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To Wigtown, Scotland by Train and Bus

In southern Scotland is a town called Wigtown. If you are reading this, you likely know why Wigtown is a destination, but if not, people go to Wigtown because it is the ‘book capital of Scotland’, boasting maybe a dozen bookstores in a quaint town of about 900 people. Each fall they have a book festival. My mother had read a book about the town written by one of the bookstore owners and we are both keen readers and book hoarders so we decided to go. The issue was how to get to Wigtown by train and bus.

Scotland is not very big so the most sensible way to get to Wigtown is to drive, but I never learned how and my mother did not want the stress of driving in a foreign country so transit it had to be. There are no direct routes from Edinburgh or Glasgow to Wigtown and there was no useful information I could find to tell me which trains and buses to take, so I figured it out, which took a bit of effort, so here you are: how to get to Wigtown from Edinburgh or Glasgow without driving.

We started in Edinburgh but the first leg of the journey necessitated going to Glasgow, so this works for departures from either city.

We left Edinburgh (Waverley Station) on a morning train for Glasgow. All trains can be booked ahead of time on the ScotRail website https://www.scotrail.co.uk. As far as I could tell there is no need to book in advance, but I did anyway and then picked up the tickets at the train station in Edinburgh from a machine.

The train from Edinburgh to Glasgow takes anywhere from 44 minutes to about an hour and 15 depending on the train. They cost the same. We took the shorter one and arrived at Glasgow Queen Street Station.

From there we had to change not only trains, but train stations – from Glasgow Queen Street to Glasgow Central. The stations are a five-minute walk apart, but leave yourself a bit longer to get there and find your next train. 15 minutes was fine for us.

From Glasgow Central we took a train to the town of Barrhill. This leg of the journey takes around two hours, depending on the train.

This is where things got interesting. Barrhill is a town of maybe 400 people. You may see none of them. The station is unmanned, so you basically get off the train next to a building that will be closed, surrounded by fields of sheep. You cannot pick up or buy tickets there. There is no phone and are no taxis.

The sheep that will greet you in Barrhill

From Barrhill Station there is a road to Barrhill town, which is walk able. It took us 20 minutes. It is an odd walk because it really is just a country road with little or no traffic.

You leave the station on the only road and soon will hit a fork. Turn left heading downhill slightly.

Follow that road through fields and past a cemetery on your left.

Barrhill Cemetery – maybe more populous than the town

At some point you will see a sign welcoming you to Barrhill.

You will then reach a part of the road with houses and signs and your second fork in the road.

Turn right towards the town. The town is a couple blocks of mostly houses, but there is a hotel (closed when we were there) and a general store where you can buy snacks and water and whatnot.

So, you’ve turned right and about one block down on the left hand side of the street is an unassuming bus stop just before a little bridge.

Wait there for the #359 bus to Newtown Stewart. Don’t worry, it will come.

You can check the timetables for buses here www.stagecoachbus.com.

There are a couple of buses in the morning and a couple in the afternoon. We caught the 1:20pm bus, which was on time. This is like a regular city bus. The website suggests that you may be able to buy tickets in advance close to the date, but there is no reason for that. Just buy the tickets on the bus, but check the fares ahead of time, and bring exact change or at last small bills. You cannot pay with credit cards and I did not see an ATM in Barrhill (and you don’t want to get stuck there). If you did get stuck in Barrhill you could call a taxi from Newton Stewart, about 40 minutes away, from www.mcleanstaxis.com but I have no idea what that would cost. Barrhill does not have taxis.

The bus from Barrhill to Newtown Stewart takes about 40 minutes.

Tell the driver you want to get off at Dashwood Square. Newtown Stewart is a metropolis of about 3,500 people and has more than one bus stop. Dashwood Square is the main bus loop, just in front of city hall (where you can totally pop in and use the washroom).

City Hall at Dashwood Square, Newton Stewart

From Dashwood Square catch the #415 bus from Stance 1 to Wigtown. It will take only about 15 minutes and that bus leave frequently (every 15-30 minutes throughout the day).

