Day 9: Racing the Jacobite Steam Train & Glenturret, Scotland’s oldest distillery

📍 Fort William > Glenfinnan > Crieff > Denny

Despite running out of water mid-shower and having to boil a pot so RaRa could de-sud like a pioneer, I’m still madly in love with life on the road. Waking up to ever-changing lush green landscapes, loch views, and a hot tea in hand is a romantic way to live.

But alas, we’re due to return our Highlands-home-on-wheels tomorrow. Thank you, loyal steed—you have served us well.

Operation: avoid overflow

After the water ran dry, RaRa grew worried that the toilet cassette would overflow. Our next mission: escape the rising dread of a domestic disaster. We hit the road toward Fort William and, in a stroke of blessed Highland luck, found a donation-based dump point at the Killmarie Community Centre. Thank you, local legends.

A missed moment (almost)

RaRa climbed back into the van, and I had the disinfectant ready to go. I checked the time and realised, much to my disappointment, we were too late to catch the Jacobite Steam Train crossing the Glenfinnan Viaduct—the thing I’d wanted to see in Fort William.

But RaRa was so stressed about the cassette and I certainly wasn’t about to empty it myself. So I said nothing and swallowed the disappointment.

As we sat up front tossing around ideas—maybe a soft playground for Lark? Gem & Fossil World? Just head back to Lean to Coffee?—we heard it.

A deep rumble.
The clack of tracks.
Flashing lights…
And then—a majestic puff of steam into the horizon.

It was the bloody Jacobite Steam Train. Who? What? When? Where? HOW?

Who could’ve guessed the dump point was right next to the tracks, and the train would pass at that exact moment? We’d parked beside our bucket list train the whole time. Classic.

“Quick, RaRa—chase it!”

The great steam chase

And so began an unexpectedly thrilling low-speed pursuit along the A830: our campervan versus the Hogwarts Express. The railway and road ran side by side, and we caught fleeting glimpses between trees, craning our necks like excited kids. We cheered every time we spotted it. We pulled into bays to let it catch up. We waved at the crew and passengers. At one point, we even saw the fireman shovelling coal into the furnace—pure black-and-white movie magic in real time.

We zigzagged through rain, across bridges, past forests, and watched steam plume through thick foliage. It was thrilling. A dramatic high-speed chase... at a very dignified 40 mph (the speed limit, of course). The train picked up and slowed down deliberately, pacing for the photographers dotting the hills.

Eventually, we met it in full cinematic glory at the Glenfinnan Viaduct—steam curling into the sky like a curtain call. I got my wish. RaRa got his empty cassette. Everyone won.

The long way round

Fueled by adrenaline and ambition, we thought: let’s follow it all the way to the end of the line to Mallaig. We pressed on, but soon lost it after the viaduct. We drove on until we found a layby with space, much farther than expected. Along the way, we passed eerily empty cars, their occupants huddled in pairs in the rain, cameras poised, completely unaware the train had stopped just up the line.

A little Google sleuthing revealed the train pauses at the viaduct station so passengers can explore the area and the museum. For £69–£105 (depending on your class), it makes sense to stretch the journey out a little.

Scones denied, drams delivered

Realising the end of the line would add an hour to our already long trip back to Edinburgh, we rerouted to another bucket list item – the oldest distillery in Scotland – The Glenturret Distillery.

With toddler nap time dictating our route, we pulled into Bridge of Orchy to stretch our legs and fantasise about scones, jam, and cream. But Lark wanted freedom, the restaurant had a wait, and the meltdown clock was ticking. So we pivoted: a £4 Loch Lomond dram (RaRa’s bucket list item) and a peaceful wander over the stone bridge and down to the river. Not a bad plan B.

The final dram

We rolled into The Glenturret Distillery with just under an hour to spare. Nailed it.

Inside the shop, we admired (and quickly sidestepped) the jaw-dropping tartan couture—including an £850 parka. That coat better age like an 18-year-old single malt and sing Auld Lang Syne on command.

Down at the bar, I sampled the 14-Year-Old Peat Smoked 2024 Release. It was divine. Tasting notes read like a dream: lemon sponge, plump sultanas, vanilla and red fruits whispering in the background. Then dark fruits, wood spices, and soft oak stepped in gracefully. And finally, a delicate wisp of smoke that lingered long into the finish.

They’re discontinuing peated whisky in 2026, and this one’s only available at the distillery. So yes—we bought a bottle for a special occasion. Perhaps when we get married?

At £150, it’s not just whisky. It’s a liquid heirloom.

We found a nearby caravan park called Carr’s Hill in Denny for the final reset, and settled in after a satisfying day of adventure.