Commuters on packed out trains may have to suffer, but for a real adventure and a chance to take in the scenery of the country, the only way to travel, argues Basil Turner, is by train.

Alfred Hitchcock’s film version of the John Buchan thriller The 39 Steps opens in 1930s London. The Flying Scotsman, pulling out of Kings Cross in clouds of steam is one of the iconic images of the film as drama begins to unfold. Hitchcock, the master of suspense, uses the train to ratchet up the tension as it takes Hannay north to the lair of the foreign agents.

One of the best scenes occurs on the mighty Forth Bridge. There is frantic activity as the train is searched – but no Hannay. The train has to be moved on; it cannot remain on the bridge. Now we see the fugitive clinging to the outside of one of the great steel pillars high above the waters of the Forth. Mix to full shot of the bridge with BBC voice over: ‘The police are continuing their search for prime murder suspect, Richard Hannay, in Scotland. He was last seen…’ Fade out and mix to shots of Hannay on foot in the Highlands.

In North by Northwest, another Hitchcock thriller, Cary Grant is the fugitive. Once again the train is the stage for intrigue as our hero plays hide and seek with the police by hiding in a luggage rack. Then, disguised as a railway porter, he manages to leave the train undetected only to face crop-spraying aircraft and further doses of unpleasantness administered by James Mason and his bunch of baddies. In the final scenes both he and Eve Marie Saint are inches from certain death as the boot of Mason’s chief henchman crunches down on his fingers as he clings to crumbling rocks on Mount Rushmore. The giant faces of the American Presidents look on impassively as FBI marksmen arrive just in time to ensure a happy ending.

Remember too Murder on the Orient Express, and my personal favourite James Bond adventure, From Russia with Love. The fight with the blond assassin would be impressive anywhere, but in the confines of a railway compartment, with the train rattling through Bulgaria, it is pure ‘loco-motion in locomotion’. The savage conflict on wheels ends as Bond, aided by hidden weapons from Q’s trick briefcase, sends the big hit-man to meet his maker.

The train as film set is not restricted to violent action. In the comedy classic Some Like It Hot we find Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon dressed as members of a girl band. Their antics in the confines of the sleeping compartment with Marylyn Monroe are pure theatre.

There is some element of adventure in any long train journey. Commuter trips apart, which frequently have all the discomfort of economy class air travel, the train is definitely tops for journeys taken for their own sake, and if your budget can stretch to the price of a first class ticket, so much the better. Airports are a bore, and air travel in general is concerned only with getting somewhere fast. Car travel is usually a frustrating business too: passengers may see something, but any driver who dares to admire the scenery is a menace to himself and other road users.

Only the train allows you to relax, take in the scenery, read a book, eat and drink when you will, and if you feel like it, strike up a conversation with a fellow traveller. He or she will soon indicate lack of interest if you appear to intrude. Likewise, you can cut the chat yourself at any time. My sense of wellbeing is disturbed only by overheard half conversations on other people’s mobile phones.

My own favourite rail journey in the UK is the one taken by Hannay on the run. We see only a snippet of GNER’s East Coast route in The 39 Steps. Before reaching Edinburgh, there is also much of interest. After the flat lands of the south-east, the train pulls into Peterborough, with great views of the cathedral from my starboard side seat (the naval term works well for me in any travel situation). On to historic York and once again there are glimpses of the Minster, reminding me of previous visits to the city.

Then there is Durham, whose mighty cathedral and castle pass my window all too quickly. Next stop is Newcastle with its many bridges, followed by great views north of the Tyne as the train races alongside the North Sea. Soon, a long sweep to the right indicates another river crossing. From the rear carriages it is a grand sight as the front of the train curves across the viaduct to enter Berwick upon Tweed. Quite illogically it seems I am still in England; the border is a mile or so north of the town.

I watch eagerly for the modest sign by the railway track that I am now in Scotland. The train picks up speed; the scenery changes; more hilly now, but there is still a way to go before Edinburgh. I look for Salisbury Crags and anticipate the lofty stone tenements of the city’s Old Town.

The first part of my journey draws to an end as the train glides into Waverley Station. A welcome break now as passengers leave, new travellers board, and train crews are changed. Eventually we move on and I strain my neck upwards on the port side for a passing glimpse of Edinburgh Castle on its great volcanic rock. I have still two rivers and two very different bridges to cross.

Not high drama perhaps, but I still get a thrill as the Northern Lights leaves Edinburgh behind and trundles to Dalmeny station, en-route for Aberdeen. This is not the time for a comfort break. Dalmeny is the last station south of the Forth. Within a few hundred yards the train is on the mighty bridge. There is no time to gather speed thank goodness. The Forth Bridge is a grand sight from any angle, but travelling across it is a very special experience that should be enjoyed like a good meal: slowly.

My trip has been full of interest. I am happy to arrive but reluctant to end my journey. During the two-mile crossing (of what is the second Tay Rail Bridge) and with Dundee, my final destination in sight, my thoughts turn to the worst structural disaster in British history. At 7.15pm on the 28th December 1879 a train was crossing the original bridge in Storm Force 10 winds. The bridge collapsed sending all seventy-five souls on board to perish in the icy waters below.

Not every adventure has a happy ending.

© Basil Turner 2008