especially during my time with Radio Clyde, when do you actually look at a place when you are either working or attending receptions? Some of the marble and ceilings is outstanding; we are lucky that there is nothing going on in the debating chamber, so I can be a councillor for a short while. I vote to bring back trams!
I have another reminder of Radio Clyde at the top of Buchanan Street, where stands the statue of Donald Dewar, who I saw often at Anderston Cross when we broadcast from there.
The joy of a rail pass is that you can make spot decisions about a destination. I was intending to go to Stirling, whose castle I rate well above that in Edinburgh. But there’s a train to Aberdeen about to depart, so I will go to Perth.
En route, we pass some really pretty countryside before arriving at what is a very attractive and well-maintained station complex.
I have two more treats in store. One is a lovely traditional afternoon tea at Goodfellow and Steven in the High Street; the other is seeing the beautifully restored carriages of the Royal Scotsman train, with its stylish Great Scottish and Western Railway livery. Dinner is being prepared and I think about becoming a stowaway, but I am sure they would notice. One day, maybe.
The line from Perth to Edinburgh passes some of the nicest scenery I have seen so far, although the heavens open as we cross the Forth Rail Bridge. ‘Just a wee bit of rain’, exclaims a fellow passenger. In fact, although there has been quite a lot of rain during the trip, it’s mostly been short, sharp showers and I haven’t had my umbrella up once.
It’s been too windy.
In Edinburgh, Princes Street is an absolute mess, but it’s all in a very good cause. Trams are coming! (Memo to Glasgow City Council).
I’m only passing through the Capital, because I want to take my first train trip to North Berwick. As a youngster, I used to caravan there with the family of a school chum and we used to have an Inter School camp at nearby Scoughall.

The train creeps into the station at just over walking speed. The driver tells me that it’s on quite a steep hill.
The town is just as I remember it. Not that I actually remember it at all. But, like Millport, it’s retained much of its historic charm. The promenade and links area is beautifully maintained, while the harbour is busy with fishing boats, leisure craft and orange survival-suit clad folk taking trips to the Bass Rock.
Having visited the very helpful tourist information centre and the nearby excellent public loos (with many well-deserved awards), I choose the Grange Restaurant in High Street for lunch, where three courses, at £8.95, is outstanding value.
I select a very tasty liver and brandy pate, a lovely mix of pork with black pudding with a good selection of vegetables, plus a very naughty bread and butter pudding. Service and food is excellent, but I am not keen on the paper napkins and tablecloths.
It’s back to the west, for my final ferry trip, this time to Arran. If there is one single place which brings back memories, this is it. From scout camps and family holidays, to running the press side of NATO exercises and visiting on warships, this is truly like coming home.
I am delighted to see that the Caledonian Isles is busy, the delights of Arran clearly not fading in the modern consciousness.
Goat Fell is hiding under a little hat of cloud; but I have been up there and probably still do have the t-shirt somewhere.
In a week, I’ve only used public transport. Every train has been bang on schedule, it has all been very modern roiling stock, the carriages have been spotlessly clean and it’s all been very impressive.
Even Globespan’s eight hour delay as a result of an aircraft bursting tires in Alicante – and their parsimoniously mean £6 food voucher - can’t spoil things.
If VisitScotland wanted to invoke memories, they have succeeded. Mind you, I haven’t thought about Burns once.

ENDS ` 1412 words


FACT BOX
HOMECOMING SCOTLAND
Homecoming Scotland 2009 is a year-long programme of events and activity celebrating many of Scotland's great contributions to the world and providing a platform for Scotland to re-connect with the many millions of people around the globe who have Scottish ancestry or affinity with the country. This is a Scottish Government initiative being delivered by EventScotland in partnership with VisitScotland www.homecomingscotland2009.com/default.html
FERRIES

Caledonian MacBrayne is the largest fleet in Scotland operating 31 ships which sails to 24 different destinations off Scotland’s west coast, with some of the most spectacular coastlines and landscapes in the UK. From Arran in the south to Lewis in the north, the network covers some of the most beautiful and dramatic places in Scotland. Website: www.calmac.co.uk Telephone: 08000 66 5000
RAIL
ScotRail is the largest regional operator in the UK, operating more than 340 stations and running more than 2,100 services every day. Its Strathclyde services cover the largest commuter network outside of London. ScotRail also serves famous rural and scenic lines such as the Far North and West Highland routes and runs the Caledonian Sleepers to and from London.

For details, visit www.scotrail.co.uk

A Broad and a Mill

SUMMER OPPORTUNITY TO SEE INSIDE THE BERNEY ARMS MILL

For the first time in six years, Berney Arms Mill, one of the tallest of its kind, is easily accessible to the public. We sent award-winnning travel writer and broadcaster, Mike Souter, on to the Southern Belle on the inaugural trip from Great Yarmouth:

I have lived in Norfolk for 28 years but Berney Arms has not, until now, reached the top of my places to go list. Apart from anything, its’ isolated position at the southern end of Breydon Water at the entrance to the River Yare, means it has been almost impossible to reach except by boat or on foot.

