How to kill the romance of train travel

No heating, no blankets, no haggis. But at least ScotRail can't take away Highland beauty

When she died Mary Tudor said they'd find "Calais" written on her heart, signifying the misery she felt at the loss of what was then the last English possession on French soil. When I die they'll find "WHL" written on mine, signifying the anguish that I feel at the loss of what is without doubt the most glorious journey to be made on British soil.

WHL stands for West Highland Line and please don't write to tell me that it no longer exists, having been swallowed up long ago by ScotRail. To me that stretch of railway track running between Mallaig and Creanlarich will always be the West Highland Line. Old habits die hard.

A couple of weeks ago, after I had extolled the pleasures of going north rather than south in this column, I was flooded with letters from readers asking me to be more specific. Give us names and map references, they demanded, best forest tracks, best empty beaches, best waterfalls; but you know how it is especially in Scotland – one man's bliss is another man's bog. So I'll let you cut your own trail. My only advice is that your itinerary should include an excursion on the West Highland Line.

The actual train is no great shakes, a shadow, alas, of its former self and, if possible, getting worse. But thank God the accountants at ScotRail who have pared everything down to the bone, including the blankets on the sleeper, cannot change the wild beauty of the landscape through which the train jolts and rattles.

Last week an Italian friend who devises made-to-measure holidays for phenomenally wealthy Europeans telephoned to ask if she could pick my brains about the sort of places her clients might like to visit in Scotland. Italians especially cleave to the Scottish Highlands and are almost as fanatical about tartan as the Japanese.

Gabriella has been sending a bunch of industrial tycoons from Milan to hunt, shoot and fish every winter on the Isle of Skye for years. This summer the tycoons' wives want a look-in – would I help her to devise a really interesting itinerary? As luck would have it I was having to go up for a couple of days myself last week so invited her to join me.

When I started going to Scotland 20 years ago, the sleeper to Fort William was terrific. Friends from Argyll told me nostalgically that after the war, it was in the same league as the Italian Fleche d'Ore, the South African Blue Train, even the legendary Orient Express. That's pushing it. In 1980, it didn't have a baby grand in the cocktail bar, but there was a reasonable dining car and when, in the morning, the steward knocked on the door of your berth, you knew that a tray with a brown betty teapot, a china cup and some shortbread would soon be resting on your lap as you gazed out across the wilderness of Rannoch Moor to the purple foothills of Ben Nevis.

The Fort William train is now the front two coaches of the all-purpose Caledonian Sleeper, 15 carriages long, which, like Gaul, divides into three parts at Edinburgh in the wee hours before trundling off to Aberdeen, Inverness and Fort William respectively. The solitary buffet car, some eight carriages from ours, was full when we got to it, so we made do with ham sandwiches. Never mind, I told Gabriella. I'll buy you dinner on the way back. They always have haggis on the menu. The heating didn't work; there were no spare blankets. In the morning, the steward gave us each a paper bag containing a polystyrene beaker of tea, an old, green apple and a small blueberry muffin.

Never mind. We did our business, caught ferries, saw lambs, wild irises, devastating views. This called for champagne, I said, sliding into a window seat at Fort William for the return trip. The power was off so it was cold but, still happy, we ordered haggis for two. Haggis was off, said the steward, but he did have some mashed neaps and tatties which we could have with an all-day breakfast bun.

Enough. Gabriella's Italian princesses will probably fly to Oban in an executive jet and hire a limo. The ScotRail franchise is up for grabs, so maybe they're winding down until a new owner shows up. A Netherlands train company has put in a bid but the ideal scenario would be for a Scottish millionaire to take it over. Someone like Cameron Mackintosh or J K Rowling, who'd give it a bit of welly and a lot of cash. Doesn't Harry Potter go to Hogwarts on a train? Maybe Rowling could magic it into the Fort William sleeper.