On arrival in Wigtown, you will be dropped off in the town centre, with a square in the middle and book stores all around, walking distance to everything.

I loved Wigtown, but I loved the journey there just as much as being there. It was like a fun mini adventure and was a great way to see some small towns and countryside in southern Scotland.

A final note, to return to Edinburgh or Glasgow (to to go to Stirling, as we did) you just reverse the direction of this trip, however be sure to buy your train tickets out of Barrhill in advance, as there is no place to buy them in Barrhill.

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Edinburgh, Scotland

Any misgivings I had about going to Scotland were dissipated upon arrival in Edinburgh. Luba and I took the train from the airport, past green fields and hopping bunnies, and arrived at the Princes Street station just in time to see a fabulous sunset and catch a glimpse of the city before total darkness descended. We both just said “wow.”

It really is a beautiful city. The hills give it a wonderful tiered quality so you can see the castle, rows of pretty stone buildings, statues, and parks all at once. But it was late and we still had to find our way to our Air bnb. We walked from the tram stop up and then down again to reach Grassmarket. Once the fav spot for public executions, then a neighbourhood for poor people, now a cool area with pubs and cafes and our lodgings. (Note to self for future non-fiction history book: “From Murder to Micro Brews: The Gentrification of Grassmarket”.) On reflection, this area was the perfect place to stay. Central and with lots of food and amenities nearby, a hilly walk to both the train station and tram stops.

We checked out our flat and I went for a quick stroll before bed. After all, there was a lot of sight seeing to come.

We woke up (to an alarm – yes I set alarms on holiday, much to my mother’s consternation) and had a coffee on Grassmarket before walking up and down picture perfect Victoria Street. It’s easy to see why it is in pretty much every Google search I did about travel in Edinburgh.

Victoria Street, Edinburgh (from the other end)

We went for breakfast on a patio overlooking Victoria Street. The sun was shining and would continue to do so. I had not been looking forward to the food in Scotland. I expected few vegetarian options other than falafel stands and salads. As it turned out, everywhere we went in Scotland there was an abundance of vegetarian and vegan options. Organic, gluten free, et cetera. I ordered a vegan Scottish breakfast, which came with vegan haggis, beans, tomatoes, mushrooms, spinach, and toast. It was pretty good and now I can say I’ve had haggis (sort of).

From there we walked down part of the ‘Royal Mile’ to Edinburgh Castle, one of the two main sights in the city.

This is not the castle; it is just a fine, pointy black church

We opted not to take a guided tour, so I didn’t learn much, but we enjoyed wandering. The oldest of the existing buildings are late 16^th C but there has been a fortress of some sort on the site since at least the 12^th C. As with most of the sites in Edinburgh, it was quite busy with tourists, but there were no queues to speak of and I didn’t find the crowds bothersome, but I didn’t have the patience for a historical tour.

From there we walked more of the Royal Mile just to see what there was. As it turns out: loads and loads of touristy tartan shops. After a few days in the country even I started to get sucked in, thinking, “Perhaps I do need a tartan tam and shawl.” Thankfully, I had the sense to know that there would be no way I would wear or want such things once I was back home. Instead I bought a cigar at one of the many tobacconists in the city.

Another picture of Victoria Street.
They do have more streets here but this one is just so colourful.

We then walked back to near the Princes Street tram stop, where we parted ways. Luba went to do her own thing, and I continued to wander around. I had visions of finding a sunny patio and having a cigar, but I never did find quite the right spot. (Smoking is 100% banned inside in Edinburgh, but smoking outside, including on patios is fine; in fact, it seems to be encouraged.) I did enjoy my walk, aimlessly checking out the side streets and squares of the City Centre.

Looking back to the Old City, Edinburgh. This is not the weather I was expecting.

view of Edinburgh Castle from the City Centre

On my way back to Grassmarket, I decided to take the long way round and ended up pleasantly strolling in a cemetery and around the University of Edinburgh.