In any case, over the past six years, it has been closed completely, but now, after a refurbishment costing some £150,000, English Heritage has re-opened it. Even so, the only chance you will get to see inside this wonderful part of East Anglian heritage is on Mondays until the end of August by taking a trip on the splendidly restored passenger vessel, the Southern Belle.

Peter Jay at the Yarmouth Hippodrome Circus told me during my researches for my six-week series on the Broads which you will be able to read each Saturday from 1 August that, ‘I must include a trip on the Southern Belle’.

I am delighted to have had the recommendation, because the former Cornish river vessel on which skipper Steve ‘Tug’ Wilson has lavished much love (as well as £150,000 of his savings) should be regarded as one of Great Yarmouth’s maritime jewels.

Any other port or area which had this lovely vessel as part of its’ tourism package would be giving it a great deal of support. The fact its’ potential appears to be being almost completely ignored by the authorities saddens and frustrates me greatly.

The craft has plenty of upper-desk space for its’ maximum load of 100 passengers, with a large awning to protect passengers from the elements. Down below decks, there is more seating in the attractive main saloon. Varnished wood is the theme here, as throughout the boat, where can be found the excellent ‘Earls teashop’. On the inaugural trip last week, Kairin Shawcroft from Lowestoft was dispensing perfectly-brewed cups of tea and coffee, yummy home made cake and a wide variety of freshly made sandwiches.

I was impressed with how easy it is to board the Southern Belle. Helpful crewmembers were on hand to ensure safe passage on board. It’s just a pity that a town with the maritime heritage of Great Yarmouth cannot offer a more attractive embarkation point than that offered at Havenbridge House. Especially as the Port Authorities charge £1 per passenger for the privilege!

Southern Belle offers a wide variety of different trips, including Breydon Water and to see the Waveney Valley andd Oulton Broad. The Berney Windmill Tour leaves the quayside at 11.30am and 2.15pm each Monday until August 31st. The round trip takes around two and half hours as it sails out along Breydon Water.

This is undoubtedly potentially the most tricky part of the Broads Network on which to navigate, with, as an example, a yacht hired from the Hunter Yard at Ludham, recently having a pretty nasty argument with Vauxhall Bridge when she failed to cope with a strong tide.

But ‘Tug’ Wilson, the skipper, has years of experience and, as this is his third season on Breydon, has a great deal off knowledge of as well as respect for the strength of the tides.

The route passes close by Burgh Castle Roman Fort on the opposite bank to the Berney Arms Mill. This third century Roman fort, which I had visited only the day before, is remarkable in its size and well worth a detour if you have transport. The Fort is another local attraction in the care of English Heritage. Most passengers just watched the world going by, just marvelling at the beautiful and tranquil surroundings, as we made our graceful passage. But the journey also gives any keen bird watchers the opportunity to see Avocets and Marsh Harriers to name just a few of the birds seen out on the RSPB marshland area that surrounds the mill.

Berney Arms was built in the mid 19th century and was originally used to grind clinker, a constituent of cement for the adjacent cement works that used to sit on the same river bank. The mill also took clinker from the brick works that used to sit on the opposite bank at Burgh Castle. Bizarrely, the same night as the cruise, I was unexpectedly taken to see the remnants of that!

Berney Arms is a Tower Mill and stands proudly at just over 70ft (or 21m) on the river bank with seven floors, all of which are accessible to visitors on these specially scheduled trips. However access to the upper floors is by steep ladder style stairs and for this reason English Heritage is not allowing access to under-fives.

Simon Tansley, who is visitor operations supervisor for English Heritage properties in the Great Yarmouth area, was also on board the inaugural trip. He told me that he’s delighted to be able to offer access to Berney Mill after its six year long closure: “The conservation work on the mill has taken longer than we would have ideally wanted but the mill is now looking great with its sails back in place.” A sentiment with which I entirely concur.

English Heritage has spent over £150,000.00 on the conservation work at the mill over the last few years. The work has seen the replacement of the four sails, plus the fantail. There has also been extensive repair work to the mill cap, as well as re-tarring of the exterior walls and a complete overhaul of the mill mechanism.

Although the sails won’t be turning for the foreseeable future, the mill is in complete working order. After the closure of the cement works at Berney Arms the mill was converted to a drainage mill, pumping water from the marshland back into the river by use of the large scoop wheel which can still be seen alongside the mill today.

At the top of the mill, the view of the surrounding area is quite stunning and the circuitous nature of some of the rivers and channels are clearly evident.

I was thrilled to have had the opportunity both of travelling on the Southern Belle and being able to see inside the mill itself.

On the way back to Yarmouth, I shared salty sea tales with ‘Tug’ Wilson. Even the Breydon Bridge seemed to be impressed, almost seeming to be raising itself in salute as we headed back alongside.

The Southern Belle is a delightful way to see the Broads and Rivers of Norfolk and North Suffolk and I thoroughly recommend a trip.

ENDS 1209 words

All photographs: Mike Souter, SouterMedia.com

FACT BOX

The boat trips are currently the only way to see inside the mill and these can be booked by calling Tug Wilson, the skipper of the Southern Belle on 07906 020225 or by contacting the Tourist Information Office on Great Yarmouth sea front. Further information is also available on the English Heritage website; www.english-heritage.org.uk.