I reconnected with Luba and we went for dinner at Maison Bleue, a French restaurant on Victoria. It was a bit fancier than we were used to but it had a nice bohemian vibe.

“food first, then morals”
Maison Bleue on Victoria Street

If that has been our only day in Edinburgh, that would have been pretty satisfying, but the next day we had more planned. We walked to the Palace of Holyroodhouse: the home of the Queen of England when in Scotland and royal residence dating back to the 16^th C.

It was quite impressive. The rooms were fairly lavish and it was pretty neat to see where the Queen still has her dinners and get together when she is in town. I’m no monarchist, but I am Canadian and there is a certain interest or awareness of the Queen that is ingrained.

It was especially interesting to see Mary Queen of Scots’ bed chamber where the pregnant queen was forced to watch as her husband killed her secretary/secret lover. Historical drama! Tiny Beds!

We visited the remains of the abbey.

The grounds of the palace were especially lovely.

From there we went for a much slower stroll, stopping to check out lanes and views, and finally, to stop for a proper tea.

Fueled with caffeine and scones, we walked up Calton Hill for views over the city. The views were somewhat marred by the unfortunate angle of the sun at that time of day (morning would have been better), but the walk up was great and we chatted with a local man in his 70s who walks up the hill daily and had choice words for both Donald Trump and Theresa May.

We spent a while on the hill just enjoying the breeze and shade with a cigar and a couple of books.

After that we just ambled slowly and in a round about way back to our home, stopping to visit the Greyfriars Kirkyard and Kirk that I saw the day before and the café where J.K. Rowling apparently wrote much of Harry Potter. (Harry Potter has become a real claim to fame for Scotland. Take that, Robert Burns!)

There is so much more to do in Edinburgh, but we just wanted to be a bit more relaxed in our pace and decided we could skip museums and galleries.

What we couldn’t skip was browsing around Armstrong & Son’s vintage clothing shop, which itself has been in business since about 1840. It was a delight, though we both walked away empty handed.

We packed in it early that night as the next day we had an early train to catch heading south. I loved Edinburgh, could easily see myself living there, and looked forward to returning at the end of our jaunt.

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An Afternoon in London, Or ‘How Solo Travel Has Made Me A Bit Of A Jerk’

Scotland wasn’t on my travel list. It looked lovely, but these days I crave destinations that are more far-flung and a little dangerous maybe. I can’t stand it when I tell people where I am going and they have their own suggestions. “Oh you must go to this restaurant.” Et cetera. Scotland was one of those destinations. Plus, as of writing, it isn’t an independent country, so I don’t even get the satisfaction of going to a new country. Not that that is the reason I travel, but I do like lists.

So when I said to my mother, “Would you like to take another international trip with me?” and she said “Scotland” I was fine with it, but not excited. I stifled the urge to say something like, “What about Algeria? Or Bangladesh?” Instead I got to planning.

Scotland actually has a lot of charming places, green walks, and oodles of castles. It is historic and picturesque. Choosing the right places for a 9 day trip was tough. In the end we didn’t want to spend too much time traveling all over the country, so I just picked a few destinations: a day’s layover in London, a few days in Edinburgh, a day or two in Wigtown, to Stirling, and a day trip to Glasgow.

My mum and I hadn’t traveled together since we went to Peru about 4 years prior and I hadn’t traveled with anyone since. I’m not going to lie: traveling with someone is more difficult for me than traveling solo. There are discussions. Constant discussions. Discussions about where and when to eat, where to walk, when to stop, which train to take, et cetera. Mercifully, my mother pretty much defers to what I want to do, but out of the need to be (or to appear to be) considerate, there are discussions that must be had.

The first of those discussions happened when we had our layover in London. I’ve been to London. I lived there. But Luba (my mother) had not, so I was excited to show her around the places I used to work and hang out.

I planned a walk around some of the main sights. We got a bit into the walk, though St. James Park, past Buckingham Palace, down the Mall, through Trafalgar Square, to Covent Garden and Soho, and there were plans for more, but we ran out of steam. She hadn’t slept on the plane (a red eye flight from Vancouver) and, while I had, I was tired and cranky. Then it started to rain.

Weirdly happy to see these phone box sex adverts are still a thing.
I remember them from the 90s – back when people still used pay phones

We went to a cute little patisserie in Soho, unable to agree where to go next. If I were alone, I would have kept walking, ceaselessly, until it was time to go to the airport, but Luba wasn’t up for that. Neither of us wanted to go back to the airport early, and the rain didn’t want us to sit in a park or on a patio. Day one and we were on the verge of a quarrel. This does not happen when you travel alone.

But then the perfect solution struck me. What is my solace and comfort? My favorite way to pass a quiet and contemplative time? Cigars. I said, “Well, we could walk over to St. James Street and go to the Dunhill cigar lounge. I could smoke and you could read.” Success! We were both happy. As we walked there the clouds parted. I had an extraordinary limited edition Bolivar and Luba read her book.

Both restored, we went for a bit of a circuitous stroll before going back to the airport.

In the end, we didn’t stick to my plan and cover all of the ground in London that I would have had I been alone, but I got to show my mother a bit of London and we ended up having a nice afternoon.

Solo travel has taught me a lot: how to be strong and self-reliant, how to be content with my own company, how to meet people, and how to constantly step out of my comfort zone. But solo travel has also made me a bit selfish, resistant to compromise, and bossy. I want to do what I want to do. I’m not proud of those things, but I am pleased that I can set them aside (more or less) to still enjoy traveling with my mum.

We went back to the airport and took a short and sleepy flight to Edinburgh.

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No Place Like London

When i was booking my flight to Ethiopia, i chose the one with the longest possible layover, which was through London. I had about 10 hours. Not a leisurely visit, but more than enough for a good afternoon.

I lived in London briefly from 1994-95 and loved it, but have not been back since. The idea of being back there was exciting and actually being there was awesome. In some small way i was able to tap into the excitement of young me arriving in London for the first time. I couldn’t stop smiling and i just wanted to walk around and see everything.

Of course though, i didn’t have time for everything, so i planned a strategic walk past some key sights and old haunts. I took the train to Westminster and caught a glimpse of Big Ben and Westminster Abbey, before walking up to Trafalgar Square.

I was struck by how lovely everything was and how thoroughly British everything is. Almost to the point of cliché. The architecture, monuments, flags, black cabs, red phone booths and double decker buses, chip shops, mind the gap, and every wonderful variation on the British accent you could imagine. Delightful. Trafalgar Square was teeming with people, but the inside of St Martin-in-the-Fields was serene.

The streets were busier than i remembered and there seemed to be more advertising and you can’t smoke everywhere anymore, but all of the stuff i cared about was the same. I wandered in all of the squares and parks i passed, enjoying the flowers and sculptures and meandered through the streets, enjoying the bustle.

Then, i turned down a street and was met with the Dunhill shop. For those of you who don’t smoke, it is a famous tobacconist shop. I went in and it was beautiful and i suddenly became very conscious of the fact that i looked very shabby. I apologized for my attire and immediately began prattling on about cigars and Dunhill and the man working there – with a posh accent and nattily dressed in fine tweeds – could not have been nicer. I picked a Partagas from the walk-in humidor and settled into the lounge, for a smoke and espresso.

The only other guys there were two very handsome and super fancy looking young men, smoking Cohiba Behikes and playing cards, immaculately dressed. We chatted a bit and then i was on my way and discovered that there are in fact 3 more cigars stores on that block. If i hadn’t had a plane to catch i would have spent all day there, but instead i walked past Buckingham Palace, through Piccadilly Circus, the theatre district, Leicester Square, Soho, and Chinatown, before ending at Covent Garden. I didn’t really do anything; i just walked and took everything in. Finally it was time to head back to the Airport.

Wandering North

Category: United Kingdom

To Wigtown, Scotland by Train and Bus

Edinburgh, Scotland

An Afternoon in London, Or ‘How Solo Travel Has Made Me A Bit Of A Jerk’

No Place Like London